You Belong to Me (16 page)

The last words were barely heard as the guard moved farther back into the stable. “Do something,” Alexandra ordered.

“What would you suggest?”

“You got through the last door.”

Vasili snorted. “Forget it. This happens to be new wood, not old, and I’m not damaging my shoulder for your damn horses. We tried;
now we’re leaving. And you can be toted out of here if you insist.”

“But—”

“Your horses aren’t going anywhere,
and
, I might add, they’re a hell of a lot warmer than we are. They’ll be here in the morning, Alex. Now, we can either return to that shack they stuck us in and continue at a disadvantage, or show up tomorrow with an armed escort and get your horses back—one way or another. You choose.”

She took her time deciding, but finally said, “I don’t like leaving my babies with strangers for even one night, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to start the bargaining tomorrow with some leverage on our side. Very well, let’s find our people.”

Vasili sighed. Considering that the cold was getting to him again, he’d almost hoped she would have chosen to return to the shack instead.

A
s it turned out, they might have been rescued if they had stayed in the village a little while longer. At least that was what Alexandra wanted to think, because she hated being beholden to Vasili for getting them out of there. But Lazar and three of Vasili’s guards met them on the narrow mountain path not far from the village.

“It took you long enough,” was Vasili’s surly greeting, which had his friend’s brows shooting up.

“Was I supposed to follow a trail buried under a half foot of snow? Even that Russian wolfhound of Alexandra’s couldn’t pick up your scent. What makes you think I could?”

“Then what led you this way?”

“I remembered where Latzko’s village was. I was going to ask for his help, or buy it, as was more likely to be the case. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“I don’t know why not,” Vasili replied. “He does consider these hills his territory, after all.”

“But I didn’t think he was crazy enough to provoke Cardinia’s royal house again.”

Vasili was forced to agree. “He’s probably not, but Pavel sure as hell is, and unfortunately, Pavel’s ruling the roost temporarily.”

“Well, that explains it,” Lazar said. “I suppose he was hoping Stefan was in our party?”

“Actually, all he was after was the horses. He had no idea who was transporting them.”

Lazar frowned. “Then how did he get you and Alexandra as well?”

Vasili’s golden gaze lit on Alexandra before he answered sardonically, “Because my sweet little betrothed here thought nothing of attacking six bandits single-handedly, right on their doorstep.”

“I didn’t know we had reached their village,” Alexandra mumbled in her defense.

Vasili said nothing to that, which was saying a lot, since he continued to stare at her. Lazar made an attempt to conceal his grin, but gave up when he saw that the guards were doing the same thing. Alexandra was aware of it, and the heat already climbing her cheeks went up a few more degrees.

Lazar cleared his throat to regain Vasili’s attention. “So where are the horses?”

“Locked up for the night.”

“But not for long,” Alexandra added. “Between the five of you—”

“Give it a rest, Alex,” Vasili cut in, clearly at the end of his patience. “You may not be exhausted after fighting through that storm today, but I most certainly am.”

“It figures,” she replied in disgust.

The black look she got for that remark should have knocked her off her horse. She merely raised her chin a notch and glowered right back. Vasili was too cold to waste time staring her down—if it were even possible.

He sighed. “I’ll allow that Pavel might be too drunk to notice that we are so few in number, but he’ll also be too drunk to have the sense to lower his price. And if you think I’m going to pay what he’s asking for those animals, you’re out of your mind.”

She didn’t want him paying anything that would make her any more beholden to him. “What happened to getting them back ‘one way or another’?”

“Jesus, sheathe your claws, woman. Cardinia happens to be one of the richest countries in Europe. We’re in the habit of using money first, arms only as a last resort. And we haven’t reached our last resort yet. Returning in the morning, when they’d rather be sleeping off all the ale they drank tonight, is still our best bet.”

“And if I happen to disagree with that?” she asked stubbornly.

“Wouldn’t you prefer that your
babies
spend the night in that nice warm stable they’re presently enjoying, rather than be exposed to the elements?” It was rotten of him to play on her concern again, but he wasn’t finished making his point. “We can reach one of Stefan’s hunting lodges by tomorrow night, so we’ll have some proper shelter again. This is
the last night that we’ll have to rough it outdoors, but this happens to be the coldest night we’ve seen yet, which you pointed out to me, if you’ll recall. And for all we know, that storm could return before morning.”

