Merline Lovelace (17 page)
Authors: Countess In Buckskin
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
He bent to blow the spark he’d struck into a glowing ember. A thin spiral of white smoke curled upward. The ember flickered into a tiny flame. Slowly Josiah fed the fire bits of dried grasses and driftwood.
“The president himself issued my orders, which call for strict secrecy.”
“These orders were to spy on our settlement?”
“No. If you recall, I didn’t decide to come south until you told me that your tsar was thinking of abandoning Fort Ross.”
Her hands balled into fists. “Did it not matter to you that my life, my father’s life, depended on changing his mind?” .
“It came to matter to me. A great deal.”
“Ah, yes.”
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t keep the scorn from her voice.
“You cared so much. That is why you knelt beside me in the orchard and helped to place my father’s cuttings in the tree trunks. That was why you made love with me in Helena’s front parlor, then rode off to make these secret deals of yours.”
Resting his arm across his knee, he met her accusing look. “I won’t apologize for doing my duty as I saw it, Tatiana. My secret deals won’t matter a whit if the tsar changes his mind because of your precious cuttings. If he does not, my country has as much interest in what happens to Fort Ross as any other.”
Deep within her heart, Tatiana knew he spoke the truth. In the dark of night, his actions had seemed like the most despicable act of betrayal. In the more reasoning light of day, she understood that Nikolas alone would decide the fate of the Russian settlement. Still she wasn’t ready to forgive Josiah.
“The tsar will change his mind! He must! I have nothing to bring to this...this marriage or give to my child if he does not.”
The skin stretched taut across her husband’s cheeks. “I didn’t ask you to bring anything into the marriage. I’ll provide for you and our children.”
“Oh, so? Perhaps you will tell me how? Or is that also a secret?”
“I have some land in Kentucky. A few hundred acres. My brother and his wife are farming it now.”
A few hundred acres? Tatiana bit her lip, thinking of her father’s vast domains and the properties that had come to her through her mother. Even Aleksei’s lands, considered poor by court standards, had stretched for hundreds of versts.
The size of his holdings aside, Tatiana could not see the man across from her as a farmer. He didn’t possess the urge to put land to the till, as had her father, or the desire to watch his efforts bear fruit He was a wanderer, a man most at home like this, under the open sky.
“Is that what you wish?” she asked stiffly. “To return to this farm in...in...”
“Kentucky.” He fed more wood into the now leaping fire. “Not especially. I was thinking of selling the acreage to my brother. With that, and the back pay that’s been collecting in my name all these years, we’ll have plenty to live on.”
“And where shall we live?” She swept the dilapidated structure at the edge of the bluff with a pointed glance. “In a shepherd’s hut?”
Incredibly he grinned. “I think we can do a bit better than that.”
Tatiana had yet to come to grips with her anger and sense of betrayal. She was still slightly stunned by the sudden dissolution of her marriage to the young clerk and her subsequent joining to this American. She knew not what the future held for either one of them, or for her babe.
Yet, for reasons she would ponder for the rest of her days, his easy grin somehow restored a measure of her balance. Perhaps it was the utter confidence in his gold-shot eyes. Or the promise of a future she had not contemplated to this point...a future that didn’t depend on Nikolas, damn him, or her own desperate efforts to save herself.
For a few seductive moments, the urge to lean into this man’s strength pulled at her. Could they make a home together, she and Josiah? Could she bring herself to trust him again?
Had she a choice?
“Tell me how we would live,” she ordered, less stiffly this time. “And where.”
He tossed a piece of driftwood onto the fire and settled himself cross-legged across from her.
“President Van Buren has been after me to come to Washington as his military aide. You’d like Washington, Tatiana.” His grin deepened. “And for all their republican sentiments, the folks in Foggy Bottom will fall all over themselves at having an honest-togoodness countess in their midst...especially one who could put a bad-tempered grizzly in its place with a single haughty look.”
“I?” Her chin lifted. “Haughty?”
