Secret Fire (4 page)

The carriage stopped. She had to get away from this lunatic. He gave her no chance. His coat was wrapped around her rather like a sack, effectively locking her arms at her sides. He picked her up. He began walking, carrying her in his arms, one arm held tightly under her knees, keeping them firm against his chest and useless. She couldn’t see anything through the coat, which also covered her face.

She suddenly smelled food, however. A kitchen? So he was bringing her in through the back door, was he? There was hope in that. He didn’t want his prince to know what he had done. He had said this Dimitri hadn’t considered that she might refuse. A prince would never resort to such measures to obtain a woman. She wouldn’t have to embarrass herself by explaining who she was, after all. She had only to speak to the Prince and tell him she wasn’t interested. She would be released immediately.

His knees brushed her backside as he mounted stairs, and then more stairs. Where was she? The carriage hadn’t driven far, no farther than it would have taken her to reach home. Good Lord, was this some house in Cavendish Square near her own home? How ironic! But she knew of no prince who had moved into the neighborhood. Or did a prince exist at all? Was this just some wicked fellow who abducted young women for his own amusement, creating outlandish tales to make his task that much easier?

Her captor spoke again, but in a language she didn’t recognize, and she was familiar with nearly all the European languages. A woman was answering in the same strange… Russian! He had mentioned Russia. They were
Russians
, the barbarians of the North! Of course—that country abounded in princes. Didn’t all of the old aristocracy there bear such titles?

A door was opened. A few more steps and she was set carefully on her feet. The coat was removed. Katherine immediately yanked down her gag. Her first impulse was to let her temper loose
on the fellow, who just stood staring at her in a curious way now. It took every effort not to give in to the impulse.

“Get hold of yourself, Katherine. He’s just a barbarian, with a barbarian’s mentality. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s done is a crime.”

“We are not barbarians,” he said in French.

“You speak English?” she demanded.

“Only a few words. Barbarian I know. I have been called that before by you English. What else did you say?”

“Never mind. I was speaking to myself, not to you. A quirk of mine.”

“You are prettier with your hair down. The Prince will be pleased.”

So that was why he was staring at her now. Her back bun had come undone when he gagged her, yet the hair caught up at each side of her head still held; the tail ends, forming ringlets, still framed her face.

“Flattery will avail you nothing, sir.”

“Your pardon.” He bowed slightly in deference, then caught himself doing it and was chagrined. She was a haughty wench for a servant. But then she was English and he must make allowances for that. “My name is Vladimir Kirov. I tell you this because we must speak—”

“No, I don’t have anything else to say to you, Mr. Kirov. You will kindly inform your master that I am here. I will speak to him.”

“He will not come until tonight.”

“Fetch him!” She was appalled at how high her voice rose, and yet he simply shook his head. “I am very close to screaming my head off, Mr.
Kirov,” she warned in what she considered a very reasonable tone under the circumstances. “You have insulted me, abused me, yet I am still calm, as you can see. I am not some ninny to fall to pieces under a little adversity. But I am reaching my limit. I am not for sale at any price. A king’s ransom wouldn’t change that fact. So you might as well release me now.”

“You are stubborn, but it changes nothing. You will stay—no.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “I do not recommend screaming. There are two guards outside this door who will immediately come in to quiet you. That would be most uncomfortable for you, and so unnecessary. I will give you a few hours to reconsider.”

Katherine didn’t believe him for a moment about the guards until he opened the door to leave and she saw them both standing there, vicious-looking men in identical uniforms; long tunics, baggy pants tucked into high boots, wicked swords hanging from their hips. Incredible. Was the whole household to be a part of this crime? Apparently. Her only hope was still the Prince.

“
W
hat am I to do, Marusia?” Vladimir asked his wife. “He wants her. She is refusing to share his bed. I have never before met this dilemma.”

“So find him another woman,” she replied easily, thinking the solution was that simple. “You know what will happen if he is disappointed tonight. There will be no pleasing him the entire voyage home. If his grandmother had not scolded him for his excessive wenching, it would not be so bad. But she warned him away from her maids, and he complied in deference to her. He has had no sexual relief since we docked, an incredibly long time for the Prince to willingly deny himself. He must have a woman tonight before we sail, or we will all suffer for his frustration. It will be ten times worse than on the way here, when that stupid countess changed her mind at the last moment and did not sail with him.”

