“Must? You do not say must to me, Gregor.”
“Must,” he repeated. “Let him go, Ana.”
“Let him go?” Her tone was suddenly laden with pain. “I’ve never had him. You’re speaking as if I were the Circe Jordan believes me to be.”
“He does not believe that to be true, but from the moment he came to Kazan that first time, you did everything you could to claim him.” He grimaced. “And you’re a very powerful woman, Ana.”
“It did no good.”
“Because he’s as powerful as you. He has to come willingly to you. You cannot force it. He has taken the first step in asking you to attend the ceremony. Sanction the wedding.”
“I will not do it. You cannot ask me—” She broke off. “She will take him away. You said she likes Cambaron. They will live at that cold castle and give me grandchildren I will never see.” She tossed her head and turned away. “I will not let her do it. I will think of something.”
“Throw her into prison?”
“Perhaps that wasn’t a good idea,” she conceded.
“Make her welcome in Kazan.” He paused. “Or I will return with them to Cambaron.”
Her eyes widened. “You would desert me?”
“You sent me to him in the beginning, and he has dominated your life since the moment you left that weakling husband and came back to Kazan. I’m growing weary of this conflict between you. I told you how to make peace.” He said with abrupt forcefulness, “You want a son? I will give you one. He will not be Jordan and will probably be as big and ugly as a gorilla, but he will be yours.” He added softly, “As I am yours.”
“You would not leave me,” she said unsteadily.
“Free him and free yourself, or I will claim my own freedom.”
He turned on his heel and walked away from her.
“Blast you, Gregor, you cannot leave me!”
He did not look back.
Marianna paused in the arched doorway leading to the garden, her gaze hungrily going to the little boy playing by the reflecting pool.
She scarcely recognized Alex as the thin Gypsy she had left many weeks ago. He had gained weight, and his curly hair was neatly trimmed. He was garbed in a quilted tunic and boots similar to the ones she had seen other Kazan children wear on the streets of Rengar. The ravin’s influence, no doubt, she thought grimly. She wondered what other influences the woman had brought to bear in her absence. The ravin, too, was a woman who wanted to leave her mark.
Well, she would soon see. She drew a deep breath and then called, “Alex!”
He turned and saw her. He did not speak for a moment and then uttered a joyous whoop and ran toward her.
Her eyes closed as her arms enfolded him. So warm and dear.
However, he almost immediately tore away from her. “You shouldn’t have gone away,” he said fiercely. “I’m very angry with you.”
“I had to go. I didn’t want to leave you.”
“That’s what Ana said. She said you wouldn’t have left me if it hadn’t been very important.”
“She did?” Marianna asked in astonishment.
Alex nodded. “But you should have taken me with you.”
“There was a possibility I might have had to meet the people who were bad to you.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Did you?”
She nodded. “But they will never trouble you again, Alex.”
His expression didn’t lighten. “You should have taken me with you,” he repeated. “It wasn’t fair. You’re my sister. You didn’t let me take care of you.”
“You were taking care of the ravin.”
“I would still have come with you.”
“I thought you liked her very much.”
“I do like her, but that’s different. We don’t belong to each other.” He frowned. “You must promise not to go away again without telling me.”
A surge of warmth and joy rippled through her. “I promise.” She gave him a quick hug. “I have something else to tell you. Jordan and I will wed tomorrow.”
A brilliant smile lit his face. “That means that you’ll be with him forever, doesn’t it?”
“That’s exactly what it means,” Jordan said from the doorway. He came forward to stand beside them. “As you’re Marianna’s eldest male relative, I’m here to ask you for her hand.”
Alex nodded gravely. “But you must treat her very well.”
“I shall endeavor to do so,” Jordan said with equal solemnity. “You must remind me, if you see me faltering.”
“I will.” Alex turned to Marianna. “Do you have to ask Ana for his hand?”
“Good heavens, I hope not.” She made a face. “I don’t think the ravin likes me as much as she does you.”
“Ana,” Alex corrected.
“Why don’t you like us to call her the ravin? It’s her title, Alex. Just as the servants at Cambaron call Jordan His Grace.”
“That’s different.” He frowned. “When people call her the ravin, it reminds me of the big black birds that used to swoop down and raid the cornfields near the castle. Ana’s not like that.”
“Her enemies would not agree,” Jordan said dryly.
“But she has no enemies here, so she should not be called that.” Alex turned to Marianna. “And I think she would like it if you asked permission to marry Jordan.”
“I don’t believe this is the time to ask her anything,” Jordan said. “Though I did ask her to attend the wedding.”
“You did?” Marianna asked. “Why?”
“Because she is his mother,” Alex said in disgust. “Don’t be stupid, Marianna.”
The mother he would never acknowledge, and yet he had invited her to share the important day. “Why?” she asked again.
Jordan shrugged. “A whim.”
No whim would have prompted such an action from him. “Did she say she would attend?”
“Of course she will come,” Alex said.
Jordan smiled. “If she deigns to honor us with her presence at dinner tonight, perhaps you will be able to persuade her.”