“Yep, that’s the look. It will bring them to their knees.” He shook his head. “It puts me in a quake every time.”
“Pah!
I’ve
yet to see you in this quake, Josiah Jones.”
I’ve
yet to see you in this quake, Josiah Jones.”
How did he do it? Tatiana wondered. How did he ease her sore spirits with only a smile? How could he grin at her, just so, and make her want to forget these past months of despair?
“Tell me of this Washington,” she demanded.
“And of your president’s court.”
“He doesn’t have a court. He has a cabinet of advisors.”
“How strange. Why would this ruler of yours wish to put his advisors in a closet?”
Josh chuckled, remembering some of the scandals that had rocked the beleaguered president’s cabinet.
No doubt Van Buren would love to lock away one or two of his more flamboyant appointees. Patiently he explained the American system of political appointments.
His amusement faded, however, with the telling. It came home to him...really came home to him...that he’d soon plunge back into the tangled political scene Catherine had first introduced him to. He hadn’t thought much of Washington’s posturing, peacocking politicians then. After all these years of open skies and winds roaring through rocky gorges, he suspected he’d appreciate their narrow view of the world even less.
Still, he’d gone beyond any choice in the matter. He’d acquired a wife who belonged in sophisticated circles, and would soon have a child who’d need a solid roof over its head. It was time, past time, he put his wandering days behind him.
To his considerable surprise, the prospect didn’t daunt him quite as much as it would have a few months ago. Watching Tatiana set Washington back on its heels would keep him amused, at the very least, and sharing a house with her would keep him on his toes.
The question yet to be answered was whether Josh would share more than a house. Would she also take him into her bed? Could he wait for her to make that choice?
Despite his avowal that he wouldn’t take an unwilling bed partner, Josh had come close to losing all restraint last night. He’d wanted to wring Mikhail’s neck. Even more, he’d wanted to tumble Tatiana back onto the bed and stake his claim to her in a savage act of possession. He’d retained just enough of a civilized veneer to stop short of either act, but even now, the thought of his wife sharing a bed with the clerk had the power to twist his gut into tight, painful knots.
He had only himself to blame for that, he thought for the hundredth time. He’d left her in her time of travail, with only the clerk to turn to for comfort. No, he didn’t blame her, but he was damned if any man but him was going to share a blanket with Tatiana from this night on.
If
he shared a blanket with her, this night or any night.
he shared a blanket with her, this night or any night.
From the cool, still-distant way his wife regarded him across the small blaze, that issue had yet to be resolved. Schooling himself to patience, Josh kept his voice calm and his talk easy.
After a while, they made a simple meal from the remains of their wedding breakfast. Slowly the sun sank into a sea tinted to liquid silver. The sky swirled with pinks and golds for a while, then darkened to a deep violet that reminded Josh all too forcefully of his wife’s eyes. He counted the stars as they appeared, and waited for her to decide their sleeping arrangements.
As darkness wrapped around them and the fire burned low, Tatiana knew she had to answer the unspoken question that hovered between them.
She couldn’t do it. Despite the slow lessening of her hurt and anger during these hours beside the fire, she still couldn’t bring herself to forgive Josh for his betrayal. She’d thrown her lot in with his for the sake of their child, it was true. And she now looked on the future with something less than bleak despair. But she wasn’t ready to abandon the desperate gamble that had brought her across a continent.
Swallowing the knot in her throat, she met his gaze with a steady one of her own.
“I will not join with you, Josiah. Not as a wife joins with a husband. I cannot, until the fate of Fort Ross is decided.”
He regarded her thoughtfully. “That could take a while.”
“So it could.”
“I won’t say I’m happy about this.”
Tatiana wasn’t particularly happy about it, either. In her one brief, and altogether awkward, attempt to be a wife to Mikhail, she’d discovered that neither she nor the young clerk could take any pleasure from each other. He’d been too much in awe of her, and she too determined to bring their union to its natural consummation. The mortified youth had spilled himself before he’d even removed his nightshirt. After that, he couldn’t look her in the eyes, much less rise, and Tatiana couldn’t bring herself to coax him to a ready state.
