Microsoft Word - jw

by kps

  yes, with a bulky sheepskin coat and a wide-brimmed sheepskin cap. The peasant Nikki scooted across a patch of moonlight, ducked into the shadows again. I watched, fascinated,

  knowing full well what he had in mind. A nice rousing rape, and then he would put me back inside the cage and no one would be the wiser. What did he intend to do about the guard? Bribe him? Overpower him? He came closer, closer, and then he slipped on the icy ground, his boots crunching loudly as he clumsily regained his balance.

  The guard whirled around, rifle raised. Nikki grinned and hailed him and moved over to join him, very chummy.

  The guard muttered something I failed to catch, and Nikki slapped him on the back and pointed to me. The guard turned, peering through the bars. Nikki whipped out a knife, whipped his hand around, clamping it over the guard's mouth. The blade flashed in the moonlight as the peasant in sheepskin drove it savagely into the guard's back. The guard shuddered convulsively and made a horrible gurgling sound muffled by the hand, and then he went limp, dropping to the ground as Nikki released his grip.

  Calm as could be, he bent down, wiped the blade on the man's coat and then straightened up, looking at me with a self-congratulatory grin.

  He had pushed the brim of his cap up over his forehead and rubbed the dirt off his face and I saw it fully for the first time in the bright moonlight: the strong, cleft chin, the merry mouth, the twisted nose, the vivid blue eyes full of concentration as he sawed at the rawhide fastening the door of the cage. I was hallucinating. I must be. That face, that beloved face had haunted me for all these months, and now I was transposing it over the face of a crude peasant lout come to rape me. I shook my head, blinking. He thrust the knife back into the waistband of his breeches and yanked open the door.

  "I say, lass," he observed chattily, "you do get yourself'

  into some of the damndest messes."

  Chapter Twenty...Five

  STUNNED, I STARED AT HIM, UNABLE TO MOVE,

  and Jeremy frowned and took hold of my arm and pulled me roughly from the cage, almost tripping over the body of the guard he had just stabbed. He warned me to be very, very quiet, then led me quickly into the shadows and past huts and tents from whence came loud, drunken snores. I was dreaming all this, I knew. It must be a dream, yet I felt the cold, icy air on my face and felt the slap of the money bag on my thigh and felt his fingers holding my arm in a steely grip as we fled through the shadows, passing more tents and huts and the blackened ruins of campfires. The snow fell in soft, feathery swirls, pelting us gently. Our footsteps seemed terribly loud in the silence.

  He pulled me against the wall of a hut and pulled me against him and cupped his hand lightly over my mouth as someone groaned and coughed and stepped out of a tent nearby. He curled an arm around my waist, holding me close, and I rested my head on that shoulder covered in soft sheepskin and felt his warmth and felt his strength, felt, too, the tension in his body as one of the peasants stepped into the moonlight and staggered over to a pile of charred wood and proceeded to relieve himself. Finished, he turned and stared into the shadows where we stood and my heart began to pound. Jeremy tightened his hand over my mouth. .

  "Take it easy," he whispered into my ear. "He can't see us."

  The peasant yawned, shook his head, and staggered back into the tent. Jeremy held me for a moment longer, his lips still brushing the lobe of my ear, and I reveled in his nearness, in that strong, muscular arm pinioning me to him, in the musky, masculine smell of his body. Still not convinced this wasn't all an amazing dream, I sighed as he removed his hand from my mouth and felt loss when the arm uncurled from around my waist. One of the mangy dogs

  barked across the camp as we moved on, dashing from shadow to shadow and avoiding the treacherous moonlight whenever possible.

  He led me past the last line of huts and over to an opening in the log barricade, and then we were outside the camp and could hear the horses moving restlessly in the cold. We paused for a moment and I caught my breath and looked at him, the handsome, rakish face all silver and shadow in the moonlight. His full mouth curled into a grin, and I knew then it was all real, knew I wasn't imagining it in some kind of delirium.

  "It-it's really you," I said.

  "It's really me."

  "I can't-I can't believe it. How-"

  "It's a long story, lass, and we're a little pressed for time."

