To Love a Horseguard

by Sheffield, Killarney

  John helped his grandmother into the coach, nodded to the marquis and hopped aboard. As he settled back in the seat and watched the marquis board his own coach he had the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t like Rose to leave without telling someone she was going. On the other hand she seemed very unhappy lately. Maybe his grandmother was right and his sister was at home tucked in bed reading one of her many romantic novels. He stared out the carriage window at the darkened streets and buildings they passed. He hadn’t seen the Russian prince at the ball either.

  “Grandmother, was the Russian prince at the ball tonight?”

  “Why, yes, he was, at least he was announced, though it was far too crowed an affair to get a good look at him. Why?”

  “I just wondered. I did not see him there. Of course with all the costumes I would not have recognized him I am sure.”

  The duchess frowned. “I do not recall what costume he was wearing. Actually, I do not recall seeing him at all after he was introduced.”

  The carriage arrived at their townhouse. John hurried to jump out and help his grandmother down. He questioned the staff only to learn that no one had seen Rose return from the costume ball. A quick check of her rooms proved she had not retired with a novel. The servants conducted a search of the townhouse, followed by a lamplight search of the gardens and stables, and returned empty-handed.

  The duchess’s face paled when John told her the news. “I just know something terrible has happened to her, John. Oh dear, I think she may have run away.”

  John knelt by his grandmother’s chair and took her hand in his to comfort her. “I will find her. If Rose has run away I will bring her home.” He called for his horse to be saddled and rode back to the ball in search of information.

  Chapter Two

  With a soft groan Rose rolled over in the soft bed, taking her time to fully awaken. The pounding in her head alarmed and her mouth was too dry to speak. Eyes still closed she reached for the bell pull to summon her maid Betsy, but was unable to find it in the usual place above the head of the bed. She opened her eyes, blinking at a bright shaft of sunlight streaming in through a wide gap in the curtains covering the windows. Drawing the covers back over her head to block out the intruding light she cursed her consumption of champagne the eve before. The door opened with a creak.

  Betsy will end my suffering, she always knows what to do. “Betsy?”

  An unfamiliar female answered. “No Princess, your maid isn’t here this morning.”

  Princess… where is Beth? Rose frowned, irritated at the disruption of her normal routine. “How many times have I told Betsy to keep the drapes closed in the morning? I feel awful. It is like the whole room is rocking.”

  Soft footfalls crossed the room, and then came the swish of the drapery being whisked shut. As she lay there trying to remember how she arrived home the night before, she became aware of seagulls squawking and men’s voices. Puzzled, she tried to place the strange noises that were foreign to her regular morning sounds. Finally, she pushed the covers down and opened her eyes. Instead of her familiar yellow silk bed canopy she was greeted by dark wooden beams crisscrossing a rough plank ceiling. She sat up, alarm coursing through her veins and looked around.

  A short woman dressed in a dark blue maid’s uniform approached. She poured a glass of water from the pitcher on a small wooden table to the right of the bed and offered it to her.

  Rose took the glass. “Where am I?”

  The red-headed woman gave her a weak smile. “I’m afraid you're on Sergi’s ship.”

  “Who is Sergi?” Rose put a trembling hand to her aching head and took a sip of the water. The coolness soothed her raw throat. She drank half and then lowered the glass. “I do not understand. How did I get here?”

  The maid glanced over her shoulder as the double doors across the room clicked and opened.

  A short blond man stood on the threshold for a moment. He smiled at her before strolling across the thick red carpet to stand at the foot of the bed.

  “Good morning, Princess Elizabeth. How are you feeling?”

  Rose frowned trying to place the man. His voice was familiar yet she couldn’t quite place it. “I am feeling terrible. What is going on here? Why am I here?”

  He gave her a sympathetic look. “I am sorry you are not feeling well. Being drugged does tend to leave one feeling achy and out of sorts.”

  Rose pulled the covers up around her neck. The man smirked and turned away. She pondered him, wary as he crossed to a bookshelf on the other side of the room. He took a brandy decanter and a glass down and then turning toward her, poured a drink.