It would come, she’d assured the agonized clerk. When the time was right, it would come. And so she’d slept beside him and forced all thoughts of the breathless, dizzying passion Josiah had given her out of her mind.
Perhaps...perhaps that passion would come again. When the time was right. When the matter of Fort Ross’s fate was determined. For now, though, Tatiana had decided they would wait.
Always, always she would regret that decision.
Had she chosen otherwise, she might have found a woman’s joy with Josiah once more before the tsar’s emissary came riding out of the mists and plunged a sword into him.
Chapter Seventeen
E
verything happened so quickly, like a crack of deadly lightning streaking across a dark summer sky.
verything happened so quickly, like a crack of deadly lightning streaking across a dark summer sky.
For two days, Tatiana and her husband had walked and talked and eased the stiffness between them. For two nights, they’d slept across the fire from each other. Suddenly, early on the morning of the third day, the sound of pounding hooves shattered the stillness.
Tatiana was sitting on the tattered buffalo robe, cradling a tin cup of coffee in both hands while she watched Josiah search the beach below for firewood. His tall, broad-shouldered figure had just disappeared in the fingers of mist when she caught a distant rumble. Within seconds, the rumble grew to an ominous thunder.
They came at a full gallop, the riders, and were upon her before she could do more than snatch up the percussion pistol Josiah had left with her and scramble to her feet. She had the pistol at half cock and her mouth open to scream a warning to her husband just as Alexander Rotchev rode out of the mists, accompanied by three men in uniform. Relief coursing through her veins, Tatiana lowered the pistol.
Her relief exploded into instant alarm when she saw the expression on Alexander’s face...and the officer who rode beside him!
Colonel Dimitri Garanski, commander of the Imperial Guards!
The blood drained from Tatiana’s cheeks. An icy quiver raced down her spine. For a moment, she feared she would faint.
The last time she’d faced the hawk-eyed man in the bearskin shako draped with gold ropes and tassels had been at Aleksei’s execution. On the orders of the tsar, Garanski had gripped Tatiana’s arms in a cruel, unyielding hold and forced her to watch her husband’s horrible death.
As Aleksei’s commander, Garanski himself had come under suspicion because of his subordinate’s traitorous actions. He’d been cleared of all charges, but the mere fact that his honor had been questioned had added to his furious determination that the Countess Karanova suffer greatly for her husband’s perfidy.
Tatiana stumbled back, the horror of that day brought back in full force by the flat, unnerving expression in Garanski’s black eyes. Her throat raw with fear, she turned to Alexander.
“What do you do here? You and this man?”
Helena’s husband dismounted and passed his reins to one of the grenadiers who’d accompanied their colonel. Coming forward, the baron took the pistol from Tatiana’s shaking hand and laid it aside.
“The ship we have long awaited arrived yesterday on the afternoon tide,” he told her gravely. “We rode out at once to find you.”
Her hand went to her mouth.
Clearly unhappy with the turn of events, the baron continued. “The tsar sent you a personal message, Tatiana, and Colonel Garanski to deliver it.”
The officer stepped forward and clicked his heels. Bowing at the waist to the merest degree required by her rank, he performed the task that had brought him across an ocean.
“Nikolas, Tsar of all Russias, sends his greetings to the Countess Karanova. He wishes her to know he has ordered special prayers said in thanksgiving for her deliverance from the sea.”
For a wild moment, Tatiana considered telling Garanski just what she thought of the Tsar of all Russias and his thrice-damned prayers. Had she been able to form the words, she might have done just that.
“The tsar was greatly saddened to hear that so much of your father’s work was lost, but he wishes you to know that he admires your valiant attempt to salvage what you could from the sea. Your father’s lands and titles shall come to you in honor of his memory, and of your bravery.”
Tatiana knew from the expression on Garanski’s face that there was more to come. She felt no relief at the long-awaited promise of restitution, only dread at the unnamed price she would pay for it.