All she’d heard was that his cousin owned property near here. And just as the heat of her embarrassment had gone undetected in the dark a few moments ago, so did the abrupt loss of all her coloring now.

“We’re that close to Cardinia?” she whispered.

He didn’t notice her subdued tone. “Another few days should see us there, as long as we don’t encounter any more storms—or bandits. Now we’re going to find our tents and get some sleep, and I really don’t want to hear any more arguments about it.” He turned to Lazar. “I hope to hell you’re not camped where we left you.”

Lazar was startled to be drawn back into the conversation so abruptly, having been engrossed in that fascinating exchange. “We’re about thirty minutes from here, where this path leaves the main trail.” But then he couldn’t resist goading. “Are you certain you want to head in that direction?”

When Alexandra immediately perked up upon hearing that, Vasili hissed, “He was
joking!
” and gave Lazar a look that promised he’d get even with him for that, before he headed for their camp.

E
arly the next morning, they left one man behind with Nina and the wagons. The rest of the party, all fully armed, rode into Latzko’s village, and Alexandra had to admit they were an impressive sight. She also had to admit, though grudgingly and only to herself, that Vasili had had the right idea. Returning triumphant, so to speak, inspired confidence. She
would
get her horses back, “one way or another.”

Only a few of the villagers were up and about after their long night of celebration, but that quickly changed as Vasili’s men slowly approached the main building. Someone had run ahead to inform Pavel of their arrival, because he stumbled out onto the porch just as they drew abreast of it. No one dismounted. Guns were held at the ready.

Pavel was still shrugging a coat on. That he had no shirt on under it and was barefoot indicated he’d been pulled from his warm bed. He certainly didn’t seem to be happy to see Vasili
mounted and surrounded by his own people, instead of how he’d left him last night.

“Who let you out?” he demanded.

“I let myself out—and now I want the horses,” Vasili replied.

The reminder that all was not lost changed Pavel’s demeanor abruptly. “Ah, yes.” He flashed a toothy grin. “King Stefan’s very valuable horses. I can assume they didn’t let themselves out?”

Vasili waited while the bandit and his cohorts laughed over his little joke. He wasn’t amused. He wanted to get this over with. The sooner they were out of these mountains, the sooner they’d be back to temperatures he could at least tolerate. Never again would he cross the Carpathians this late in the year.

“The horses aren’t for Stefan, as I believe I already told you,” Vasili informed the bandit. “However, I did stretch the truth a bit yesterday, since they aren’t mine either—at least not yet. They belong to the wench here, and she doesn’t have the amount you’re asking. But I’ve promised to get them back for her. One hundred rubles each—and no one dies. Think about it before you answer.”

Pavel didn’t take that advice, saying immediately, “Double or nothing and you accept my challenge.”

“How fortunate that I can afford not to waste my time,” Vasili replied in a bored tone.

“You fight me, aristo, or I keep one of the horses for myself.”

Vasili nearly rolled his eyes. Why had he known this was coming? Because Pavel was so damn predictable in some ways, and this was certainly one of them. He looked at Alexandra, but her mulish expression said she wasn’t going to leave a single one of her precious babies behind, and that didn’t surprise him either.

But she did manage to do the unexpected by interfering, telling Pavel, “The horses are mine. The choice of who fights you should be mine.”

Pavel glanced at the three Cossacks surrounding her and laughed. “Pavel is not stupid, woman.”

That was certainly debatable and she started to say so. Vasili, guessing as much, said quickly, “All right, Pavel, but indoors, if you don’t mind. And the choice of weapons is mine, so have someone fetch the sword that I surrendered last night.” When Pavel just stared at him, looking a little green around the gills, he remarked, “No sword skill? Well, never let it be said I took advantage. You choose, then, but I should warn you, Stefan and I shared the same instructors. How is your shoulder, by the way?”

Pavel had become red in the face by that point. Vasili supposed he’d gone a little overboard, reminding Pavel of the knife wound Stefan had given him. But he was a man so
easy
to goad, Vasili hadn’t been able to resist. However, he regretted it in the next moment.

“Whips,” Pavel said.

There were some collective gasps over the bandit’s unexpected choice. Vasili barely managed to contain his. “You call that a weapon?”

“Mine is going to cut you to ribbons. You
don’t
call that a weapon?” Pavel countered with a chuckle.

“The choice of weapons was yours, Petroff,” Alexandra interjected. “Take it back.”

