Forever in Your Embrace (53 page)

Indulging in an occasion that he had never before been granted, Tyrone studied his sleeping bride at his leisure. Try as he might, he could find no hint of the wily vixen who had led him into her trap. Rather, he beheld an innocently slumbering maid not even a stoic heart could resist. Softly curling wisps had escaped her braids and now framed her oval face, leading his gaze enticingly to a dainty ear where a spiraling strand curled coyly around it. She had a fresh, natural radiance about her. A soft, rosy blush brightened her cheeks, and below elegantly winged brows, silkily spiked lashes lay in slumbering repose upon fair skin. Her features were delicately refined, her nose straight and her lips soft and beguilingly parted, temptingly ripe for a lover’s passionate kiss. When his eyes caressed such winsome beauty, it was difficult for him to remember that she had deceived him at all.

Obviously his bride had been drawn to him in her sleep, for the sheet and coverlet had fallen to the floor, leaving her with only the lace-trimmed nightgown to provide her protection from the chill now present in the room. The garment had ridden up, leaving a gently curving hip and a slender thigh naked to his gaze. Reluctant though he was to leave such sweet torment, Tyrone knew he’d likely suffer defeat if he remained beside her one moment longer. By simply amending his position a few scant degrees, he could penetrate the vulnerable softness and placate his hotly flaming passion in her dewy warmth. As much as it would have relieved his plight, it hardly would have served his purpose.

Carefully easing himself free of those silky limbs, Tyrone slid across the bed and, without pause, came to his feet. Immediately he repented his lack of caution, for a sudden, splintering pain exploded in his head, giving him cause to wonder if he had been caught in the clutches of something abhorrently evil. Clasping the heels of his hands to his throbbing temples, he held his head carefully in place until the anguish abated to a more tolerable level. He stumbled to the dressing room and there splashed cold water over his face and shoulders.

Having been granted leave for the day, he grabbed casual clothing and thrust his long legs into a pair of breeches. Upon returning to the bed, he allowed himself another admiring perusal before he lifted the bedcovers from the floor and tucked them around his sleeping bride. Departing the chambers, he made his way downstairs and asked directions from a passing servant, encountering one who had been taught English by Synnovea’s mother years ago. As the manservant led the way to the bathing chamber, he seemed amiably disposed to exercise his command of the language.

“Yur bride begin coming here to visit vhen she vas young child. Beautiful she vas! And her mother, too! Though zhe boys alvays chase Countess Synnovea, she give them no mind. She vas more interested in her studies and traveling vith her family. She has zhe mind of her own.”

“Nothing has changed,” Tyrone observed dryly, drawing a chuckle from the servant.

“She is much like zhe Countess Andreyevna, I think. Both can make a man’s head swim. At least, my lord, yu vill never grow bored living vith yur bride.”

“That comprises my greatest worry—just how long I’ll be able to live married to the lady.”

The elder wasn’t at all surprised by the Englishman’s comment. Rumors of his confrontation with Prince Vladimir and the old man’s sons had spread throughout the manse well before the wedding reception had ended. “I’m sure even a few scant years vill seem like heaven, sir,” he predicted with a merry twinkle in his eyes and then swung open a door for him. “Here yu are, Colonel Sir. Enjoy yur bath.”

Tyrone discovered many of his friends already enjoying the bathing facilities, having stayed overnight in chambers reserved for guests. They had gained the march on him by at least an hour and welcomed him with hearty bantering, chiding him for his tardy arrival, as if he had discovered worthier diversions to while away his time. Tyrone cringed at their gleeful laughter, but they only crowed the louder when they saw him grimace in pain.

Grigori came forward with a towel wrapped around his lean hips. Solicitously he handed a small vial of vodka to his commander. “This should ease your plight to some degree, Colonel.”

“Or put me in the grave,” Tyrone quipped. Nevertheless, he tossed the drink down with a shiver of revulsion, promising himself henceforth that he’d limit his consumption of the libation for his own good. To say the brew was deadly was definitely an understatement of the truth.

Lieutenant Colonel Walsworth gestured to the bandages that still bedecked Tyrone’s torso and arm. “Tell us, now. Did your lady claw at your back or try to hold you off?”