  “You want to know why you are here.” He took a large swig from his glass before continuing. “I should start by telling you who I really am. I am Sergi, brother to Nicoli, who by the way is dead. I know this, because this is his ship and I killed him to get it.”

  Rose gasped and shivered at the gruesome idea that this man had killed his own brother in cold blood with no thought of the human life he had taken. His tawny stare jostled her memory of the night before. He had brought her a drink, it tasted strange. He drugged me! She glared at him. “You are the man from the ball, the prince.”

  He smiled and continued. “I am not the prince. Of course being dear Nicoli’s brother does make me a cousin to Peter, the new tsar of Russia.”

  “I do not care who you are!” Rose spat. “Why am I here?”

  “Patience my dear, I am getting to that part.” Sergi smiled at her again, but it lacked warmth. The icy blankness of his stare raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “You see, you are going to help me overthrow the new tsar and take my rightful place as ruler of all Russia. Peter will destroy our country with his modern reforms and his refusal to go to war with France.”

  Rose’s head ached with her growing fear and confusion. “But what do I have to do with all this?”

  “Not to worry dear Princess. May I call you Elizabeth?” He continued without waiting for her to answer. “Since we will be together for a long, long time I think we should be on a first name basis.”

  He believes I am Beth. “You have made a terrible mistake, I am not Elizabeth. I am her cousin Rose, and I do not care who you are or what you plan to do in Russia. You will return me to my home at once.” Rose cringed, her own raised voice causing her head to throb.

  “I never make mistakes. You are the princess. You were introduced to me as such at the ball last evening, or have you forgotten? I am afraid returning you to your home is out of the question Elizabeth, since we are already out to sea.” Without another word he turned his back on her and walked out, the click of the door and the scrape of a key in the lock leaving no doubt in her mind this was not a jest.

  Rose scrambled from the bed. “Wait.” In her haste she tripped on the bed clothes and her rumpled gown. She fell to her knees on the floor. Clutching her head in both hands she fought the sudden dizziness engulfing her.

  The maid rushed to her side and helped her back into the bed. “Come Princess, it's not good to upset yourself. A spot of tea and toast, you’ll be right as rain.”

  Rose let the maid tuck her in and lay back against the propped up pillows. There was a tap on the door and the sound of a key in the lock. A large middle-aged woman bustled in carrying a silver tea service and a covered dish on a tray. A uniformed guard closed and re-locked the door behind her. She crossed the room, set the tray across Rose’s lap and removed the lid to reveal two thick slices of buttered toast.

  “This help,” she said in a thick accent. She pointed to Rose’s stomach. When Rose finally gave her a small smile, she nodded and poured a cup of strong tea. She handed the delicate tea cup to Rose and then wiped her hands on her apron. “I back later, da?” She nodded without waiting for an answer and tapped on the door. The guard opened it and she removed herself from the room.

  Rose sighed and considered pushing the tray away in case the food was drugged, but the aroma of the hot buttered toast m
ade her stomach growl. She picked up a piece and took a small bite. The rough texture scratched her already irritated throat when she forced it down. While she ate and sipped her tea she surveyed the room. It was large, and elegantly furnished, the type of room fit for a prince. A low bookshelf with a rail to keep the books from falling out was placed under a row of gold velvet drapes. Thick carpet covered the floor from wall to wall. She looked up. The bed she lay in was suspended from the ceiling by thick chains. No wonder I feel as if the room is rocking. A large table with two plush chairs took up most of the chamber’s floor space. Rose had never been aboard the English royal ship, but she supposed it looked very much like this one.

  The maid pointed to a small door beside the coal brazier. “If you need anything I’ll be in my room.”

  “Who are you and how did you get here?” Rose wondered out loud.

  The maid didn't look at her instead her eyes darted to the door. “My name is Dinah. Sergi hired me, said he was in need of a lady’s maid. A man brought me here. I… I’m sorry.”

