Authors: Fern Michaels
Whitefire (21 page)
“The Khan told me all of the facts,” Banyen said quietly. “There is no need for you to apologize to me. I also prefer the warmth and closeness of a kitchen. Many times when I was a child I ate in the kitchen with my parents and the cook, in our fortress where two rivers came together. I'm not sure I remember it clearly, for I only knew my parents a short time. They were slain by Ivan and his Russians.” He felt his blood begin to boil, so he looked around the room and commented on its size and its cleanliness. He smiled. “Your kitchen is one of the best I've sat in.”
Katmon pushed his half-eaten food away and leaned back in his comfortable chair, the lap robe pulled tightly around him. His pet cat jumped onto his lap and snuggled deeply into the robe. “Do you think you can survive the winter here?” he asked in a reedy voice.
“Yes, I can survive in this house, as can my men. In the spring we'll all be here.”
Was she mistaken, or did he stress the word “we”? Was he implying that if anyone tried to leave it would be the prisoners and not those directly under his command? Probably, for everything he said or did seemed to have a double meaning.
Her grandfather's next statement stunned Katerina.
“My granddaughter fancies herself the next savior of the Ukraine in that she can train these men and regain the Cosars. Do you think she can do it?”
Katerina seethed and fumed as she waited for his reply. When she heard his terse, cold “No” she wasn't surprised.
The old man chuckled, enjoying the prince more each time he spoke.
“Savior! Hardly,” she protested to her grandfather. She fixed a steely eye on Banyen and said, “According to the Radziwill Chronicler, in 6453, by the old Russian calendar, there was a great Russian heroine named Olga. When her husband was killed, she used her wits ingeniously and avenged his death. She tricked his killers into a bathhouse, locked them in, and burnt it to the ground. There are some women,” Katerina said coldly, “who will do whatever is necessary to survive and to avenge a wrongdoing. Do you remember the story, Grandfather?” she demanded, her eyes on the Mongol.
Her grandfather answered with a light nasal snore. Banyen's eyes mocked her as he continued to stare at her.
“Since you seem so well versed in the Radziwill Chronicler, perhaps you are familiar with this verse,” Banyen said sotto voce. “In the winter, the Cumans came to Kiev and captured many villages beyond Kiev, returning with much booty to their land. Glebe, Prince of Kiev, was ill, so he sent his brothers Mikhailo and Vsevolod to pursue the Cumans. Mikhailo, obedient, went after them and overtook them. God helped Mikhailo and Vsevolod against the pagans. Some were killed and others taken prisoner. They took their own prisoners, who were four hundred in number, from the Cumans. They sent the prisoners back to their own lands, and they returned to Kiev praising God and the Holy Mother of God and the Holy Cross. Old Russian calendar 6679,” he said arrogantly.
“Bah, all that means is that you can read or someone told you the story and you remembered it,” the Kat snarled. “Dinner is finished. We have a long night ahead of us; let's get on with it,” she said, getting up from the table. “You first, Mongol, remember what I saidâI'll always be behind you.” She followed him down the cold, dank tunnel that led to the underground arena.
The flickering candles lent themselves to eerie shadows that played on her nerves as she kept her distance, the cloak wrapped snugly around her. “To the left,” she said, as Banyen came to a stop. Almost colliding with him, Katerina backed off, but not quickly enough. Suddenly she found herself imprisoned in hard, muscular arms. Her face was cupped in strong yet gentle hands as his head came down to meet hers. She struggled feebly as she tried to free herself from his grasp. The feel of his moist lips on hers sent her mind reeling, and she became limp in his arms, responding to him as she had on the day of their arrival.
His lips were hungry, demanding that he be satisfied by her. Slowly she strained toward him, willing him to demand more of her so that she could feed his insatiable appetite. Her lips parted, and she tasted his sweetness as she felt his hands explore her body beneath the ermine cape. Her hands found their way to his thick, cropped hair, and she ran her fingers through it, moaning at the desire that washed over her as she crushed her lips into his. Everything was forgotten, all the promises, all the dire threats she had made in silence against him. All she wanted now was to be near him, to have him be part of her. He whispered soft endearments that were barely audible as he blazed a searing trail from her mouth to her neck to her breasts. His hands were tender yet searching. Low animal sounds erupted from his throat. Nothing matters, she told herself as she sought the devouring lips and the delicious feel of his body next to hers. Wave after wave of desire rose in her as she felt him stiffen against her.
