Forever in Your Embrace (20 page)

“You’ve impressed him!” Nikolai answered in amazement, almost in awe of anyone who could perform such a feat. “You’re to arrange an audience with him in the next several days!”

Tyrone dragged the reins loosely through his fingers and, gathering them close, rested his hand upon the pommel of the saddle as he cocked a brow at the major. The tsar’s recognition was what he had been striving for, but he was rather astonished at how quickly he had gained his objective. “And how should I go about accomplishing that visit?”

“I’ve been enlisted to instruct you on what will be expected, Colonel. If you’re free this evening, we can meet at my quarters. The sooner you respond, the better you’ll be showing respect for his majesty.”

“Of course,” Tyrone agreed, giving up his plans to ride out to the Taraslov house later on in the evening. In the past fortnight he had drilled his men with unswerving diligence, allowing himself no time to appease his desire to see Synnovea again and plead his cause through Ali. That was not to say that the dark-haired beauty hadn’t occupied his mind with singular persistence since he had last seen her. If anything, his moonlit visit to her bedroom had intensified his dilemma. Now more than ever, he’d wake from a fitful sleep with her face before him, a sense of her naked softness lingering hauntingly against his skin. The difficulty in banishing those persistent yet delectable memories robbed him of sleep, and though he’d pace the length and breadth of his bedchamber in an effort to settle his mind on something less disturbing, his failure left him painfully tormented by his growing desire for her. Staring at her miniature only increased his longings. Though he had once teased her about claiming an audience with the tsar, he had been far more serious about his quest than he would have admitted to anyone. Finding favor with His Majesty was essential in getting what he really wanted, and only in that respect did he deem the meeting with Major Nekrasov more important than a visit to the Taraslov manse. Without a doubt, Tsar Mikhail could open any door in Russia that had been slammed in his face.

More than a fortnight had fled since Synnovea’s arrival in Moscow, and in that time she had been forced to endure Ivan’s phlegmatic instructions, Anna’s harsh criticisms, and Aleksei’s zealous pursuits, the latter always well out of earshot and eyesight of his wife. Synnovea was beginning to feel as jittery as a tiny bird beneath the sharp, watchful eye of a raven. It seemed in every shadowed area she passed there lurked a danger of being surprised by the prince and, even more disturbing, a threat of being fondled in either a feigned or a more deliberate manner. It was maddening to find herself the prey in his game of chase, but Aleksei seemed intent on taking advantage of every opportunity that presented itself while Anna devoted most of her time and attention aiding Ivan Voronsky in his ambitious climb to fame.

Anna had postponed her visit to her father’s bedside, having decided her plans to honor Ivan at a reception were of greater importance. The princess and the cleric had become all but inseparable. While Aleksei roamed elsewhere, they visited boyars of great power and wealth in an effort to abet kindred spirits. If the atmosphere and temperaments were right, they carefully encouraged the airing of whatever adverse sentiments existed against the Patriarch Filaret Nikitich. Synnovea had gleaned at least this much from her bedchamber where she had been cautioned to stay during a meeting of boyars whom Anna had invited to the manse. It had certainly not been Synnovea’s intent to eavesdrop, but the outraged shouts, which Ivan seemed to liberally provoke with his suggestions, were impossible to ignore even upstairs. In light of the bizarre views the cleric had expressed during their journey to Moscow, she could only wonder if he held aspirations of uprooting Tsar Mikhail from his throne. It seemed doubtful that Anna would be party to such a goal, being Mikhail’s cousin. Even so, Synnovea couldn’t banish her own strengthening suspicions.

It was early on a Wednesday morning when Aleksei informed his wife that he’d be attending business affairs in a neighboring city and that she shouldn’t expect him back until late the following day. His announcement and departure bolstered Anna’s confidence that she could leave her charge behind at the manse and nothing untoward would transpire while she ventured out with Ivan. Shortly after the two left, Synnovea sent Ali off with Stenka to attend the needs of Elisaveta’s sister. As she awaited her servants’ return, she retreated to the Taraslov garden, where she began reviewing a book which Ivan had given her earlier in the day, no doubt to keep her aware of his power even in his absence.