  "You came-all this way."

  "I did indeed."

  "Just-just to find me."

  "When love commands, the heart obeys. I had no choice, lass. I'd have traveled twice as far if necessary."

  "I thought-"

  "I've a pretty good idea what you thought."

  "The blonde-"

  "Later," he said.

  "You've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do," I said sharply.

  "Ah, that dulcet tone. How I've missed it. I haven't had a really satisfying row since we were together in England: I must say, Marietta, your gratitude is overwhelming.

  Here I risk life and limb in order to rescue you from a terrible fate, and-"

  "You haven't changed a bit!"

  "Nor, thank God, have you."

  "Oh, Jeremy-"

  He pulled me into his arms and held me close, held me tight, rocking me gently as the snow swirled around us and the wind blew and the horses stamped, and I sobbed and his arms tightened even more and he ordered me to hold on. We weren't out of danger yet, and if there was one thing he didn't particularly need at the moment it was a woman falling apart. I clung to him and fought back the multitude of emotions and, finally, raised my head and looked into his loving eyes, and a wonderful feeling filled my being. It was like awakening from a terrible dream to find myself in a snug, familiar room.

  "I'm not going to fall apart," I promised.

  "Of course not. You're the bravest lass I know."

  "Stop calling me lass! You know I've always hated it."

  He smiled in the moonlight. "I beg your pardon, milady."

  "Go to hell, you bastard. You could have let me know it was you. You just let me go right on thinking you were-"

  "Afraid you'd give the show away," he told me. "Quite a performance I gave back there, wasn't it? Simply a matter of getting into the spirit of things."

  "You were outrageous."

  "But convincing," he insisted.

  "I didn't know you spoke Russian."

  "I managed to pick up a few phrases here and there"

  Kill the aristocrats." "Rape the women." "Pass the salt."

  We'll talk later. At the moment we have to get ourselves out of here, and there are two more guards to deal with."

  "What did you do with Tamara?" I inquired.

  "She's resting quite comfortably with a gag stuffed down her throat, trussed up like a hog with several lengths of rawhide. Couldn't let her use that pointed stick on you."

  "I saw you carrying a bundle-;"

  "Provisions. I managed to appropriate us a horse and sleigh. It's waiting beyond that grove of trees, on the frozen river. We'll have to pass the enclosure and the horses are restless tonight. Stay close behind me. Try to make as little noise as possible."

  Slowly, cautiously, we moved past the line of frozen shrubs that concealed the barricade of logs, the shadows here thick, moonlight gilding the snow beyond. The horses stirred nervously as we approached their enclosure, and Jeremy stopped as we heard footsteps pacing in the darkness.

  I stood behind him, feeling safe, feeling secure, not at all frightened now that he was here. He stood very still, so tall and lean, the bulky black sheepskin coat and preposterous hat making him look quite burly. Snow continued to pelt us and it was freezing cold, but I didn't even notice the discomfort. Jeremy was here. It was incredible, it was improbable, but Jeremy was actually here. I could reach up and touch him.

  . "I'm going after him," he whispered. "Stay here. Stay quiet."

  "Don't leave me," I pleaded. "Don't-"

  "Shhhh. I'll be back in a couple of minute
s."

  He crept away in the shadows, moving toward the sound of pacing, and I folded my arms around my waist and gnawed my lower lip, shivering, feeling afraid now, feeling bereft and exposed and vulnerable without Jeremy here to give me courage. For a few moments I could see his dark form creeping through the lighter darkness of the shadows, and then it merged, disappeared, and panic grew inside me. A miracle had happened and somehow he had materialized here in the middle of this Russian wilderness, but ... what if something happened to him now? I couldn't endure that. Now that we were together again I simply couldn't go on living if anything happened to him. I heard the guard pacing in the darkness, footsteps heavy on the crusty snow, and then he halted and there was an ominous silence broken only by the restless stamping of the horses.

