The Silver Fox and the Red-Hot Dove (6 page)

Those eyes, a warm green color, were watching her with soulful depth, yet as open and expectant as a puppy’s. Mystified, she stared into them, searching for a way to trust him, wanting to trust him, and wishing suddenly that he and she didn’t come from such different worlds. But this was no puppy, this was an elegant white wolfhound just waiting to taste her neck.
Proklyatnye!
And all his schemes could go to hell with him!

Elena pushed his hand off her shoulder. “Yes?”

“We’ll be landing soon. We’re flying over my estate. Look.”

“Why should this make any difference to me?”

“It’s not what you expected, I think.”

Casually, but with a hidden undercurrent of intrigue, she craned her head and saw only forest broken with wide swaths of meadow. “Do you live in a tree?”

“I have so much land that you’d never tire of exploring it.”

“If I was allowed to go where I wished.”

“You will be.”

The helicopter passed over a stone wall that ran through an alley in the forest as far as Elena could see. “Is your estate enclosed on all sides?”

“The central part, yes. I like my privacy.”

“That wall looks rather high and unclimbable,”
she said with disgust. “A prison is a prison, no matter how much greenery you grow inside it.”

“I’m not holding you prisoner, Elena, I’m
hiding
you.”

“I was already hidden.”

“Your people would have found you soon.”

“The KGB are not ‘my people.’ ” She thought of dear Sergei, who, though he’d been as affectionate as a grandparent with her, would do his duty regardless. “And what will happen if
your
people find me?”

“They won’t. But eventually you’ll have to ask the State Department for permission to stay in this country, you know.”

“I will ask no one. They might send me back.”

“No. They wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know? You say you’re not with the government. What gives you such assurance?” “I’d have, hmmm, heard about it on
television
if we ever turned anyone down.”

She thought there was a sly tone in his voice, but she couldn’t be certain. The helicopter was too noisy to hear such subtle changes. “Such incidents are openly discussed?”

“Oh, yes. You should see our talk shows. Because of them, we keep up with everything from Russian defectors to the sex lives of men who wear skirts.”

“You talk about
sex
on television?”

“Only between game shows, and usually before noon.”

She frowned at the humorous glint in his eyes. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see my story on television when you sell me to the highest bidder.”

“Sell you? No.” His expression turned serious, his eyes, shuttered. Elena’s training at the institute had been designed to fine-tune her alertness to the emotional as well as physical energies that swirled within people. Now she easily read the truth in Audubon’s expression.

He was going to use her in some way. There was no doubt. It troubled him, perhaps made him feel
guilty, but he would do it. “Sell me, yes,” she said wearily, but with sarcasm. “You terrible liar.”

“I’m actually a magnificent liar, when the need arises. I’m afraid it’s a talent my work requires. Not a dishonorable one, when used for the right purposes.”

“Hah. You make importing and exporting things sound like a profession filled with intrigue.”

“Yes.” He leaned back in the heavily upholstered seat, stretched his long legs across her share of the small floor space, and linked his hands over his stomach. His invasion of her territory rattled her; his hooded eyes could hide his emotions much better than she’d expected. “I’m not going to sell you,” he repeated.

“Then why are you interested in me?”

“You’re beautiful, you’re in danger, and you find me irresistible.”

“Only one of those is correct.”

“Then it will be very interesting to find out
which
one, won’t it?” He smiled at her. “So, tell me why you expect me to sell you. You seem to think you’re worth a lot of money. Is there a shortage of secretaries in Moscow? Do you type a thousand words a minute?”

“You think I’m worth a great deal. That’s what I meant.”

“I think you’re worth much more than money. I
have
plenty of money.”

“What don’t you have, then?”

His smile became mysterious, teasing, sexual. “I’m still trying to decide.”

The pilot glanced over his shoulder. “Home, sweet home.”

Elena turned back to the window, her heart beating rapidly. An exclamation of surprise burst from her. They were only a short span above the treetops and closing in on an oasis of luxury in the middle of Audubon’s wilderness. In front of them stretched beautiful lawns, gardens, ponds, white-fenced pastures dotted with horses, stables, and other outbuildings
constructed in a style she’d seen in books about the English countryside.