It was midafternoon when a somewhat surprised Boris opened the door for his master. “We weren’t expecting you to return until the morrow, my lord.”

“A change of plans, Boris.” Aleksei glanced casually about. “Is my wife here?”

“No, my lord. Princess Anna left more than an hour ago with…”

“The good Ivan Voronsky,” Aleksei concluded for the elder, allowing some irritation to show for the steward’s benefit.

Boris hurried to allay any husbandly jealousy. “They went to visit Prince Dimitrievich at his home, my lord. I’m sure Princess Anna would be delighted if you joined them there.”

“What? And suffer through another boring discussion of that old boyar’s prospects for producing another brood of children in his dwindling years?” Aleksei laughed with a negative shake of his head. “I think not, Boris. At his advanced age, Vladimir should be thinking of dividing his wealth between the sons he has already rather than looking for a new wife upon whom he can spawn new ones.”

Boris chuckled, having overheard for himself the old boyar’s expectations. “I’ve no doubt that it’s the wish of every man facing advancing years to be equally as capable as Prince Vladimir when they reach his age.”

Cocking a curious brow, Aleksei peered at the steward, wondering if he was voicing aspirations of his own. “Perhaps the old prince isn’t nearly as
capable
as he’d like everyone to believe.”

“That may be true, sir,” Boris agreed, and then heaved a sigh. “But it’s nice for a man to believe there’s some hope.”

Aleksei grinned in agreement. “Absolutely.”

Only a few moments passed before the prince entered the garden and found Synnovea sitting with her chin propped in her hands. Intent upon her studies, she failed to notice him until he spoke.

“My dear child, what are you so engrossed in?”

The softly coiffed head snapped up in surprise, and Aleksei found himself staring into startled green-brown eyes. He smiled as he plumbed the depths of her sudden disquiet. She was as skittish as a young hare that had just been cornered by a wily fox.

“Prince Aleksei!” Synnovea rose nervously to her feet. “We weren’t expecting you until the morrow. My goodness, won’t Anna be surprised!” Her breathless tone readily conveyed her rampant distrust. “I think she should be back any moment now….”

Her words dwindled to an uneasy silence as his dark eyes gleamed back at her in dubious amusement. “Come now, Synnovea,” he gently reproached. “We both know that Anna dallies overlong whenever she accompanies Ivan on one of his jaunts to fame. She has ambitions not unlike his, you know.”

Almost in mesmerized distraction, his gaze dipped to the higher curves of her bosom, which her square, lace-edged neckline coyly revealed. Even so minute a glimpse was more than he had been afforded since he had opened her bedchamber door and found her sleeping on her chaise. Since then, the girl had discreetly garbed herself in
sarafans…
until today. A crisp, lacy ruff now adorned the slender column of her throat and was daintily fastened with a lavender ribbon, a color found in the flowery lawn of her gown. Below the charming neckpiece, the close-fitting bodice accentuated the narrowness of her waist, while the neckline left him appreciative of the youthful luster of her creamy skin.

“May I join you?” he inquired, presenting his best manners.

“O-of course,” Synnovea replied. How could she deny him? If she had taken the initiative to tell him nay, he probably would have seized her outright.

Aleksei closed the space between them, and in swift reaction, Synnovea skirted around the marble table, where she poured herself a chilled glass of watered wine. Managing a tremulous smile beneath his ever-warming regard, she gulped a sip before she recalled her manners. Reluctantly she swept a hand to indicate the pitcher of wine and a small plate of cakes that Elisaveta had brought out to her. “Would you care for some refreshments?”

Aleksei smiled at her guise of gracious hostess, well acquainted with the ploys of a reluctant maid. She had been most eager to place a barrier between them, as if the tiny table could offer her protection against the encroachment of a passionate swain. “Perhaps a glass of watered wine.”

