Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8

by Patricia Hagan

  When she asked again how long she was going to be held prisoner, he looked at her for a long time before answering.

  “Don’t lie,” she pleaded, her lower lip trembling. “If something has happened to my father, I want to know now.”

  He quickly allayed her fears. “Don’t worry. As far as we know, he’s alive.”

  “Was the ransom note delivered?”

  He poured himself a cup of coffee and explained that he could not say for sure. “We won’t know until we hear from him. And until then, we stay here.”

  “And I suppose I stay locked in this room?” Marilee sighed.

  “For a few days,” he told her, “till I get rid of the men I can’t trust.” He wasn’t about to tell her of his own elation over receiving permission from the Bolsheviks to do just that. If he was in charge, he was going to do things his way. They had agreed, giving him permission to replace men he did not like, and he was doing just that.

  So the time had passed. Days later Marilee awoke hoping that this would be the day she would be given some freedom.

  Cord’s bed was empty. She padded to the window to look out at the sprawling lawn but she could not see anyone about. Of late she had somehow sensed that there were less people in the house. Certainly, fewer automobiles came and went during the day.

  She bathed and dressed, on guard should Cord walk in unexpectedly, although, so far, he politely knocked before opening the door.

  She was standing before her father’s mirror, one of the few personal items remaining, when she heard Cord’s gentle knock, and she invited him to enter.

  As usual, he was carrying a tray with coffee, juice, fruit. He set it down on the bedside table before saying quietly, “I have something to tell you.”

  “Tell me!” she begged, rushing over to him, forgetting, for the moment, to pretend that she loathed him. “Is it my father? Have you heard from him? Is he paying the ransom and coming for me—” She fell silent as she saw his expression change.

  “I wish I could tell you that, but all we can be sure of is that the ransom note was sent and received.”

  She shook her head, bewildered. “But I don’t understand. Received by whom—”

  He turned away. “You were told, Marilee, that your father was one of those who deserted the Czar when he was forced to abdicate. He went with the Bolsheviks, then betrayed them for his personal gain, stealing all that gold…” He winced, hating to repeat the lies.

  “But that’s not true!” Marilee cried, maneuvering herself to stand in front of him. “He loves Nicholas and the Empress, and he’d never steal. He’d—”

  “He would, and he did!” Cord yelled at her.

  “I don’t believe you. I will never believe you.” Marilee turned away from him, filled with cold hate.

  He forced a steely laugh. “It doesn’t make any difference what you believe. Sooner or later, you’ll see that I’m telling the truth. Meanwhile I have orders to take you to a meeting with a French government official sympathetic to the Czar It seems that your father, or whoever received the ransom note, wants proof that you are all right before the negotiations go any further.”

  “And you’re going to allow me to go?” she asked dubiously.

  He had no choice, as usual. During the night, he had managed to meet with both factions—the Bolsheviks and his people, the Whites. He had orders from both. “Yes,” he said finally, “I’m going to allow you to go, and I’ll be with you every minute. But it will be dangerous for both of us, especially you.

  “I have orders to kill you if you say or do anything to make a scene, if you try to get word to anyone where you are being held,” he said, looking at her soberly.

  Marilee did not flinch. “And could you do that?” she challenged him icily. “Could you kill me?”

  He was too good at his job to hesitate. “Oh, yes,” he assured her, his blue eyes locking with her cinnamon ones. “I can…and I will, if I have to.

  “Don’t make me prove it,” he added softly, “because I care about you, Marilee…more than you realize.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you do!” she snapped, unmoved. She stalked to the window, trembling with fury as she cried, “You’re really just mad about me, aren’t you? That’s why you can threaten to kill me in one breath and vow that you care about me in the next.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” Cord said in a low voice.

  He walked to the door, pausing to say, “You are free to move about the house for the rest of the day. Just be ready to leave at six tonight. Maybe once they see you’re well, it won’t be long till you’re free.”

  She turned with her fists clenched, to lash out at him. “I do hope so, Cord Brandt—free of them and free of you!”

  He walked out and closed the door behind him without saying a word.

  On the drive to Paris, Cord sat in the back seat with Marilee while Serge drove.

  “You are beautiful,” he had murmured when she came down the stairs wearing an emerald velvet suit, the skirt brushing her ankles. Her hair curled provocatively about her lovely face.

  She had thought him startlingly handsome in a dark blue suit, but was not about to tell him so.

  They rode in silence for a while, then Marilee asked the question that had been needling her all day. “If my father is said to have betrayed the Czar, then why is a French government official, said to be sympathetic to the Czar, willing to help whoever received the ransom note make sure I’m all right?”

  Cord had expected her questions and he was ready. He turned to face her, placing his arm across the back of the seat. “I’ll try to explain. You see, Germany wants peace with Russia so Russia will pull out of the war. They helped Lenin get to Russia because they need a regime to make that peace, and Lenin promised he’d give it to them.”

  Cord went on to explain that with the Bolsheviks ready to seize power, the Allied forces were very nervous. The French government was more than willing to cooperate with any faction in Russia it could get along with.