Tyrone waved away the officer’s raucous speculations. “ ’Twas nothing more than a tainted wound or two that my wife treated, so spare me your humor, Edward, until I’m better able to handle the abuse, or I’ll be wont to seek revenge.”

Walsworth’s hearty laughter nearly deafened Grigori’s chuckling statement. “There’s another day of celebration planned, Colonel.” Winning Tyrone’s dubious regard, the Russian lifted his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. “It’s common to make the most of every occasion here in Russia. It saves us from the tedium of our long winters. And, of course, our fruited vodka seems to lighten the spirits even before we’re into the festivities.”

“Try to keep your wits clear, my friend,” Tyrone cautioned. “On the morrow we must return to duty.”

Grigori followed him to a secluded corner where a large bathtub was being filled by a manservant. “You sound as if you have something dire on your mind.”

Tyrone cast a glance toward the attendant and, for the sake of caution, delayed his answer until that one had left. If Synnovea’s mother had spent enough time on the premises to instruct a servant in the language, no doubt others were also versed in it. “As soon as it’s practical, I mean to confront Ladislaus in his lair. My goal is to capture him and other leaders of his band before the year is out. On the morrow I plan to introduce some new tactics to the men in anticipation of that event.”

“Will you leave your bride so soon?” Grigori asked in amazement. More than anyone, he knew how fervently his commander had sought to win the maid and was surprised that he had decided to go back to duty so early. “You certainly have reason to take a few days off, considering the condition of your back.”

“The tsar has informed me that he’d like us to put on a parade for some foreign dignitaries in weeks to come. Between the task of readying men for a parade and others for the campaign I mean to launch against Ladislaus, I can foresee the possibility of being pressed for time between now and then. And you know well enough that I cannot allow my personal life to interfere with my responsibilities as a commanding officer.”

“You’ve been here for almost a year and haven’t yet taken any time off for yourself. I thought, under the circumstances, you’d be staying in the city and training the troops here rather than going after Ladislaus.”

“Winter is rapidly approaching. If we delay until spring, we may never find his camp. We must act before the first snow. That means we can’t waste any time now. We’ll have to plan our strategy and condition the men to be ready for anything we might have to face. I want them thoroughly confident of their own capabilities. We can’t leave anything to chance if we intend to capture Ladislaus and his cohorts.”

“If you’re so adamant about going after them, a scout should be sent out to search for the brigands’ camp.”

“I’ve already thought of that. Avar will be the likely choice to go. He has no love for Ladislaus after the brigand stole away his sister last year.”

“How do you suppose Prince Aleksei found them?”

“Ladislaus let it be known here in the city that he was looking for me. It’s not too hard to guess that Prince Aleksei responded to the call when he realized he’d have to get me out of the way. Whatever their connection, I don’t think they’re the best of friends.”

“Considering the whipping they gave you, I’d say you were extremely fortunate that Lady Synnovea sent her maid to the castle to bid Major Nekrasov to come to your rescue.”

Tyrone was clearly bemused. He couldn’t remember a time when Synnovea had been given any opportunity to send Ali on such a mission, at least not while he had been in full command of his senses. But then, being clobbered on the head had left much of what had happened hopelessly muddled. “What do you mean? When did she do that?”

“Major Nekrasov told me the other day that Ali brought him word that you were in terrible trouble. From what I understand of it, the old woman was visiting the cook at the Taraslovs’ when your captors carried you into the carriage house.”

“I must express my gratitude to Ali,” Tyrone replied, still somewhat confused by the captain’s revelation. “Until now, I never knew how I had actually been delivered from their schemes, except that Nikolai and Tsar Mikhail were there when I most needed them.”

“Ali told the major that her mistress had sent her.” Thoughtfully Grigori scrubbed a hand over the bristly stubble covering his chin before cocking a querying brow at his commander. “How could Lady Synnovea have been at the Taraslovs’ when she was supposed to be sick upstairs? At least, that’s what Prince Adolphe had been led to believe.” Though his superior seemed suddenly intent upon loosening the knot which held the bandages together over his chest, Grigori pointedly awaited an answer.

