Forever in Your Embrace (10 page)

Synnovea was overwhelmed by his chivalrous, if somewhat unrealistic, declaration. “I’m truly honored by your pledge, Captain Nekrasov.”

“It has been a privilege escorting you here, my lady,” he assured her warmly, meaning far more than he actually voiced.

Resolving to persevere through the forthcoming meeting with Anna, Synnovea murmured encouragingly, “My name is Synnovea. I deem the familiarity appropriate for a friend.”

“Lady Synnovea,” the captain breathed as he gently squeezed the slender hand resting upon his arm. “And if you’d honor me in like measure, my lady. My name is Nikolai.”

“Nikolai.” Issuing his name with a soft sigh, Synnovea allowed herself to be drawn to the massive entrance by the courtly gentleman.

A brisk rap of knuckles on the portal announced their arrival. Soon the door swung open to reveal a steward garbed in a plain white kaftan. Nikolai faced the man with an undaunted manner of one well acquainted with giving orders. “You may inform the Princess Taraslovna that her ward, Countess Zenkovna, is here requesting admittance.”

The butler eyed the captain’s bandaged arm curiously before he stepped aside and bade them enter. “The princess is expecting you, Countess.”

Synnovea was shown into the parlor where she was politely informed that she would be joined by the mistress of the house. Reassured of her comfort, Nikolai hastened outside to direct the unloading of her baggage, but upon passing Ivan, he found himself the recipient of a haughty glare.

“What ails the cleric?” the officer asked in bemusement as he joined his men.

The sergeant snorted. “Maybe he took offense ’cause you didn’t show him the same respect you gave the countess.”

Nikolai cocked a brow in dubious wonder. “I wasn’t aware that he was deserving any. If you ask me, he’s probably an embarrassment to his order, though I still haven’t determined what that may be.”

Musefully the sergeant stroked the light stubble bristling his chin. “I’d say the man is naught but a weed sprung up from a wayward seed. He’s bound to cause trouble for some unwary soul one day. I pray it may not be the countess, though I sense the man will try.”

“For her sake, Sergeant, I hope you’re wrong.”

Ivan entered the front door without knocking and stalked into the front parlor where he bestowed a chilling glower upon Synnovea. “Captain Nekrasov seems quite taken with you, Countess. Your pride must be greatly bolstered by your triumph in acquiring another male conquest.”

“
Another
male conquest?” she repeated cautiously. “Are you referring to someone in particular?”

“The way that beast Ladislaus claimed you, it’s a miracle you’re even here.”

Synnovea almost breathed a sigh of relief. For a fearful moment she had thought the cleric had been talking about Colonel Rycroft. “Ladislaus saw me as nothing more than a helpless captive at his mercy. By now he has probably found another coach to strip and another woman to ravish. ’Tis indeed a pity he wasn’t captured.”

Ivan tossed his head jeeringly. “We can fault the Englishman for his escape.”

Synnovea cast him a cautious glance. “Of whom do you speak?”

“I’m referring to the officer who rode after you and Ladislaus,” Ivan explained testily. “From what I could gather from his appearance last night, Ladislaus clearly won the fray.”

Synnovea yearned to correct the cleric, but she rejected such a notion, aware that her knowledge would only arouse his curiosity. “A dreadful shame, to be sure.”

They glanced around in unison as Princess Anna Taraslovna floated across the threshold with willowy grace. An elegant, pearl-encrusted
kokoshniki,
adorned with gold stitchery that matched the design decorating her satin brocade
sarafan,
covered her head. Flowing from it in waves of shimmering gold was a gossamer veil hemmed with the same metallic threads. It dutifully covered the long braids of pale hair.

Anna Taraslovna was of an age about twoscore and bore herself with a dignified yet pragmatic confidence that brooked no interference or refusal. She was as tall as Synnovea, and her good looks, though slightly worn with the passage of years, were marked with a lean, squarish jaw and aristocratic features. Her eyes of silver-gray were bright and alert behind dark lashes. Above them finely plucked eyebrows were thinly drawn as if by a single sweep of a quill. Small, telltale wrinkles between her brows and around her lips bespoke of the heavy weight of concern and its consequence. The lightest evidence of a dewlap trembled at her throat, which was otherwise long and elegant. In spite of these tiny flaws brought on by aging, she was still a very attractive woman.

