Forever in Your Embrace (44 page)

Aleksei chortled in uproarious glee as he contemplated her completely astounded visage. “ ’Twould seem neither of us wants you anymore, Synnovea,” he mocked. “That must be a new revelation for a woman as winsome as you. To have not one but two men reject your attentions. Why, you must be devastated.” Wary of drawing near the colonel, he picked up a barn rake and, holding it like a sword, nudged her away from that one. “Now get back and let the fellow be dealt his due. Learn from his example and grit your teeth against the pain of our rejection. Be content that Ladislaus still wants you.”

With another imperious nod, Aleksei bade the Goliath to continue, but retreated hastily to a safe distance before the second stroke fell. Blinded by a deluge of tears, Synnovea stumbled away to a dark corner and cringed in silent, agonizing anguish each time the cat-o’-nine-tails made its venging descent. She heard no mumbled plea for mercy issue forth from Tyrone’s lips, not even a muffled groan as he hung helpless before the master whip. Yet every blow laid to the stalwart back ripped through her with equal savagery.

Covering her head with her arms as the scourging continued, Synnovea couldn’t still her violent quaking or her remorseful weeping. Though she had lost count through her own unending torment, she was crushingly aware of the ominous repetition of the punishing whip. Each time the lash fell, she cringed in horror, and then shuddered in agonizing dread when the whip was dragged back for yet another blow. The strain seemed beyond her endurance, and her spirit whimpered beneath the terrible punishment exacted upon her.

Though Tyrone now sagged limply in his fetters and had no strength to lift his head, his valor and spirit hadn’t yet been daunted. His display of unyielding tenacity captured the reluctant admiration of those who had sought to deliver their own form of justice upon his frame. Ladislaus and his followers were a band of outlaws who had lived and fought with the smell of death all around them for a good many years. They had taken the worst of what the colonel had given them. Some had died by his sword, but it had been an honorable fate, with weapons in hand. It was in their minds that this stalwart enemy deserved the same consideration. A flogging was what they reserved for whimpering, cowardly dogs, and as they all knew, Colonel Rycroft was a warrior of superior skill and courage. Thus, as a whole, the brigands ceased to enjoy the whipping. Instead, they began to mutter among themselves, growing increasingly agitated as Aleksei pressed for at least a hundred or more lashes. A score and ten strokes from the lash crisscrossed Tyrone’s back before the flogging finally ceased, but it was only because the Goliath threw down his whip in disgust and refused to pick it up again.

“Are you mad?” Aleksei railed in outraged astonishment. He was unique among their number in that he suffered no similar convictions of honor and respect but insisted that his revenge be sated to the utmost. “I give the orders here! And I say you must carry out the discipline as I see fit—or, I swear, you’ll not be paid!”

“We’ve done your service!” Ladislaus roared as he strode forward to confront the prince. “You’ll pay us or you’ll die!”

Petrov smirked as he drew forth a gleaming blade and twirled the shining tip between his thumb and forefinger. “We take payment from your hide, maybe, just like you mean for the Englishman.”

“I’ll pay you
after
he’s gelded and not one damn minute sooner!” Aleksei declared, too incensed by their lack of commitment to consider the threats they made against him.

“Do it yourself, then!” Ladislaus snarled in derision. “We’ll not hurt him anymore for the likes of you! As far as we’re concerned, he has paid his due. We’re fighting men and give him honor as a swordsman. If you had wanted us to duel with him, then we’d have seen him killed by our blades, but not your way.” Contemptuously the brigand jerked his chin outward to indicate the bloodied, lacerated back. “Your way is the penalty for gutless cowards. Outnumbered by scores, the English colonel was taken and abused by your decree, but I tell you this, Boyar, he’s more of a man than you’ll ever hope to be!”

It was the second time that evening that Aleksei had heard the likes of such a statement. The insult infuriated him all the more. His reddened lips drew back from gnashing teeth for barely a moment. Then, with a savage snarl, he glared around him and cursed them viciously for their refusal to help him. His ire heightened progressively until he whirled and, snatching up a sharp blade, plowed forward to seize the top of the colonel’s leggings. Tyrone struggled to protect himself against the mutilation and struck out in defense of himself, but in his much-weakened state, his efforts proved far too feeble.