And at the center of the estate rose a mansion built of stone and timber, its walls whitewashed so that the dark woods crisscrossed them in ornamental patterns with dramatic contrast. There were several stone chimneys, and a stone turret nestled into one of the mansion’s nooks. It was a very welcoming and yet awe-inspiring place, surrounded by an apron of stone courtyard and patios. Everywhere were flower beds, manicured shrubs, and enormous trees.

She’d never seen anything as lovely and as … as
comforting
, she decided. How could anyone harm her in this country manor with its Edenlike setting? It seemed peaceful and safe. Except that Audubon would be with her. Or perhaps
because
he would be with her. Her head throbbed with confusion.

“You won’t be unhappy here,” Audubon said. “And you won’t regret accepting my help.”

Elena sank back on the seat, brooding about doubts—and temptations. “Whatever acceptance you get from me will cost you dearly.” She raised proud eyes to his somber ones. “And money will be the least of it.”

After he and she shared a tense, silent dinner—five courses, unfortunately—in the house’s grand dining room, Audubon escorted her to her suite upstairs. They walked along a hall done in dark English antiques and colorful tapestries. There were no sounds, even their footfalls were silenced by the heavy carpet. “There are so many people in this house,” she muttered. “How can it feel so empty?”

Her question disturbed him because he’d asked it himself in the past few years, but for a different reason. “There are only five people in the house full-time. And they’re either at their jobs tonight or in their apartments in the downstairs wing. They don’t come up here.”

“But what do they all do? I understand the chef,
of course, and his assistant, and the housekeeper, but …”

“There’s a security coordinator, and my personal secretary. You’ll meet them tomorrow.”

“Don’t any of them have families? Wives? Husbands?”

“No. It’s a condition of working for me. If they do marry, they can’t bring their spouses here to live.”

“But why?”

“It’s my home, not an apartment building. And I can’t have all sorts of strangers running around. This is my business headquarters.”

“You lead a very odd life. You have no family, no wife—only people who work for you.”

“My parents died some years ago. As for the wife part—I’m not a fan of marriage. And the nature of my business keeps me traveling a great deal. Marriage wouldn’t work.”

“What exactly do you import and export?”

He shrugged lightly. “Whatever pleases me.” He wished he didn’t have to lie to her. But even if she were an ordinary guest, he couldn’t have told her the truth. There was simply too much at stake to allow information to spread beyond his highly trusted employees. The need for secrecy made for a lonely personal life, no matter how many women shared the perimeters of it, but Audubon had learned to accept loneliness as a child.

At the darkly paneled double doors to her suite, he stopped, looking down at her in the soft light from the frosted bulb in a silver wall sconce. Her unyielding pride had been knocked askew by the day’s traumatic events; she returned his attention with sad eyes.

“This place does not suit me,” she told him in her solemn, husky accent, like Greta Garbo playing
Ninotchka
. “I mean, I don’t suit it.”

“Where did you live in Moscow. An apartment?”

She looked away. “Oh, I … chose … to live at the institute. It’s a grand old place, but nothing like this. I thought I had luxury because I had my own record player.” She shook her head. “But then I
came to America and saw everyone—even children—carrying those … those
boom
things …”

“Boom boxes? You mean the big cassette players?”

“Yes, those. Everyone has one. Amazing.” She waved a hand at the furnishings around them, at his lifestyle. “And now this! You didn’t make your fortune in some immoral way, did you?”

“Me, personally? No.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Audubon family made its money the old-fashioned way—by exploiting other people. We started out in the fur trade, killing off the wildlife and cheating the Indians. Then we became planters and made a mint using slave labor. But we gave that up for the more honorable and profitable business of textile mills, employing young children.”

“But you aren’t repeating those shameful things. You’ve redeemed yourself by becoming a manipulative kidnapper. Take heart.”

“Hmmm, sarcasm with a Russian accent. Don’t tell me that you resent us capitalist pigs.”

“No. I’m not political. Most Russians aren’t, I suppose. I never got to know outsiders. I mean, people outside my own circle of friends.”

