Sergi scowled at her. “He said you better be quiet and ride. If the tsar’s Konnoguardeysky catches us they will shoot first and ask questions later.” He turned off the main trail onto a narrow path. Reaching over he released the rope holding her mount. Kicking his horse into a canter he took the lead leaving hers to follow. The other rider fell in line behind her.
Trapped between the two she had no choice but to follow. Branches hit her face and tore at her dress as they wove their way through the tangled brush. She closed her eyes, ducking low on her horse’s neck to avoid the stinging slaps. Her thighs were beginning to ache from the punishing pace and squeezing them tight in effort to stay in the flat cloth saddle. Who or what was the Konnoguardeysky? Were they good soldiers or more bad rebels? Since Sergi referred to them as the tsar’s and they were after him, she had to assume they were royal guards of some kind.
She sat up as they came to a stop in a small clearing. A bubbling brook meandered through the center that looked so fresh and inviting she began to salivate.
“We will stop here for a few minutes to rest and water the horses,” Sergi told her, before dismounting and kneeling to fill his canteen.
Rose slid to her feet and leaned against her hot, sweaty horse. She brushed her tangled hair back from her face with a shaky hand. Her body was still so weak she feared if she sat down on the soft grass she would not be able to get up again. Perhaps that was a solution to her problem. If she couldn’t go on any further maybe Sergi would find her too much trouble and leave her here? She peered up at the canopy of green above her head. Wherever here is.
Sergi finished filling his canteen and took a long drink. If Rose’s mouth were not so dry and full of dust she would have drooled at the imaginings of cool water trickling down her own throat. He finished, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled at her. She closed her eyes, unwilling to let him know how desperate her craving was for a drink. Footsteps approached and she opened her eyes.
Sergi stopped in front of her and thrust the canteen to her mouth. “Drink.”
The cool water trickled into her mouth and down her chin. She swallowed as fast as possible to get her fill before he took it away, choking and sputtering in her haste. When she turned her head away he smiled and returned the canteen to his own lips, studying her as he drank.
She glared at him and wiped her mouth on her sleeve for lack of a handkerchief. He grinned before turning his attention to his comrade. The latter unrolled a map and they turned their backs as they bent over the paper. Sergi glanced over his shoulder at her. “This would be a good time to take care of those bodily urges you were talking about earlier.”
Rose bit her lip, her face growing hot under his gaze.
He chuckled at her discomfort and pointed in the direction of some small bushes.
After waiting until the two men were engrossed in their map she took her horse’s lead rope and walked around behind the bushes. When she made it to the spot without either man looking up her courage grew. She peeked around the greenery. The men were arguing with each other, not paying any attention to her at all. Taking a deep breath she scrambled up onto the horse and kicked it as hard as she could. The horse bolted back to the path with Rose clinging to the saddle.
Looking over her shoulder she spied the two men running to their horses. She crouched lower in the saddle and urged the beast even faster over the soft ground. As she rounded a sharp bend the trail forked. With only a short lead rope she had no choice but to let the horse choose his own way. The out-of-control animal veered left without pausing.
She glanced back to see Sergi round the bend on his own mount. He was gaining on her. She turned her attention back to the path ahead as she came to the crest of a steep hill. Sheer panic gripped her mind. There was no way she would make it safely to the bottom at the speed she was going.
Without warning a horse and rider broke through the bush to her right. She caught a glimpse of red and gold before they collided with her. Her frightened horse reared, lost its footing, and began slipping and sliding down the steep slope. Rose struggled to keep her balance. Her mind registered everything in slow motion as her horse crashed to its knees. She tried to hold on, but was hurled from its back. In desperation she closed her eyes and tucked her head tight to her chest hoping beyond reason to protect herself from the impact to come.
Chapter Four
Dimitry rode at the head of the column of soldiers and studied the ground. “A small group, probably including Sergi, separated here and went up through the woods.” He pointed to a small path which broke off from the larger one. “If we follow the main trail to the second fork we might still be able to cut them off at the brook.”
