The Beloved Scoundrel (29 page)

She had a sudden vision of herself sitting at his feet before the fire, his hands moving on her with possession and strength until she had been dazed with contentment. Dazed and dazzled with everything he had done to her during those days at Dalwynd.

His thumbs probed gently. “It loosens the—”

“Don’t touch me.”

He kept kneading her nape. “It’s easing you, blast it.”

“Don’t touch me!”

His hands fell away, and he stepped back. “Do you think I’m trying to seduce you?” he asked quietly as he moved around the chair to stand in front of her. “I’m not a fool, Marianna. You were in need, and I was only trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“But you may need to accept it before this is over. Doing battle with me over trivialities will sap both our strength and may get in the way of saving Alex.” He stared directly into her eyes. “No matter how much you dislike me at the moment, I believe you know I keep my word. Until Alex is returned to you, I will make no attempt to take anything from you but
your cooperation.” He smiled crookedly. “However, after my guilt is expiated, I promise nothing. You know my morals are sadly unstable.” He turned and moved toward the door. “We’ll be leaving before dawn for Southwick. I’d appreciate it if you’d try to get some rest. It would be a great bother having to pick you up off the road if you fainted from exhaustion.”

I
t was still dark when Marianna reached the courtyard the next morning. Torches burned bright in their sconces before the front door. Servants bustled to and fro preparing for the departure, and Dorothy was overseeing their efforts.

“This is most undignified.” Gregor shrugged off the help of a solicitous footman and climbed awkwardly into a wagon drawn before the door. He grimaced as he settled himself on the pallet. “I told Jordan I was strong enough to ride, but he insisted I be coddled like an infant.”

Marianna could see why he had made the decision. Gregor’s face was drawn and bloodless in the merciless light. “Are you sure you’re well enough to make the sea journey?”

“What is there to do on a ship but rest? By the time we reach Kazan, I shall be strong as a bull.”

“Kazan? We’re going to Montavia.”

“Jordan has decided we should sail directly to Kazan and negotiate with Nebrov from a position of strength.”

She could see little advantage in such a move. “How kind of him to inform me. Where is Jordan?”

Gregor nodded toward another wagon by the stable.
“He is seeing to the crating of your panels.” He chuckled. “What a clever little dove you are proving to be. I never guessed what you were doing.”

“It’s not clever to do what you have to do.” She saw Jordan coming out of the stable and strode across the courtyard toward him. She asked him, “You’ve packed all of them?”

“I’d hardly leave one behind when it might be the Jedalar.”

“But I’d wager you examined every panel very carefully before you had it crated.”

He smiled. “Of course. I even measured them. Every one of them is three feet by two feet. Some of them looked a bit more intricate than others, but I could tell nothing. Any one of them could be the Jedalar. I had the crates marked with a description of the contents to save time when you decide to retrieve it.”

“That will be helpful.” She changed the subject. “Why are we going to Kazan? Gregor says you wish to negotiate from a position of strength, but I don’t want Nebrov to think we’re offering him resistance.”

“Nebrov won’t destroy his weapon just because he perceives it to be threatened. Besides, we may need help after we get the boy away. According to Janus, Nebrov’s power has been growing in Montavia. It would be safer to take Alex to Kazan.”

After they got him away.

Jordan sounded so matter-of-fact that she felt a surge of hope. She could tell herself that all would go well and Alex would be safe, but it was difficult to make herself believe it.

Jordan’s brows lifted. “Satisfied?”

“No, I won’t be satisfied until Alex is free. But we will go to Kazan.”

“I’m glad you agree.” He inclined his head mockingly. “We should have the last of the crates loaded within a few minutes. Be ready to start.”

“I’m almost ready. I’ve only to say my farewells to Dorothy.”

“I’ve already bid her good-bye,” Jordan added dryly. “And was nearly frozen by her disapproval. She seems to think I’ve arranged Alex’s abduction just to lure you farther into my wicked web and—” He stopped, his gaze narrowing on her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He shook his head, studying her expression. He said slowly, “It’s Dorothy. What did she say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What did she say?”

She shrugged. “That she forgives me my lack of virtue.”

“Christ.”

She smiled with effort. “I’m sure she considers herself very generous to a woman who is ruined in the eyes of all respectable people.”

He gave a low curse. “She hurt you.”

“She couldn’t help it. She didn’t even realize the hurt was there. She thought she was being kind.” She turned away from him. “I’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes.” She suddenly thought of something and asked over her shoulder, “What favor did you do for her?”

“Favor?”

“When I first met Dorothy, she told me you had once done her a great service.”

“It was nothing of particular note.” When she stood waiting, he shrugged and said, “No one would publish her books. I bribed McArthy and Son to do it.”

“I see.” She felt his gaze on her back as she crossed the courtyard to the steps where Dorothy now stood. Poor Dorothy, her finest triumph had been provided by one of the oppressive males she condemned.

“I will go with you, if you wish,” Dorothy said gruffly. “It’s not seemly for you to travel with Jordan in this fashion.”

Even now, when Dorothy considered her ruined, she was still striving to put things right. Marianna felt a flicker of warmth mix with the sadness. She could not condemn Dorothy for not being all that she wanted her to be; she must accept her for what she was. “Montavia is not like England. You would not understand it. You will be happier here.” She gave her a quick hug. “Good-bye, Dorothy, thank you for all your kindness to me.”

“You will find the boy,” Dorothy said brusquely. “And you’ll be back at Cambaron by summer.”

Marianna merely smiled, then turned and went down the steps to the wagon where Jordan was now waiting.

Without looking at Dorothy, he lifted Marianna onto the seat and then climbed up himself.

