Unconquered (46 page)

“Little bird, don’t!” He put his arms around her and held her close.

To her chagrin she burst into tears, and he soothed her until her sobbing stopped. “Damnation,” she hiccoughed in English, and he laughed. She was teaching him English, and he had understood her. “Why are you laughing?” she demanded.

“You are adorable,” he chuckled, “and I love you.”

She sighed with exasperation. He would never understand.

But over the next few months she had to admit that he was most attentive and loving. She had carried little Tom alone, without her husband’s love and support, but it had not mattered for she had wanted Jared’s child. She did not want the baby now moving so actively within her, yet this child’s father was with her every chance he had, and strangely, she found his presence helped. As she grew bigger and bigger, and the painful reality of her situation bore down on her, she needed his honest kindness. She believed she would have gone mad without it. She was having another man’s child while, far away, her husband believed himself a widower!

Spring arrived in late March, and with it a letter for Sasha from Prince Cherkessky. Miranda was seated in the sunny salon with him, and she was startled by his moan.

“Sasha, what is it?”

“Oh, God!” he cried, and his voice rose to a keening wail of anguish. “He has left me, Mirushka! I am alone! Alone! Ohh!” And he fell to his knees, sobbing bitterly.

Miranda rose and, crossing the room, bent awkwardly to retrieve the prince’s letter from Sasha’s grasp. Quickly she read the elegant French script.

Alexei Vladimirnovich had been married on the eve of the Russian Christmas to Princess Romanova, and she had instantly proved fertile. The new Princess Cherkessky was expecting the heir to the family fortunes in very early autumn. Alexei
Vladimirnovich believed it better that Sasha remain at the farm in the position of manager. His presence in St. Petersburg could easily upset the princess, and in her delicate condition that was unthinkable. After she had put two or three children in the nursery and Cherkessky’s line was assured, then Sasha might return to his master in St. Petersburg. In the meantime he was to remain in the Crimea. It would be only four or five years at the most.

The prince expressed pleasure at the impending arrival of Miranda Tomasova’s child, and reminded Sasha to be sure and inform him immediately when his beautiful slave woman whelped her first baby for him. She was to be returned to the breeding hut within three months rather than the usual six, and put to stud with Lucas again. With luck they could have another child by her the same time next year.

Miranda shuddered. The prince was certainly an unfeeling brute. The man obviously cared for nothing except money.

The letter closed with the prince wishing Sasha well, and reminding him that if he disobeyed his master’s orders, whatever had once been between them would be forgotten in the prince’s anger and the punishment would be the most painful and severe that could be devised.

Miranda put the letter down and looked at Sasha. The man was now huddled in a heap on the floor, weeping piteously. She narrowed her gaze dispassionately. Perhaps in losing the one person he loved, Sasha would now understand her feelings.

Then a marvelous thought began to take form. If she could use the prince’s cruelty to turn Sasha against him, then maybe, just maybe, she could convince Sasha to retaliate against Alexei Cherkessky! What greater revenge could Sasha take than to free the long-sought breeder?

She smiled to herself. She would convince him to take her and Vanya to Istanbul on the prince’s yacht. He would also take the money the farm would receive in late June, when the farm would host buyers from all over the world at its annual sale. Her smile widened. What a sweet revenge! The prince would be robbed of the fattest part of his yearly revenues as well as her, his prize mare! First, however, she must win Sasha to her side. She bent over and put motherly arms around him.

“Sasha, Sasha, do not grieve,” she soothed. “Please, dear
friend, come and sit on the settee with me. Please, I cannot lift you.”

Her gentle, sympathetic tone penetrated, and he stumbled to his feet and crossed the room with her, falling on the settee. “Oh, Mirushka, how could he do this to me? I knew he must marry for the family’s sake. I would have behaved properly. I have always behaved well. I never embarrassed him. I am, after all, also a Cherkessky by blood.”

“Dear Sasha, what can I say to you?” she murmured. “Now you have been torn from the one person you love in this world. Believe me, I understand. Oh, I understand!”

He raised his tear-streaked face and gazed sorrowfully at her. “And now I understand you, Mirushka. I do, and I beg your forgiveness!”

She cradled him in her arms as if he were a child.

“Poor Sasha, poor Sasha,” she crooned sadly. But there was a triumphant smile on her face.

During the next month she subtly played with him, and upon him, as on a fine instrument. She went along with his moods, loved him, was properly indignant for him. Gradually he began to lean on her and to trust her. Soon she felt safe enough to suggest revenge. Given a few well-chosen words, he would come up with the right solution all by himself.

She had to be careful. If Lucas discovered what she was planning, he would try to stop her again. He was extremely attentive to her these days, taking her for long walks on the beach, holding her little hands in his big paw as any loving young husband might do. Once he had said, “I am going to ask Dimitri Gregorivich if I may suckle upon your breasts before they give you the herb that stops your milk. I shall be your only child, Miranda, and finally you will love me—as I love you.” No, Lucas must not suspect that she had found an escape plan.

The boy Vanya was another concern. His round, childish face contrasted with his sharp little dark blue eyes. He watched her with Sasha for several weeks, finally daring to accost her one afternoon when she was alone.

“Why are you being so kind to Sasha?” he demanded boldly.

She eyed him with amusement, for she had every right to slap him and order him away. She asked him, “Do you love Sasha?”