The column advanced single file at a gallop. Their horses were starting to tire by the time they pushed through the bush at the top of the steep slope. Dimitry signaled the patrol to stop and listened. He picked up the sound of a galloping horse. Spurring his mount forward he rode along the hill at an angle in an effort to cut off the advancing rider. The hoof beats grew louder until a horse and rider crested the ridge and plunged out of control down the other side. Dimitry’s attempt to check his speed failed, and his mount collided with them. The other horse reared and stumbled sideways, spilling its rider to the ground before the beast tumbled end over end to the bottom of the incline.
He struggled to calm his panic stricken horse. As he spun it around to get it under control, he spied a second rider crest the hill. The rider seesawed on the reins until his horse slid to a halt, turned and fled back in the direction from which he came.
One of the soldiers spotted him. “It’s Sergi!”
Dimitry reined his horse to a standstill. “Victor, stay here with me, the rest of you go after Sergi.”
The men charged after the fleeing rider as Dimitry released his pistol from its holster. He motioned to the rider-less horse. “Victor, go see to it.” After dismounting, he approached the still figure lying on the ground with caution. He nudged the body in the back with the toe of his boot and prepared to shoot. When there was no movement he placed his gun back in his belt and rolled the figure over.
He drew in a sharp breath at the discovery it was not a man as he expected, but a woman. Her eyes were closed. One side of her face was scraped and battered, the other covered in blood which oozed from a gash on her forehead. He knelt down beside her, pushed aside her cloak and searched for a pulse. To his relief he found a faint, but steady one. The loud report of a pistol confirmed the welfare of the fallen horse had been seen to.
Victor returned with his smoking pistol still in hand. “It’s back was broken.” He brushed a blond curl back from his forehead stopping short at the sight of the fallen rider. “Is that a woman?”
Dimitry cast him a dirty look. “I believe that is what they look like, or so I have been told.”
Victor ignored his sarcasm. “What is she doing here?”
“I do not know. Maybe a better question would be, who is she?”
“Is she alive?” Victor put his pistol back in the holster at his waist.
“She is breathing.” Dimitry picked up the limp body. She smelled of horse sweat, salty sea air and the minty traditional peasant drink, Kvass. He pushed her into Victor’s arms.
His cousin adjusted his grip to keep from dropping her. “What are you doing?”
“I cannot just leave her here,” Dimitry pointed out.
Victor glanced back down at the woman, his facial expression comically pained. “Well what do you expect me to do with her?”
“Hold her so I can get back on my horse.” Dimitry growled. He caught his horse, led it back to Victor and mounted. “Pass her here.”
He handed the woman up to him. “Are you sure about this? What if she is a Cossack rebel? It might be wiser to wait until the patrol comes back.”
Dimitry shook his head. “She is only a woman, damn it. What is she going to do, scratch me to death?”
“I see your point,” Victor relented.
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Dimitry settled his nervous horse with one hand while he propped the woman’s limp form sideways against his chest. He waited until Victor caught and mounted his own horse before turning back onto the trail through the bush.
They rode in silence for a while, both men absorbed in their own thoughts. Victor glanced over at him. “Are you sure she is still alive?”
Dimitry bent his head to the woman’s mouth to check. Her breath tickled his cheek. “Yes.”
“What if she dies?”
“I do not know.”
Victor continued as if he had not answered. “Worse yet, what do we do if she awakens right now and panics? I mean, did you even check to see if she was carrying a weapon? What if—”
“Victor,” Dimitry bellowed startling his horse, “Would you like to carry her home?”
“No. You are doing a fine job.” He cast him a sheepish smile.
Dimitry grunted. Sometimes his youngest cousin just rubbed his nerves raw.
Victor chuckled. “Yes a fine job. Of course we both know I have much more experience with the fairer sex than you. After all—”
“Victor,” Dimitry warned.
