Unconquered (43 page)

S
HE WAS BROUGHT SUPPER IN HER ROOM. “SASHA’S ORDERS
,” said old Marya disapprovingly. “He and that wicked little scamp, Vanya, are lording it in the dining room. When the boy heard you ate with Sasha he had a tantrum, and so you are banished until further notice.”

Miranda laughed. “I would sooner eat alone than listen to another recitation of Alexei Vladimirnovich’s virtues. Besides, this is my night of rest, Marya. I shall go to sleep immediately after I’ve eaten. Would you think me lazy if I asked to sleep late tomorrow? Sasha won’t care.”

“Why not, dearie? Lucas can exhaust the strongest girl, I am told.” She patted Miranda’s cheek fondly. “What a good girl you are,” she said. “Once I had a pretty little girl child like you, but she died …” The old woman’s voice trailed off sadly for a moment then, catching herself, she smiled. “Sweet dreams to you, Miranda Tomasova. Good night.”

Alone, Miranda ate slowly of the delicious capon breast Marya had brought. Would there be some left in the kitchen, some she could take with her? Maybe a ham. Salted meat lasted longer at sea. Bread? Yes. Fruit. A knife. Lord, yes! She couldn’t go without a knife. Perhaps there would be a fishing line in the boat. She realized that the trip would take her close to a month providing she encountered no severe difficulties. Why hadn’t she looked for a fishing line?

Her supper finished, she lay on her bed. She dared not attempt leaving yet. It was far too early, and she could hear the servants moving about, while from the dining room came the sound of high-pitched laughter. The tiny mantel clock chimed seven, and she dozed, waking a little after eleven. Now all was quiet but for the insistent patter of rain on the red roof tiles.

She rose. Shedding her caftan, she put on Sasha’s breeches. They were a good fit. A linen towel served to bind her breasts, and then came the shirt. She retained her little black slippers, for no one would see her feet in the boat, and if she had to run she couldn’t be bothered with shoes that didn’t fit. She had decided not to cut her beautiful pale-gold hair. Instead, she plaited it into a thick braid, which she tucked beneath Sasha’s cap. She was ready.

Snatching a pillowcase from her bed, she carefully crept from her room and hurried to the kitchen. The goatskin water bags hung full, and she quickly went about the task of stuffing food into the pillowcase.
The knife!
Don’t forget the knife! She chose one from the rack near old Marya’s claw-footed chopping block. Then, taking a thick cloak from one of the hooks near the back door, she quietly let herself outside into the night.

She moved slowly, the water bags weighing her down and the darkness confusing her somewhat. She stopped and recalled the way as she had traveled it in daylight. Feeling more confident, she hurried purposefully forward. Soon she could hear the sound of the sea, and it was all she could do not to run to it.

The rain was coming in torrents now and she could hardly see. The wind had not come about quite as she had anticipated. It blew in off the sea in fierce gusts, and she again began to have doubts about leaving in this wild weather. She reached the boat and, dropping the pillowcase of food into it, began to unload her waterbags.

“Miranda, where are you going?” Lucas asked gently.

She nearly fainted. She couldn’t see him, but he was obviously nearby. Stealthily she began to shove at the boat, and it slipped easily down toward the wildly pounding surf. She felt the tide catch at the boat, and she quickly scrambled into it.

“
Miranda!
”

Frantically she sought for the sail to raise it, but it was gone! Desperately she sought for the oars, but there were none. She knew that there had been oars. Where were they? Sobbing, she tried paddling with her hands, but the winds blew the boat back to shore, and then he was looming over her, dragging it back onto the beach.

“No!” she shrieked at him. “No! No! No!” In violent desperation she flung herself into the sea. Better death than this! Jared! Jared! her mind cried out to him. Oh my love, help me! Help me!

He saw her dark shape poised for a brief moment before she leaped into the water, and letting the boat go he dove in after her, catching at the sodden, heavy cloak to pull her back to safety. He dragged her onto the beach. She was coughing, sobbing, and screaming at him in a language he couldn’t understand. He tore the cape from her, and attempted to get a firmer grasp on her, but she fought him like one demented, clawing, hitting, biting. For several minutes she battled him wildly, and he was astounded by her strength. But then he felt her weaken until finally she collapsed against him, weeping piteously.

