“I heard you.” He beamed. “You should not be ashamed of being kind. I know you like the world to think you wicked, but I promise I will tell no one.”
“I’m not—” He stopped and shrugged. “The girl would disagree. She’s already told me she knows I’m not kind.”
Gregor glanced back over his shoulder. “I still think I should go back and get her. What if she flies away?”
Jordan reined in his horse as he turned a corner. “She’s not going to fly away. Because you’re going to go back to the church and stand in that alcove in the shop across the street. Send Niko to watch the back entrance to the garden. Neither of you are to let your presence be known, if she sets out in the direction of the camp.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Bring her to me.”
Gregor’s expression was troubled. “She thought herself free. You did not tell her the truth.”
“I didn’t tell her a lie. She is free as long as she makes the right decision. Sometimes it’s necessary to hood a falcon to keep her from flying in the wrong direction.” He added impatiently, “And stop looking at me as if I were going to harm your little bird. The only reason I didn’t take her by force is that I know more will be accomplished by offering honey instead of lemon. I’m well aware I need to coax her into submission. I have no desire to have her claw at me again.”
The assurance didn’t please Gregor. He had seen Jordan offer honey to women before, share the sweetness, and then withdraw and walk away. “This is not a good thing. She’s not like your usual women. She is wounded.”
“You talk as if I was going to bed her,” Jordan said dryly. “As you say, she’s only a child.”
“How old?”
“Sixteen. I don’t seduce chits scarcely out of the schoolroom.”
It was true Jordan preferred older, experienced women and avoided like the plague the young innocents who were thrown at him both in Kazan and London. Yet Gregor’s instincts told him there had been something unusual in Jordan’s attitude toward the girl a few minutes ago. “The schoolroom from which this particular chit emerged teaches more interesting lessons. You need the Jedalar. I think there is little you would not do to get it.”
“Then you needn’t worry about her for a time. She’s incapable of giving it to me for at least a few years. Perhaps never.” He nudged his horse into a trot. “I’ll see you at camp.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And, Gregor, my friend, while you’re contemplating letting the little dove fly the cage, you might consider that the alternative to my guardianship is leaving her to starve or become a whore in this benighted country.”
A convincing argument, Gregor thought gloomily, as he watched Jordan ride away. Jordan was a hard man and had grown even more ruthless since he had involved himself in Kazan’s concerns, but, whatever fate he dealt the girl, it would be better than what she faced here. “Niko!” He wheeled his horse and gestured to the burly young man at the rear of the troop. “No rest for you yet. There’s work to be done.”
The campfire was burning brightly, a beacon in the darkness, luring her closer.
“Marianna?” Alex’s hand tightened on hers. “Is it all right?”
She didn’t know, she thought in sudden panic. She didn’t know if they would be safe. She had stayed for hours in the church agonizing over this decision. Draken’s followers appeared a wild band, and yet he was …
What?
Violent, hard, clever. He had demonstrated all of those traits in the short time they had been together. She had also discerned a relentless determination and a blunt honesty. Yet how could honesty live side by side with deception? Every instinct said he had not told her the truth about the Window.
Alex coughed and pressed closer to her. “I smell food. I’m hungry, Marianna.”
Food and shelter and safety for Alex, Draken had promised her, and she had promised him nothing. After all, she could always escape later if she found the threat too great. In the meantime Alex would have a chance to heal and grow stronger.
“There will be food soon.” She drew the sheepskin blanket closer about Alex’s shoulders, drew a deep breath, and strode boldly toward the campfire.
CHAPTER 2
Huddled figures, wrapped in sheepskin blankets, lay slumbering a short distance from the camp-fire. Only Jordan Draken was awake, sitting staring into the flames.
He looked up as she entered the circle of the firelight. “You’ve been a long time,” he said quietly. He turned to Alex. “And you look blue with cold, lad. Come closer to the fire.”
Alex glanced up at her, and when she nodded, he edged closer to the flames. He dropped the blanket as the heat struck him and held out his hands to the flames. He gave a beatific sigh. “That feels good.”
“Yes, it does. It’s a raw night.” Jordan gestured to the pot simmering over the flames. “Rabbit stew. Take a spoon and bowl and help yourself.”
“I’ll get it for him.” Marianna stepped forward, then stopped as Draken shook his head. “He’s not well,” she said fiercely.
“If he can stand, he can use a ladle.” He stood up and unrolled a sheepskin pallet a short distance from his own and sat down again. “You’re the one weaving on your feet. Sit down.”
Alex was already eagerly spooning hot stew into a wooden bowl, and she reluctantly sat down on the sheepskin pallet. The fire was blessedly warm, and she wanted to sigh with contentment as Alex had done. “I have to help Alex.”
“After you eat yourself.”
“I will help him.” Gregor strode into the light of the campfire. He filled a bowl with stew and sat down across the fire from them. “Come, lad, and sit with me. We will eat together. I’m hungry as a wolf, aren’t you?”
He looked like a wolf himself, fierce and scarred by battle. Marianna knew Alex would never go to him.
Alex solemnly stared at him and then said hesitantly, “You are dressed most strangely.”
