A Sister's Quest (8 page)

“Good evening, Rusak,” she said softly, trying to be pleasant to this man who considered her an interloper. Whether Rusak was jealous or protective of Alexei, she could not guess. All she knew was that he despised her.

When a mug of beer was placed in front of her, Alexei sat next to her and held up his own mug. “To our good fortune. May our good luck come quickly and frequently.” He took a hearty drink and wiped his foamy mustache with his sleeve. “Drink up, Michelle.”

“I have never had beer before.”

“Then 'tis time that you did.”

She recognized the challenge in his voice. She did not look at him as she lifted the heavy tankard. Taking a deep breath, she drank. Beer splashed on the table as she choked on the acrid flavor. Alexei slapped her companionably on the back.

“I am glad I am giving you a good laugh,” she said past her scratchy throat.

“Actually, it is good beer.”

She pushed her mug toward him. “Then have mine.”

“All right.” He poured some in his tankard and held the rest up in Rusak's direction. When Rusak nodded, he dumped the rest in his mug.

Some message she could not understand passed between the two men. Alexei comprehended his friend as no one else could. They shared an alien language of glances and motions she doubted she could learn.

When she rose, Alexei glanced up, surprised. “Are you leaving, Michelle?”

“I am tired, and I am interfering with your fun.” She frowned. “Of course, you will have to find someone else to hoax once I have left. Good night, Alexei, Rusak.”

Rusak nodded with satisfaction, but Alexei downed his beer in a single swallow and placed the mug on the table. He stood. “Get me a refill, Rusak. I shall be back.”

“Don't bother,” Michelle said. “I can walk up the stairs alone.”

He put his arm around her waist and steered her toward the steps. “I am sure you can,
Liebchen
, but I do not like the way the men are watching you.”

“Again?” When she started to turn, he pushed her up the stairs ahead of him.

“Still,” he corrected. “Pretty ladies like you cause trouble without trying.”

She did not answer. When they reached the narrow landing at the top of the stairs, he put his hand on her elbow. She faced him, but remained silent. Tonight she had not said anything right.

“Good night,
Liebchen
. I shall be only a few minutes while I tell Rusak about our route tomorrow.”

“Oh! You wanted to speak to me about Vienna.”

He put his finger to her lips. “We will have time in the coach on the morrow. Go to bed now. I can lock the door if you wish.”

“That might be a good idea,” she said, although she could think only of his fingers stroking her arm. The smallest movement might urge him to draw her into his arms again. Thoughts she should not have spiraled through her mind, but she must not do anything to show him how she longed for his kisses.

Softly she repeated, “Good night, Alexei.”

“Will fifteen minutes be enough for you to hide under the covers?”

“Yes.”

As she turned to the door, he brought her face back toward him. “Are you really tired?”

“Yes.” She was tired of the upheavals in her life. Once things had been so simple, so straightforward, so undeniably right or wrong. Nothing was that way any longer. She wanted his mouth on hers and his hands touching her in ways she was only beginning to imagine. He would be glad to oblige before he sought out the next woman who might pass through his life.

She closed the door and heard him lock it. She should be grateful Alexei was being a gentleman. The thought of wrestling with him to keep him out of her bed was not a pleasant one. Yet … Crossing the room, she pulled her nightgown from her bag. She undid her dress and pulled it over her head. The muslin nightgown dropped over her. Nothing relieved her baffling frustration. She did not know why she was upset when Alexei was doing exactly as she should wish.

She pulled pins from her hair and stared at her hueless face. What she
should
wish. Not what she wished. Brushing her hair with short, ferocious strokes, she sighed.

Everything was wrong, but she could not return to St. Bernard without getting answers to some questions—questions of her past and of
Maman
and of Alexei and of how all three interacted.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Blowing out the candle, she hastily climbed into bed and arranged the covers around her. She winced as the thin feather bed shifted to leave her on a wooden slat. When she was about to adjust it, she heard the key rattle.