“Later,” he whispered. “Later I'll come to your room,” he breathed raggedly. “Later we'll be as one,” he said, tearing his mouth from hers.
She stared at him with glazed, passion-filled eyes. In that moment she would have promised him the moon if he had asked for it. Shaking, she straightened herself and drew the ermine around her slim body. He wanted her, needed her. God help her, she also craved his total embraceâbut she knew that when he came to her room she wouldn't open the door. Not to this Mongol! Never this Mongol!
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Banyen positioned his men with their assigned horses and lances and put them through their paces. While they were slow and inexperienced, he was satisfied with each man's performance. Not so with the Kat as she singled out man after man with the tip of her lance. Once Banyen ground his teeth together when she drew blood from a sharp-tongued soldier. Her rejoinders were just as caustic as his epithets.
Kostya wasn't having any trouble with his small column of men. They did his bidding, their movements were sure and precise. Banyen's eyes narrowed as he watched Katerina look at Kostya with approval. She smiled and said something that sounded like congratulations. Kostya nodded, his bright eyes appraising and full of . . .
Banyen shook his head to clear his thoughts. He berated one of his men for a senseless mistake.
The prince's gaze traveled back to Katerina as she slouched against the wall next to Mikhailo. What was there about the Cossack girl that could stir him as she did? Why did his senses get the better of him when he was near her? Why did he want
her
? A woman was a woman. He liked the sweet, heady fragrance that she exuded, and he liked the feel of her slim body, covered though it was by her heavy clothing. And her incredible eyesâhe had never seen any like hers. One moment they were like ripe, golden apricots, and the next they were raging volcanoes. He had to have her, and he meant to have her, and the sooner the better. But even though he had told her he would come to her room this night, he knew he wouldn't. He would make her wait, wait till she craved his body, till the desire rose in her eyes for all to see.
her
? A woman was a woman. He liked the sweet, heady fragrance that she exuded, and he liked the feel of her slim body, covered though it was by her heavy clothing. And her incredible eyesâhe had never seen any like hers. One moment they were like ripe, golden apricots, and the next they were raging volcanoes. He had to have her, and he meant to have her, and the sooner the better. But even though he had told her he would come to her room this night, he knew he wouldn't. He would make her wait, wait till she craved his body, till the desire rose in her eyes for all to see.
A wild thought stormed its way into his mind, and he stiffened. What if the bastard Kostya got to her first? Even from this distance he could see that there was only one emotion exuding from the Russian. He bristled with anger at the Russian's fitness. Stronger, better men had broken in the Mongol stockade. What had kept him alive and in condition? He had seen men beg and cry to be freed from their shackles, but not Kostya.
It was true, Katerina had a keen eye for a man's worth, but he knew in his gut she had made a mistake with Kostya. A sly look settled over Banyen's face. Let her learn from her errors; he owed her nothing except the promise he had made to her, that he would have her one way or another.
Kostya could feel the Mongol's eyes on him and knew the prince was filled with rage at his ability to carry out his orders so well. He smiled to himself. There was a lot to be said for hearty peasant stock. It was to be a contest between himself and the Mongol, but not for the obvious reasons. Who would get the Kat, the Mongol or himself? He was no fool, even if the Mongol thought otherwise. Hadn't he seen the approval reflected in the girl's face? Hadn't he felt her tremble at his nearness when they came through the archway? Time was his answer. Let the Mongol plow ahead like a bull and antagonize her every chance he got. It would be he, Kostya, who would win out. All he had to do was wait and bide his time. All things came to those who were patient. The Mongol was not a patient man; this he knew from his months in the stockade. He was tense, taut, as if ready to spring at a moment's notice. True, a formidable enemy and one who would give a good accounting of himself, but with a few weeks of the Kat's rigorous training Kostya would also be someone to seriously contend with. It would be interesting to see which of them won.
