You Belong to Me (13 page)

“
A
wise choice, Count Petroff. Now tell me, will my good friend Stefan be joining us as well?”

Vasili knew that deep voice. Pavel, the man was called, and he was anything but Stefan’s friend. He was as tall as Vasili but more muscular, with raw-boned features and a swarthy complexion, and a perpetually belligerent attitude. And when Vasili glanced back to confirm the speaker’s identity, he saw that Pavel wasn’t alone, that nearly a dozen men were ranged behind him, some sporting firearms that were trained directly at Vasili.

“A pleasure to see you again, Pavel,” he said so dryly that only an idiot would believe him, “and no, Stefan didn’t join me on this trip.”

“I’m disappointed,” Pavel replied, and he did, in fact, sound it. “When I recognized you just now, I had such hope for another challenge—but perhaps you will stand for your cousin, eh?”

Vasili wasn’t surprised. Pavel’s attitude hadn’t changed.

“Perhaps,” was all he would commit to. “But first I’d like to take advantage of your famous hospitality. I trust your village isn’t far?”

“Not far at all, or we wouldn’t have heard those shots and come to investigate.”

And Vasili could blame Alexandra for that. If she had stopped, they would have seen where her horses were being taken, he would have recognized the village, and they could have returned with the others in their party, in a position of power rather than as prisoners.

At least Latzko, the leader of these hill bandits, was an easy man to deal with. Greed was his guiding principle, and everything had a price.

“Would you mind getting that knife out of my back, Pavel? Latzko won’t appreciate damaged goods.”

“Latzko is not your worry. He’s gone to Austria to the bitch’s wedding. I am your worry, aristo. I rule in Latzko’s absence.”

Just what Vasili needed to hear. He had a madman to deal with instead of the reasonable Latzko. The “bitch” he assumed was Latzko’s daughter, Arina. Pavel had loved her and lost her to Stefan a number of years ago, which was one reason Pavel hated Stefan so much. The other reason was because Stefan had fought him and beat him, twice. And that was why Pavel hated all aristocrats.

“Congratulations on the promotion, Pavel, but can we continue this discussion in your village, preferably before a warm fire? I happen to be freezing.”

Pavel laughed. At least half of his men joined in. But the knife was finally removed from Vasili’s back. A few orders were given and Vasili’s sword was taken. Then Pavel noticed Alexandra.

“Another woman?” Pavel came around and approached Alexandra until he was standing in front of her. But after one quick look, he glanced back at Vasili for a little gloating. “This day’s work has turned out much better than I expected. Will she be worth as much as the other one?”

He was referring to Tanya, who had been captured last year and whose retrieval had cost Stefan five hundred rubles. Vasili was already going to have to pay a fortune to get Alexandra’s horses back. Their value was obvious. Hers wasn’t, and he needed to establish her worthlessness then and there, not only to keep her cost down, but because Pavel was a vengeful bastard. But he wouldn’t have done it the way he did if she hadn’t been glaring at him at that exact moment. He was already angry with her, and that only inflamed him.

With just enough annoyance in his voice to sound sincere, he said, “Keep her. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Even with several feet separating them, Vasili heard Alexandra draw in a sharp breath. Pavel couldn’t help but hear the indig
nant sound himself. It was obvious he’d had no real interest in her. Bundled up in her Cossack garb, she hardly presented an alluring package. But the sound drew his attention back to her, and he lifted her chin for a better look at her.

Nothing should have happened. Her hands were tied behind her back. She was surrounded by bandits.

But she kicked him, hard.

Pavel howled. Some of his men laughed, adding insult to injury. When he got done hopping around on one leg while he massaged his aching shin—it was incredible how he did it without slipping—he looked positively murderous, and Alexandra was going to catch the brunt of his fury.

Vasili had begun stepping closer, but not soon enough. He wasn’t close enough to stop Pavel’s raised fist from connecting with Alexandra’s face. He had to tackle him to manage it, which was what he did.

When they stopped sliding in the snow, Pavel was looking up at him incredulously. Vasili felt exactly the same. The cold had obviously numbed his mind as well as his extremities. There was no other excuse for doing something so stupid. The only reason he hadn’t been shot already was because Pavel’s men couldn’t believe he was that stupid either, and were immobilized by surprise.

