Immanuel's Veins (6 page)

“No, silly. Although I can only imagine what he might be like.”

“Then who? Surely not that dead one.”

Natasha gave her a darting whimsical look as she rounded the far side.

“You can't be serious! He's dead!”

“So he is.”

“He attacked you.”

“No, Lucine.” Natasha spun to face her, nearly falling off. “He bit my lip. That's hardly an attack.”

“He was a monster who paraded about as if you had it coming.”

“And maybe I did have it coming.” Natasha's eyes flashed. She hopped off the wall, jumped up onto a stone bench, and ran along it, watching her feet. “I did ask for it, didn't I?”

“Not to be
bitten
.”

She landed back on the ground and sized Lucine up, mouth twisted around the hint of improper secrets. “And what if I did, Lucine? What if he whispered an invitation to me and I said yes?”

“Please, Natasha, this isn't funny. You're not that stupid.”

The look of her sister's flushed face surprised Lucine. She stepped down, confused by this behavior, though she probably had no right to be. Natasha had always been impetuous. But still . . .

“Perhaps a kiss, but an invitation for a man—no matter how appealing—to bite through your lip? It's absurd!”

Natasha hurried forward and grabbed her arm, glancing around as if to be sure no one would overhear. “But you weren't there! Not in his arms, you weren't. I was, Lucine. He asked me if he could bite me and I said yes. I know it was wrong, but I could hardly—”

“He just said that? ‘Can I bite your lip?'”

“Not like that, of course.”

“Then how?”

Natasha hesitated. “I don't remember exactly. I do believe he just said, ‘May I?' and I said yes. But I knew he wanted to bite me because he'd already nibbled my lip.”

“You're playing with the devil.”

“Then the devil occupies heaven! He bit my lip and I fainted, Sister. I swooned. I have never felt so enraptured.”

The puncture had healed already, and it was true, her sister looked anything but wounded.

“I feel positively vibrant!” She drew a deep breath through her nostrils and looped around, head tilted back, arms wide. “The air is filled with flowers, can you smell them? The sun is warm, the sky is as blue as an ocean, my night—”

“Is clearly tortured, judging by the shambles I found this morning. Your pillows were all over the room and the blanket was on the floor. Clearly you're bothered.”

“Then bother me again, Sister. If my bedclothes are tossed around, it's because I'm dancing in my sleep. You see what happens when you throw your cares to the wind and embrace love? Even the night calls to you.”

“You may not be any worse off, but he's dead,” Lucine said, letting the grin go.

Natasha's bright eyes clouded momentarily. “There is that, yes. Because of your hunk of a man.”

“Please . . .” She turned away.

“Don't think I haven't seen the way you look at him,” Natasha teased. “And I don't blame you. The hero stepped in and saved us from the nasty wolves. He's a beautiful man. I don't blame you at all.” Her eyes shot to the garden behind Lucine. “Speak of the devils.”

Lucine looked over her shoulder. Toma and Alek were walking abreast past the hedges, deep in discussion. If they'd seen the sisters, there was no sign.

“Let's find out, shall we?” Natasha said. She brushed past Lucine, headed for the pair.

“Find out what?”

“Who loves whom, of course.”

“Natasha . . .”

Toma must have heard, because he turned and saw them. Alek stepped around his partner and watched as Natasha glided toward them like a snake.

Toma was dressed in gentlemen's pants and boots to his knees, with a white shirt unbuttoned about his neck. His wavy dark hair fell to his shoulders, framing a strong, smooth jaw.

The cavalryman had remained somewhat busy these last two days, retiring early and staying out of sight except at dinner. Making his arrangements, riding the perimeter, posting several guards—for what purpose, only heaven could know.

His general demeanor did not fit her image of a ruthless warrior. For that matter, neither did Alek's. Out of uniform they were two handsome specimens, clean cut, directly out of Her Majesty's court.

His savagery must hide behind those eyes, she thought.

“If it isn't our two dashing heroes, keeping guard,” Natasha said, slowing as she approached.

They both dipped their heads. “Ladies,” said Toma.

“Now our day is made,” said Alek.

Lucine acknowledged them. “Alek. Toma.”

“Lucine was wondering which of you loves which one of us,” Natasha said without the slightest pause.

Lucine felt herself begin to blush. Any denial would likely give credence to the question. So she allowed it.

Toma looked at them both, face blank.

Alek, on the other hand, looked delighted. “Well, that's simple enough. I love you both.”

“Rubbish,” Natasha said. “Well, so be it, fine.” She walked behind Alek, picking a piece of lint off his shoulder, then smoothing the jacket. “So you love us both, and who wouldn't want to be loved by two strapping war heroes? Is that how you feel, Toma? You love each of us equally?”

The poor man was caught unaware by the predator in Natasha. But now that she'd so boldly thrown down the gauntlet, Lucine wanted to know his answer.

“How could I disagree with Alek? He's not exactly a slouch in these matters.”

“That's why you're blushing? Because you
are
a slouch? In these
matters
, I mean.”

If he wasn't blushing before, he was now. “No, that wasn't—”

“Because I was telling Lucine that I had noticed your eye for her, and she called it nonsense.”

Lucine wanted to disappear into the ground. She had said no such thing, not really, not while meaning it. Of course she liked Toma, who wouldn't? But that didn't mean she was infatuated with the man. With Natasha it was always all or nothing. Love with abandon, or nonsense.

“Now see, that's what I like,” Alek said, beaming. “There's nothing as alluring as a woman who fears nothing.”