  Rose reassured her, “It is all right. You did not know he was kidnapping me. I am glad you are with me. I am not all alone at least.”

  The girl didn’t reply but retreated into her room and shut the door. Rose finished her toast and tea. Little by little the fogginess in her head was clearing. Sliding the tray off her lap, she pushed back the covers and climbed off the swaying bed. It was hard to stand at first until she got her ‘sea legs.’ Once she regained her balance she tiptoed across the room and put an ear to the door. The creak of the ship and men’s voices up on deck where the only sounds so she tried the door knob. It didn’t budge. Next she went to the bookshelf and pulled the cord to draw back the drapes.

  Sunlight streamed in the window. Blinking, she adjusted to the light reflecting off the rolling waves. The deep blue sea looked cold and restless. The dark green smudge of England’s coastline against the horizon drew her attention. Her gaze was drawn to the seagulls dipping and gliding alongside the ship and a desperate plan formed in her head. Pushing open one of the windows she leaned out and looked down at the water. With a glance at the door she climbed onto the narrow window ledge. Taking one last deep breath, she jumped.

  The shock of the cold water made her gasp and take in a mouthful of salty sea water as she sank beneath the waves. She struggled to the surface, her petticoats pulling her down. Panic set in with the realization she could not fight the weight of her sodden garments. I am going to drown! Her lungs began to burn with the need for oxygen. She closed her eyes.

  Something touched her. Oh God! I am going to be eaten by some terrible sea creature! She opened her eyes. A hand grabbed her arm and she was pulled toward the surface. Just when she began to black out her head popped free of the water. Coughing and sputtering she struggled to fill her lungs with air. A wave hit and her petticoats pulled her downward again. There was a splash beside her and then something tugged at her skirts. She kicked with all her might. A hand grabbed her legs and her skirts suddenly floated away. When she bobbed to the surface again she took a big gulp of air. A strong arm wrapped around her chest and pulled her backward. Her attempt to scream only resulted in a waterlogged croak. The ship loomed above her. Exhausted she lay still as she was hoisted over someone’s lap. With a lurch they cleared the water and began to inch up the side of the ship. She coughed up more sea water and lay matching the rasp of the other person’s breathing. Hands reached out and pulled them both over the railing and onto the ship’s deck. Rose swiped a soggy lock of hair from her eyes.

  Sergi crouched beside her on the deck and scowled at her. His clothes clung to his body, water dripping down his face and onto the deck. He grabbed a blanket offered to him by one of his crew. “That…was the most…foolish…thing…I have ever…seen.” He gasped, his chest heaving. “What were you… thinking?”

  “I thought...I could swim...to shore,” Rose mumbled, huddling almost skirt-less under a skimpy blanket a crew member tossed her.

  Sergi’s eyes widened. “Next time you might want to try it naked so you do not drown.” He staggered to his feet towering over her.

  Rose lifted her chin and glared at him. “There would not be a next time if you would just turn this ship around and take me home.” Her teeth chattered and she clenched her jaw shut to stifle the noise.

  “If I remember correctly you were the one who did not want to marry the French prince.” He grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet, his eyes glittering with anger. “You should thank me because now you have got your wish.”

  Rose pushed her fury to the surface to hide her fear of him. “I did not ask you to kidnap me or agree to become your prisoner.”

  “Well, get used to it Princess, because you will be my prisoner until I have no further use for you.” He shoved her into a burly sailor’s arms. “Take her back to her quarters and this time nail those windows shut.” He turned on his heel and stomped off.

  “My brother will find you and kill you.” Rose shouted at his retreating back. The men on deck began to snicker and laugh. She glared at them before she was dragged shivering back below deck.

  Once back in her bedchamber Dinah helped her out of her soggy costume and into a dry pink morning dress. A couple of sailors entered a few minutes after she had changed, nailed the window shut and then left without a word.

  “What am I going to do, Dinah?”

  “I don’t know my lady.” The maid tucked her back into bed and then handed her a cup of tea. “Drink this, it will warm you up.”