That gave him time to help Pavel to his feet, dust him off a bit, and say, “Sorry, but no one hits her except me. An idiosyncrasy of mine.”

He should have switched to Cardinian, which Pavel understood well enough, because Alexandra chose that moment to prove she hadn’t lost her voice. “You’re going to regret that, Petroff.”

He didn’t glance her way when he replied, “You’ve been silent until now, wench. Keep it that way.”

Pavel was glaring between the two of them, but suddenly his humor took an upward swing and he was almost smiling when he told Vasili, “That—whatever you called it—is going to cost you, Cardinian.”

Vasili sighed. “I figured as much.”

T
he food was hearty, but Vasili was only interested in its warmth. He was still chilled to the bone, despite the clay-mounded oven in the center of the room that seemed to be keeping everyone else warm. Latzko’s house was a large, one-room building that served as a sort of meeting hall for the village and a barracks for the single men in the village.

Vasili’s hands were no longer numb, but snow had seeped into his boots to soak his feet, which were still freezing. He wasn’t going to feel truly warm until he could get out of his damp clothes, and he doubted Alexandra was, either.

Not that she’d made any comment about it. She was ignoring everyone, including him, especially him. She was sitting cross-legged on one of the many cots in the room. She was holding her plate on her lap, picking at the food on it with her fingers. The spoon that had been supplied for her lay on the blanket
by her knee. Heaven forbid she should actually know what to do with it.

Vasili was almost accustomed to her eating habits by now, but she had surprised their hosts. Even hill bandits had better table manners than his betrothed. But for once he was glad it was so, because they took her for a peasant and dismissed her as unimportant. He would have wrung her neck if she had suddenly developed proper manners.

She was still wearing her thick woolen coat fastened up to her neck. With ample light in the room, he could see that the front of it was soaked from when she’d been shoved facedown in the snow. Her lovely breasts had to be icy cold beneath that dampness, the nipples hard little nubs just waiting for him to…

Vasili covered his eyes with his hand, groaning inwardly. What the hell was he doing? He had Pavel sitting across from him, two of his men on either side of him, one of the village women moving around behind them, filling mugs with ale and congratulating the locals on their bravery and cunning. And what was he doing instead of listening for a piece of information he could use to his advantage?

The only thing of interest that he’d heard so far was that the bandits hadn’t just stumbled across his party, as might be supposed, but had known about the travelers and the horses well in advance. Apparently they had men in their pay who lived in the village on the other
side of the mountain, where Vasili’s group had taken shelter the previous night.

It was an ideal arrangement that kept the bandits informed whenever a rich party was crossing the mountains. Shortcuts connected the two villages in a matter of hours. And today, the storm had merely been an added boon, allowing them to take what they wanted without a confrontation.

“What is she to you?”

Alexandra was suddenly looking straight at Vasili, proving she’d been listening to every word even if he hadn’t been. But he wasn’t going to make the mistake of giving an inflammatory answer in Russian again. She was too unpredictable. He couldn’t depend on her to help them get out of this mess she had gotten them into. Make her angry, and she’d just as soon attack him as the bandits.

So Vasili switched to Cardinian to say, “Her father gave her to me. I’ve decided to amuse myself with her for a while.”

The look Alexandra gave him before her eyes returned to her food said she didn’t appreciate one little bit being excluded from that answer. Vasili was relieved. There had been the possibility that she might know Cardinian. It hadn’t been likely, but it was possible.

“And you amuse yourself by beating her?”

Pavel was sticking with Russian, deliberately to discomfit Vasili, he didn’t doubt. And Alexandra’s head had snapped back up. Vasili could try again in Cardinian, he supposed,
but as Pavel had already given the wrong impression with that question, the odds were he’d do the same again, so Vasili might as well stick with Russian. If Alexandra was going to be foolish enough to draw attention to herself with an interruption, it would be her own fault.

Vasili’s golden eyes settled on Pavel and stayed there, refusing to look in Alexandra’s direction again. “I believe my earlier words were that no one hits her except me. I don’t find amusement in that, merely necessity. She does so often deserve it, after all.”

“But you mean to keep her, eh?”

“I’m not bored yet, so yes, for a little while longer I’ll keep her. But during that time she remains mine exclusively—or I lose interest.”