“Of course! He is the only person who has ever really loved me. I am not just one of the slave children to him. I am special.”

“Would you like to remain with Sasha always?”

“Oh yes, Mirushka!”

“Then trust me as Sasha does. Ask me no more questions. Keep your agile little mind on other things, and speak to no one about your curiosity. If you do these things I can promise you a long and lovely life with Sasha.”

“What if I speak with Lucas?” the boy demanded slyly.

“Then none of your dreams will come true, Vanya. Though you do not understand it now, believe me when I say that I am the key to your happiness. Betray me, and you will be sold off this very year.”

“Can you really do all that, Mirushka?” His childish voice held a note of fear.

“Yes, Vanushka, I can,” she answered him in a voice so confident that he believed her.

“I will be loyal to you,” he promised fervently.

She smiled sweetly at him. “I know you will,” she said, and patting his plump, rosy cheek with one hand, she popped a chocolate into his mouth with the other. “Run along, and play now, Vanushka. I want to take a nap.”

May came, and the pastures were filled with lambs and kids and colts and calves, all gamboling in the bright green grass. The children frolicked in the warm sea, and Miranda was within six weeks of giving birth to
the child
as she called the unwanted growth within her. She had no feelings for it. She longed only to be rid of it. The quicker she gave birth, the quicker she could leave this place.

She had eased back on poor Sasha. Letting him come up with her escape plan too soon would give him too much time to think about it seriously. Too much thought could change his mind because, deep down, his love and loyalty to Prince Cherkessky were still there.

She smiled to herself, watching the children playing in the sea.

“Freedom!” she whispered to herself. She was Miranda Dunham of Wyndsong Island, and she was born to freedom. She would not stop fighting for freedom until death stilled her heartbeat.

    Chapter 13    

T
HE
T
ATARS STRUCK AT DAWN
. S
WEEPING ACROSS THE BESSARABIAN
border to the west, they surprised the helpless inhabitants of Prince Alexei Cherkessky’s slave-breeding farm. The Tatar raiders encountered no resistance, for no one here was foolish enough to resist the Devil’s Horsemen, as they had always been called. Hearing the commotion, Miranda rose as quickly as her condition allowed. Sasha was rushing into her room.

“Tatars!” he gasped. “I don’t understand! The prince is half-Tatar. They have never bothered us before.”

Miranda didn’t bother to mention that the other half of the prince was Russian, and that the Russians had been the ones to murder all of old Prince Batu’s direct male descendants. “What will they do?” she asked.

“The slave markets in ’Stanbul,” was the chilling reply, sobbed by terrified Sasha.

Damnation! Just when it had all been going so well. “Sasha, you must help me!” she said.

“How, Mirushka? How?” he gasped.

“Since I don’t live in the quarters they will not know my situation. Say that I am the married sister of the English Ambassador in St. Petersburg, offered the prince’s hospitality because I could not face another winter in St. Petersburg in my delicate condition. Tell them they can get a fine ransom for me from the British.”

“But who will pay it?”

“The English Ambassador in ’Stanbul will pay. I have told you that my husband is very wealthy, but what I did not tell you is that he is also very good friends with Lord Palmerston, the Minister of War. Please, Sasha! Your loyalty to Alexei Vladimirnovich
at this moment would be misplaced! Did he not betray you and exile you with no thought of your love?”

The pain leaped into his dark eyes, and he looked at her closely.

“Please!” she begged him. “Please!” She could hear the Tatars moving toward the villa. It was the longest moment of her life.

“I will do it, Mirushka!” he said. “I owe you at least a chance. But remember, it may not help.”

“I understand,” she said. “Hurry, we must tell old Marya!”

Together they hurried to the salon. Marya was already there, surrounded by Vanya and the housemaids. Quickly Sasha explained the plan to save Miranda. “She is a great lady in her own land, and the prince was wrong to steal her from her family. We must try to make it right for her now,” he finished, and the frightened group all nodded eagerly, happy that one of them might be spared, glad it was to be Miranda, who had always been kind to them.

The main door to the house was suddenly kicked in, an unnecessary gesture since it had not been locked. The room filled with Tatar warriors. The terrified servant girls shrieked in fright, for the Tatars were a fearsome sight. Their skin had a yellow tone, which contrasted dramatically with their short black hair and slanted dark eyes. Dressed in dark baggy pants that ended at the knee where their boots began, they wore colorful shirts belted in the middle with metal links, and pillbox-shaped dark felt hats with long side flaps.

The raiders were extremely well organized, quickly separating the young servant girls and Vanya, stripping the girls naked and hustling them from the room. Old Marya refused to budge from Miranda’s side, which seemed to amuse them. They ignored Sasha for the moment, scornfully eyeing his red silk dressing gown. But they were extremely solicitous of Miranda, insisting she sit down, patting her belly with broad grins and murmurs of approval.

They all snapped to attention as a slim, fierce-looking man entered the room. Walking up to Sasha, the man spoke in guttural but understandable French. “I am Prince Arik, last surviving grandson of Prince Batu. Who are you, and who is the woman?”

Sasha drew himself up proudly. He knew his fate even if Miranda didn’t. “I am Pieter Vladimirnovich Cherkessky, called Sasha, son of the late Prince Vladimir Cherkessky.”

“You are the current prince?”

“No, my mother was only a serf. I was raised, however, with my half-brother, Prince Alexei.”