The Beloved Scoundrel (39 page)

“Why would it do harm?” Gregor was studying Jordan’s face.

“Perhaps I want her to suffer.”

Gregor shook his head. “It is not vengeance. You would have helped her three nights ago.”

Jordan was silent a moment and then said, “She must do it on her own.”

“Why?”

“For God’s sake, we’re going to take away the fruits of her victory,” Jordan burst out. “I’ll be damned if I steal away the victory itself. Not one woman in a thousand could make this journey without help. She deserves to know she did it all herself.”

Gregor nodded understandingly. “Interesting. You are no longer angry with her?”

“Oh yes, I’m angry. I want to throttle her. That has nothing to do with this.”

“Interesting,” Gregor said again.

S
he has snared a rabbit.” Niko’s voice had as much pride as if Marianna had magically produced the animal from thin air. “It took her all day, but she did it.”

“That is good.” Gregor beamed.

Murmurs of approval came from the troop, and several gave smiles of relief. One young man made a face and exchanged money with another.

Gregor turned to Jordan and said, “I hope you are capable of subduing our dove yourself. I am not certain you will receive help from Niko or any of the others.”

Jordan knew what he meant. Over these weeks on the trail the troop had watched and gradually become caught up in Marianna’s struggle for survival. With every small victory she had won more of their respect.

The
belka
was no longer an outsider.

“And what about you?” Jordan asked Gregor.

“Kazan must be safe. I will do what must be done,” Gregor said. “Will you?”

“Yes.”

“You are sure? We are only two days’ journey from Moscow. The time to act is coming.”

And by God he would welcome it. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point with standing by and watching Marianna struggle against odds she was not prepared to meet. The conflict between them would resume, but at least this blasted journey would be over. “Don’t worry. When we reach Moscow, I’ll be ready to do what’s necessary.”

•   •   •

S
he did not go to Moscow. The next day she turned south and then rode west.

Niko came riding back to the troop just after noon. “She has stopped.”

“She’s made camp?”

Niko shook his head. “I think she has reached her destination.”

Jordan’s hands tightened on the reins. “Where?”

“Three miles from here. There is a village and, on the hill, a grand palace. She tied her horse outside the palace and went inside.”

“Did anyone come out to greet her?”

Niko shook his head. “The palace is deserted. It looks as if no one has been there for years.”

“Then I believe we can assume she has reached her destination.” Gregor glanced at Jordan. “Do we go after her at once?”

Jordan nudged his horse forward. “You’re damned right we do.”

S
he was here!

Relief poured through Marianna as she set down the cloth-wrapped Jedalar and leaned it against a wall of the foyer. Heaven knows, there had been times when she had thought she would not make it.

The palace was everything her grandmother had told her it would be.

She looked up at the curving green-and-white marble grand staircase to the long windows of the landing. A huge crystal chandelier wept glittering tears above her.

Emptiness.

Coldness.

It was as if the inhabitants of the palace had just walked out. The door had been unlocked, and no protective cloths covered the rich tables and chairs. Dust was everywhere.

She stiffened. An unlocked door?

Nebrov?

Fear rushed through her until she remembered that the doors at Cambaron had never been locked. No one dared to steal from the rich and powerful. If Nebrov had beaten her here, she would be facing him now.

She closed the door, and the sound echoed hollowly off the high ceilings. Nebrov was not here now, but who could say how much time she had? If she did not set to work at once, she would have to wait until tomorrow. The insertion must be done while the sun was still high.

Her brow wrinkled as she strove to recall the detailed instructions Mama had given her. The hall to the left should lead to the chapel. She picked up the Jedalar and moved quickly down the hall.

J
ordan reined in his horse at the bottom of the hill. The bold rays of the midafternoon sun lit the palace, which shone with a rainbow of colors. It was truly an ice castle; snow and ice covered half of the gray marble structure that appeared more Greek than Russian with its classic pillars and graceful, low-roofed wings. Long icicles hung from eaves. Ice formed a mirrorlike surface on the stones of the courtyard and on the four steps leading to the front entrance. Even the bank of
stained-glass windows that stretched across the front of the palace were frosted, each one glowing like an individual flame captured in crystal.