The door opened with a squeak. A splash of light flowed from the lantern on the landing. Burrowing under the covers, she knew that saying anything would be an invitation to another quarrel. With Alexei or with herself? That was another question she did not want to answer. All she wanted now was to dream of a place where no one hid the truth.

He relocked the door before walking across the room. The floorboards screamed in the darkness. It was a sound she had not noticed earlier when she had been arguing with Alexei.

When the footfalls neared the bed, she scowled. Alexei should have seen his pillow and blanket next to the broken chair. Sitting up, she asked, “Alexei, is there something wrong? If—”

A hand seized her arm as another clamped over her mouth. She was shoved into the mattress. She tried to scramble away, but the hands were too strong.

The shadows congealed into a form. She fought to escape. The bed screeched as the man put a knee on it. Shaking her head, she clawed at the hand over her mouth. It ground into her lips, driving them against her teeth.

She struck the man. He batted her hands away. When the covers were jerked away, she shrieked. She heard a triumphant laugh as the hand over her mouth slipped to her throat. She took a deep breath to scream. Broad fingers cut into her neck, gagging her.

She struggled to squirm away from the fingers moving along her legs. They tugged aside her nightgown. The thought of kicking him flitted through her head, but was lost as she struggled to release the breath imprisoned in her lungs and gasp for another. Blackness surrounded her.

Nothing mattered.

Not the questions that plagued her. Not Alexei and his strange ways. Not this man who reeked of beer and was stroking her legs boldly. None of it mattered. She was nothing. She was—

Fresh air struck Michelle like a blow. She choked, rolling on her side and pressing her hand to her throat. She heard a fist striking someone and a grunt of pain. She sucked in deep breaths. A door slammed somewhere. Voices shouted. She paid no attention. Breathing was enough.

“Michelle?
Liebchen
, are you hurt?”

Hands settled on her shoulders. She screamed. When she was pulled against an unyielding body, she fought for only the second it took her to realize Alexei held her.

“Alexei,” she whispered. “Alexei, it was horrible. He … He—”

“Hush,
Liebchen
. He will not hurt you again.” His hand tilted her face up to his intense gaze. Only now did she realize that someone had relit the candle.

Looking across the room, she saw Rusak by the door. Rage twisted his lips, but, for once, it was not aimed at her. Compassion softened his rigid mouth as he looked at her.

“How did that man get in here?” she asked.

Alexei's smile was honed with fury. “As with everything else tonight, it was my fault. After I left you here, I went outside.”

“Outside?”

“For personal reasons.” His eyes twinkled for a moment before they darkened with fury. “Your caller got another key somehow. He bragged to his comrade. They thought Rusak was deaf as well as mute. When he overheard their plans for one to keep me busy while you entertained the other, Rusak found me. We have settled our accounts with our innkeeper and his allies.”

She rose as far as her knees, but gripped the headboard to keep from falling. “Thank you, Rusak.”

Grudgingly he nodded. He seemed grateful when Alexei asked him to bring the carriage from the rickety barn behind the
Gasthaus
. Picking up Michelle's satchel and flinging her dress over his arm, Rusak hurried away.

“Let's go,” Alexei commanded. “I have had enough of this place.”

“You are hurt!” She touched the scarlet mark along the sharp ridge of his left cheekbone.

His smile became malevolent. Rubbing his reddened knuckles, he laughed. “Not as much as your caller. He shall be sporting at least one black eye on the morrow. If I had not been afraid of killing you, he would have met my pistol instead of my fist.”

“Alexei!”

“Do not scold me,” he said, framing her face with his hands. His eyes drilled her. “I was not there when Sophie could have used my help, and I will be damned before I let you get hurt, too.”

“It was not your fault
Maman
died,” she whispered, wanting to comfort him for this raw wound.

“Be careful what assumptions you make,
Liebchen
.”

She inched back. “Are you saying it was your fault?”

“I am saying,” he murmured as he held her lips close to his, “that things might have been different if I had been there.”

“You might be dead, too.”

“Or she might be alive.”

“Alexei, you cannot fault yourself for something that is not your fault.”