  It seemed to last forever. I stood there in the darkness under the icy branches, shivering, and the fear that gripped me like a giant invisible handwas not for me but for Jeremy. Why had the guard halted? A minute went by, another, another, and the invisible hand squeezed tighter and tighter. I knew I couldn't take much more. The tension was too much. I was going to scream. The silence stretched on interminably, and then I heard a soft, shuffling noise and a loud grunt followed by the sound of someone gagging, gurgling, gulping for breath. It lasted several seconds, and then there came a dull thud as a body dropped onto the ground. Jeremy. Oh dear God, was it Jeremy? I couldn't take it any longer. I hurried through the shadows toward the spot that the noises had come from. I slipped on the snow, fell to my knees. .

  He reached down and took hold of my arms and pulled me to my feet. I struggled viciously, fighting him, and his fingers squeezed my arms so tightly I cried out. He shook me. I kicked him on the shin as hard as I could. He continued to shake me, harder now, so hard I thought my neck would snap.

  "What's the matter with you?" he demanded.

  He let go of me. I slapped him across the face. The sound of palm smacking cheek rang out like a gunshot. Jeremy stumbled back, knees wobbling, almost losing his balance.

  Beneath the glove my palm burned as though it had been passed through flame.

  "Jesus!" he cried.

  "Don't you ever do that again!" I exclaimed, and my voice trembled. "Don't you ever leave me alone again, not even for a minute. I don't care what the circumstances!"

  "Keep your voice down!"

  "I'll kill you. I swear it!"

  "You damn near did," he told me.

  And then, much to my humiliation, I started sobbing and the tears started to stream down my cheeks. He tried to put his arms around me, and I shoved him away angrily.

  He emitted an exasperated sigh and rubbed his cheek and waited patiently for me to compose myself. I took a deep .

  breath. I dried my cheeks and took another deep breath and then sighed myself, adjusting the hood of my cloak, looking at him with a cool, dignified expression.

  "All finished?" he inquired.

  "I don't intend to apologize," I said coldly.

  "I don't expect you to. My cheek feels like it's on fire.

  You pack quite a punch, lass." .

  "I meant what I said, Jeremy. Don't ever leave me alone again."

  "Wouldn't dream of it," he replied. "Sure you're all right now?"

  "I'm sure. What happened with the guard?"

  "I managed to slip up on him from behind, slung my arm around his neck. He was too stunned to fight, just kept trying to pull my arm away, relieve the pressure. Sturdy chap. Took me a good two minutes to kill him. Think you're up to moving on now?"

  I nodded, and Jeremy took my hand and led me through the darkness, past the enclosure where the horses stirred restlessly. My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark now, and I could see that one ofthe sleighs was missing. I could also see the body of the guard sprawled out on the snow, his head twisted to one side at a peculiar angle. I shuddered, and we hurried along in the swirling snow and crossed a patch of brilliant moonlight and headed for the trees. A few moments later we were moving under the icy branches, and through the trunks of the trees I could glimpse the river ahead, gleaming like a wide silver rib, bon in the moonlight.

  "I thought we'd follow the river for a while rather than risk taking one of the roads," he said.

  "Is it safe?" I asked.

  "Safe as houses. Frozen solid, I'd wager. Ice must be three or four feet thick, couldn't possibly break."

  The sleigh on the edge of the river was small and dilapidated with wide wooden runners. The horse was tethered to a tree trunk, a blanket secured over its back and hindquarters for warmth. It stood patiently in blinders, idly tapping one hoof on the ice. The sleigh was piled high with mothy fur rugs and blankets, and there were two bulky cloth bags filled with the food Jeremy had stolen. He helped me up onto the seat and lovingly arranged the blankets over my knees. The odor they gave off assaulted my nostrils, but under the circumstances it was the finest perfume.

  Jeremy untethered the horse, coiled the rope and tossed it on the floor of the sleigh, then climbed in beside me. The sleigh rocked a little under his weight. He shifted the bags of food around, picked up a rifle, pulled the blankets over his legs and put a mothy fur rug over our knees. His black sheepskin coat smelled as bad as the blankets, and I could smell sweat, too, and leather. He was close beside me, his leg touching mine.

  "We have a small problem," he said, reaching for the reins.