It was Synnovea who threw herself against Aleksei in a desperate bid to stop him from doing his evil. Even if she must accept the thrust of the blade herself and sacrifice her own life, she was determined to halt his assault. Viciously she clawed at his face and sank her teeth into the hand that held the knife as he tried to yank free of her. A pained yowl curdled upward from Aleksei’s throat, but she gave him no heed as she gnashed her teeth tighter against his flesh, drawing blood and forcing his grip to slacken until the blade finally plummeted from his grasp. Snatching herself free, Synnovea stooped to retrieve the weapon, but the dark eyes of her antagonist flared with highly inflamed fury. With a horrendous curse, Aleksei caught her by the wide-spreading cloak and whirled her around with all the strength at his command, in a furious temper flinging her deliberately into a sturdy post. Jolted nearly senseless by the sudden impact, Synnovea tottered unsteadily away.

Dismissing her with a satisfied smirk, Aleksei caught up the knife again and plunged toward the object of his jealousy, but the carriage house rang with a loud bellow of rage as Ladislaus leapt to Tyrone’s rescue and knocked the blade from the prince’s hand, sending it skittering across the rough planking of the floorboards.

“No more!” he bellowed. “You’ve had your bloodletting! Now be content, or I’ll see you unmanned myself!”

All reason was sundered beneath the unrestrained fury of Aleksei’s indignation, and he gave no thought to backing down in the face of the other’s challenge. “You filthy barbarian! How dare you threaten me! Why, I’ve had better men than you slashed and split in twain for daring to oppose me!”

“You frighten me unduly, my friend,” Ladislaus taunted with a smirk and gestured casually over his shoulder as his men gathered close around them. “Perhaps you should consider the error of your ways, since we have no liking for boyars.”

Suddenly the stable door burst open, and Ladislaus and his men jerked around in sharp surprise to see Major Nekrasov charge inward, quickly followed by the first thrust of a dozen armed soldiers. Ladislaus immediately recognized the man who led them and the rather resplendent uniforms of the new arrivals and promptly decided the time was critical for him and his men to make their escape. It was one thing to accost a small detachment of soldiers in the wilds, but quite another matter entirely to set themselves against the tsar’s imperial guards inside the limits of Moscow, where any number of troops could be waiting to pounce on them. He had no clear opportunity to seize the wench, for he knew from experience that taking her would see him involved in another fray with the major, the likes of which he wished to avoid at the moment. With swift, leaping strides, he raced across the carriage house as he shouted warnings to his compatriots, sending them fleeing in every direction and through any available opening or door. Once outside, they fought their way to their mounts and, after swinging astride, never looked back in their haste to put the gates of the city behind them.

Aleksei was not so astute. He stepped forward to protest this intrusion into his private affairs. Then he stumbled back in stunned awe when he recognized the one who strode through the widening barrier of soldiers. Struck speechless, he fell to his knees before his sovereign lord.

“Your Majesty!” His voice squeaked as it reached a high octave. “What brings you here to my humble house at this late hour?”

“Mischief!” Tsar Mikhail thundered as his dark eyes ranged around the interior. He acknowledged Synnovea’s clumsily executed curtsy and briefly noted her bruised face and disheveled appearance before he stepped over to the colonel. Tyrone had lost his tenuous grip on reality and dangled pendulously from the ropes that secured him to the rafters. He was oblivious to the tsar, who winced visibly as he considered the officer’s striped and bloody back.

“Cut Colonel Rycroft down from there at once!” Mikhail commanded, gesturing to Major Nekrasov, who ran forward with several other men to lift and loosen the Englishman from his bonds. “Take him to my carriage. He will be tended by my own physicians tonight.”

Nikolai glanced yearningly toward Synnovea as his men took up their burden, but she paid him no heed while she gathered up the colonel’s clothing. She wept over the bundle for only a moment before handing it to a guard.

“Please be careful with Colonel Rycroft,” she pleaded through her tears as they carried him to the door.

Mikhail cocked a curious brow when he noted her concern, and then faced Aleksei with a sharp question. “Did you have some reason for whipping this man?”