Lucas carried her up the beach and toward the nearest shelter, the breeding hut. He used his foot to open the door, and set her down on the bed. She was sobbing bitterly. He closed the door and then gathered wood from a small bin where he had put it earlier. He started a fire, stripped off his own wet clothes, and pulling her to her feet, stripped her soaking garments off of her. He then carefully spread them on the floor near the fire to dry. She had lost her cap and her hair was sopping wet. He unplaited the braid, and loosened her hair. It tumbled damply down her back.

Miranda stood shivering and naked, in shock, unable to stop crying. He put his arms around her and held her close to him. Finally, as her sobs subsided, he began to speak softly. “There is never any going back in life, Miranda. We can only go forward. I love you. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you those
few nights ago. I will not allow you to destroy yourself hungering for a life that is no longer yours. You are my woman now. The prince gave you to me, and I will never let you go!”

“
No!
” she whispered hoarsely.

“Yes!” he answered firmly, and then he was raising her head up to face him. A warm, demanding mouth descended on hers. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, savoring her, tasting the salt taste of her lips. He kissed her shut and quivering eyelids, her nose, her high cheekbones, her cleft chin, and then kissed her soft lips again. His tongue sought hers, but she pulled her head free.

“You promised you would not force m-me!” she sobbed.

“I am not forcing you,” he said.

“Then release me!”

“No,” he said, continuing to hold her close.

“H-how did you know?”

“I watched you this morning as you looked over the boats. Then I waited for you tonight. You are very brave, Miranda, and clever and resourceful and foolish.”

“Why did you stop me?” Her voice was anguished.

“You would have died out there, Miranda. I could not let you die.”

“If you really cared for me,” she whispered low, “you would have let me go.”

“No,” he replied. “I am not that unselfish, Miranda. A gentleman might have been that self-sacrificing, but I am a simple peasant, and could not be.” He paused, then said, “Any man who would be that noble does not deserve you. Peasants learn not to be wasteful of anything, and that includes people.” He gently trailed a finger from her shoulder down her bare arm, and she shivered.

“Don’t,” she said sharply.

His laughter was soft and insinuating. “Why not?” he persisted, and she tried to pull away from him, suddenly aware that their naked bodies were touching from breast to thigh. His free hand pushed her long gold hair aside, and he gently squeezed first her right buttock and then her left. He felt the nipples of her breasts hard and thrusting against his chest, and although she was trying very hard to hide it, her breathing was suddenly short and ragged.

“Please … please … stop,” she whispered. “You promised not to force me! You promised.”

He pulled her down on the bed. “I am not forcing you, Miranda. Have you never experienced desire, little bird?”

“With Jared! But I love Jared!”

“Never with the other young men who courted you? I find that hard to believe.”

“No one else ever courted me,” she said, and suddenly he understood what he had not understood before. Though she had been married and had had a child, she had been very, very sheltered. No man but her husband had ever touched her. She didn’t understand that a body could experience desire for another even without love. If he told her that, she would fight him even harder, for she was not the kind of woman to accept plain lust. It would be better for her to believe that she was falling in love with him. The quicker she accepted her fate, the easier it would be for her.

Lucas had not lied when he told Miranda that he loved her. He fully believed he did. That first glimpse of her, sleeping so innocently in the silvery moonlight, had caught at his heart. She was like none of his other women—the two plump and stolid German girls, the half-dozen women who had been born here at the farm, or the intense Frenchwoman, Mignon, who was several years his senior. The prince had given him Mignon because she was intelligent, and the prince believed she might breed intelligent children.

Intelligent women, said Alexei Vladimirnovich, if placed strategically, could be of immense value to Mother Russia. Lucas had been both amused and amazed by this confidence. Prince Cherkessky had deigned to speak to him only once before. At that time his master had congratulated him on the quality of the children he sired, and his rate of productivity. He had thanked the prince civilly. Then Alexei Vladimirnovich had promised him a silver-blond mate to match his own coloring. The promise had taken five years to fulfill.

