The Beloved Scoundrel (42 page)

“Goddammit, I won’t make you bait again!”

“You’ve never made me anything I didn’t choose to be. I choose to do this now.” She turned to Gregor. “Tell him. If we cut off the head, the snake will die. His men won’t attack if we kill Nebrov.”

“That is true,” Gregor said. “But severing that head may be difficult.”

“But we have a better chance here than you do attacking his full force in the hills.”

“She is right,” Gregor said to Jordan. “And if we are defeated, he will still come here for her.”

“Not if she comes with us.”

“I won’t come with you.” She met his gaze. “You’ll have to tie me on my horse. Bring him here.”

“Why the devil are you being so obstinate?”

“Because I’m right.” She added wearily, “And because it has to end. You told me once that he would never give up. Nothing has changed.” Her expression hardened. “Except that he’s hurt Alex. I can’t let him keep harming the people I love. He deserves to die.”

“He will die. But not here. Not with you—”

“Bring him here or I’ll ride out and meet him and bring him myself.”

“Blast you,” he said softly, his tone laden with frustration. He stared at her another moment before whirling on his heels. “Come on, Gregor. We’ve had our orders. Let’s go get the bastard for her.”

“I’ll be waiting in the chapel,” Marianna said.

Jordan glanced at her over his shoulder.

She shook her head. “I won’t be praying for deliverance. I told you the Jedalar was there. Nebrov won’t
be fooled again. I’ll have to show him what he wants to see.”

“You swore you’d never do that.”

“Circumstances have changed. I have no choice.”

“You know that I’m going to be there. Whatever you show Nebrov, you show me.” He paused. “Even after we rid ourselves of Nebrov, you’ll still lose.”

“I know I’ll lose.” Not in the way he meant, but in a manner that would be more devastating than he could dream. “I’ll have to face that when it happens.”

“Marianna …” He took a half-step toward her, then stopped. “Dammit, there’s no time.” He turned and strode out of the room.

Gregor hesitated. “You must not blame him. He does not want this.”

“I don’t blame anyone.” She was beginning to believe Jordan’s words about the inevitability of fate. Nothing else could explain the tangled threads that had interwoven all their lives. “No, that’s not true. I blame Nebrov.”

He searched her expression. “You are no longer afraid of him.”

“I wish I could say that was true,” she said wearily. “But I can’t let the fear stop me. For years my fear made me think I was helpless. I’m not helpless. He killed my mother, and he hurt Alex. I’m not going to let him hurt anyone ever again.”

“Gregor!”

It was Jordan calling from the hall. Gregor hesitated and then walked out.

She waited until she heard the sound of their horses’ hooves on the stones of the courtyard before quickly throwing on her clothes. She left the anteroom and headed toward the chapel.

She had two hours, perhaps less. With the preparations she had made after she had first arrived, it should be enough time.

She threw open the door of the chapel and paused for a moment, staring up at the glorious stained-glass window over the pulpit.

She had told Jordan she was not going to pray for deliverance, but she muttered a prayer beneath her breath anyway.

Sometimes Fate had to have a little help.

T
hey were coming.

Marianna tensed as she heard the clatter of boots on the marble floor of the hall. Fear tore through her as she realized Nebrov would be walking through the door in a matter of seconds.

She looked up at the stained-glass window. “Help me, Grandmama,” she whispered.

She must not be afraid. Everything was ready.

But suppose something went wrong? It might mean—

“If you think you’ll avoid punishment by having our meeting in a chapel, you’re destined to be disappointed,” Nebrov said. “I promised Draken his life and safe passage, but the bargain did not include your own.”

She braced herself, stood up from the pew on which she had been sitting, and turned to face him.

Nebrov’s large eyes were glittering with excitement and triumph as he moved down the aisle toward her, closely followed by Jordan and four soldiers dressed in the green-and-gold uniform of Nebrov’s
army. “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she greeted him.

“The Jedalar,” he said impatiently. “I do not have to tell you how annoyed I will be if you try to trick me again. So annoyed, I will be forced to cut your throat from ear to ear.”

“There’s no need for threats,” Jordan said. “She’s promised to show you what you want.”