Vladimir knew all of that. His problem was not only that he had never failed the Prince before; it was a matter of guaranteeing a pleasant voyage for them all as opposed to weeks of living with Dimitri in one of his dark moods. Not that the Prince could not remain celibate out of necessity, as he would on the voyage home. But when there was no necessity, as tonight, heaven forbid he should not get what he wanted, for when Dimitri was not happy, no one in his household was happy.

Vladimir poured another shot of vodka and gulped it down. Marusia continued to stuff a goose with
kasha
for Dimitri’s dinner tonight. She thought the matter settled. He had told her only that the woman he had procured for the Prince was giving him trouble.

“Marusia, why would a woman—now, this is no lady, but an English peasant, a servant—why would she not be pleased that a prince found her desirable?”

“She must be flattered. No woman alive would not be at least flattered, even if she didn’t want to sleep with him. Show her his picture. That will change her mind.”

“Yes, I will, but—but I do not think it will make a difference this time. She was not flattered, Marusia. She was insulted. I saw it in her face. I just do not understand. No woman has ever refused him before, virgins, wives, princesses, countesses, even a queen—”

“Which queen? You never told me this!”

“Never mind,” he replied sharply. “That is not for gossip, and you, dear wife, love to gossip.”

“Well, every man should be refused at least once. It does him good.”

“Marusia!”

She laughed delightedly. “I jest, husband. Every man except our prince. Now stop worrying. I told you, go and get him another woman.”

Vladimir looked dismally down at his empty glass and filled it again. “I cannot. He did not tell me, ‘I want a woman tonight. Find one.’ He pointed out this petite wren to me and said, ‘That one. Arrange it.’ She is not even beautiful, Marusia, except for her eyes. I could find him a
dozen women more to his taste before this evening. He wants this one. He has to have this one.”

“She must be in love,” Marusia said thoughtfully. “That is the only reason a woman of low class would refuse such an honor. No peasant in Russia—”

“This is England,” he reminded her. “Perhaps they think differently here.”

“We have been here before, Vladimir. You never had this trouble before. I tell you she is in love with someone. But there are drugs that can make her forget, make her memory fuzzy, make her more agreeable—”

“He will think she is drunk,” he replied sternly. “That will not please him at all.”

“At least he will have her.”

“And if it does not work? If she remembers enough to fight him?”

Marusia frowned. “No, that will not do. He would be furious. He does not need to take a woman by force. He would not. They fight each other to throw themselves at him. He can have any woman he wants.”

“He wants this one, who does not want him.”

She gave him a disgusted look. “You begin to make me worry now. Do you want me to talk to her to see if I can find out what she objects to?”

“You can try,” he agreed, willing at this point to do anything.

She nodded. “In the meantime, go and speak to Bulavin. It may be nothing, but he was bragging last week that he knew a way to make a woman beg him to make love to her, any woman. Maybe he has some kind of magic potion.” She grinned.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed.

“You never know,” she teased. “The Cossacks have ever lived close to the Turks, and you never hear of those sultans having trouble with their slave girls, and most of them innocent captives.”

He dismissed that notion with a wave of his hand and an annoyed scowl, yet he would speak to Bulavin. He was that desperate at the moment.

Katherine couldn’t sit still. She walked circles around the room, every few minutes glaring at the huge wardrobe that had been shoved in front of the only window by the two guards. Her small weight couldn’t budge it, even empty as it was. She had tried for half an hour to no avail.

It was a fairly large bedroom she was being detained in, a room not in use. Even the large bureau was empty. Pink-and-green wallpaper (the Queen approved of that combination) covered the walls. The furniture was in the Hope design, the rather clumsy style that favored Greek and Egyptian influence in decoration. An expensive green satin spread on the bed. Wealth. Cavendish Square, she was sure. If she could just get out of this room, she could be home in no time—but to what good? Elisabeth, last seen waiting alone on the corner, would have met William by now.
She’ll be married before I get home
.

This stupid masquerade, this appalling predicament, all for nothing. Elisabeth married to a fortune-hunting blackguard. That and that alone made Katherine furious with these Russians. That
barbarian, that pig-headed idiot who had brought her here—because of him Beth’s life was now ruined. No, not him. He had only followed orders. His prince was really the responsible one. Who the devil did he think he was, sending a servant after her for such a salacious reason? What arrogance!