“My dear Synnovea,” Anna murmured, extending slender hands to the younger woman, who rose to her feet in response. “You haven’t changed at all since we last met. You’re just as lovely as ever.”

Synnovea dared make no reference to that particular event, but sank into a deep curtsy, acknowledging the loftier status of the other. In Russia there was certainly no dearth of princely boyars and their ladies even after Tsar Ivan the Terrible had indiscriminately laid waste to so many during his reign of terror years ago. “T
hank
you, Princess. I’m grateful to have the journey behind me.”

“I trust everything went well and that Ivan proved to be of great comfort and assistance to you. I was sure he would be.”

Synnovea managed a fleeting smile. “We were waylaid by thieves, but I shall allow Ivan Voronsky to relate the details of the attack. He was offended nearly as deeply as Captain Nekrasov was wounded.”

Startled by the news, Anna faced Ivan, expecting an explanation, but his ragged appearance obviously caused her greater shock, for she was quick to suggest, “You’ll of course want to refresh yourself before we talk.”

Several soldiers entered the hall, making Anna’s brows gather in annoyance as she noted the abundance of trunks being carried in, but she promptly faced the steward, who had entered the parlor bearing wine-filled goblets on a tray. “Boris, be good enough to escort the soldiers upstairs to the countess’s chambers and direct the good Voronsky to the quarters I’ve reserved for him. Clean garments are awaiting him in the blue chest.”

The servant left his burden on the table and bade the soldiers to follow. Trailing far behind them, the sergeant carried a small bag in his hand and another huge chest balanced on his shoulder. Upon espying Ivan, he set the dusty valise at the cleric’s feet before making his way to the stairs.

“Oh, but I see you’ve brought clothes with you,” Anna surmised as she recognized the satchel.

Ivan shook his head, drawing a perplexed frown from his benefactress. “On the contrary, Your Highness, I’ve been stripped of every possession I took with me, even the clothes off my back. Indeed, I’m grateful to have escaped with my life.” He laid a hand limply into the palm of the other and raised a brow, lending dramatic emphasis to his claim. “It was most severely threatened, Princess, but I’ve accomplished your bidding, as you can see, and, despite the great losses I’ve suffered, have escorted the countess here as you instructed me to do.”

Synnovea had the greatest urge to roll her eyes heavenward at his exaggeration. She noticed, however, that he readily elicited the princess’s dismay.

“Anything you’ve been deprived of during your mission of aid will certainly be replaced, good Voronsky,” Anna assured him. “You must tell me of this dreadful event soon or I shall be overwhelmed by curiosity and worry. Come to my chambers after you’ve attended to your needs. You can explain what has transpired then.”

“Though I suffered unduly, my lady, I’m alive to tell of my hardships, for which I’m indeed t
hank
ful,” Ivan valiantly avouched and, with a brief bow, took his leave.

Anna faced her young charge and made no attempt to hide her disdain as she perused the plain but fashionable gown the younger woman wore. It was apparent the girl didn’t regard herself a Russian
boyarina,
but rather, a lady of English blood.

Remembering the edict her cousin had issued, Anna seethed inwardly, resenting the arrangement, yet she forced a smile that was at best stiff. “Would you care for some refreshments, Synnovea? Boris has brought glasses of chilled
Malieno
for us to savor on this warm day. My cook, Elisaveta, keeps the flasks stored near the ice the servants haul into the cellar during the winter. I find the wine quite refreshing myself.”

Synnovea accepted the libation and tentatively sipped the dark red liquid. She had sensed her new guardian’s displeasure over her attire and waited tensely as that one slowly sipped the brew.

“First let me express my deep remorse over your father’s untimely death, my dear,” Anna continued. “I understand that he took a fever and died quite suddenly.”