  “So,” Cord finished, “it doesn’t matter to the man I’m taking you to whether your father is a traitor to the Czar or not. All he cares about is that your father is also said to be disloyal to the Bolsheviks, so he’s willing to help out whoever it is who wants to make sure you’re all right.”

  Marilee thought that made sense, but she could not help taunting, “Well, it’s obvious your Bolshevik comrades have now let it be known I’m in France. Don’t you think they’ll start looking for me?”

  “Not if they want to keep you alive. Believe me, every rule we’ve issued has been followed. Frankly, it wasn’t even necessary to agree to this little tête-a- tête tonight, because we don’t like to humor the enemy, but I thought an evening out might brighten your spirits,” he teased.

  “Oh, you’re so kind!” she cried sarcastically, hating the way he was grinning at her. “It probably would have, had I been in different company,” she added sharply.

  He chuckled, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

  The château to which they went was on the outskirts of Paris. As Serge drove up the tree-lined driveway, he anxiously asked Cord, “Are you sure this isn’t going to be an ambush?”

  Cord’s reply was grim. “They know she’d get the first bullet if it is.”

  Marilee shuddered. He reached to touch her in compassion, but she shrank from him.

  There were few cars parked outside, and Marilee could see by the light of a half-moon that the château was rundown. This was not the home of a wealthy and revered French official any longer.

  “I hope it’s over quickly,” she whispered.

  Cord slipped a protective arm about her waist. “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.” He then instructed Serge to keep the motor running.

  At the door, they were greeted stiffly by an austere-looking man, who Marilee guessed was well into his sixties. He anxiously looked her up and down, as though searching for signs of abuse. Then he introduced himself as Monsieu
r Pomeroy Devane and motioned them inside.

  He clasped Marilee’s hand and asked solicitously, “Are you all right, my dear? Are they treating you well?”

  Cord tightened his hold on her in warning.

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Have you seen my father? Is he well? Is there anything you can tell me—”

  “You aren’t to ask questions,” Curt interrupted brusquely. Then he said to Devane, “All right, you’ve made sure she’s well. Now get word to your people that we’re tired of waiting. We want the ransom paid. No more stalling.”

  Devane nodded but kept hold of Marilee’s hand. “We’ve every reason to believe your father’s well. You are not to worry. We’re doing all we can to hasten your freedom from these madmen, and—”

  “That’s enough.” Cord grabbed her hand from Devane and led her out the door and back to the waiting car.

  As Serge careened out of the driveway onto the main road, Marilee was thrown against Cord. When she tried to jerk away from him, he held her tightly. She started to protest, but he snapped, “Shut up and keep your head down.” Then he leaned forward. “You’re sure you know exactly where the other car is parked?”

  Serge nodded, intent on watching the road.

  “I don’t understand,” Marilee said, no longer struggling in Cord’s arms. “What are you afraid of? The whole thing was ridiculous, a sham. What did you accomplish?”

  “They have the proof they need that you’re all right. And while it might have seemed ridiculous to you, I don’t think having a half-dozen men with guns all around me is ridiculous at all. I’d say it was pretty damn serious.”

  Serge swerved without warning, speeding down a bumpy, narrow path between thick shrubs and foliage, then screeching to a stop. Cord opened the door and quickly pulled Marilee out. As they hurried through the night she could see there was another automobile waiting. They got in and Serge took the wheel again.

  “We took this precaution in case we were followed,” Cord said, holding her closer than necessary. “But I still think you should keep your head down.”

  His voice was tender, and there, in the coziness of the backseat, wrapped in a velvet shroud of darkness, Marilee suddenly did not want to move away from him. After the stress she’d been under all evening, it felt good to be wrapped in his strong arms. Without realizing it, she snuggled even closer to him.

  Long moments passed as Marilee pressed her head against his chest. He began to dance his fingers up and down her arm, gently caressing her.

  Then, he suddenly gathered her close and kissed her—warmly, possessively, parting her lips with his tongue as he pulled her yet closer. She did not resist when he maneuvered her down onto the seat, his mouth moving hungrily to her throat as she stroked his hair with her fingertips. Strange but delicious tremors were running through her body. Her heart felt as though it were on fire, the flames igniting her with longing and desire.

  She felt Cord’s hand move to her breast and gently squeeze, and she gasped. He silenced her with a kiss that seared her lips and made her dizzy with delight.

  He pressed his body on top of hers, there as they lay on the seat, and she could feel his hardness against her. She told herself to push him away, but her hands refused to obey. Instead she clutched him desperately, pulling him still closer.

  Then she felt his hand slip beneath her skirt and something within told her not to yield. She knew instinctively that once she gave in to him, to her own gnawing, burning needs, there would be no turning back. Escape, revenge, finding her beloved father— none of those driving goals would exist anymore. She would succumb to him, his passion, and cease to think beyond. No matter that her whole body was alive and screaming for fulfillment—he was the enemy. She had to resist.