“Wave farewell to her,” Marianna said in a low voice.

“The devil I will.”

“She has a great fondness for you. She will be hurt if you’re cold to her.”

He shot her a look. “And what about your hurt?”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles.” Then she demanded, “Wave farewell to her.”

“Obstinate woman.” The faintest smile curved his lips. He lifted his hand in Dorothy’s general direction and then snapped the reins to put the horses in motion.

As the two wagons rolled out of the gates of Cambaron, Marianna glanced over her shoulder at the castle. Lord, how frightened she had been the first time she had caught sight of those four towers. Three years of her life had been spent within those stone walls. It was strange to think that she would never see them again. No matter what the outcome of this journey, she and Alex would not return to Cambaron. She felt an instant of poignant regret and then firmly dismissed it. Cambaron had never really been her home, and she must remember what Grandmama had always told her.

“What are you thinking?”

She looked around to see Jordan observing her.

She was not about to tell him she never intended to return to the castle. Yet Jordan was a part of Cambaron, and she had a sudden desire to share this leavetaking with him. She said haltingly, “Grandmama often had to travel from place to place in order to do her work, and at first she was very unhappy. She would just start to love a place and feel comfortable, and she would have to give it up and leave again. Then she suddenly realized that she wasn’t really giving up anything, because with every window, every panel she had created, she had left a part of herself behind. She said ‘Leave your mark, Marianna, and no one can ever take anything away from you.’ ”

“She sounds like a very wise woman.”

“Very wise.”

She again looked back over her shoulder at the castle that had sheltered six hundred years of power and privilege. Generations of nobility had come and gone; even royalty had cast their tall shadows in those halls. Yet she would defy any of them to claim they had brought more to this place than she had.

She whispered, “By God, I’ve left my mark on you, Cambaron.”

C
HAPTER
12

February 25, 1812
Rengar, Kazan

S
mell it, Marianna.” Gregor lifted his head and sniffed enthusiastically. “There are no scents on earth like the ones here in Kazan.”

Marianna obligingly sniffed, but she could tell little difference from the scents here and those at Domajo and Southwick. “Very nice.”

“You needn’t be polite. We all know Gregor suffers from an incurable malady,” Jordan said as he joined them at the rail of the ship. “He believes that even the air in Kazan is sweeter, the horses bigger and faster, and the people stronger and more intelligent.”

“I believe it because it is true,” Gregor protested. “You will see, Marianna.” He took her arm and pulled her toward the gangplank. “Come, Jordan, why are you tarrying?”

“The horses have to be saddled and unloaded.” He followed them down the gangplank. “The palace is over four miles from the dock. It would be pleasant to have some form of transportation, don’t you think? Even though Cambaron horses are only adequate compared to Kazan’s vastly superior horseflesh.”

“Palace?” Marianna asked.

“If we’re to receive help, we must petition the ravin,” Jordan explained. Then, as he saw her worried frown, he added, “It’s only a formality. Kazan has no desire to let Nebrov keep a weapon that could be aimed at them.”

“This has gone on too long,” Marianna said. “We don’t need another delay.” The journey from England had seemed to last an eternity, stretching her nerves to their limits. The idea of having to linger in a foreign palace was unbearable.

“There’s a possibility that there may also be some information waiting for us,” Jordan said. “Janus is watching Nebrov, and he has orders to send identical messages to the ravin at the same time he sent them to me.”

“There they are.” Gregor strode toward the horses being led down the gangplank. He soothingly stroked the nose of his big stallion. “Here we are on hard, firm ground again,” he crooned. “You will be much happier now.” He swung onto the saddle. “Come, let us go.” He didn’t wait for them but spurred ahead down the cobblestone street.

Marianna shook her head in wonderment. She had never seen Gregor so full of joy. His scarred face had been luminous. “He’s so happy.”

“He’s home,” Jordan said simply.

“He must care a great deal for you to stay in England.”

He lifted her onto her saddle. “I know that fills you with amazement, but, yes, he does care about me.” He swung onto his horse and nudged him forward. “And, of course, there is always the matter of duty. Gregor always does his duty.”

In spite of the mocking words she became aware of an odd tension suddenly charging him. It dawned on her that he could be mitigating the difficulty of getting the ravin’s help. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. Ask Gregor.”

“You don’t like Kazan?” Her forehead knitted in perplexity. “But isn’t protecting Kazan the reason you’re determined to get the Jedalar?”

“I never said I didn’t like Kazan. It’s far more home to me than Cambaron.”

The words were restrained, almost noncommittal, but there was something beneath them, something in his expression. Then she realized what it was. Why, he truly loved this country. In spite of his mocking words regarding Gregor’s passion for his homeland, his feeling was just as deep. But, being Jordan, he would not lift his mask to reveal it. “It’s not at all like Cambaron.”

Nothing could be less like that rocklike bastion of power than this city. Exotic onion-shaped towers and tall, graceful needle-thin spires abounded here. Instead of the sod or stone houses she was accustomed to seeing in the English countryside, the principal building material here appeared to be wood. Nearly all the houses and shops were flat-roofed and similar in design, but each had its own stamp of individuality, such as a lacy carving on a window box or colorful tiles on a doorstep. As they picked their way through the marketplace, she noticed each booth or stand had its own copper or porcelain samovar over a small fire.

She pointed at a tall flumelike structure at one side of the market where crowds of people had gathered. “What is that?”

“An ice slide. Every town and village in Kazan has at least one.”

She watched a little boy careen madly down the ice-coated funnel and land in a thick bank of snow. He picked himself up, whooping joyously as he ran around to get in line at the ladder again.