Vasili knew she didn’t think he could win with whips. That was obvious. Hell, she hadn’t thought he could win against the brawny bandit period, no matter the weapon, which was why she had tried to interfere earlier. Just as he’d labeled her promiscuous, she’d labeled him a useless, helpless court dandy, and refused to see him any other way. And thanks to his moment of generosity with Pavel—he should have stuck with swords—he wasn’t going to be able to prove otherwise, because he, too, doubted he could win with a weapon he’d never had occasion to use before.

But he couldn’t, honorably, do as she was suggesting either, much as he’d like to. That she thought he would was still another indication of how low her opinion of him was. That was fine, exactly what he had been striving for. But he
seriously
objected to the label of court dandy.

Damn Pavel anyway, and his quest for one-upmanship. Whips, for God’s sake. How were you supposed to fight with whips? Take turns slashing at each other and see who could withstand the pain the longest?

Pavel had already sent someone for whips
and had reentered Latzko’s hall to wait. On Vasili’s right, Lazar caught his friend’s arm as he started to dismount.

“This is ridiculous. He’s using you as a substitute for Stefan.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Vasili replied with a sound of disgust.

“How about, ‘You don’t have to do this’?”

Vasili was quite aware of that. He was willing to pay the ransom, even though he’d end up with nothing to show for it once the betrothal was broken and Alexandra took herself and her horses back to Russia. He certainly wasn’t after her gratitude, which could only hurt his campaign. And to say that he refused to let Pavel take one of the thoroughbreds was pretty lame. So why had he accepted the challenge? Payment for that gift he’d received last night?

Disgusted with himself and the whole situation, Vasili dismounted. But he confided in an aside to Lazar, “Relax, my friend. If it gets too painful, I’ll concede and pay the double ransom.”

“Well, at least you haven’t gone
completely
crazy,” Lazar remarked.

That was another thing that was debatable, but Vasili didn’t say so and headed for the house. Alexandra had also slipped off her mount, and she was practically blocking the entrance to the hall as he neared it. She hadn’t heard his exchange with Lazar, which was fortunate, since he didn’t feel like arguing
anymore, and she’d no doubt insist he hang in there until the bitter end.

“Petroff—”

“Concerned for me, sweetheart?” He’d cut her off, the sarcasm in his tone saying he wouldn’t believe it if she tried to pretend she was.

And that sarcasm had her hissing, “Certainly not,” regardless of her true feelings.

“Then stay out of it. Whether I win or lose, you still get your horses back.”

He said no more, stepped around her to enter the house, and promptly closed the door in her face. But if he thought that would keep her out, he should have known better. She’d want to see him lose the fight, to have something to gloat over. If Lazar hadn’t followed her in, along with a half-dozen others, Vasili would have made an issue of it, insisting she leave. Now he merely shrugged mentally. Maybe she deserved this, too, for last night.

Pavel had removed his coat and was presently shoving the sleeping cots out of the way to clear an area. He was apparently going to remain shirtless. A prerequisite? Whether it was or not, Vasili supposed he ought to strip down himself, just to keep things sporting.

He had seen Pavel fight twice before with Stefan, and each time he had fought dirty. Vasili’s advantage would have been that Pavel had never seen him fight. With whips, though, he had no advantage, and was really at a disadvantage. Why the hell had he agreed to this?

Killing Pavel would have been an ideal solution, because he didn’t have Latzko’s sense of honor and couldn’t be trusted to stand by his word if he lost. But Vasili simply didn’t feel like killing him, even if they were going to use
normal
weapons. The bandit was a bitter man, and a woman had made him that way. Vasili could certainly sympathize with him about that.

Knocking him out was another solution, since there was the possibility that if Pavel lost—for the third time to an aristocrat—and was still conscious at the end, he might be enraged enough to order them all shot. Some of the bandits wouldn’t follow that order, but some might, and the risk wasn’t worth the taking.

Since his skill with a whip wasn’t likely to get him either of those solutions, it seemed his only other alternative, intentional or not, was to lose, let Pavel have his moment of glory, and get the hell out of there. And he’d already assured Lazar that he would concede if it looked like he couldn’t win. But this option went against every instinct he possessed…

“Finally,” Pavel said.

Vasili turned to see a man coming through the door, holding a coiled whip in each hand. The whips seemed nearly identical, but they weren’t. He didn’t know how he recognized it, since he’d never given it more than a cursory glance when she’d worn it, but he knew which one was Alexandra’s. A glance her way
proved she had no trouble identifying it either.