Marianna’s horse was tied to an ornamental post in the courtyard.

“The quarry is in sight,” Gregor said. “Do we storm the palace?”

“No, find quarters for the men in the village. I’ll go in alone.”

“Ah, what bravery, what self-sacrifice.”

Jordan ignored the flippancy. “And question the villagers about any newcomers who have arrived here. We don’t want Nebrov surprising us.”

“I will do better than that,” Gregor said. “I’ll send Niko to double back and watch for our demon friend.”

Niko groaned in mock despair.

Gregor ignored him, his gaze going from the palace to the fluted towers of Moscow. “This palace is very close to the city. It could be one of the exits for the tunnel.”

“I’ll place a sizable wager it is,” Jordan said.

Gregor turned to Niko. “Well, come along, my friend, let us get these men under a roof for the night. I am certain Jordan will summon us if we are needed.”

Niko grimaced. “You care nothing about getting me under a roof for the night.”

“I promise tomorrow night you will have both a warm fire and a dry roof.” He lifted his hand to Jordan. “I will come to you tomorrow morning to see if you have triumphed or merely survived.”

Jordan watched them ride down the hill toward the village and then again looked up at the palace.

She was there within those walls.

In a moment he would see her, talk to her.

He started up the road toward the palace.

S
he struck him on the back of the neck as he entered the front door!

Marianna was standing behind the door and would have hit his head if he had not seen the shadow of the club on the floor and whirled to face her. Even the glancing blow made him grunt with pain.

When she again tried to bring down the club, he grabbed it and tore it from her grasp. Her weapon turned out to be a tree branch. “Dammit, are you trying to kill me?”

She whirled and tried to run away.

He caught her by the hair, jerking her to a halt.

She did not cry out from the pain as another woman would have done. Instead, she turned her head and sank her teeth into his arm.

His grasp on her hair loosened, and she broke free. She dashed across the foyer toward the staircase.

He caught her on the sixth step and tumbled her to her knees. The next moment she was on her back, and he was astraddle her, pinning her arms above her head.

“Let me go!”

“The devil I will.”

“Fool,” she muttered. “I was a fool. I led you here. I should have realized …” She started to struggle again. “But you can’t have it!”

“Stop fighting. You’ll hurt yourself.”

She glared up at him. “Or you!”

“Not me,” he said thickly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve begun to enjoy this.”

She froze as she realized the truth of his words. In her position she could scarcely miss the hard arousal pressed against her body. “You won’t rape me,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t do that.”

At the moment he wasn’t as certain as she seemed to be. The sudden physical struggle had released all the anger and frustration that had built over the months. He was having trouble thinking, and the mindless hunger was readying him. His hips moved in the most sensual of caresses, rubbing against her. “How can you be sure?”

A shiver ran through her. Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “I know you.”

“I thought I knew you.” His lips brushed her throat. She smelled of wind and pine and an acrid scent that was vaguely familiar. It didn’t matter. She also smelled of woman, and that scent was more arousing than any perfume. He licked delicately at the pulse in the hollow of her throat. “But that didn’t stop you from deceiving me and then trying to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t have done that. I was only trying to knock you unconscious. I had to stop you.”

His hips moved again. “From doing this? Why? You like it. Right now, you want nothing more than to wrap your legs around me. Isn’t that right?”

She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Yes, that’s what I want, but I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to let you use me to rid yourself of anger. You won’t rape me, and I won’t be seduced.”

“We fought this battle at Dalwynd.”

“I’m stronger now.”

He studied her face. “Yes, you are.” He smiled. “But did it ever occur to you that will only make the battle more interesting for both of us?”

“Let me up. I feel as if I’m stretched on a rack.”