Katerina continued with her nonchalant pose against the wall as she whispered to Mikhailo, “A wise choice, don't you agree? Look at their eyesâthey're like two fighting cocks. One won't let the other get ahead of him. Which do you put your kopecks on, Mikhailo?”
“The Mongol,” Mikhailo said curtly.
“The Mongol!” Katerina exclaimed in surprise. “Why?”
“Several reasons,” Mikhailo said harshly. “He's a man, the Russian is but a boy compared to him. True, they both have strength to their bodies, and both have a certain arrogance about them, but it's the years of experience the prince has behind him in the ways of the world that will drive him to be the victor. The question is, what will he win, Katerina? Observe his eyes and you'll see that I'm right. I see things in him I saw in your father and in your grandfather. Heed my words, Katerina, for I speak the truth.”
Katerina was stunned at his words. “How can you say a thing like that? He's nothing like my father. And my father is dead because he made a mistake and thought he was infallible. No man is above that,” she said gruffly.
“Not this man, Katerina.”
Her honeyed eyes glinted angrily as she listened to the Cossack. She wouldn't, she couldn't admit that his words shook her to the core. How could he be so confident? She hated to admit it, but she knew the old man was right; she sensed it, felt it, every time she was near Banyen. “He's an animal,” she seethed under her breath. And she would treat him as such. Kostya, on the other hand, was a . . . Yes, she asked herself, what is Kostya? She felt drawn to him for reasons she couldn't explain. Yet he showed nothing when he was near her, just that piercing gaze that was completely devoid of any meaning. Banyen's eyes spoke of many things . . . things she had no wish to see.
Shortly before midnight Katerina called a halt to the drill and ordered Mikhailo to collect the weapons and take the men to their quarters. “And,” she said harshly, “I have no wish to hear that the Mongol is to be quartered in the big house. He stays here with his men, and you'll place a guard on the door and bolt it from the outside. Royal blood means nothing in this house; please tell him that for me.”
Katerina neither spoke to nor looked at the men again as she left the vast arena. She had no desire to look into piercing blue eyes or smoldering, angry, dark ones that plotted against her.
She stopped in the kitchen before retiring to her room, and was surprised to see her grandfather still awake near the blazing fire, the cat clutched tightly in his bony hands. His eyes were bright with questions, but he waited for her to speak.
Katerina poured herself a cup of strong tea and sat down on the hearth. “It went well. Tomorrow, when their bones and muscles ache, we'll see how proficient they are. They all made wise decisions on the horses. I anticipate no great trouble, at least nothing that I cannot handle with Mikhailo's help.”
“When are you going to tell them why they're here?” the old man demanded. “A man has a right to know what's in store for him. Withholding your reasons could well be your undoing. What will you do if, after you've trained them, they refuse to fight for you? What will you do then? These are not weak-kneed people but strong, virile men. Think on that while you sleep tonight. A man has a right to know what's in store for him,” he repeated in his frail voice. “What you're doing is a magnificent thing, but what good will it do you if the men don't choose to fight with you when the time comes? You must be fair, your father taught you well. How can you be so shortsighted? Don't let it all be for nothing.” The paper-thin eyelids closed, ending the argument. He was asleep.
Zedda is right, Katerina thought wearily as she rubbed at her temples. Tomorrow she would explain to the prisoners her reasons for bringing them to the mountains and what she expected of them. Tomorrow was another day. If only she had the Cosars, none of this would be necessary. Who had them? And what would become of them? Would they be scattered and sold to the highest bidder?
Katerina poured herself another cup of the scalding tea and carried it with her down the long corridor and up the steep curving stairway to her room. She set the cup on the hearth and added several logs to the already blazing fire. The high bed, with its thick, downy pedina, looked inviting. What would it be like to roll and move around in the big bed with a man she loved? Katerina blinked as she realized where she was, and quickly raced to the door and threw the bolt. The sound was comforting in the quiet roomâa balm to her tightly strung nerves. Did she really want the Mongol to come to her room? Did she want to lie with him?
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