“Good morning.” He mounted his horse and gathered the reins. “I regret to keep you waiting, but I was having a discussion with the ravin. It seems she’s going with us.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? What she says isn’t always what she means.” He took stock of the waiting horsemen. “But she apparently meant it when she said she’d furnish us with quite a large troop. This is almost an army.”
“How long are we going to have to wait for her?” she asked.
“Not long.” His gaze returned to the palace. “There she is now.”
Ana Dvorak looked very much like the warrior in her stained-glass window, Marianna thought, as she watched the woman mount her black stallion and then ride toward them. The ravin was not wearing armor, but her back was straight, her seat on the horse magnificent, and her manner bold and autocratic.
“I don’t suppose you’ll reconsider? This is not necessary, you know,” Jordan said as she reached them. “There’s no use putting you in danger as well.”
“I’m touched by your concern. But I do think it necessary, and I rule here, not you, Jordan.” She gestured for him to ride ahead. “Now run along with Gregor. I wish to speak to the belka.”
“Why?” Jordan asked.
“I’m merely being cordial to a guest. You gave me no opportunity to become acquainted with her last night.”
Jordan hesitated and then glanced inquiringly at Marianna.
Sweet heavens, Marianna thought, he was behaving as if the woman were going to cut her throat. She was not sure she was looking forward to becoming acquainted with the ravin, but there was nothing to fear.
“Go on,” she said curtly.
He shrugged and nudged his horse into a gallop.
“He is very protective,” the ravin said as she guided her horse along side Marianna’s. “It is a fine quality in a man.”
“If one wishes protection.”
“Don’t be absurd. A woman always needs protection.”
“Do you?”
“I’m the ravin. I have an army to protect me.”
“And before you were the ravin?”
Ana Dvorak burst into laughter. “Very well, I admit it. I would have hung a man up by his toenails if he’d offered me protection.”
“Even Gregor?”
Her face softened miraculously. “Gregor will not listen. He never offers, he just gives of himself.” She frowned. “But I am not here to talk of Gregor, and I’m not here to answer your questions.”
“You said you were here to become acquainted, Your Majesty,” Marianna said.
“No, I’m here to tell you that you should take Jordan back to your bed.”
Marianna’s eyes widened in shock. “I beg your pardon?”
She shrugged. “I’m not like Jordan; I have little subtlety. Men are prone to dance around a problem, when confronting it would bring an instant solution.”
“And I am a problem?” Marianna asked carefully.
“You’re angry with Jordan, but it’s nothing that can’t be resolved. It’s foolish to ruin your future over a present dispute. Of course, Jordan cannot offer you marriage, but you’ll find him a very generous protector.”
“Oh, will I?”
“And if you don’t trust him, I’m prepared to ensure that you’re well cared for when he leaves you. I will give you a comfortable income and a lovely house here in Kazan. Gregor says you’re very fond of your brother. I will see that he gets a fine schooling and an opportunity to succeed in any career he chooses.” She looked intently at Marianna. “Is there anything else you could ask?”
“Yes, I wish to ask one more thing.” Marianna’s voice was shaking with anger. “Did he tell you to speak to me?”
“Jordan does not tell me anything. I make my own decisions.” She studied Marianna’s expression. “You’re very angry. I don’t think you’re prepared to be reasonable.”
“Reasonable? You consider it reasonable for me to become a whore at your bidding?”
“I did not— Well, perhaps I did, but it was for your own good.”
“And what if I had offered you the same suggestion?”
“In your circumstances I would have considered it a fine—” She stopped and then said bluntly, “I’m not in your circumstances. I want this for Jordan.”
“You’re just like him,” Marianna said in disbelief. “Nothing matters but what you want.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “No, thank you, Your Majesty. I don’t want your fine house or your son. All I want is your help in getting Alex back and then to say goodbye to both of you.”
Ana took in Marianna’s face and blazing eyes, then gathered her reins. “No doubt worry over your brother has made you a trifle overwrought. Think about it. I will talk to you later.” Her gaze slid away from Marianna before she added, “It would be best if you did not tell Jordan of our discussion.”
“Why? I’d think you’d want him to know how helpful you’re being to him,” Marianna spat.
“I did not succeed yet. One does not boast of failures.” She kicked her horse into a gallop and rode toward the head of the column.
Marianna was shaking so badly, she could barely sit her horse. Anger. Yes, it was anger that was almost making her ill. What did she care if the ravin considered her worthy only of a temporary place in Jordan’s life? She wanted no place at all. None of the other words had cut or disturbed her.
“Take deep breaths.” Gregor was beside her. “And think of cool, clear water. It sometimes helps.”
Marianna took a long, deep breath. It did not help.
“What did she say to you?”
“She offered me a fine price to become her son’s whore.”
He sighed. “I thought as much. Ana has always been overly blunt.”
“Blunt? I wonder why they ever chose her to be ravin. She could start a war just by being in the same room with a foreign envoy.”
“True.” He smiled. “But she is usually not this bad. Her emotions are getting in the way of her thinking. She is becoming desperate.”
“Desperate” was the last description she would use for the arrogant woman who had just left her.
