Sweet Love, Survive (35 page)

“Sometimes, Karaim,” Apollo said, strolling back to their horses held in readiness near the basement entry, “it makes one nervous, it’s so damn easy to steal from these Bolshis. I’m afraid we’re going to lose our fine edge and blunder out of boredom some fine day.” He hitched the heavy saddlebag of gold higher on his muscular shoulder and pushed open the basement door.

“If they repair the telegraph lines before morning, you might have a little excitement on the way back,” Karaim remarked with his usual neat restraint. “That should help keep the edge.” Side by side they moved toward their horses, two tall, lean men, one fair, one as dark as Lucifer.

“You think so?” Apollo inquired, a lift in his voice. “Fifty roubles says we’re clear to Gunib before they’re repaired.”

“Akusha; no farther.”

Turning to Karaim, Apollo’s pale eyes glowed with their own inner fire. “You’re on.” Clearly, he was hoping to lose.

A full moon shone on the troop while they swiftly divided the gold among their various saddlebags, evenly distributing it to allow each mount maximum speed. Twenty men swung up into the high-cantled, heavily padded saddles.

“To the foothills north of town and then to the Gunib plateau?” Karaim brusquely inquired, already wheeling his horse to the north.

“One short detour,” Apollo declared cheerfully, his strong hand holding a curvetting Leda in the melee of men and horses.

“There’s not much time. It’s after midnight already, and we should be past the garrison at Madjolis before dawn.”

“Ten minutes, no more. Kitty needs some jewelry for her new gowns, and Firez and Sons survived the Revolution. Do you think I still have an account there?”

“Not one that’s likely to be healthy. Stop next time. We’ll be back.”

Apollo’s hand went out to soothe Leda. “Go on ahead if you want. I’ll catch up in a few minutes.”

Karaim would sooner have condemned his soul to an eternity in hell than leave the Falcon’s side. “Foolhardy as ever,” he snorted avuncularly.

“Humor me, Karaim. I’ve been sage too long.”

With time at a minimum, Apollo climbed the grilled fence guarding the store’s rear entrance and forced the door of Firez and Sons. In less time than he would have liked, but considerably more time than Karaim deemed safe, Apollo selected several pieces of jewelry for Kitty. The gold to pay for them was discreetly placed under the senior Firez’s elegant silk-cushioned divan along with a note of thanks for extending his shopping hours.

The riders passed the garrison town of Madjolis only slightly behind schedule, missing the early morning patrols by ten minutes. Although the telegraph lines north out of Derbent had been cut, the Red Army, by dint of repetition, was becoming extremely speedy with their repairs. Just north of Akusha two of Apollo’s scouts came back to report that two armored cars mounted with Lewis guns were patroling the road.

“Damned if you weren’t right, Karaim. I owe you fifty roubles. Let’s go down and take out those cars.”

“Think of the countess, As-saqr As-saghir. They’ve got Lewis guns. …”

“I suppose you’re right.” Then Apollo’s clear, golden eyes lit with an alternative not particularly dangerous to them. “A few lobbed grenades couldn’t hurt. Think we can get ahead of them before they reach the Shura defile?”

“Don’t see why not,” Karaim replied with a tolerant smile.

“You’re always so damned reasonable, Karaim. That’s why we get along.”

“We get along because I give in to all your harebrain schemes.”

A flash of white teeth accompanied Apollo’s winning smile. “Well, that too.”

The garrison at Akusha lost two armored cars that day. The heights above the Shura defile had always been a favorite spot
for target practice by the mountaineers, and the blundering Russians hadn’t learned that critical fact in a hundred years.

Moving up into the high mountain trails after Akusha, Apollo and his men entered Dargo that evening. The troop dispersed to their homes; Karaim and Sahin rode to report to Iskender.

“Tell Pushka I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Apollo said on parting company with his two bodyguards. A smile flickered across his face. “
Late
tomorrow.”

Ascending the steep incline to his palace, Apollo felt elated, exhilarated, alive. Riding out always left him in that state; the feel of a prime horse, the outwitting of one’s adversaries, the adrenaline flowing until one experienced a sense of invincibility. He must thank Kitty again for being so understanding, although the gifts piled high behind his saddle might, in small measure, express his feelings. He hoped, too, that the Cub was still awake—a little surprise for him had caught Apollo’s eye during his swift inventory of the stock at Firez and Sons.