Pavel’s shrug said he understood perfectly. Used goods lost their value. And now they could get down to the business at hand.

“Fifty rubles, no more,” Vasili offered, and his expression implied that he was being generous. Then he sat back, lifting one arm over the back of his chair. “Wasn’t that the price Stefan had to pay to get Arina back that time?”

It was a calculated risk, bringing Arina into the conversation. But he’d already guessed that the woman serving them was Pavel’s woman, simply by the expressions passing between them, and because the other men kept their hands off her. Pavel could either explode with jealousy as he usually did whenever Arina was mentioned, or quickly get the sub
ject of women out of the way, since his own was listening.

“You would compare Latzko’s daughter with this peasant?” he demanded, waving a hand toward Alexandra.

Indignation? Vasili couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. “You’re right, of course. What would you suggest, then? Twenty-five?”

“Forty-five,” Pavel replied, obviously having realized his mistake.

“I suppose that keeps anyone from being insulted,” Vasili remarked dryly.
Except for Alexandra
. “Agreed, and by the way, who is Anna marrying?”

Pavel spit on the floor before he said in disgust, “She got tired of her Austrian duke and took up with a count. He’s crazy enough to marry her.”

Vasili knew he shouldn’t, but he simply couldn’t resist rubbing it in a little. “Latzko must be pleased to have a count in the family.”

“Latzko just wants her married,” Pavel half growled, half mumbled. “He don’t care to who. Now for you, Count Petroff. I know my good friend Stefan will pay plenty for you. The horses, of course, I keep for myself. But you—”

“Horses like that would be useless in these mountains and you know it, Pavel. I’ll give you three hundred for the lot of them.”

Pavel laughed. “You think I don’t know horses that fine are for your cousin? If he
wants them, he’ll have to pay the price I ask, or I keep them.”

Vasili couldn’t imagine where
that
notion had come from, but he’d have to disabuse him of it quickly or he’d never get the horses back. “They happen to be a gift to me from my betrothed. Stefan doesn’t even like whites. He calls them bloodless, temperamental creatures, not worth the effort to feed them. Having traveled with them, I’m inclined to agree, though I may still start a breeding farm with them, as I had planned to do. However, since they cost me nothing, I really don’t care one way or the other. Three hundred rubles for the lot, and not a ruble more.”

“One thousand rubles each, and not a ruble less,” Pavel countered belligerently.

Vasili could feel Alexandra’s midnight eyes slicing into him like daggers. He’d just insulted her “babies.” He was surprised she hadn’t thrown her plate at him. And he wasn’t finished.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” he said in his most derisive tone. “If you can’t be serious, then we have nothing further to discuss.”

“It is Stefan who will pay, aristo,” Pavel replied confidently. “As for what he will pay for you, five thousand rubles, I think—no, ten thousand.”

“You’re crazy.”

Pavel’s fist slammed down on the table. “He owes me! If he does not pay, believe me,
I will be happy to send you back to him in pieces.”

Vasili had tried to be reasonable. He was tired. He was cold. Now he was angry.

He leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table, pinning Pavel’s eyes with the heat in his. And he said very softly, “You shouldn’t make threats you don’t dare follow through with, Pavel. It weakens your position.”

“And why wouldn’t I do as I say?”

“Because we both know that if anything happens to me, Stefan will come here with his soldiers and this village will be no more. Death or profit. Which was it you had in mind when you stole my horses?”

Pavel had gone red in the face, either from fury or from embarrassment, because he was going to have to back down. The power of being leader for a while might have gone to his head, but Latzko would be returning, and Latzko would demand an accounting.

Vasili decided to make it a little easier for him to back down. “Forget about Stefan, Pavel. It’s I who will pay, not Stefan, and it’s me you are dealing with, not Stefan. I would suggest you sleep on that, and perhaps we can get back to negotiations in the morning. In the meantime, the wench and I require quarters where we can dry off—in private.”

One of the other men chuckled, a reaction Vasili had counted on. Pavel was still red-faced, though, and it was a long, tense mo
ment before he joined in the laughter, albeit with a hollow sound.

“By all means. You will want to be
dry
while the rest of us celebrate our good fortune.”