“You do not believe me, but she is desperate.” Gregor cast his eyes on Jordan at the head of the column. “She loves him. She has always loved him.”
“You don’t desert a son you love.”
“You are as hard as he is,” Gregor said. “He has never forgiven her. When he came to Kazan the first time, she thought he might relent, but there has always been a barrier.’
“And she wishes to bridge it with me?” she asked incredulously.
“She is desperate,” he repeated. “And determined. Be wary of her.”
“Tell her to be wary of me,” Marianna said grimly. “I’m not a bone for her to throw to her son.”
“You are angry with her, and that is right,” Gregor said. “But also try to understand her. Sometimes she is like an impatient child. Ana has led a hard life and made many mistakes, but she will give everything when called upon. She has always been my friend, and I’ve never had a better one.”
“I don’t want to understand her. I don’t want her for my friend,” Marianna said. “And I don’t want to be another of her mistakes.”
“I am not doing well here.” Gregor grimaced. “I will go and talk to Ana and see if I can do better.”
Marianna watched him ride toward Ana Dvorak.
She had known all along that Jordan would never offer her marriage. Everyone knew a duke had to make a great marriage, and besides she wanted no permanent liaison with a man who would try to dominate and cage her. The ravin’s words meant nothing to her. She was only angry that the woman had insulted her by assuming she was not worthy of being anything but a toy to be enjoyed and then thrown away.
She was not a toy. She had worth.
It was not hurt or shock that she was feeling. It was only anger.
* * *
What have I done now?�
� Jordan asked. He dropped down beside Marianna on her sheepskin pallet beside the campfire. “It must be something particularly horrendous. You’ve been glowering at me all day.”
“I’ve not been glowering. I’ve scarcely seen you today. As far as I’m aware, you’ve done nothing other than be yourself.”
He flinched. “Ah, what a wicked condemnation.”
“Besides, what you do is of complete indifference to me as long as it doesn’t affect Alex.”
He gave a mock shiver. “The winds are cold tonight.” He looked at his mother sitting across the fire with Gregor, and his expression became grim. “If I haven’t committed any major sins, it must be the ravin. What did she say to you today?”
Marianna’s gaze followed his to Ana Dvorak. The ravin was staring at Marianna with proud defiance. Marianna knew she could not hear what they were saying, but she had the impression there was fear beneath that pride. A fierce rush of power coursed through her. She knew Jordan would be angry at his mother’s interference. With a few words she could drive the wedge between them deeper. She could soothe her own stung pride and receive a small portion of vengeance.
“It must have been something fairly poisonous,” Jordan said. “Was she telling you of my iniquitous past?”
She would tell him. Why should she protect the woman? She was no martyr to take punishment and turn the other cheek. What did she care if there was something childlike and vulnerable about the ravin in this moment?
“Well?” Jordan asked.
Mother of God, she could not do it, she realized with frustration. “Why should she have to tell me about your past? Everyone knows how badly you behaved. Still behave,” she corrected herself. “Does it please your vanity to believe the only subject of conversation is yourself?”
“Are you saying it was not?”
She glanced again at the ravin and then at the fire. “She’s an arrogant, unpleasant woman, very much like yourself. She irritated me with her lack of respect for my craft. She doesn’t understand that to create a work of art is just as important as ruling a country.”
His expression lightened. “A grievous sin. I agree the ravin is more prone to value a well-disciplined army than a fine painting. You must educate her regarding her duty as patron of the arts.”
“I won’t be here to educate her. Do it yourself. She is your mother.”
“Is she?”
“Yes, you cannot deny she is your mother by not addressing her as such. Or is that only another way to sting her?”
He stiffened. “You just said she was arrogant and unpleasant. Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not defending her. I’m merely remarking on your foolishness. I don’t care about the conflict between you. You obviously resent her for leaving you. Perhaps you’re right. I had a mother who loved and cherished me. I’m not familiar with cold, self-serving women like the ravin.”
“She may have many deplorable qualities, but she isn’t cold, and as for self-serving, she’s served Kazan well at some sacrifice to herself.”
“Stop waffling and make up your mind. Are you going to forgive her for her sins or not? Is she worth your affection or isn’t she?”
“I do not waffle.” A frown creased his forehead. “Stay out of this, Marianna. This is none of your concern.”
“I’m not trying to interfere. It is nothing to me.” Yet, to her frustration and amazement, she realized she had been trying to interfere. After swearing to avoid involvement, she had jumped headlong between them. She quickly changed the subject. “How many days will it take us to get to Montavia?”
“Another two days to reach the northern border,” he said absently, still frowning. “Nebrov’s lands are located in northeast Montavia. His principal residence is Pekbar, which is two days’ ride from the border.”
“Then we’ll be able to start negotiating with Nebrov within two days,” she said, relieved.
“No.”
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“The negotiations won’t start until you and Gregor reach the steppes a day later. He doesn’t know you’ve created a new Jedalar yet. You’ll set up, and Gregor will send a message to Pekbar for Nebrov to come to you. He’ll tell him that you’ll trade the Jedalar for Alex instead of yourself.”
“What if he doesn’t agree?”