“I will give you the Jedalar.” Marianna looked at the soldiers. “But do you really want them to see it? Czar Paul found witnesses both a danger and an inconvenience.”

He hesitated and then waved his hand in dismissal. “Wait outside in the hall.”

Marianna waited until the door closed behind the guards before moving toward the altar.

“Where are you going?” Nebrov asked sharply.

“The Jedalar is behind the altar.” She retrieved the glass panel. “I’ll have to climb on the sacrament table to replace the left lower panel in the window with the Jedalar. I’ll need someone to hand me the panel.”

“I’ll do it.” Jordan strode down the aisle to stand beside the altar. He took the Jedalar and looked down at it. “A rainbow …”

“Grandmama always said that life was always full of rainbows and that we must follow them,” she said in a low voice. “She said great treasures always follow.”

“What treasures?” Nebrov was beside them, peering down at the panel. “Was the tale true? Is there really a treasure room in the tunnel?”

“She said the czar had plans for such a room. I suppose you’ll have to see for yourself.” Marianna lifted her skirts and climbed up on the high marble table. She worked gently at the panel she had previously
loosened and withdrew it from the window. She handed it down to Jordan in exchange for the rainbow Jedalar. It took her only a few moments to secure the Jedalar in place.

She glanced over her shoulder and nodded with satisfaction. “It’s positioned correctly. The sun is behind a cloud now, but I think we should see something in a few minutes.”

“See what?” Nebrov asked.

“I imagine we’re about to see what we came for.” Jordan lifted Marianna down from the table. “The map?”

“Yes.” She moved out from behind the altar. “The complete map of the tunnel. The sunlight pours through the panel and—”

A brilliant stream of sunlight flooded the chapel, and no further explanation was necessary. Magnificent colors and dark shadows were cast over the chapel.

Nebrov made an exclamation and moved toward the left side of the chapel where the rainbow panel’s shadow fell on one of the large white-veined marble blocks that composed the floor of the chapel.

Jordan followed him, but Marianna stayed where she was beside the altar. She knew what they were seeing. The arcs of the rainbow intersected with the veins in the marble in a pattern that was both complicated and detailed. “Zavkov marble. All of the marble for this palace was taken from a small mine in Zavkov, Siberia. My grandmother spent weeks there searching for just the right veining in that marble block so that it would form the precise blend with the Jedalar.”

“The lock and the key,” Jordan murmured. He
lifted his head to look at her across the chapel. “Brilliant.”

“There’s a small square here that might indicate a treasure room.” Nebrov bent over the block. “It appears to be at this end, near the beginning of the tunnel.” Nebrov whirled to face her and snarled, “But it does not show the entrance. What good is the map without the entrance?”

“The czar knew where the entrance was,” Marianna said. “The passages were intricate and required a map, but he knew exactly how to get into the tunnel.”

“And so do you.” Nebrov’s gaze narrowed on her face. “Where is it?”

“I’ll tell you.” She paused. “When you promise me safe passage as you did Jordan and Gregor.”

“I don’t have to promise you anything. I could force the information out of you.”

“Yes, but that would take time, and I can see you’re eager to find the tunnel. Isn’t that worth the satisfaction you might have from any revenge against me?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Very well. You have my word.”

Which meant nothing, as she well knew, but it had been necessary to pretend reluctance to avoid suspicion. She indicated the floor behind the altar. “The third stone. It’s hinged from below and lifts easily. There are stairs leading down into the tunnel.”

Nebrov strode eagerly forward.

“Wait.” She went to the table and lit one of the two oil lamps she had put there in readiness. “You’ll need this.”

Nebrov had already lifted the stone and was peering down into the darkness. He took the oil lamp from her and started down the steps. He stopped on the third step and cautiously tried the stone door to make sure it lifted easily from below before looking up at them and smiling grimly. “Oh no, I have no intention of going down there alone and have you seal me away in the tunnel.”

“Shall I call your men?” Jordan asked.

“Not until I see what’s in the treasure room. You both shall accompany me.” Nebrov added to Jordan, “I wouldn’t think of denying you the pleasure of seeing what you’ve striven to find all these years, Draken.” He climbed back to the floor, pulled his pistol, and gestured toward the waiting darkness. “After you?”