His cousin ignored him and continued. “I do have a way with the ladies as you well know. Why, was it not I, who set you up with that pretty girl when we—”
“Victor,” Dimitry ground out between clenched teeth, “now is not the time to remind me of past foolish indiscretions.”
They rode in silence for a moment. Dimitry cast a sideways glance at his cousin. The man was staring the ground, his lips pressed into a thin line. He supposed he should apologize. It was not like him to be so short-tempered with the younger man. He usually found Victor’s sense of humor a welcome distraction.
Victor glanced up with a mischievous smile as if he heard Dimitry’s thoughts. “Well, I believe I will ride on ahead to the camp and let them know you are bringing in an injured woman.” With a chuckle he spurred his horse into a canter.
“Victor! You cannot just leave me here alone with her.”
Victor looked back over his shoulder. “Why not? What is she going to do, scratch you to death?” he teased, and cantered on, his laughter carrying back to Dimitry.
Dimitry urged his horse into a trot. The bouncing made hanging onto the woman too difficult so he slowed back to a walk.
“Traitor,” he mumbled under his breath looking down at the woman. Of all the things to bring back from a raid he had to come home with a woman. Simpering, flirting creatures, fainting at every little thing. All they wanted to do was dance and gossip. Everyone knew all women did was plot how to snag a rich man and then nag him to death like an old shrew. It was enough to make him ill.
The woman in his arms moaned as if protesting his thoughts. Even unconscious, the woman is complaining. He shook his head. There was no way he was going to be trapped into marriage by one, although the thought of not having any children, which he enjoyed, was dismal. He scowled down at the woman. What is wrong with me? Why do my thoughts turn to marriage? He shifted the woman’s weight and she snuggled into his chest with a soft sigh, her tangled hair tickling his chin. He tried to think of something else besides the warm body draped in such a provocative way in his lap, but failed. Hell and damnation! This is ridiculous. To his relief the rest of his patrol caught up with him.
The head of his troop rode forward to report on the chase, casting the woman a curious look. Dimitry pretended not to notice. “Sergi got away, however we did catch a small group of rebels heading back to the camp. We also found her.” The soldier gestured to a small red-headed woman riding behind a young recruit.
Dimitry grimaced. Another female, just what I need. “Who is she?”
“I don't know. She doesn't speak our language.”
Dimitry addressed the girl in English. “Who are you and what were you doing in a Cossack camp?”
Her face paled until her freckles and red hair stood out like a beacon. “I’m just a maid, sir.”
Dimitry raised his eyebrows. “You are a maid? What are you doing here?”
The girl nodded at the woman in his lap. “I’m the Princess’ maid.”
He drew his horse up with a sharp jerk. “What is a princess doing galloping around in the woods with a Cossack rebel?”
The maid stared at him, eyes wide and her mouth agape.
He frowned, his patience wearing thin. “Well?”
Victor rode up from the direction of their camp. The maid looked back and forth between him and Dimitry, no doubt trying to decide which of them was weak enough to fall for her charms. Tears formed in her limpid gray eyes. “She’s from England.”
“What?” He shook his head in frustration as the maid burst into tears.
“Pardon me,” Victor interrupted. “Perhaps if you tried a quieter approach to the situation, the maid here might be a little more willing to supply the information you seek.” He bestowed his most charming smile on the frightened woman.
Dimitry rolled his eyes. “I am not a damn nursemaid. I am a soldier. Since you think you have such a way with the ladies you try.”
“Gladly.” Victor winked at the sniffling maid and addressed her in English. “It seems he is always leaving me to clean up his messes. He just does not know how to talk to maidens.”
Dimitry snickered. “Now is not the time to remind me you are easily swayed by a pretty face. I have not slept in over twenty-four hours, and my arm is falling asleep as we speak because I have an English princess, of all things, draped across my saddle.”
Victor laughed so hard he almost fell out of his saddle. “You are as tactful and to the point as always, dear cousin.”