The ravin did not honor them with her presence at dinner that night, and neither did Gregor. After they had eaten and put Alex to bed, Jordan strolled with Marianna back to her quarters.
“How does one marry in Kazan?” Marianna asked.
“Much as it’s done anywhere else. The ceremony will be held in the palace chapel. I’ve chosen Gregor as my vadsar.”
“What is a vadsar?”
“The guardian for my bride. It’s an ancient tradition from the time when a tribal leader would send an emissary to another chieftain to fetch his bride. They would often have to journey though hostile territory, and the bride was a great prize. Therefore the emissary had to be the bravest and the boldest.”
“Gregor, the vadsar.” Marianna smiled. “It suits him well.”
“He will meet you at the door of the chapel and bring you to me. We kneel facing each other, and the priest says words. Then we exchange vows before witnesses. I’ve asked Gregor to find an appropriate gown for you to wear.”
“What is appropriate?”
“Brides wear sky blue in Kazan. It’s considered the color of felicity.”
“And what do grooms wear?”
He looked at her innocently. “Why, white, of course. The color of virginity. All bridegrooms must be virgins in Kazan.”
“Truly? It is—” She stopped as she saw he was chuckling. She made a face. “It’s well you were only joking. They would never permit us to wed unless that requirement changes. What color do grooms really wear?”
“Black, for mourning.” He took a step back as she turned on him. “A small jest, love. There’s no color designated for men. We wear what we please.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Even in Kazan life is sometimes unfair for women. Though the ravin is doing all possible to alter that state.” He stopped before her door and inclined his head in a slight bow. “Good night, my love. Unti
l tomorrow.”
She looked at him uncertainly. They had not come together in passion on the hard journey here, but she had known he wanted her. She had thought his restraint was due to the lack of privacy on the trail and assumed they would be together tonight.
He smiled and shook his head as he saw her expression. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m courting you. I decided one more night of abstinence won’t be too much of a strain for me.”
“I don’t understand.”
His smile faded. “We will spend a good deal of time here in Kazan. I wanted to show the members of the ravin’s court that I hold you in honor. It’s too late at Cambaron but not here.”
Happiness surged through her. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” he said quietly. A mischievous smile lit his face. “Instead, I shall spend tonight contemplating my sins and deciding on a new and interesting fashion in which to make your wedding night memorable. There must be some way I can combine the two.”
Sin and sensuality and a bridegroom who was the master of both. She felt a ripple of heat as she looked at him. “If there is, I have confidence you’ll find it.”
“So do I.”
He was leaving her, and she didn’t want to let him go yet. Tomorrow seemed a long time away. “Do you think the ravin will come?”
“I doubt it.” He shrugged. “It makes no difference.”
“It does make a difference,” she said impatiently. “Why do you pretend it doesn’t? You care for her.”
His expression hardened. “It’s senseless to talk of this.”
“It’s senseless to ignore it. I know you care for her. I saw your face when I gave you the window with her image.”
“It was a magnificent work.”
“It was your mother. For heaven’s sake admit it and forgive her.”
“You’re being very forgiving yourself. Did I mention she was thinking of throwing you into a dungeon?”
“It doesn’t surprise me. She’s a hard woman.”
“Then let us drop the subject.”
“We can’t. Because neither of you can forget each other, and I won’t have her standing in the shadows for the rest of our lives. I’d much rather face her in the sunlight.”
His face softened. “You stand the sunlight much better than the ravin, my love.”
“Because I’m young and strong, and I’m to marry a strong man, not a weakling as she did. If you cannot forgive her, understand her.” She held up her hand as he started to speak. “That’s all I have to say, but it had to be said.”
“Why?”
“I told you.” But she had not told him everything. She had not told him that even though the ravin had coveted Alex’s affection, she had not let her brother think badly of Marianna. “I would rather have her for an ally than an enemy.”
“But there’s something more, isn’t there?”
She should have known Jordan would sense and probe for the entire truth. “Yes.” A smile lit her face. “She doesn’t raid cornfields.”
The gown Gregor sent to her quarters was of sky-blue silk and would have been called ridiculously outmoded by the ton. The simple round neck was encrusted with pearls, but instead of having a fashionable high waist, it flowed to the floor, shimmering with beauty. It rather reminded Marianna of the gowns worn by the first duchesses of Cambaron.
“You are very lovely,” Gregor said when she reached the chapel. His big hand squeezed her own. “Come, I will take you to your husband.”
Husband. He meant Jordan. It was Jordan who stood at the altar. She experienced a dazed feeling of incredulity.
Then, as Gregor led her down the aisle, the disbelief disappeared. Jordan was dressed in a heavy gold-and-white quilted tunic over black trousers tucked into knee boots. He was as beautiful as Gregor claimed she was, and by God, he was hers.
She was vaguely aware of a sea of strangers, of Alex smiling at her from the front pew.
And the ravin sitting beside him.
Marianna’s pace faltered. She had not really expected Jordan’s mother to be here.