“Hmmm. Now
there’s
an interesting slip of the tongue.”

She gave him a cool glance. “The only American I resent is you.”

“Tomorrow I’ll have some clothes and accessories brought in for you. And someone to fix your hair.”

She was barefoot and wearing an oversized pink house dress that belonged to Clarice, his secretary. Clarice had also given her a pink barrette with which to pull the ragamuffin blond tresses back on one side. The amazing thing about Elena Petrovic was that she didn’t seem more than mildly concerned about her parade of unflattering outfits.

And in fact, he was glad her clothes had hidden the charms underneath. It was troublesome enough to be fascinated with her mind and spirit without
becoming obsessed with the rest of the package as well. But he was already losing that battle too.

“What are you going to do?” she asked bitterly. “Dress up the ‘pigeon’ to attract the hawks?”

“No, just make life easier on my sore eyes. Tell me—and don’t be coy about having good taste—do you pick your own clothes?”

“No. I had no say in how I was dressed when you met me. And certainly none after I ran away.”

He was startled.
I was a slave
, he recalled her saying. But he hadn’t taken her words seriously.

“Good night,” she said brusquely.

“Now, wait. You owe me an explanation for your last—”

“I owe you nothing. Nothing at all. I don’t have to be nice to you. I don’t have to care what you think of me.”

It was true, and suddenly he realized she was unique in that respect. Everyone else either owed him something, wanted something from him, feared him, or respected him from a polite distance. She didn’t give a damn about owing, wanting, fearing, or respecting, and so for the first time in years he could simply be himself, for better or worse. He loved it.

She nearly growled when he bent and kissed her quickly on the mouth. “Good night, fair damsel in disgusting dress.”

She said something in Russian, and he was relatively certain it wasn’t a thank-you. After she disappeared behind her suite doors, he stood outside in troubled thought, shocked by his rush of feelings of desire and loneliness.

He suspected she’d try to leave tonight, if for no other reason than to test the boundaries of her situation. She was nine parts courage and one part know-how, which he admired deeply, and he didn’t want to humiliate her, so he’d let her get the adventure out of her system.

But when she tried her wings, he’d be there to stop her. It was really for her own good, he told himself. Really.

Did he think she was so smitten with him that she’d willingly stay? Elena was more angry than frightened when she tiptoed through the dark, imposing halls downstairs and easily unlocked the door to the outside.

Stepping onto a moonlit stone patio, she glanced around at the enormous swimming pool, cabana, and trellises covered with flowering vines. The grounds of the estate stretched beyond the back of the manor without a single obstacle to stop her. She had nothing to fear from the security lights around the stable and other outbuildings, and a Victorian streetlamp put out only a small pool of light in front of the cluster of guest houses nearby. The darkness was hers. She stared at the shadowy magnificence.

Whole houses just for guests! The man must have more money than sense. Why else would he recklessly allow her to wander?

Soon she was skirting the carpet of lawn at the edge of the forest, her bare feet wet with dew. She recoiled from the thought of walking for hours through the sharp, thorny, crunchy, invisible things that lay on the ground under the trees, but if Audubon thought having no shoes would keep her from leaving, he had sadly misjudged her determination.

Still, she was glad when she found a wide, man-made path. She decided to follow it through the woods at least until the moon rose a little higher. An hour later she was still hurrying along, and had to fight the eerie feeling she was lost in the middle of a deep green sea, being watched by sharks. No, not a sea, and not sharks.
Volks
, dangerous, majestic beasts with black fur—no, with white fur, and eyes as green as the forest, and dangerous intentions that the full moon encouraged.

The path rounded a curve and spilled into a meadow. The moon turned the opening into a silver bowl with dark sides made of forest. And in the
center, waiting patiently astride a tall horse, was Audubon.

Elena stumbled to a halt, awed at the drama of the scene then consumed with rage. She’d never had a chance! He’d made a fool of her! She considered running, but already knew he’d catch her. Dignity wouldn’t let her charge into the woods only to collide with trees and then be taken back to the house both bruised
and
defeated.