Aleksei accepted the goblet from her and, lifting his head, gazed out over the carefully tended garden. He wasn’t a man who normally gave himself over to the enjoyment of such simple pleasures, but with Synnovea near at hand he could feel himself relaxing in the peaceful tranquility of the glade. Perhaps if he had wed a woman who would have been content with his wealth and princely possessions instead of being driven with an insatiable ambition to have the best of everything, he might have been satisfied to devote more of his attention to nurturing a love for her. With increasing frequency now, he felt compelled to flaunt his many conquests before Anna. Perhaps unconsciously it was his way of seeking revenge for the disquiet she awakened within him.

“Will you walk with me through the garden, Synnovea?” he invited, continuing around the table. He took her arm and swept his free hand toward the paths that were bordered with flowers. “It has been more than a season of years since I’ve taken time to admire such riotous blooms.”

Hesitantly Synnovea moved along the lane beside him, cautiously giving an excuse for a timely escape. “Elisaveta is expecting me back in the kitchen any moment now. I promised to help her make bread, so I mustn’t be away too long. She’ll come looking for me.”

“A simple walk through the garden doesn’t require too much time,” Aleksei assured her. “I have to leave again shortly anyway. I left some important documents behind when I left this morning, and I had to come back to fetch them. I thought everyone had gone, and then I noticed you out here.” He raised his head and slowly inhaled the sweet, heady fragrance that wafted from several large blossoms adorning a nearby bush. “I had almost forgotten such pleasures exist.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Synnovea noticed that they were no longer in sight of the house, for the draping limbs of a tree now obscured the trail behind them. “I should go back now.”

“Not yet, Synnovea.” His hand slipped downward to clasp hers, and when she gasped in surprise and tried to draw away, he laughed and indicated the path ahead. “Did you ever see the dovecote? It’s just up ahead.”

Hearing a soft cooing beyond them, Synnovea conceded him a cautious victory and allowed him to draw her with him. He released her hand as they approached a white, circular structure where a dozen or more pigeons calmly roosted. Others flitted to and fro overhead. The fluttering of wings warned them of another approaching bird, and Synnovea turned to observe a dove’s flight to a slender perch jutting from an empty cubbyhole.

“This could be dangerous,” Aleksei observed drolly as other birds flew overhead. “Let’s get away before we find your pretty gown spoiled.” Seizing her hand again, he pulled her along behind him down a footpath that turned sharply away from the cote.

Synnovea sought diligently to disentangle her fingers from his grasp, knowing they roamed farther and farther away from the manse. “Please, I should go back now.”

Aleksei held fast as he bade over his shoulder, “Don’t be afraid, Synnovea. Come, I’ve something else to show you.”

He brought her within sight of a small hut nestled against a high wooden fence which served as a barrier around the estate. Drawing her with him onto the wooden planks of the porch, he pushed open the door and would have ventured in, but Synnovea balked at the idea of being hauled into a dark cottage with a lecher. Stiffening her limbs much like a stubborn calf, she braced her feet wide and refused to be dragged forward another step.

“No!” she cried. “Let me go! I must return to the house!”

Aleksei chortled as he stepped back to her with dark eyes glowing brightly. “Come inside, Synnovea,” he coaxed, tilting his head slightly toward the open portal. “Let me make you the woman you deserve to be. No one will know we’ve spent this time together.” His red lips parted in a cajoling smile. “The servants are loyal to me. None of them will tell Anna that I returned home today, so we needn’t make excuses to her.” With a brief nod, he indicated the door again. “No one comes here. The old woodcutter who lives here during the winter won’t be back until fall. We’ll have the cabin entirely to ourselves. You needn’t be embarrassed or afraid.”

“Never!” Synnovea shook her head in passionate fervor. “This thing you ask of me isn’t proper, Aleksei! You have no right to even suggest it.”

“Right? Wrong?” Aleksei tossed his head from side to side like a small boy chanting a rhyme. “Who can argue this is wrong, Synnovea, when we are meant for each other?”

“
I can!
” she declared hotly. “I want no part of this!”

His shoulders lifted in a languid shrug, evidencing his lack of concern for her reluctance. “I’ll take you as I will, Synnovea. It’s of little consequence to me if you struggle. I know in time you’ll come to enjoy my caresses.”