Gregor grinned as he saw Marianna’s astonishment. “Ah, you thought he would be afraid of me? Children are much smarter than grown-ups. They rely on their instincts, not their eyes.” He turned back to Alex. “And your instincts are right. It is my clothes that are different, not my soul. But even my clothes are different only in these tame lowlands. At home in Kazan you would be the different one.”
“Kazan!” Her gaze flew to the north where high, gray-purple mountains separated Montavia from Kazan. Until now she had never met anyone who came from that wild, fabled country, and she was not alone. Not only was Kazan surrounded by mountains, but its inhabitants were rumored to be a fierce, warlike people who kept to themselves and did not encourage visitors to their land. Her grandmother had told her she had fled to Kazan from Russia, but she had been frustratingly vague when answering Marianna’s questions regarding the country itself. Kazan had no commerce with Montavia, and if they engaged in trade with any country, it must be with Russia, their neighbor to the north. They had remained totally aloof during the recent war between Nebrov and King Josef. Yet here was Gregor, who claimed he had ridden across the mountains from that mysterious country. “What are you doing here?”
“At the moment I’m trying to beg this lad to keep me company while I eat.” Gregor pulled a long face that made him look like a mournful gargoyle. “I hate to eat alone. It gives me a monstrous bellyache.”
Alex chuckled and went around the fire and settled on Gregor’s pallet.
Gregor nodded with satisfaction. “As for what else I’m doing in this boring country of yours …” He took a bite of stew and then nodded at Jordan. “I’m doing my duty and taking care that Jordan doesn’t injure himself fighting with frail young girls. Did you really take a candlestick to his private parts? I’m sure that there’s many a woman who would—”
“Eat.” Jordan added with precision, “Fill your mouth with food instead of conversation, or you can go back on sentry duty.”
“You’d send me back out in the cold? How cruel.” Gregor sighed, but a sly smile remai
ned on his lips as he applied himself to his stew.
“Where’s Niko?” Draken asked.
“You told me not to talk.” Gregor took another bite before he said, “Still on sentry duty. I sent him to look over the town. It appears deserted, but you can never tell.” He drew a sheepskin blanket firmly around Alex’s thin shoulders. “Gobble down that stew. How do you expect to grow as big as me if you have no nourishment?”
Alex shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t think I could grow that big if I ate all the stew in the world.” But he obediently dipped his spoon into the savory mixture.
Jordan filled a bowl and handed it to Marianna. “Satisfied?”
She wasn’t at all satisfied. Her mind was full of questions and apprehensions, but she nodded and began to eat hungrily. The rabbit was tough, but the broth was hot and thick and flavored with herbs. She was vaguely aware of another man—Niko, Gregor called him—coming to the fire and filling his bowl before drifting away. She could hear Gregor’s deep low voice across the fire as he talked to and teased Alex, but she could not make out the words. Draken was watching her, but she didn’t care. The wind was howling, whipping sharply down from the mountains, but for the first time in days she felt warm and dry with real food instead of scraps to eat.
“More?” Draken asked when she had finished.
She shook her head and put down the bowl. She had eaten too much already. A full stomach made one feel deceptively content and safe. She looked across the fire and saw Alex curled up against Gregor, already asleep, and felt a little better. He should be in a bed, not a pallet on the hard ground, but at least he was warm and protected from the wind by Gregor’s bulk. Gregor winked at her as he settled down, drawing the cover over both Alex and himself. In spite of the giant’s kindness she must be the one to be there when Alex woke, she thought. It would be a chilling shock to come out of sleep to that scarred face.
“He’ll be all right,” Draken said, impatience roughing his voice. “Lie down and go to sleep. You’re about to fall over.”
“I am not.” She sat up very straight, trying to keep her spine rigid. “We have to talk … I have to ask—”
“Questions I told you I wouldn’t answer, no doubt.”
“I have to ask about the Window.” She met his gaze. “That’s why you wish me to come with you, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “Yes.”
“You think I can give it back to you.”
“I hope you can give it to me.”
“Why?”
“What do you know of Napoleon Bonaparte?”
Napoleon. The emperor of the French was only a shadowy figure to her. She tried to remember what Papa had taught her about the man. He had admired the emperor’s brilliance, but her mother had said he would not be satisfied until he devoured all of Europe. Two years ago when he had come near one of Montavia’s borders, there had been whispers and days of tension until he had moved on and the threat was gone. Then Nebrov’s attack had thrown all of Montavia into chaos, and Napoleon had been forgotten. “I know that he wants power as much as the rest of you.”
“Even more than the rest of us. I have to stop him.”
“So that you can grab everything for yourself?”
He ignored the question. “So far he’s hesitated to attack this part of the world, but that won’t last forever.” He met her gaze. “When he starts his march, he must not have the Jedalar.” He saw the ripple of shock that went through her. “Did you think Nebrov was the only one who knew why the Window had value?”
She had suspected the Englishman knew, but she had hoped desperately she was wrong. “The Window had value because it had splendor and beauty and—”
“Knowledge,” he finished softly. “You’re only a girl with a young brother to protect. Don’t make yourself a pawn in a war you don’t even understand. Give me what I want, and I’ll see that you’re both kept safe.”