  Rose took a sip and wrinkled her nose at the bitter taste. “This tea is terrible.”

  The maid gave her a strange look and shrugged.

  Rose finished the tea finding the warmth soothing to her chilled limbs. She was very tired which seemed strange to her since she had only just woken up. The thought occurred to her just before she fell asleep, that Sergi had probably ordered her drugged again.

  * * * *

  Clink. Clink. The noise grated on her nerves and irritated her throbbing head. Rose opened her eyes. Wooden beams greeted her gritty, salt-caked vision. Somewhere china and silverware clattered. She rubbed a hand across her face flinching as the tiny granules of sea residue pricked her skin. A fire flickered in the coal brazier, its burning fingers plucking at the little black lumps of coal. Shadows danced in the corners of the room where the lamps suspended from hooks on the ceiling failed to reach. The older woman she had seen earlier was laying out dishes on the table. Rose’s stomach gurgled at the tantalizing smells wafting from the silver serving tray.

  The portly woman looked up from her task with a friendly smile. “You eat.”

  Rose eased herself into a sitting position, her head swimming. Clutching the bed chains for support she stood, steadied herself and then walked to the table. The woman pulled out a chair for her; then smiled at Rose and pushed a miniature loaf of coarse looking bread toward her. She nodded before taking her tray and leaving.

  Rose frowned at the bowl of soup and plate of roast fowl, potatoes, and cabbage before her. With a sigh she pushed her chair away from the table. The food is most likely drugged. She wandered over to the bookshelf and peered out the window. The moonlight danced on the undulating waves. How long have I been asleep, a few hours or days perhaps? She looked down at the bookshelf. With the door locked and the windows shut there was no escape for now, perhaps a book would entertain her for a while. With a sigh she browsed through the many Russian titles until she came to a section which contained a number of English ones. After perusing them, she pulled out a leather bound volume entitled ‘Lady of the Lake’, which looked interesting and settled into the chair by the fire.

  She tried to concentrate on the pages, but was distracted instead by the unfamiliar sounds around her. The waves lapping against the sides of the ship and the creak of the timbers lulled her into a false sense of peace. She soon lost interest in the book and stared into the fire. Her grandmother would be beside herself with worry, and her
brother would probably be tearing the whole city of London apart searching for her. The marquis, well, he was most likely complaining about her lack of consideration for not telling them she had been kidnapped. She dropped the book to the floor in a fit of anger. Why did Sergi want her? Was it because she had thrown herself at him on the veranda at the ball? How was she, or rather the princess going to help him take over the Russian throne? She sighed. A more pressing question was how was she going to get home? Not that she wanted to go back to the marquis. She would do almost anything to keep from marrying the man. Of course, she reminded herself, that is how she got into this mess in the first place.

  A key scraped in the lock. Rose jumped to her feet as Sergi entered the room. He paused when he spied her standing there; then shut the door behind him and crossed to the table. He glanced down at her uneaten meal. “Not hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  He frowned. “You should drink your tea. At the very least you will find it will settle your stomach.”

  Rose lifted her chin and glared at him. “I am sure it will more than likely put me to sleep.”

  “It will make no difference to me. I like a spirited woman in my bed.” He grinned and sat at the table, propping his legs on her vacated chair.

  Bile rose in Rose’s throat at the thought of him defiling her. “I will not sleep with you.”

  “I do not see any way for you to prevent it, my dear.” He smirked, taunting her.

  She stiffened, clenching her shaking hands at her sides in defiant fists. “I will kill you before I give myself to you!”

  Sergi laughed. “And how will you do that? Do you think that you can overpower me? I assure you I can handle a mere woman.”

  Her anger simmered just below the boiling point. A mere woman am I? I will show him. “You are a beast.”

  He turned those odd blank eyes on her. “Come here, Princess.”

  Rose bit her lip, his voice causing the hairs of the back of her neck to stand up. This man was dangerous and not of normal mind. “No.” Her voice was so strangled with fear she barely forced the word from her lips.