“I don’t believe there’s any doubt he will agree. Time is growing short, and it will be much more convenient having an already completed Jedalar than just a craftsman who has to be coerced into doing the panel. Pekbar is surrounded by mountainous terrain.
When he accepts the trade, you’ll tell him the window is too large and fragile to take overland, and he must come to you at your camp on the steppes. You’ll specify he has to bring Alex for the trade.”
“You know he won’t bring Alex.”
“No, but he’ll come himself. He won’t risk having the Jedalar smashed again, and since he knows Gregor would be a fool not to have a substantial force with him, he’ll have to withdraw a sizable number of his own army from Pekbar to crush any resistance.”
“You think he’s going to steal the Jedalar and still keep Alex?”
“I think he’s going to try to steal the Jedalar and take you as well.” He paused. “He wants not only the Jedalar, but also the woman who knows everything about it.”
She had been working her way to that same conclusion. “Then I’m to be the bait while you raid Pekbar and free Alex.”
He nodded. “Gregor will take half our forces for your protection. I’ll take the other half, and go to Pekbar and get the boy.”
“How?”
“With a force this size there are many options.”
“You’re going to attack the castle?” She shook her head. “That sounds too dangerous for Alex.”
“Not as dangerous for Alex as it is for you. We’ll need at least a day to get Alex away and safe over the border to Kazan. Perhaps more. If you and Gregor can keep Nebrov from suspecting we’re going to make the attempt, we’ll have a better chance of succeeding.”
She nodded. “Very well.”
“You’re accepting this too calmly.” His tone was edged with uneasiness. “It may not be that simple. We still don’t know how Nebrov found out about the Jedalar or how much he knows. He may even know which panel contains the map.” He paused. “And I don’t have to tell you how vicious he can be when he’s frustrated in getting what he wants.”
No, he didn’t have to tell her, and she was not at all calm. She shivered as she realized she would soon see Nebrov. She would be as close to him as she was to Jordan right now. She smiled with effort. “I’m not worried. I’ll have Gregor and all those fine soldiers of the ravin. That’s more than I had when I last encountered him.” She looked away from him. “It all seems very hazardous. What if something goes wrong?”
“I can’t promise you that it won’t,” Jordan said quietly. “But it’s the best plan that I could devise. If you can think of a better one, let me hear it. You call me vain, but I wouldn’t let Alex die for my self-love.”
He was not closing her out; he was letting her have a part in saving Alex, she realized with a surge of warmth that banished a little of the dread. She said haltingly, “I was angry. It could be that you aren’t vain.”
His lips turned up at the corners. “I appreciate the measure of doubt.” The faint smile disappeared. “You agree to the plan?”
“If you can think of nothing safer for Alex.”
“I can think of nothing safer for either of you.” He added harshly, “Do you think I want you in danger? If I thought you’d agree, I’d have had Gregor meet with Nebrov and send you back to Rengar.”
“You said Nebrov wants the Jedalar and me. The bait would not be as tempting.” She shuddered. “No, it has to be me.”
“Then we’ll meet here on the Bordlin steppes in four days’ time.”
“Four days …” For bad or good, in four days it would all be over.
Her gaze went to
the purple mountains to the south that marked the border between Kazan and Montavia. Alex was beyond those mountains.
Alex and Nebrov.
CHAPTER 13
Jordan’s hands clenched the reins as he watched the column of soldiers wind its way down the mountain trail toward the distant steppes. Marianna’s hair shimmered in the sunlight as she turned to speak to Gregor. They were too far away for Jordan to hear her words, but he could see there was no hint of a smile on her face. He could not remember her smiling since Alex was taken. What the devil did she have to smile about? he thought bitterly. She was frightened her brother might be killed at any moment, and he had compounded the horror by sending her as bait to the man she feared most in the world. Christ, he had not wanted to let her go. He had exaggerated the danger she would face so she would not demand to come with him to Pekbar, but Nebrov was always a threat.
“You are afraid for her,” Ana said. “You should not worry. Gregor will take care of her.”
“I know.” Jordan turned to her. “Gregor takes care of all of us, doesn’t he? I’ve often wondered why he bothers. We’re not really worth his efforts.”
“You mean I’m not worth his effort.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you meant it.” She shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’m not a virtuous woman. But I’m a strong woman, and I take care of my own now.” She smiled. “Why do you think I insisted on coming with you? I realize it’s a little late, but I must prove that I no longer run away from responsibility.”
“You need to prove nothing to me.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to prove anything to you. I know your mind is closed to me. I need to prove it to myself.” She turned her horse. “Enough of this chatter. Let us go to Pekbar and get the boy.”
Two days later Gregor and Marianna set up their tents on the steppes, and Gregor immediately sent a rider to Pekbar with the message. Nebrov’s reply came the next morning.
“He’s coming?” Marianna asked as Gregor scanned the note.
“He’s coming,” Gregor answered, glancing at the foothills a few miles away. “He should be here by tonight.”
“Why isn’t he coming at once? It could be a trick. If the messenger could travel this quickly, Nebrov could be right behind him.”
The Beloved Scoundrel Page 25