“So that you can use it as you choose. You’re probably no better than this Napoleon. Why should I choose between you?”
“Because it’s not safe for you not to make a choice.”
“Then I choose not to believe any of you,” she said fiercely. “I won’t be used by you or this Napoleon or the Duke of Nebrov. I will go my own path and do what I please.”
His eyes narrowed on her face. “And what would you do with the Jedalar?”
“Use it in any way I wish.” She glared at him. “And answer to no one. You have no right to ask me what I will do with my own property.”
He studied her expression and then said, “Suppose we come to an agreement? For now we’ll forget about the Window to Heaven.”
“You won’t get it,” she said desperately. “I’ll never give it to you.”
He smiled. “We’ll discuss it later.”
She stared at him in fascination and dread. She had not seen him smile before, and she suddenly realized he was quite splendid-looking. She had never seen a more beautifully shaped mouth, and that smile was nearly irresistible. It gave his irregular features a charm that softened and transformed the severity of the long planes of his face. It was as if he had changed before her eyes, taken on a powerful persuasiveness and magnetism at will.
Lucifer, she thought, the caster of spells, the shape-changer, the weaver of incantations. He would do very well for the figure of the Dark Prince when she created her own Window to Heaven.
It was foolish to be this frightened, she told herself. If you recognized Satan, then you could fight him.
His smile faded, and he looked back at the fire. “Did it ever occur to you the Duke of Nebrov could be searching for you?”
It had been part of the nightmare that had been her life since that night. “I … don’t think he saw us. Mama made us hide in the woods.” She said more firmly, “No, I’m sure he didn’t know we were there.”
“Nebrov wouldn’t have given up after the death of your mother. He would have searched the house for any possible information, sent one of his men to ask questions of your neighbors.”
“He had no time. Samda was being held by King Josef’s forces, and there was a price on Nebrov’s head. Mama thought we were safe from him, but our cottage was several miles outside of town.” She shuddered. “I heard him raving and cursing as he rode away. He was terribly angry.”
“If he took that kind of risk, then you know he’ll come back or send one of his men to ask questions. Your neighbors will tell him about you … and Alex.” He paused. “I used your brother to get what I wanted from you. Do you think Nebrov is less ruthless?”
“No,” she whispered. Waves of sickness washed over her. No one could be more cruel than that monster. “Oh, no.”
“And I can assure you he will be as determined as he is vicious. Nebrov never gives up.”
He spoke with such absolute assurance that she asked, “You’ve met him?”
“On many occasions.” He saw her instinctive withdrawal and shook his head. “His lands border Kazan. Naturally he came to assess our military capability. He decided his brother’s kingdom would be an easier target.”
She stared with horror out into the darkness that hid the ruins of Talenka. Nebrov had almost destroyed Montavia and its people to feed his greed for power. “Evil …”
“Then you agree you need to get Alex far away from Montavia.” Her gaze flew to his face, and he nodded. “England.”
England. That alien, faraway country her father had sometimes told her about. He had hated England as much as he had loved Montavia. “You want to take us to England?”
“I doubt if even Nebrov would think to search for you halfway across the world. Alex would be safe.”
He would not say she would be safe, she realized, because of that core of honesty she found so confusing. He would not promise her safety because of the threat that came from him.
“Sleep on it.” He smiled again. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision once you’re rested.” He pushed her gently back on the sheep
skin pallet and covered her with a blanket. “For Alex.”
Sleep? She almost laughed aloud. How could she sleep when he had just told her that he wanted to take her to a land where she would be a stranger, dependent only on him, more helpless than ever in her life?
He lay down a short distance away and drew his cover over him.
The crackle of the burning wood was the only sound in the stillness.
“For God’s sake stop shaking,” Draken said harshly.
She hadn’t known she was shaking. She contracted her muscles, but the trembling persisted. “I believe … I’m cold.”
“I believe you’re lying.” He sat up on his pallet. “I tolerated it in the church, but I’m very weary of watching you pretend that you’re as strong as Gregor.” He was suddenly beside her, his arms enfolding her.
She stiffened in panic and tried to push him away.
“Lie still,” he said roughly as he cradled her in his arms. “I’m not going to hurt you.” In spite of the harshness of his tone, his hands smoothing her hair back from her face were wonderfully gentle. “Nothing is going to hurt you tonight. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“Yes, I do.” As long as there were Alex and the Jedalar, fear was the only defense she had to keep them safe. The shaking become long, racking, shudders, and her teeth bit deep into her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why … I haven’t … not since that night.…”
He gave a low exclamation, then lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms. She started to struggle again, but he pinned her to the pallet and stared down into her eyes. “Look at me, dammit. Am I going to hurt you?”
Her gaze clung desperately to his. His pale green eyes blazed down at her, clear, mesmerizing, willing her to believe him. She did believe him. She slowly shook her head.
He tucked her face into the hollow of his shoulder and held her. He smelled of leather and musk and the pine-scented smoke of the fire. “Easy,” he whispered. “You’re exhausted and you’re frightened and that’s all right. Just let it go. Send it away.”
The Beloved Scoundrel Page 3