“I am glad you feel that way,
Liebchen
, because it is not my fault that I want to kiss you so much. 'Tis yours.” His smile warmed as he tipped her lips beneath his.

She breathed his name in anticipation of rapture, then gasped as he turned her face and kissed her lightly on the cheek. With a laugh, he draped the blanket over her shoulders and scooped her into his arms.

“Wrap the covers around your legs,
Liebchen
. 'Tis cold out.”

“I cannot go out in my nightgown!”

“It covers you well enough.” All amusement left his face. “Michelle, we will not stay here tonight.”

Relenting, because she knew he was being wise—wiser than she was when she could think of nothing but his kiss—she leaned her head on his shoulder. He was correct. If they stayed at the
Gasthaus
, they must guard all night against another attack. As she imagined the long hours ahead of them, she hoped Alexei would hold her close as he did while he carried her toward the stairs. Nothing had ever been so splendid as being in his arms.

She knew the peril she was courting with these thoughts, but, as she rested against his broad chest, she savored them. There could be no danger in that … could there?

Michelle was surprised to see that Rusak was seated in the driver's seat of the carriage. As the snow cut through the blanket, she asked, “Where is your coachee?”

“He is no longer in my employ.”

“You gave him his leave? Because …”

He pushed aside the carriage door with his foot and lifted her onto the seat. “He was talking more than he should when the beer loosened his tongue.” Stepping into the carriage, he lit the small lantern near its roof. “And I suspect he helped your caller.”

“Why?”

“Who knows why any man will sell his loyalty in exchange for gold?” He closed the door and slapped the wall. “It does not concern me, for Rusak can drive us the rest of the way to Vienna while you play my devoted mistress,
Liebchen
.”

She drew the blanket more tightly around her. “I wish you would not call me that.”

“Now, now,” he teased as he wagged a finger at her. “Bad habits take a while to develop. We shall be in Vienna soon, and I must be able to call you that without thinking.”

“As long as you do not expect me to call you darling, too.”

He laughed as he stretched his arm along the back of the seat and crossed his legs so that his boot brushed the blanket. “No, Michelle, I do not expect you to call me anything but Alexei. For a woman educated at that prim school, I think that in itself is quite a concession.”

The carriage lurched into motion, saving her from having to answer. She changed the subject to one she found more comfortable.

Alexei smiled as Michelle prattled on about the mountains around them. Since he had found her at St. Bernard's School for Girls, he had found out how different she was from his expectations. Her mother had been world-weary, tested by years of living two separate lives. Michelle was an innocent, believing that she could change the world simply because she did good for those around her.

Innocent mayhap in many ways, but he could not be unaware of her enticing beauty. Her mother had been an elegant hostess, winning the admiration of men throughout Europe. He should have been prepared to discover that Michelle possessed Sophie's elusive allure, which he had sensed even though Sophie D'Orage had been many years his senior when they worked together. Yet it was Michelle's innocence that made her even more irresistible than her mother.

His hand curled around her shoulder, halting her in midword. When she glanced up at him, her eyes luminous in the dim light, he smiled. A man could lose himself in those eyes, if he was not cautious. It was his good fortune that
he
was always cautious. If he had not been, he would have given in to his yearning to press her back into that bed and teach her how much rapture they could share. She was concerned that he was sleeping on the floor night after night, but she need not be, for he could not sleep, plagued with the intoxicating thoughts of her so near.

“
Liebchen
.” At her grimace, he smiled and repeated, “
Liebchen
, there are some things you need to know about how we must appear when we reach Vienna.”

“Such as?”

“Everything said or done in our apartment must never be discussed elsewhere.”

Her eyes sparked. “Do not treat me as if I am completely naïve, Alexei.”

He flinched at her words. Had she become privy to his thoughts? Warning himself not to be fanciful, he let his hand slip along her arm. He fought his yearning to press her back against the seat and claim her lips. To claim all of her. With her hair flowing along her back and her eyes hooded with fatigue, she had a vulnerability that was beguiling.