He gave Victor a smoldering look as they rode into the camp. “I will expect a full report tomorrow.”
After giving a mock salute, Victor dismounted and helped the wide-eyed maid down from behind the soldier. “His bark is much worse than his bite,” he said in a loud whisper.
Dimitry pretended not to hear as he handed the princess into the arms of a waiting soldier. It was worth ignoring the comment, knowing his cousin would have to spend the greater part of the night listening to a blubbering female. “Take her to my tent and have the physician summoned,” he told the guard, and stomped to his tent.
As he entered, he pulled off his bloodied red and gold army coat tossing it over the back of the only chair in the small space and yanked his shirt out of the waistband of his pants.
“You are hurt.”
Dimitry looked up at the gray-haired army physician who hurried into the tent and rolled up his sleeves. “No, I am fine. It is her blood.” He pointed to the woman laid out on his cot. He washed his face and hands in the basin of water left for him, snatched up a nearby towel and crossed the dirt floor to stand at the foot of the cot. He dried his hands and face while he waited for the doctor to finish examining the unconscious woman. The older man took his time, humming as he took her pulse, lifted her eyelids and checked her reflexes. He poked and prodded her various cuts and bruises. “What happened?”
“She fell from her horse.” Dimitry pushed aside the guilt pricking his conscience as a result of leaving out his part in the accident. The doctor frowned but didn’t say anything. “How is she?”
“She is unconscious.”
“I know that!” Dimitry snapped, tired and irritated.
The physician scowled at him. “Young man, you need to sit down and let me finish tending my patient.”
Dimitry opened his mouth to chastise the man for his lack of respect, but he was just too tired to argue. Flipping the damp towel over his shoulder he stalked to the little chest beside the head of the bed, opened it and took out a bottle of French brandy. He rummaged around for a glass, poured a drink and dropped the lid back down on the chest with a thump. He set the bottle on the top and glared at the physician who continued to ignore him. Finally he flipped the chair around, straddled it, drink in hand, and observed in silence.
The physician pushed his spectacles further up
on his nose, reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle and a bandage. Still humming, he cleaned the gravel out of the gash in the woman’s head. When he poured a little liquid from his bottle over the cut, the woman moaned, but didn’t wake. With sure, gentle skill, he padded the wound and wrapped a clean white bandage around her forehead. He washed some of the dried blood off her face and his own hands before he addressed Dimitry. “As far as I can tell, there are no broken bones. The head wound however, is a concern.” He paused and shook his head. “Funny things, head injuries, she might live or she might die. All you can do is keep her warm and watch over her. If she wakes up she should recover. In that case she can have a little brandy mixed with water, but nothing solid until I say so.” He placed his hat on his head, picked up his medical bag and left.
Dimitry downed his drink in one quick gulp. Watch over her. Just what I want to do, play nursemaid to a sickly female.
The soldier stationed at the tent’s entrance cleared his throat. “Victor says, according to the maid, the woman is Princess Elizabeth.” He tipped his head in the direction of the woman lying on the bed. “You can have my tent. I'll stay and watch the girl.”
“No. I will stay with her tonight in case she wakes. You can stay outside my tent as usual though, in case I need you.” Dimitry dismissed the young man and carried the chair to the bedside. After pouring himself another glass of brandy he turned down the tent’s only lantern. Sitting in the semi-darkness he pondered the sleeping woman. What is a princess doing in the forest? Is she really from England? What was she doing with Sergi? He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Picking up the blanket which had fallen on the dirt floor he covered her. As he tucked it around her neck his hand brushed against her soft skin. He touched her scraped face with his fingertips. She moaned as he traced along her jaw and across the full pink lips. He studied her face. Her eyes remained closed, heavy brown lashes lying against her pale cheeks. When he reached up and smoothed back her chestnut-colored hair from her bandaged forehead, her tiny up-turned nose twitched and she sighed. He dropped his hand, not liking the tenderness she invoked in him.
To Love a Horseguard Page 4