On entering the courtyard, Apollo immediately saw his hope was answered. Kitty, holding the Cub, stood waiting at the top of the stairs, illuminated by the light pouring out of the opened foyer door.

Tossing Leda’s reins to a waiting servant, Apollo leaped from the saddle and bounded up the stairs. His long legs brought him to Kitty and the Cub in four gigantic strides; father, mother, and son smiled, laughed, beamed, all spoke at once within the crushing circle of Apollo’s embrace.

After giving instructions for the disposal of the packages, Apollo, carrying the Cub, his free arm around Kitty’s shoulders, strolled into the entrance hall. “What new trick has the Cub learned while I was away?” Apollo asked, smiling happily first at his son and then at Kitty.

“He can almost roll over by himself. You’ll have to watch before he goes to bed.” Kitty’s emerald eyes were alight with joy. Her worst fears had evaporated on hearing the signal blast reverberating around the valley when Apollo’s troop had been
sighted. She’d had an hour, then, to wait until his arrival, during which she had bathed in a heady elation of bliss, delight, every other sensation of goodness and cheer. Apollo was back, as he had promised, safe and sound. At that thought, her eyes quickly repeated her earlier scrutiny. Had she missed a cut or wound or scratch?

“Do I have egg on my face?” Apollo inquired with amusement in his voice. Kitty’s gaze was quite intent.

“Just looking for blood, bulletholes, things like that. …” Her relief at not finding any was evident in her expression.

“I told you it was a simple little raid.” He made no mention of Lewis guns or armored cars or the scores of dead Bolshevik soldiers left behind. “Do I get a gold medal for effort? We’re back a day early.”

“Two gold medals,” Kitty replied, her face wreathed in smiles. “One from each of us.”

“I drove the men mercilessly, you know, and all because of my timid-hearted wife,” Apollo teased.

“I just wasn’t raised for it, I guess … didn’t cut my teeth on a mountain
kinjal
and
kanly
blood lust.”

Looking down at the delicately featured, golden-haired woman at his side, Apollo said softly, “However you were raised, you turned out splendidly.” Nearing their suite of rooms, Apollo inquired, “Do you suppose the Cub will perform for me now?”

“He’s only learning. Sometimes he’s patently amazed when all the pushing and struggling works. You’ll see for yourself.”

Laying the small, sturdy baby—his hair as downy gold as a chick’s—on the bed, Apollo gazed at him for long moments, taking in the changes that seemed to have occurred in three short days. Apollo’s hair and clothes were full of dust. Reaching out a long, bronzed finger he brought a smile to the Cub’s face, talking to him, tickling him softly under the pudgy little chin. He lazily continued the quiet game, unbuckling his belt with one hand. The Cub’s eyes, bright as doubloons, followed his every movement. Straightening, Apollo threw belt and holsters on the bed; pulling off his boots, he slung them under a nearby chair. One more fizzing, drooling smile coaxed from
his son brought an answering warm grin to Apollo’s face, and Kitty stood smiling with blurred eyes at the sight of the two loves of her life.

Looking up at Kitty, Apollo said in the gentlest of voices, “I missed you both.” Unbending, he turned and held open his arms. Kitty fell into them, tears of happiness glistening in her large eyes—and while his parents held each other in welcome, thanksgiving, and love, the Cub threw one tiny leg across his body and, pushing vigorously with the other, proceeded to disarm his father and mother with his infant determination. Before long, his little face rosy with the exertion, the energetic flailing and shoving was successful and—enormous baby eyes open wide in astonishment—he lay on his tummy. Both parents clapped, cheered, glowed with admiration of their very clever son.

Rummaging through the packages that had been brought up by the servants, Apollo brought out a hand-carved rocking horse, left over from imperial times, that he had wrapped in a scrap of silk. Firez and Sons had used it as a display piece. Carved from clear, dark ebony, it was embellished with gold filigree on tack and rockers, the eyes two splendid sapphires, the mane and tail of flowing horsehair; overall it didn’t stand over a dozen inches. Carrying it over to the bed, he placed it beside the baby.

“It’s lovely, Apollo,” Kitty said, taking in the elegant toy. “But he’s only three months old. He’s so small.…”

“I know that, dear. That’s why it’s a very
small
rocking horse. Look, he likes it.” The Cub had caught hold of the flowing tail and was testing it for flavor. A father’s elation shone on Apollo’s face. “He’s going to be a true
djighit
.”