Then Jordan was holding out his hand to her, and she saw nothing but him. She took it joyously. This was their moment, the time that belonged only to them.
She started to turn to the priest.
No, there was something wrong. This time did not belong only to them. There was always a past and future as well as the present.
And there was something she had to do.
She whispered to the priest, “One moment.”
She felt Jordan’s surprised gaze on her back as she whirled around, walked over to the ravin, and stared directly into her eyes.
She said clearly, “Alex said I should ask you for Jordan’s hand in marriage.”
The ravin blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. “Besides the irregularity of such an action, it is a little late for formalities.”
“Alex doesn’t think so, and neither do I. May I marry your son?”
“He cares nothing for my wishes.”
“On the contrary I find myself craving approval from all and sundry.” Jordan’s tone was light as he joined Marianna and took her hand again. “Matrimony is a fearsome step, and one I doubted I’d ever take.”
The ravin stared at him uncertainly. “You wish for my permission? You are joking?”
Marianna held her breath. She knew how tempted Jordan would be to hide beneath his usual mask of mockery.
Jordan’s smile faded, and he was silent a moment before he said quietly, “I’m not joking, Ana.”
Ana. Not Mother. Marianna smothered a sigh of exasperation. Well, at least it was not Your Majesty or ravin. What had she expected? They were both hard and stubborn, and wounds did not heal overnight. It was a start.
Ana smiled brilliantly and then said gruffly, “I suppose the match is not totally unacceptable to me.” She turned to Marianna. “The windows in this palace are without character or color. Perhaps while Jordan is in Russia with the czar, you will stay and lend me your skill?”
A concession, but hardly a compromise. “It would be my pleasure. Jordan says we must stay here until we’re sure Kazan is safe from Napoleon, and I’ll go mad without work to do. Perhaps later you will come to Cambaron and see the work I did there. Jordan says my dome is very impressive. You might see something that would please you.”
“Cambaron?” Ana’s eyes widened in horror. “I will never return to that place. It is—” She stopped as her gaze encountered Gregor’s. “It is a possibility.” She turned to Jordan and lifted her chin. “But you must not expect me too soon. I am a busy woman, and I cannot constantly be at your beck and call—and it could be I have other plans for my life. Perhaps when your first child is born, I will come.” She glanced challengingly at Gregor. “Well? Is it enough?”
He shook his head. “I want deeds, not words.”
She drew an exasperated breath as she gestured impatiently at Marianna. “Well, what are you waiting for? It is rude to keep the priest waiting.”
Marianna smiled, then turned to Jordan and held out her hand. “Your mother is right. We must not keep the priest waiting.”
He led her to the altar. “I’m happy you finally decided to get around to me,” he murmured. “For a moment I wasn’t sure if you weren’t wedding the ravin.”
“I am,” she whispered, trying to make him understand. It was not going to be an easy task to make a man as possessive as Jordan let others within the circle. “Just as you’re wedding Alex. We are not alone in this, but that is a good thing. We’ve both been too much alone. Now, I wish us to be joined in all ways.”
“It sounds very crowded. I hope we don’t have to invite both of them into our marital bed?”
“Jordan, I mean—” She stopped as she saw the smile that lit his face.
“But in other circumstances it seems a good plan.” He knelt on the cushions at the foot of the altar. “My dear love, I appreciate the gentle way in which you’re trying to tell me I must share you,
but it really isn’t necessary. I’m sure that will be a constant battle between us, but not where Alex is concerned. I accept that he’s part of you.” His brows lifted. “Now, may we proceed with the wedding?”
Yes, there would always be battles and challenges in the life before them. They would both be changing and working, and because of their natures, they were bound to be constantly in conflict.
But there would also be love and loyalty and building together. They would leave their mark on life as she had left her mark on Cambaron.
She could hardly wait for it all to begin.
She smiled eagerly as she reached out and took his hands in her own. “Yes, I’m ready now.”
EPILOGUE
September 15, 1812
Moscow, Russia
After a horrendous trek through Russia and battle losses mounting to the thousands, Napoleon reached the gates of Moscow. General Miloradovich, head of the Moscow garrison, asked for a cease-fire while he led his men out of the city. His request was granted. Napoleon moved into a city that appeared almost completely deserted, fully expecting Czar Alexander to sue for peace.
Later that evening Moscow was set ablaze.
Napoleon arrested four hundred incendiaries who declared they had set the fires on the orders of the director of police. Before the fires were put out, over two thirds of the city and most of the essential supplies stored there had been destroyed.
In the Kremlin Napoleon waited in vain for over a month; Czar Alexander did not sue for peace. The emperor finally departed Moscow to search out provisions at Kaluga, ninety miles to the north. That march started a nightmare retreat through a barren, frozen land.
It was the beginning of the end for Napoleon Bonaparte.
December 30, 1812
Rengar, Kazan
He’s back in Paris!” The ravin strode into Jordan’s study and waved in Jordan’s face the letter she had just received. “But it is not the Paris he left. Napoleon’s empire is crumbling, the French have lost faith in their great hero.”
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