“Don’t you like it? I do. I can feel every muscle and soft place in your body. I think if I entered you from this position, you would find it very exciting. Do you remember what pleasure you received stretched over the arms of the chair? I can see the way—”

“Let me up.” She suddenly burst out, “If you’re going to rape me, do it!”

He would not have to rape her. She was already trembling and in need.

Her eyes blazed up at him. “Do it! Otherwise, let me be free of you.”

He did not want to let her free. He would never free her, he realized. Not in this lifetime or the next. The knowledge sent a wave of shock through him.

She stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t let her go, and if he tried to hold her, she would never stay. “There’s a good deal wrong,” he said grimly. “And I wish I hadn’t become aware of it in this particular instant.” He released her arms, then swung off her and moved to one side. “Get up.”

She lay still, surprised at the sudden victory.

“I said get up,” he repeated harshly. “And, for God’s sake, stop looking at me like that. It makes me want to—” He broke off and moved farther away on the wide step.

She slowly sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Why did you—”

“It’s cold as Hades in here.” He stood up and started down the steps. “I’ll get wood for a fire.
You’ve had a few hours to explore. Is there a small room that will be easy to heat?”

She indicated a door to the left of the foyer. “There’s a fireplace in that anteroom.”

He nodded, then said, “Don’t try to run away. Gregor and the men are in the village. We’ll track you down, if you do.”

“You needn’t worry. I can’t run away,” she said quietly. “Not until I do what I’ve come to do.”

T
he ax came down, biting into the wood.

Jordan struck again, hitting the log as if it were a mortal enemy.

Marianna shivered as she watched him from the window. She had been aware of his anger, and to see its release in violence was a chastening sight.

Chastening and vaguely erotic.

Vulcan.

He was as primitive as Vulcan wielding his hammer. She could see the bulge of muscle on his thighs as he braced himself before each blow, the pull of tendons in his shoulders beneath the black shirt. A wave of heat went through her as she remembered that moment when she had lain stretched beneath him on the stairs.

The hammer striking the anvil.

No, she would have been no passive anvil. She would have matched him blow for blow. She had felt her will melting with every touch, every moment that passed.

And he had known it. He always knew her every intimate response. He had known he could have her, and he had let her go.

•   •   •

J
ordan stacked the logs in the fireplace, set the kindling, and struck flint. “What is this place?”

“The palace belonged to Czar Paul.”

“It looks as if no one has been here for a long time.”

“No one has. The czar was assassinated in 1801, and the royal family had no knowledge of this place. He had it built by the same workmen who built the tunnel.”

The kindling caught fire and flared. “And were later killed?”

“Yes.”

He sat back on his heels, looking into the fire. “The lock for the key.”

She didn’t answer.

He didn’t take his gaze from the fire as he asked quietly, “Where’s the Jedalar, Marianna?”

She might as well tell him. If he searched, he would find it anyway. “It’s in the chapel down the hall. Do you want to see it?”

“Not now.” He stood up and stoked the fire. “I hope you’ll give it to me later. I don’t want to be forced to take it.” He turned and strode toward the door. “Watch the fire. You must be hungry. I have food in my saddlebag.”

If he had only come an hour later.… She wondered if she had time to run to the chapel and complete her work. No, she decided. What she had to do would take too long. And she must not be discovered until it was done.

No, that wasn’t the true reason. She wanted this time with him. When he found out what she had
done, he would never want to see her again. It wasn’t too much that she take this little for herself.

The fire was burning brightly when he returned to the anteroom, and the chill had almost dispersed. He threw his saddlebags on the hearth and shrugged off his cloak. “I unsaddled your horse and put him in the stable. You shouldn’t have left him standing outside so long.”

She said defensively, “I was coming back to care for him when I saw you and Gregor down the hill.”

“And decided to remove my head from my body.”

“I told you I didn’t mean to harm you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Then you didn’t succeed.”

“Did I really hurt you?”