Jordan started down the steps.

Nebrov turned to Marianna. “And now you.”

She tried to keep her expression impassive. “If we’re all to go, then we’ll need another lamp.”

When he nodded curtly, she lit the second lamp on the sacrament table, turned, and started down the steps.

Jordan was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. “What a strange scent there is down here,” he murmured.

He knew!

Or perhaps not, for he took a step back, training his eyes on Nebrov.

Nebrov gestured with the pistol. “Go on. Straight down the main tunnel, no branching off.” His glance was eagerly flicking back and forth as he followed them down the dark corridor. “The treasure room
was on the left,” he muttered. “Where the devil is it?”

“We haven’t gone very far,” Marianna said. Jordan was hesitating in front of her. No, he mustn’t stop now!

She deliberately stepped on the back of his boot to nudge him forward a few more steps. “Perhaps it doesn’t—”

“There it is!” Nebrov’s gaze was on a dark square opening now on his immediate left. “You fools, you would have gone right past it!”

“It’s too dark down here,” Marianna said plaintively. “I can’t see anything.”

Nebrov was already in the middle of the room, lifting his lamp high. “Chests,” he said excitedly, looking all over the large room. “Chests and … kegs! His eyes widened in fear as he realized where he was standing. He started to back from the room.

“Run!” Marianna shouted at Jordan as she hurled the oil lamp to the ground. “Back to the chapel!”

The gunpowder she had spread across the threshold exploded into a wall of flame imprisoning Nebrov within the room!

Jordan grabbed her elbow, and they tore down the corridor toward the steps leading to the chapel. “Christ, there was no treasure room, it was a powder magazine.”

“Hurry!” she gasped out. “Those kegs will explode soon. I spread gunpowder for a little distance down every branch of the tunnel. The timbers supporting the tunnel will catch fire.…”

A shrill scream that chilled her blood caused her to glance over her shoulder.

Nebrov had plunged out of the room, but he was engulfed in flames as he tottered after them like a horrible creature from a nightmare.

“Don’t look at him!” Jordan pushed her toward the stairs now just ahead of them. “Get up those steps.”

A whoosh like a breath of wind went through the tunnel, and she knew the burning Nebrov had ignited the trail of gunpowder in the main tunnel. Another hideous scream and Nebrov was lost to view in a sea of flames.

“God!” Jordan was trying to beat out the flames that leaped from the tunnel floor and reached the skirt of her gown.

“Stop it! You’ll burn your hands.”

Jordan continued to beat at the flames with one hand while he pushed her the final few steps to the surface. “Did you have to seed the entire tunnel? Wasn’t the ammunition room enough?”

She pulled herself onto the floor of the chapel. “I had to be certain.”

Jordan slammed down the stone door. “And nearly got yourself burned to death.”

Her breath was coming in harsh gasps. “Had to be—”

“Certain,” Jordan finished. “How close is the powder room to this palace? Are we all going to be blown to bits?”

She shook her head. “It’s halfway down the hill. Your hands … let me see your hands.”

He ignored her. “It seemed closer.”

“I don’t think—”

An explosion rocked the palace!

Jordan grabbed her and rolled with her until they hit a wall. She lay there watching as a long, jagged crack snaked across the marble floor and explosion after explosion followed one another.

She heard crashes and screams of panic from the hall, but no one ventured into the chapel.

At last the explosions stopped, but the chapel was filling with thick black smoke, curling up from below through the cracks in the floor.

“We have to get out of here,” she whispered. “All the tunnels below the palace will be on fire by now.”

“Is there another way out of here?”

She shook her head. “We’ll have to go out through the palace.”

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “I doubt if anyone will try to stop us. From those screams I’d say Nebrov’s men are concerned only with saving themselves.” He propelled her down the aisle toward the door. As she stepped over the gaping crack in the marble, she could see the glimmer of flames below like a glimpse into the bowels of hell. Nebrov was down in that inferno, and she had condemned him to a horrible death.

She was in a holy place and should not feel this deep sense of satisfaction.

“It’s done, Mama,” she whispered.