Tears still had a tendency to blur Synnovea’s vision when she reflected on her recent loss. “Yes, I’m afraid so. My father appeared so hale and hearty before his illness, we were truly astounded by how quickly he was taken from us.”

Anna latched onto the single word
we
with keen interest, hoping it held some significance. She would’ve snatched at dust motes if they’d have given her an alternative to what the tsar had forced upon her. “Did you have other relatives visiting you at the time, my dear? Your aunt from England, perhaps? It was my understanding that you have no kinsmen here in Russia with whom you could’ve gone to live. Is that indeed the case? I’m sure, since we’re hardly more than strangers, that you’d likely feel more comfortable living with relatives or a close acquaintance.”

Synnovea felt a sudden surge of empathy for the princess, for it was apparent that Anna felt as trapped by the tsar’s decree as she did. His Majesty might have supposed that he was bestowing great compassion upon each of them by bringing them together, Anna as a childless wife, and she, a young woman without parents, but he had failed to consider that as two entirely different individuals who had never been intimate friends and who were totally bereft of bonding by blood ties, a definite threat existed that they’d eventually become enemies caged in the same house together, one forced to extend her hospitality and the other compelled to accept it. Synnovea could only wonder if the day would ever come when one of them would gather enough courage to approach Mikhail with a plea to be released from this uncomfortable arrangement he had concocted for them.

“Did you have someone visiting you at the time of your father’s death?” Anna repeated, making no effort to curb her exasperation at the girl’s delay in answering.

Synnovea vividly recalled the venom the princess had displayed toward their friend at the last diplomatic function to which her father had escorted them. Anna’s hostility had seemed to surprise everyone but the recipient of her disfavor. Indeed, it had been so apparent that Synnovea had grave doubts that it had diminished since then. “Countess Andreyevna was visiting us at the time.”

Anna drew herself up in cool reticence, unable to squelch the animosity that rose within her at the mention of that woman’s name. “I wasn’t aware you had befriended Natasha. What with her stealing your father’s affections from your mother and trying to take her place in your life, I had imagined that you hated her.”

Feeling her cheeks warm with rising ire, Synnovea stared into the swirling dark liquid as she twirled her goblet. “I’m afraid you misunderstood the relationship my father enjoyed with Natasha. It wasn’t one esteemed by lovers, but a friendship based on mutual respect. The countess was my mother’s friend long before she became ours. And as far as I know, my father and Natasha were never lovers and never discussed plans to marry each other. They were simply good friends, that is all.”

Anna’s lips twisted grimly as the girl defended a woman whom gossips had labeled immoral. A widow after three husbands and a whole host of other men chasing her, eager to be the fourth! Why, the very idea of a
boyarina
inviting men to her socials like some unscrupulous harlot was absolutely unheard of! “As far as you know,” Anna goaded. Her tight smile barely disguised the malice churning within her. “But then, you may not have been aware of what was really going on behind your back.”

“There is that possibility, of course, but only a minute one,” Synnovea responded and considered her wine in an effort to hide her irritation. The princess was dragging up stale slander, talk which she had probably been instrumental in starting in the first place. To hear it again reawakened Synnovea’s resentment.

“How long did you say your mother has been dead?”

“Five years,” Synnovea replied in a strained whisper.

“Speak up, please,” Anna snapped, ignoring how trite and petulant it might seem for one of her standing to act in such an acrimonious manner, but she had never asked for the girl to come and live in her home. And she most certainly didn’t want her here. “I can barely hear what you’re saying. And I don’t like being kept waiting for a reply either. You’re not backward, so stop acting as if you were. In the future I must insist that you pay heed to whatever is being said and be more punctual with your response. Is that too much to ask?”

“No, Princess.” Synnovea’s reply came readily enough and was spoken in a clear tone, but the task of suppressing a freshening ire was a hard-won victory. Still, she knew the folly of being drawn into a quarrel with the princess.

“That’s better!” Anna set her goblet aside and rose to her feet as Boris led the soldiers downstairs again. Synnovea followed her example, and Anna made haste to dismiss her. “I’m sure you’ll want to refresh yourself before the dinner hour. Boris can show you to your chambers.”