“Including being chewed on, you mean,” Toma said. Lucine immediately wished he hadn't, because nothing good could come from taking on Natasha directly. He would only be humiliated, and the thought of it sickened her.

“Have you tried it, Toma?” Natasha said. “Having your lips nibbled on by a tender woman?”

“Ha!” Alek cried. “You see, Toma? What did I tell you? She's priceless.” His eyes remained on Natasha. “I will say, my dear, you may test me anytime.”

“If you're so lucky.” She winked. “What say you, Toma? Is it nonsense?”

His brow was starting to bead with sweat. He ran nervous fingers through his curls. “Nonsense?”

“Do you have any interest in her?”

Lucine suddenly wanted him silent. There was no good answer. If he said yes, it was as likely provoked as true. If he said no, it would only be to protect her. Either way she might find discomfort in the answer, not knowing why he said what he said.

But two could play Natasha's game.

She stepped toward Toma, wearing a daring smile. “Don't be silly, Natasha. Of course he has interest in me. Don't you, Toma? I've certainly expressed my own interest clearly enough.”

She closed in on him, placed her palm on his chest, then turned away, removing her hand.

“But just because you find someone appealing doesn't mean you throw out restraint. Toma has proven that, and I find it charming.”

They all looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. It wasn't her typical behavior. She relished their reaction.

Natasha was the first to burst out laughing. She was delighted and showed it by hugging Lucine, who felt herself blush.

“You think I'm not dead serious?”

Alek couldn't resist the call to join Natasha with laughter.

“Not as dead serious as the man they hauled out of here,” Toma said, clearly grateful for an opportunity to change the subject. And all three of them thought that comment hilarious for its brashness. Lucine too, but she was more taken by the laughter itself. Mother would love it.

“Well, there you have it, Natasha,” Alek said, still grinning like a boy. “It's all set.”

“What is?” Natasha asked.

“This. You and I. He and she. It's practically written in the stars.”

“Is that so?”

Lucine sneaked a glance at Toma, knowing already that Alek would later get an earful from him.

“Am I so easy?” Natasha asked with daring in her voice.

Toma's eyes caught Lucine's and he failed to hide a sheepish smile.

“Let's hope not,” said Alek. “I detest easy women.”

Lucine saw truth in Toma's eyes in that moment. The sparkle, the desperate attempt to hide a secret, the quick shift. He did have feelings for her, didn't he?

“Take a walk with me, dear,” Natasha said, reaching a hand out to Alek.

He looked at his superior. “Toma? Are we done here?”

“We are.”

Alek took Natasha's hand and they left, high as two birds. The outcome was a foregone conclusion.

Watching them go, Toma looked lost without his partner.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Lucine asked.

I was a bowl of jelly. My legs were water.

I was a strong man. I could easily lift a man of Alek's size and hurl him across the room into a wall and had done so on several occasions before we agreed to be friends. I had chased down many an enemy on foot, leaped upon them, and slit their throats. I was as comfortable with a sword in the middle of a battlefield, leading a thousand men as they hacked into infidels, as I was drinking tea in the tents with those men.

In Her Majesty's courts I was called the lion.

But there in the garden, standing four feet from Lucine, who had just put her hand on my chest, I was as weak as a lamb.

The turmoil I'd suffered the last few days flashed through my mind. You see, the night after I shot Stefan, I had lain on the plush pillows, unable to sleep, convincing myself that the Russians must have brought a spell with them that infected me. But the only spells I believed in were the ones delivered with a swift blade or a true musket. There was no devil, no God, no power beyond that of man.

What was there in a set of eyes, a mouth, two breasts, thighs, feet, and a head that created any kind of longing? Why did a scent evoke desire and the taste of lips demand obsession? What was in the spoken word that sparked a fire? It was all only flesh that would soon bleed out and rot in the ground.

My uncommon attraction to her couldn't have anything to do with the sum of her parts, I reasoned as I tossed and turned on that obscenely fluffy bedding. Or with her at all. She wasn't falling all over me, offering herself up to me. She wasn't kissing my ears or nibbling my neck. Her hands weren't running up my thighs; her lips weren't whispering undying love; her tongue wasn't . . .

I sat up in bed, terrified at my own weakness. The pain had begun then, when I concluded that the emotions I felt were simply mine, in my heart, my mind. A new weakness had presented itself to me, like a new kind of plague.

But the plague could be controlled. The sick could be isolated and bodies burned until the disease was stamped out.

Still, my own astonishment at the ache in my heart kept my eyes peeled open, gazing at the angels that were intricately carved on the ceiling above me.

I slept little that night and awoke early to drag Alek out of bed. We had to immediately set about the task of securing the estate at every corner, I announced, refusing to hear his protests.

Over the next two days I had done my best to stay clear of Lucine. I stuffed my mind with the challenges at hand, despite the fact that they were the simplest of issues, for there was no real enemy to see and to kill. I ordered Alek to help me extend a rampart at the main entrance.

“Whatever for?”

“Because it needs it.”

“I don't see the need. But if you insist, I'll order the servants—”

“You and I should do it.”

“What? You've got to be jesting.”

“You know me better.”

“We already have this barricade. We don't need an extension and certainly not one built by us.”

“Look there!” I jabbed my finger in the direction of the forest to our right. “What kind of protection would we have if they came out of the trees with muskets blazing?”

“They? Our enemy is not an army, Toma! If we were in the middle of a war, maybe. Even then, a rock or two would do fine for protection, not all this.”

“You're questioning my authority?” I snapped.

“Toma, it's me,” Alek cried. “We should be up with our guests, sipping tea and flirting, not muddying our hands to build a rampart we don't need.”