Without questioning why he wanted it, Vasili stepped forward to say, “I believe the choice of weapons is mine again, and I’ll take the wench’s whip.”

“What wench?” Pavel demanded, but his eyes sought out Alexandra even as he asked the question.

“You weren’t told it was taken from her last night?” Vasili countered.

The frown was there before Pavel’s suspicious gaze returned to Vasili. “Did you teach her how to use it, aristo?”

It was a toss-up between lying to benefit himself in the fight and lying to benefit his campaign against Alexandra. Vasili found the choice an easy one.

“Lucky for you,” he told the bandit, “I haven’t known the wench long enough to teach her anything—of importance.”

It was a dig for Alexandra alone. Vasili didn’t look at her again to see how she had received it, which was fortunate, because he might have made an ass of himself and apologized if he had.

To insinuate that what had passed between them was nothing significant was no more than Alexandra herself had done, yet to hear him say it struck her painfully, and her expression briefly revealed that emotion before she managed to conceal it beneath a mask of indifference.

Fortunately, no one else read anything into
Vasili’s remark, and when he added, “Shall we get this over with?” Pavel was quick to comply.

Whips in hand, uncoiled and dragging on the rough floor, they circled each other, Vasili waiting to be shown the rudiments by example, Pavel waiting for the ideal opening so that his first strike would be an excruciating one.

Neither got what he was after.

When Pavel finally released his first snap, Vasili was too busy dodging to notice how it was done. The crack of that whip was demoralizing, though, even with its only striking air. And his own first swing was laughable. His coil was dropping to the floor before it even got close to Pavel.

Vasili didn’t know it, but he was holding his whip as if it were a sword, and also swinging it like a sword, which might have worked if his target had remained stationary. That wasn’t the case, however. Apparently the object was for him to hit, and for him to avoid getting hit in return. So far he was managing to do one, but not the other.

Alexandra was disgusted, watching them dance around each other. Pavel didn’t know much about wielding a whip, but he sure as hell knew more about it than Vasili, and it was only sheer luck and quick reflexes that had kept Vasili out of the whip’s path thus far.

And then he was hit. It wasn’t a solid hit. Pavel’s coil curved over Vasili’s back, around his side, and up his chest, where the worst
damage was inflicted by the tail, leaving a red, diagonal streak to mar his golden skin. He barely winced, but Alexandra hadn’t counted on what the sight of that mark would do to her.

The urge that came over her, nearly overwhelming her, was to snatch her whip from Vasili and make mincemeat out of the bandit. To do that would take her only a minute or two. She knew every place on the body that was most susceptible to pain, and her aim was unerring. Pavel would be writhing on the floor in seconds…

She literally had to stuff her hands in her coat pockets and concentrate on keeping them there. She had to spare some of that concentration to remain standing where she was. But she was too angry to keep quiet.

“The snap is in your wrist!” she shouted at Vasili. “Flick it!”

Vasili heard her. He couldn’t help but hear her. And it was galling to realize that if she were participating in this fight instead of him, it would probably be over already. Of all the weapons Pavel could have chosen, why did he have to pick her weapon, her sphere of expertise?

And Vasili had no idea what she was talking about.

The second strike snaked across his tender belly. He felt as if he’d been ripped open and his guts were about to spill out, but when he glanced down he saw no more than a red welt
raised across his skin. Yet that was enough for him to put an end to this, more than enough.

He was about to tell Pavel just that when Alexandra shouted at him again. “That’s not a sword, dammit! Don’t use it like one!”

Vasili gritted his teeth and tried again. But his lash still did no more than brush teasingly against Pavel, like a worrisome gnat rather than a stinging bee. Pavel, of course, didn’t have that problem, and he got in another two flashing, burning hot strikes, the one on the back of Vasili’s shoulder drawing blood.

At that point, Alexandra yelled, “Give it up, Petroff—you can’t win!” And at that point, Vasili decided to prove her wrong.

Not with a whip, however. He couldn’t be expected to use the damn thing with any proficiency without the benefit of a few lessons first, and in the middle of a fight was no time to get them. So his whip coiled next to his feet and stayed there in supposed readiness, and when Pavel’s next swing came at him, Vasili didn’t try to dodge it. He caught it instead, gave it a hard jerk, dropped his own whip at the same time, and slammed his fist into Pavel’s face.