He put an arm around her, drawing her near. His hand found her breasts, and he touched them gently. She trembled as he bent his head and his tongue flickered over first one nipple then the other. His mouth sucked hungrily at her right breast, and she whimpered, frightened.

Her body was growing feverish, and she was confused by the feelings assailing her. The feelings were wrong! They had to be wrong, and yet she was beginning to want him! He wasn’t Jared! Yet his lips on her body were tenderly insistent, sweet and somehow … somehow … oh God, she didn’t understand herself, but she didn’t want him to stop. To her shame, she didn’t want him to stop!

“Little bird,” he murmured, his warm breath assaulting her ear, “your breasts are like small summer melons, tender and sweet.” Again his fingers gently caressed the round, tight globes, and he buried his face between them, inhaling her scent.

His hands moved all over her body and his head moved down to her navel. She knew as he kissed it that it would just be a second longer before his eager, seeking mouth would taste of her. She cried out in despair at the very moment, her hands reaching out to catch at his thick hair, to draw him away, but she could not move him. His skilled tongue seemed to know the exact spot that would rouse her to a frenzied passion, when she thought she could bear no more, his big hungry body covered her burning one. He caught at her reluctant little hand, and drew it down to touch his aching manhood.

“I will give you such pleasure, little bird,” his deep warm voice soothed. “I will give you such pleasure,” and then his hand was gently spreading her thighs, and he was slowly, tenderly entering her.

Miranda turned her head to one side, and the tears trickled down her face. He had said he would not force her, and he had not. She had not really given herself, but neither had she successfully prevented him from taking her, for the truth was that she did not want to stop him. He rode her forcefully, driving her up passion’s peaks, yet always holding her back from sweet fulfillment. Miranda began to lose the little control she had held on to, clawing at his back with desperate fingers. She lay breathless, helpless beneath this great man who was loving her so expertly, and his triumphant laughter rumbled about the small room.

“Ah, little bird, little bird, you are a fit mate for me! What beautiful, wonderful daughters we shall make together!”

Then he thrust hard and deep within her, over and over and over until she climaxed with a wild, angry cry, and his potent
seed overflowed her womb. His lips carved a fiery trail down her throat, and he murmured love words in French and another language she didn’t understand. As she floated back to earth she realized with a shock that she had not yet seen his face! Once he had tasted of her body he was insatiable. In all he took her five times that night, and she was barely aware of the last time because she was so exhausted.

She awoke once more in her own room. Not only had he returned her safely, but he had taken the time to dress her love-bruised body in a soft gauze gown. She lay on her back silently watching the dawn unfold. There were no more tears left. She had nothing left. Her body had betrayed her in a way she hadn’t believed possible.

Once Jared had told her she had many things to learn about love, and he had promised to teach her. He hadn’t taught her all, though. There hadn’t been time. He had deserted her for his mission. And now he believed her dead. But she was not dead. She was instead another man’s possession, and last night that man had taught her that passion and love were not necessarily intertwined. It had been a bittersweet lesson, a lesson she would never forget.

Though Lucas had prevented her escape last night, she would not give up. Her life as Jared Dunham’s wife seemed over. He would not want her now, for what respectable man would want her now. But there was her son, little Tom, and there was Wyndsong. The worst was behind her now, and she no longer felt quite so frightened or desperate. She felt a strange calm.

Later, in the kitchen, she asked old Marya where the men lived. She intended satisfying her curiosity. She could not go on making love with a faceless stranger. The old woman cackled delightedly, saying, “So, you are anxious to be with your lover, Mirushka. Well, that is no crime, dearie, and here it is not forbidden, but encouraged. I will tell you where the men’s quarters are, and if you would not mind you can run an errand there for me. My two sisters care for the men, and I promised them some of my plum preserves. I was going to send Marfa with it, but you may go if you like.”

“I will go,” Miranda replied, and a few minutes later she was on her way. She understood now how Lucas had seen her yesterday by the boats. The men’s quarters were located on a hilltop
near the beachfront. As she walked along she realized that she felt almost happy. It was a perfect September day, warm and bright with only the hint of a breeze to blow against her Persian blue caftan and disarrange her long loose hair.