“You mountaineers. All you think about is horses and weapons. I’m surprised you didn’t bring him home a gun.” Kitty’s tone was teasing, but the slightest edginess could be distinguished.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I should hope not.”

“Of course not. It would break Pushka’s heart. He’s having one made for him. It’s almost finished.”

“Apollo!”

“It’s only a very tiny one, kitten. Just a toy.” Turning his warm, utterly disarming smile on Kitty’s stern face, Apollo said, “Have I turned out so wickedly, raised in these mountains?” He tipped her chin up and softly brushed his knuckles across her cheek.

“Oh, Apollo, it isn’t that. …”

“Afraid of all the killing?”

Kitty nodded her head.

“It’ll be different in France. Don’t worry. Just humor Pushka for now.”

“Apollo, do you think we’ll ever get out?”

“Of course. I promised, didn’t I?” Inwardly, he hoped he’d be able to keep that promise.

    Much later that evening, after the dirt of the trail had been washed off, dinner served, and the Cub fed and put to bed, Apollo carried several packages in from his dressing room and tossed them on the bed. Kitty, seated at her boudoir table brushing her hair, turned at the commotion.

Apollo, lounging against the bedpost, indicated the objects with a quick gesture. “A few presents for you. Very few, I’m afraid, shopping being what it is now. Once we get to France, I guarantee an improvement.” His black silk robe, casually tied, set off his bronzed skin and pale shiny hair in the subdued light of the bedroom.

Kitty’s hand flew to her mouth in delighted, delicate surprise. “Apollo… how did you dare? You could have been arrested at any time, walking into a shop!”

“Not at one o’clock in the morning, love.”

Setting down her brush, she half twirled to face him, her urchin eyebrows raised slightly.

“Don’t go moral on me,
dushka
. It’s much too late,” he said in an amused tone. “Besides,” he continued, pushing his hands in the robe pockets, “these are all paid for very properly.”

“With Soviet gold?”

“Which used to be imperial gold, and a good share of Kuzan gold, as a matter of fact. Satisfied?”

“Oh, I wasn’t questioning the morality of it. You’ve long since converted me to your more … unorthodox life-style.”

“Because of my charming ways, no doubt.” A slow, lazy smile curled his lips.

“That, of course, and one other thing,” Kitty facetiously replied, a very bewitching smirk touching her crimson mouth.

Apollo settled his shoulders more comfortably against the carved post and the lazy smile crinkled his eyes. “Yes, I’ve always found the combination quite … well, effective.”

Kitty made a pretty moue. “I don’t care to hear about the ‘alwayses,’ if you don’t mind.”

“Jealous?”

“Abominably.”

“I suppose,” he said, his eyes guilelessly clear, “you’re going to go all wifely on me and expect me to be faithful.”

“Not
expect
, dear man,” Kitty replied ominously. “
Insist
.”

“
Insist!
Oh-ho, this sounds serious. Why don’t you try on the things I bought for you, and then I guarantee, darling, I’ll be entirely open to any reasonable discussion of my faithfulness.” He was grinning widely.

Kitty, glaring mutinously, retorted tartly, “And if I feel the subject is
not open
to discussion?”

Pushing himself away from the bedpost, Apollo untied the belt of his dressing gown and dropped the garment to the floor. He disposed his tall, lean body in a comfortable sprawl on the bed, then stretched, clasping his hands behind his head, his powerful shoulder muscles flexing and flowing in the light of the bedlamp. “Try on the gowns, pet,” he said hospitably, “then, er, ‘persuade’ me to drop the discussion. You know how amenable I am to your ‘persuasion.’” A slow, sensuous smile took possession of his mouth and his eyes grew sultry, flame gold, hungry. “And hurry, kitten,” he breathed softly. “Three days is a long time. …”

It was a game, a delirious, exquisite game they both delighted in.

He tossed a peridot chiffon gown at her and said, “Why don’t you dress by the fire; it’s warmer,” then sank back against the pillows like an elegant young prince.

Kitty felt the small shivers start even before she slipped out of her blue angora robe. Even the heat from the fire, playing over her body like waves of summer, couldn’t allay the tiny chills spiraling up her spine. Apollo looked so magnificently virile in his negligent sprawl, his bold eyes already taking possession of her body. She cast a sidelong look at his broad, muscled shoulders; his taut torso, whip lean and hard; his slim hips, that rode horseflesh or females with equal power and skill; his long, athletic legs, their bronzed surface dusted with golden hair, now lying casually spread to welcome her. His arousal was instant and flagrant.