He’ll get an earful from me, and then some, Katherine thought. I ought to have him thrown in gaol. I know his name. Dimitri Alexandrov—or would it be Alexandrov Dimitri? Whatever. How many Russian princes can be in London at the moment, Katherine? He won’t be hard to find
.

The idea was nice to think about, but she wouldn’t do it. The scandal would be worse than the crime. That was all she needed: the St. John name dragged through the mud.

“But if Beth isn’t home when I get home, and isn’t still unmarried, I will do it, by God.”

There was a hope, however slim, that Elisabeth was meeting William today only to talk to him, to make plans. She needed to cling to that thought. All would not be lost then, and this would be just an irritating experience that she would do her best to forget.

“I bring you lunch, miss, and another lamp. This room is so dark with the window blocked. You speak French, yes? I speak it very well, because it is the language of our aristos. Some of them, they don’t even speak Russian.”

This flow of words came as a woman hurried across the room with a heavy tray and dropped it on a low, round table between two chairs. She was half a head taller than Katherine, middleaged, with brown hair in a tight bun, and kindly
blue eyes. She hadn’t knocked. One of the guards had opened the door for her and closed it as well.

She straightened the things on the tray. A thin vase holding a single rose had fallen over. Fortunately it contained no water. The lamp she moved to the marble mantel. It was already lit, and the extra light welcome. Then she moved back to the tray and began lifting covers.

“
Katushki
,” she explained, revealing a plate of fish balls in a white wine sauce. “I am the cook, so I know you will like it. My name is Marusia.”

She wasn’t at all what one would expect of a cook, being slightly on the thin side, Katherine thought, as she glanced at the food. There was a little loaf of rye bread next to the
katushki
, a chicory and fruit salad, a piece of cake for dessert, and a bottle of wine. A very appetizing lunch. The
katushki
smelled delicious. And Katherine had missed breakfast. A shame she was too stubborn to eat it.

“Thank you, Marusia, but you can take that away. I won’t accept anything in this house, including food.”

“It’s not good that you don’t eat. You are so small.” Marusia said this with awe.

“I am small because… I am small,” Katherine said stiffly. “It has nothing at all to do with food.”

“But the Prince, he is so big. See?”

She practically shoved a little picture beneath Katherine’s nose, so she couldn’t possibly avoid looking at it. The man in the miniature was…impossible. No one could really look like that.

Katherine pushed the woman’s hand away. “Very amusing. Is this little ruse supposed to
make me change my mind? Even if that really were your Prince Alexandrov, my answer would still be no.”

“You are married?”

“No.”

“You have a lover then that you love very much?”

“Love is for idiots. I am no idiot.”

Marusia frowned. “Then tell me, please, why you say no. This is truly my prince.” She tapped the picture. “I would not lie, since you will meet him tonight. If anything, this picture does not do him justice. He is a man full of life, energy, and charm. And for all his size, he is gentle with women—”

“Stop it!” Katherine snapped, her control slipping. “My God, you people are incredible. First that brute who abducts me, now you! Can’t your prince find his own women? Do you realize how disgusting this is for you to pander for him, as if I were for sale? Well, I am not, and there is no amount of money that can buy my affection.”

“If it is the money you object to, you need only consider a man and woman enjoying each other’s company. And my master does usually court his own women. There is just no time today. He is at the docks, seeing that everything is in order with the ship. You see, we sail tomorrow for Russia.”

“I am delighted to hear it,” Katherine said dryly. “The answer is still no.”

Vladimir was right. The wench was worse than stubborn. She was impossible. Sweet Mary, she had the disdain of a princess but the stupidity of the lowest serf. No one in their right mind would turn down a night with Dimitri Alexandrov.
There were women who would pay for such a privilege.

“You still have not said why you refuse,” Marusia pointed out.

“You people have made a mistake, that’s all. I am not the type of woman who would even remotely consider going to bed with a perfect stranger. I am simply not interested.”

Marusia let out a string of Russian words as she left the room, shaking her head. In the hall she met her husband, who was waiting expectantly. She hated to disappoint him, but she had no choice.

“It is no use, Vladimir. I think she is either frightened of men or she does not like them. But she will not change her mind. This I can swear to. You might as well let her go and inform Prince Dimitri so he can make other arrangements for tonight.”

“No, he will have his first choice,” Vladimir said stubbornly, handing her a little string-tied pouch. “Mix some of this in the food for her dinner.”

“What is it?”

“Bulavin’s magic potion. From what he claims, the Prince will be most pleased.”