  Mustering every ounce of will and courage she possessed, Marilee grabbed his seeking hand and tore her mouth from his. “No!” she whispered hoarsely. “Stop it! Get away from me. Now!”

  He could have taken her then and there, and they both knew it. Yet Cord did not want her that way, and it was her awareness of this which gave her confidence.

  He released her, and she moved away, straightening her hair and her skirt. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her breath came in quick, hot gasps.

  They were almost back at Daniberry.

  She could feel Cord’s eyes on her in the darkness.

  Then, just as the car turned into the long, winding driveway, he spoke, so low that he was barely audible—but the message was clear.

  “It will happen, dushka. When you are truly honest with yourself. Believe it.”

  And somehow, despite her fierce resolutions, she did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marilee awoke the next morning, after a very restless night, to see that Cord’s bed was empty. Again he had chosen to sleep elsewhere. And although she felt a wave of loneliness, she knew it was best, for it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist the hunger raging within her.

  She no longer hated Cord, nor did she fear him. They had grown close, despite the tense situation they were in. Yet she knew she had to leave him—not only to find her father, but also to avoid rolling headlong into a relationship that could only lead to a broken heart. And if the ransom were not paid soon, she would have to find a way to escape.

  He did not come to her at all that day, and when Serge brought in her food trays at breakfast and lunch, he refused to answer any questions as to Cord’s whereabouts. But when he was still not back by dinner, Serge reluctantly confided that he was away on business, and he had no idea when he would return. His orders were to keep her locked in her room until he came back. She would not have freedom to roam the house or the estate.

  “That must mean that after last night, Monsieur Devane made arrangements to pay the ransom, and Cord has gone to get it!” Marilee cried excitedly.

  Serge would make no further comment and left, securing the door behind him.

  Once more Marilee found herself alone, facing an empty, haunting night. However, she could not help feeling fired by excitement, thinking ahead to when she would be free. No doubt she would be sent back to Spain to stay with the Coltranes until the turmoil in Russia was over and her father was free to come to her. But that was not what she intended. She was not going to sit idly by any longer, waiting for life to happen to her. The first thing she planned was to go to Russia and, somehow, find her father.

  However, it was not going to be easy to forget Cord Brandt.

  Cord—handsome, charming, provocative, tantalizing. He was the kind of man she thought she’d never have in her life. Being honest with herself, Marilee knew she wanted him—terribly. Although no man had ever possessed her, she knew instinctively that when Cord finally took her for his own, it would exceed even her dreams.

  But would it happen?

  She knew she could not merely give herself to him for the sake of passion or pleasure.

  And Cord was not the marrying kind.

  Even if she would consider marrying him.

  So, for the time being, she could only lie awake, resisting sleep, for sleep brought tormenting dreams of tender kisses and intimate caresses…leaving her lost and hungry and aching for fulfillment.

  Cord did not come the next day, but late in the evening, when she was lying in bed reading a book Serge had found for her, she heard the key turning in the lock and sat up expectantly.

  He came into the room like a breath of fresh air, and Marilee’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

  Their eyes met and held, but there was no time to ponder the electricity charging between them. He crossed the room, sat down in a chair beside her bed, and said brusquely, “I have news. It’s not what either of us hoped for.”

  She was afraid to ask what he meant, staring at him with anticipation.

  He explained that Monsieur Devane had admitted that Drakar could not be located. He and some of his friends, out of respect for Drakar and their sympathy for Czar Nicholas, had tried to raise the rans
om among themselves. They were not successful.

  Marilee’s eyes widened with horror as she listened, then her hand flew to her throat. “But what does all this mean? If they can’t find my father and they can’t raise the money, you’ll be told to kill me, won’t you?”

  “That won’t happen, believe me,” he assured her quickly.

  She shook her head slowly. “You can’t say that my life isn’t in danger if the ransom isn’t paid.”

  “I told you I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, and I’m not,” he said almost angrily. “I wish I could just let you go, but I can’t. Be patient, Marilee,” he urged her softly. “Many people are working on this. Try not to worry.”

  “Well, why don’t you go to the Coltranes for the money?” she demanded. “They will pay it, I’m sure.”

  “The ransom is not really the point,” he explained. “It never was. The source of the ransom was what mattered, as far as the Bolsheviks are concerned. Frankly, I doubt they’d have taken money from Devane and his people. They want what your father took with him when he went into hiding—and they want him. They also know that the money was smuggled out by a woman who, I’m told, is your father’s mistress.”

  Cord paused for her to absorb that bit of information. Marilee merely shrugged. He went on. “She was captured and tortured, but she refused to talk. She escaped from a hospital where she was being treated for her wounds, and they think she’s found her way to your father or the protection of the Whites. But the reason the Bolsheviks want that money is because they know it will be used to try and free the Czar.”

  “But if they can’t find my father, and if they can’t get word to him that he has to swap the money for me, what will happen?”

  Cord took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You will be held hostage until either Drakar or the money is found.”

  Marilee contemplated all she’d been told, then asked, “Can you tell me if my aunt, or any of the Coltranes, knows that I’ve been kidnapped?”