“Your pardon, Your Most Sovereign Lordship and Majesty,” Aleksei mumbled as he bowed contritely. He spoke discreetly so as not to encourage more of the tsar’s disfavor. “We caught Colonel Rycroft at his quarters with our ward, the Countess Zenkovna, and he did indeed defile her in his bed. We could hardly allow his affront to a Russian
boyarina
to go unpunished and were in the process of administering a suitable chastisement.”

Mikhail’s tone was incredulous. “You consorted with thieves to carry out his punishment?”

“Thieves, Your Majesty? How so?” Aleksei seemed greatly perplexed.

“Didn’t you know with whom you were dealing?”

The prince sought to play the innocent. “ ’Twas the first time I laid eyes on the men. They said they were for hire, and I engaged them to instruct the colonel on the folly of insulting a Russian maid.”

Mikhail scowled in sharp displeasure and turned to peer at the countess, who stood across the breadth of an aisle. She was no longer weeping, but her demeanor indicated that she had been mentally vanquished after witnessing the whipping. “Do you have anything to say in this matter, Synnovea?”

“Your Majesty…” She spoke pleadingly from a distance, as if wary of tarnishing his presence with her guilt. “May I be allowed to come forward and speak in the colonel’s defense?”

The tsar beckoned her near. “Come, Synnovea. I’m interested in hearing what you have to say.”

Going before him, she humbly knelt and refused to lift her eyes as she struggled to cope with the shame of what she had contrived to do and what her deceit had actually brought about. “I beg your most humble pardon, Your Majesty. I’m the one completely at fault for what happened here tonight. I couldn’t find it within myself to accept the circumstances of my betrothal to Prince Vladimir Dimitrievich and did intentionally entice Colonel Rycroft to take me into his bed. I preferred to forfeit my virtue rather than be bound to the contract of marriage that had been arranged for me. Do with me as you may, Your Majesty, for I am surely guilty of this havoc which has befallen the colonel. I didn’t mean for him to be caught and chastised. It would have been better if I had been whipped.”

“I’m sure Colonel Rycroft would have found it hard to resist you, considering your beauty and his great desire to court you, Synnovea.” As Mikhail voiced his observations, he lifted his consideration to the prince. That one offered no explanation for the betrothal, though Mikhail was sure that everyone within his court knew he was seriously pondering the Englishman’s request to court the countess. Either his cousin and her husband had been totally deaf to the winds of gossip or they had chosen to dismiss his consideration of a foreigner.

Mikhail looked down upon the bowed head of his subject and gently laid a hand upon the disarrayed curls. “I will talk more of this with you and the colonel, Synnovea. You may arrange a time to see me two days hence, but for now, I would have you find safety beyond this house. Is there someone to whom you can go?”

“Countess Andreyevna is a very close friend of mine, Your Majesty. My coach may be waiting even now to take me back to her home.”

“Excellent! Then go! And mind you, speak no word of this matter to anyone. I’d be averse to having the anger of the boyars aroused against the colonel. Nor would I see you harmed by wagging tongues. Do you understand?”

“Your kindness is beyond measure, Your Majesty.”

When Synnovea had gone, Mikhail faced Aleksei with a stiff smile. “Where is my cousin anyway? I would have a word with her.”

“Anna is not here, Most Sovereign Lord. Her father was ailing and asked her to come and stay with him for a time.”

“Should I, then, believe that this matter rests solely upon your shoulders?”

Aleksei gulped and tried to recoup his scattered wits as he carefully asked, “What matter do you mean, Your Worship?”

“Did you not make arrangements for the betrothal between Countess Synnovea and Prince Vladimir Dimitrievich while you had full knowledge of the colonel’s interest in courting her? Or should the blame be laid solely upon Anna?”

Aleksei spread his hands in a helpless quandary. “Of course we heard of the colonel’s interest, but we weren’t aware that we had to give a foreigner serious heed. At the time, it seemed prudent to arrange a marriage between the girl and Prince Vladimir, considering the old man’s wealth and the fact that he would treat Synnovea kindly. At least, Anna thought so.”