The colonel’s lips twisted in a travesty of a smile. “It was only out of respect for your father that the tsar agreed to this impossible scheme in the first place. With his death and so much of the shipment lost, he has no desire for you to continue in this futile effort. He orders your immediate return to St. Petersburg, and the sale of Fort Ross to the highest bidder.”
“No!”
The thin smile disappeared instantly. “Yes, Countess. Do not think to defy him, as your husband did. This time, I warn you, he shall show no mercy.”
“You don’t understand! The cuttings have sprouted. The trees have blossomed. Nikolas must wait for the harvest. He must!”
The colonel didn’t deign respond to that piece of foolishness. All present knew that Nikolas must do nothing he did not wish to.
“I shall not return to Russia.” Despite her best efforts, Tatiana couldn’t keep the tremors from her voice. “I have decided to remain in this land, with my husband.”
“That is not your choice to make. I have my orders.”
“A pox on your orders,” she cried. “A pox on all men and their vile orders. I shall not return to Russia, I tell you.”
His jaw working, Alexander stepped into the breach. “I have explained to Colonel Garanski that your husband is an American.”
The gold tassels on the officer’s shako swung as he shook his head. “And I have explained to the baron that the matter of an unsanctioned, unblessed marriage to a foreigner does not concern me. You are a Russian by birth and by blood, Countess. You stand on Russian soil. You must obey the orders of your tsar.”
“No, I tell you, I shall not!”
“Yes, you shall.” His black eyes glittered. “I’ll not allow you to put a knotted rope around my neck, as well as yours.”
“No,” she spit. “You’ll just stand by and watch while it is done. That seems to be a particular fondness of yours, does it not?”
Whipping out a hand, he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. “We sail on the morning tide.”
“Colonel Garanski!” Alexander’s sharp protest cut through Tatiana’s near panic. “You will release the countess, and do not dare to touch her again. She is my responsibility until this matter is resolved.”
“I have my orders,” the officer repeated coldly.
The baron drew himself up to his full height, which was several inches shorter than that of the man he confronted. His voice rang with absolute authority.
“I represent the tsar in this land. Release this woman, on the instant, or I shall personally take your head from your shoulders.”
The two grenadiers who’d accompanied their officer exchanged frightened glances at this unexpected confrontation. They were too new to this land to fully appreciate the baron’s powers here, Tatiana knew, and too fearful of their colonel to disobey his orders. If it came to a contest between Alexander and Garanski, the soldiers would back one of their own.
Fear for Alexander’s safety added to her desperation. She would never forgive herself if she brought harm to Helena’s husband.
“Please,” she begged in an attempt to defuse the volatile situation. “Let me call my husband. Let us talk about—”
His eyes flashing contemptuously, Alexander cut her off. “You have overstepped your authority, Colonel. Release the countess. At once!”
For several seconds, they stood in a frozen tableau. The three main participants breathed hard and fast. The two grenadiers nervously shifted their bayoneted muskets from their shoulders to their hands.
Suddenly a drawling voice broke the stillness.
“I don’t know who you are or what the hell’s going on here, but I’m giving you exactly five seconds to get your hands off my wife.”
The men spun around. Tatiana winced as Garanski’s fingers gouged deep into her arm. She barely heard the clatter of steel as his sword whipped from its scabbard, or the rattle of muskets quickly leveled. Her only thought was for the man who stood a few yards away, his rifle in his hands.
“Four,” Josiah counted laconically.
The colonel’s lip curled as he raked the newcomer from head to toe. “Is this the American you have taken to your bed, Countess? This peasant?”
“Three.”
“Josiah!” Tatiana gasped, tugging at her arm. “Do not shoot. Do not!”
If he discharged the rifle he held pointed at Garanski’s chest, the grenadiers would cut him down where he stood. Not even Alexander could save him, should he wish to.
“Two.”