  "Oh?"

  "I was able to steal three rifles, and I took a pistol from the guard back there-he wasn't carrying a rifle. All four weapons are loaded, but I wasn't able to get any powder or extra ammunition. There wasn't time for me to locate the armory."

  "No problem," I said.

  I reached into the pockets of my cloak and pulled out the powder horn and the bag of shot. Jeremy stared at them in amazement. He took the bag of shot, opened it, examined the bullets, shook his head.

  "Got any other little surprises on you?"

  "Only a bag of gold."

  "Incredible!"

  "I believe in being prepared," I said smugly.

  "There's no one like you, love-I've always said so. Want to tell me how you just happen to have gunshot and powder in your pockets?"

  "It's a long story," I said, "and we're a little pressed for time."

  "I may throttle you. I may not be able to restrain myself."

  He clicked the reins and the horse began to clop along over the ice, windblown dirt and twigs making the surface less slippery and easily maneuverable. The wide wooden runners slid along nicely. The sleigh swayed gently. I leaned back against the cushion, pulling the blankets closer, warm, snug, in paradise with Jeremy beside me, no dream, his body warming mine, his strong hands holding the reins, his face in profile lean and handsome. He turned to look at me, and that familiar, mischievous smile played on his lips and I could feel fresh tears welling in my eyes.

  We were together again, at last, through some miracle, and we were already spatting as of old and it was glorious, glorious. He saw the tears glistening in my eyes and held the reins with his right hand and tenderly brushed them from my lashes with his left.

  "It's going to be all right," he said, a husky catch in his voice.

  "I know," I whispered.

  "You're a very brave lass."

  "And stubborn and testy and often shrewish."

  "That, too," he agreed. "I think I love you."

  "I suppose that's why you left London with a blonde and took all my money with you."

  "I can explain that."

  "It had better be good," I told him.

  He smiled again, and then the moon went behind a cloud and the bright silver light vanished and a shroud of blueblack darkness fell all around us, the banks on either side darker still, inky black. The horse's hoofs made a loud, monotonous

  clop-clop on the ice, and the wooden runners

  made a skimming, sandy sound, magnified by the darkness and the silence ofthe night. I was thinking now ofthe second guard, and Jeremy was too. I could sense the tension in
his long, lean body as he gripped the reins. I placed my hand on his arm and felt the taut muscle beneath the sleeve.

  "He-he's up ahead, isn't he?" I said quietly.

  "Stationed on the bank. He'll be able to hear us, of course, but if this darkness holds he won't be able to see us.

  We'll be all right."

  "I'll take the reins, Jeremy. You take the rifle, just-just in case."

  "Can't risk using the rifle, love. In this silence a shot would be deafening. They'd hear it all the way back at the camp-some of them would wake up, drunk as they are, find the cage empty, find the guard I stabbed. No, we can't use the rifle, can't let him use his either."

  "So-"

  "We'll do the best we can," he said lightly. "Once we're past the guard we'll be able to make good time. Pugachev will send men after us in the morning, of course, as soon as it's discovered you're gone, but with several hours' head start we'll be in fine shape."

  Although his voice was deliberately light and reassuring, I could tell he was worried. I was worried myself, but he wasn't going to know it. He didn't need a cringing, frightened female at his side, he needed someone calm and composed and supportive, and that's what I intended to be.

  Jeremy sighed, trying to control the tension, and I sat up straight, my feet resting on the butt of one of the rifles. The horse clopped on through the blue-black darkness, the sleigh rocking gently from side to side. The surface of the river was a dark pewter gray, spread with murky shadows, and the snow continued to fall in soft swirls.

  "Halt!" a voice cried. "Who goes there!"

  We heard crunching footsteps on the bank, and then, as though on command, the moon came out from behind the clouds and radiant silver light poured over the scene and we saw him standing there not thirty feet away, a hulking brute heavily bundled up against the cold, a rifle aimed directly at us. He was at least six feet seven, his face fierce, menacing. Jeremy pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a halt, and, in harsh, rumbling Russian, identified himself as Pulaski.