Tyrone’s eyebrows twitched upward noncommittally. “Perhaps she wasn’t upstairs at all. Perhaps she was with Ali at the Taraslovs’.”

Cautiously lowering his voice, the Russian boldly offered a conjecture. ‘The countess was with you, wasn’t she?”

Tyrone frowned sharply as he grasped the bandages with both hands and ripped them in twain. “Even if true, Grigori, do you actually think I’d tell you?”

“Whether you do or not, my friend, your answer will go no further than the two of us. You know that.”

In spite of Synnovea’s flagrant disregard for him, Tyrone was unwilling to cause her shame. “Would I boast of such an event? The lady is my wife.”

“Tsar Mikhail was most anxious to have you and your bride speak the vows in haste.” Grigori gently prodded with a smile. “What really happened that night?”

Tyrone growled in exasperation and tried to make light of his vexation. “You may never get promoted to major, my friend, if you don’t learn to keep your questions to yourself.”

Chuckling, Grigori voiced a few suppositions of his own. “Now, I know you’re no liar, Colonel, so I rather suppose that Prince Aleksei and Ladislaus caught you unawares and ordered the whip laid to your back. And if Ali was sent to fetch Major Nekrasov from the Taraslovs, I’m inclined to believe that the Lady Synnovea was taken there with you. If you were forced to marry her, then I can better understand why you were so out of sorts with her yesterday.”

Although surprised at the accurateness of the captain’s conjectures, Tyrone carefully maintained his silence.

“It all falls into place,” Grigori mused aloud as he thoughtfully scraped a hand across his chin again. “You were obviously caught with the girl and, because of that reason, were forced to pay penance by her guardian, Prince Aleksei…”

“The devil you say! He wanted her for himself!”

“Then you were whipped for taking the lady from him.” Grigori’s eyes danced with humor as he heckled his commander. “All this time you’ve been hot and eager to take her into your bed. You just couldn’t wait for the tsar to give her to you. Now you’ve had to pay for your error and are angry with her—”

“What the blazes!” Tyrone barked, feeling the prick of truth in the man’s conclusions. “Do you imagine yourself able to read my mind?”

“I know you, my friend.” Grigori briefly lifted his wide shoulders in an indolent shrug. “If you weren’t upset with her, you’d stop this feeble pretense.”

“So I’m pretending, am I?”

“If things were as they should be between the two of you, you wouldn’t care if the whole Russian army came marching into this house to seek you out. You’d still be making love to her upstairs, and you wouldn’t come down until you had thoroughly exhausted your cravings.”

Tyrone stared at his second-in-command. He couldn’t deny Grigori’s deductions, for he’d only be lying. Indeed, the man seemed to know him better than he knew himself.

“And what’s more, you’re not going to be satisfied until you make peace with her and settle this rift between you. Your bride is very beautiful, Colonel, and if you love her as I think you do, you’d hasten to make amends before she loses heart.”

In a show of irritation, the colonel tossed aside the bandages. “It’s not that simple, Grigori. I mean nothing to her.”

The younger man scoffed in disbelief. “I challenge the truth of that statement. If you asked me, I’d say that she’s quite taken with you.”

Tyrone tossed his head jeeringly. “She’s an actress of great merit. I applaud her skill.”

“Spare your lady such slander, my friend! It’s absurd to think that she doesn’t care for you!”

“How can you claim to know the mind of the maid when she bemuses me at every turn?” Tyrone angrily questioned. “I’ve no idea what she’s thinking, though recently I foolishly imagined I did!”

“Colonel, does our friendship mean nothing to you? Do you consider me a loyal compatriot? A
tovarish
? Have I not proven my worth as such? Did I not warn you that Nikolai had followed your lead and had rushed to the tsar to plead for the countess’s hand himself? You wanted to challenge the man outright, yet I cautioned you to wait. Can you not allow that another may be able to see the truth more clearly than you may be able to at the present moment? You’re too close to the heart of the matter to view it objectively. You’re anxious for answers and entertain hasty judgments. Let your wife have a chance to verify her love.”