It was Tatiana’s worst nightmare all over again! She would see another husband die before her eyes. Only this one, she would mourn. Holy Father above, this one she would mourn to the end of her days.
She would not watch in silent, agonized horror once again. She
could
not!
could
not!
“No!” she cried, throwing herself bodily at Garanski. “No!”
“Tatiana! Damn it...!”
With quicksilver reflexes, Josh reversed his hold on the Hawken. He couldn’t risk a shot with his wife clawing at the bastard’s face like a mountain cat, but he could sure as hell swing a deadly club. In less than the blink of an eye, he brought the stock smashing down on the colonel’s head.
Another man would have crumpled instantly. Without the thick, bearskin shako to soften the blow, this one might have toppled, as well. Instead, he staggered back a couple of paces, dragging Tatiana with him. Josh leaped forward and swung the long rifle again. Only this time, he spun in a complete circle.
The grenadier lunging at him from behind took the full force of the swing in his neck. His neck bones snapped like kindling. He dropped to his knees, his bayonet sinking into the earth, while Josh was still spinning.
Garanski threw Tatiana aside and brought his sword up just in time to meet the American’s attack. Tempered steel struck sparks off the metal rifle barrel. Both men grunted at the shattering impact. A Russian oath matched an English curse as they leaped apart.
Choking on her fear, Tatiana tried to push herself to her feet. Her knees caught on her skirts and she pitched forward. When she hit the ground, a sharp pain lanced into her belly. To her everlasting shame, she cried out.
She didn’t know whether it was that cry or the way she wrapped her arms across her stomach that proved the fatal distraction. Alexander spun in her direction. For the barest fraction of a second, Josiah’s head turned.
The colonel’s sword flashed.
The second grenadier lunged.
Josiah parried the soldier’s thrust with a twist to the right and a brutal fist to the side of the man’s head, but he couldn’t avoid the colonel’s long, deadly blade. The sword buried itself in his shoulder.
As Garanski pulled the length of tempered steel free, his snarling opponent reversed his rifle once again and jammed the barrel into his belly. It exploded in a deafening roar. The colonel flew backward, bloody sword in hand, spilling entrails from the gaping. hole in his midsection.
It was the gore that proved Josiah’s undoing. He spun to meet the second guardsman’s attack. His moccasin-covered foot slipped on the bloody remains and went out from under him.
Tatiana watched in terror as the soldier’s bayonet plunged downward at his sprawled victim. Josiah’s legs scissored in a vicious kick at the same instant another explosion ripped through the morning.
A look of utter surprise gripped the grenadier’s face. His bayonet faltered in midsweep. Slowly, so slowly, he toppled forward.
Josh twisted sideways to avoid the falling body and sprang to his feet. His chest heaving, he spared only a quick glance at the smoking pistol in Rotchev’s hand.
“Thanks,” he grunted, his eyes on Tatiana.
He reached her side in two swift strides and went down on one knee. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t try to uncurl her drawn-up body. Didn’t ease the tight hold of her arms across her belly.
“Are you all right?”
“I...I think so.”
“The babe?”
Swallowing, she loosened her hold on her stomach. “I don’t know. There was a most...a most sharp pain when I fell. It’s gone now.”
She pushed herself up with one hand, her frightened gaze on the blood staining his white shirt at the shoulder and sleeve. “We must tend to you!”
“I’ve been stuck worse. Let’s get you up and see how you fare first.”
His face like granite, Josiah slipped his good arm under hers to ease her upright. Tatiana drew in a long, shuddering breath and gained her feet. She stood immobile, her eyes closed, praying to every saint she knew.
Finally she opened her eyes and tried a tentative step. No wrenching pain answered her. No gush of liquid. She bit her lip and tried another step.
“I’m all right,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “Now we will see to you.”
Some hours later, a solemn party rode into the farmstead alongside the Russian River. Behind them trailed three horses laden with gruesome burdens.
Alexander Rotchev wasn’t the kind of man to run from his actions, any more than Josh was. Between them, they’d decided that only the truth would serve.
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