Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8

by Patricia Hagan

  “But—” She shook her head, bewildered. Dear Lord, not so soon! She needed time to get herself together. She just wasn’t ready for the evening’s performance!

  “What is it?” He stiffened, glowering down at her. He was perhaps two heads taller than she. “You aren’t pleased that I was able to get you excused early? You aren’t as happy as I am that we can now be together longer than planned? What kind of game are you playing with my heart, Natasha?”

  “You’re wrong!” She shook her head again. By God, she could not wilt now. Forcing a smile, she stood on tiptoe to brush his lips with her own. “I’m just surprised he agreed. Miklos can be difficult, and—”

  “You forget who I am,” Boris roared, happy once more, “but he does not! Now get your things, and let’s be on our way. I have a nice fire, and I’ve even prepared a little dinner for you to make up for last night.”

  She sucked in her breath and turned, wincing as he laughed lustily and gave her a playful pat on her bottom.

  Hurrying to the back room, she pulled her boots on over her shoes with shaky hands, pausing now and then to sip more kirsch. Then, reaching for her cape, she took a deep breath. This was it. There was no turning back.

  As she walked out, she had a sudden, stabbing wish.

  Her Uncle Colt had called her weak.

  But, despite her apprehension, she knew that she had never felt stronger.

  The Coltrane blood was flowing, and how she wished the Coltranes knew it.

  The woman stood in the kitchen doorway and watched as Boris left with the lovely young girl.

  The woman’s job was to keep the bar glasses washed. When the basket on the floor at the end of the long wooden bar was filled with dirty glassware, she would take it into the back room to carefully scrub and polish the glasses. The clean glasses would be placed in yet another basket, ready to go back to the shelves behind the bar.

  The basket was filled, but she did not move. She had just seen Boris Gorchakov enter.

  She now knew that Marilee was in his clutches. Where was Cord Brandt? She was powerless to do anything to help, and—

  “You! You want your rubles tonight?”

  Miklos was glaring down at her, his hands on his hips.

  She scurried forward and retrieved the basket, then hurried into the back without saying a word.

  Miklos watched her for a few seconds. She was a strange one. She had begged for the job, and didn’t care what he paid her, she said, as long as she got something to eat. She stayed to herself, kept her head down, and never looked anybody in the eye. He wondered why she was staring after the Russian officer and Natasha. He grunted. It didn’t matter, she had gone back to work.

  Irina felt like crying out, but long ago she had learned to swallow her tears and keep on going. But how she cringed to think of poor Marilee in the clutches of that fiend—and all to try and save her father.

  Cord was the only one who knew Irina’s true identity. She had not even let the other Whites know where she was. They were afraid she was going to use the gold she had hidden to buy her beloved Drakar’s freedom. She was sorely tempted—but she knew he did not want that. It was to be used only for the purpose intended—on behalf of the Czar and the Imperial family. Drakar had given her explicit orders to stay hidden, along with the gold.

  Through the gossip of the underground she had heard of Marilee’s abduction and the Bolsheviks’ demand for ransom—but it had been too late for her to do anything. She knew that Cord Brandt was working as a counterspy, and had managed to contact him. She had then helped him to find Marilee.

  But now she had no way to contact him, and oh, how she needed him! Marilee was in trouble, and if Cord didn’t return soon, Irina knew she’d have no choice but to try to do something about the situation.

  She took the basket back out and set it on the bar for one of the tenders to put away. Then she returned to the kitchen and paced about nervously as she tried to decide what she should do. Finally she decided that she had no choice but to make her way to Lieutenant Colonel Gorchakov’s quarters to be nearby should Marilee find he was more than she could handle.

  It had begun to snow, but the flakes were large and soft, and the wind wasn’t blowing, so it would not be too difficult to walk the short distance. Irina wrapped her worn woolen coat about her and made sure the little knife she kept strapped to her ankle inside her right boot was secured. Then she opened the back door of the restaurant.

  Just as she stepped outside, a figure loomed out of the alley and grabbed her. She was terrified until she recognized Cord Brandt’s intense face.

  “Something’s happened,” he said in a, rush, pushing her back inside. “What is it?”

  She told him that Gorchakov had shown up early and gotten Miklos’s permission for Marilee to leave.

  He swore. “How long have they been gone?”

  “Nearly forty-five minutes, I think,” Irina said reluctantly.

  “Where?” He started to shake her. “Where does the bastard live?”

  She told him, and he immediately turned to go. She caught his sleeve and cried, “Cord, what are you going to do?”

  “Get her out of there, goddammit.”

  “But she needs time—”

  “For what?” He whipped about angrily. “To get him to tell her the best time to break her father out of jail? You really think she can do that, Irina? Maybe she’s cunning enough, but I doubt it, especially when that reprobate has got other things on his mind. He’s not going to waste time on conversation tonight. You can bet your hidden Imperial gold on that,” he could not resist adding.

  “You don’t understand, Cord. Drakar himself ordered me to keep it hidden until it could be used to free the Czar and his family.” She suddenly gave in to her tears. “Nobody knows what I’ve suffered to keep my promise.”

  He patted her awkwardly. “Yes, they do, Irina. Everyone knows that they tortured you, and that you didn’t give in, and everyone respects you for that, including me. Forgive me if you thought I was being unkind. Drakar is a lucky man.”

  He gave her a quick hug. “I’m getting her out of there, one way or another.”

  She followed him to the door. “But then where will you take her?”

  “To where I met you,” he replied, then disappeared into the night.

  Irina stared after him for a few seconds, then closed the door and leaned against it, offering up a silent prayer for the people she loved.

  Outside, where there was no sound except for the snow gently falling, a lone figure appeared from the shadows…and stealthily followed Cord Brandt’s footsteps into the shimmering night.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Boris stood behind Marilee to take her cape, and when it dropped from her shoulders, he kissed the back of her neck. She stiffened, but he did not notice, for he had waited so very long for this moment.

  He clamped both hands on her breasts and pressed her back against him, his lips nuzzling her skin as he moaned against her ear, “Oh, milochka, my darling. You are driving me crazy. Never have I wanted a woman more. I must have you…”

  He spun her around and covered her mouth with his lips in a clumsy but determined kiss. Marilee tried to endure, but when he forced his tongue into her mouth and clamped a thick hand between her legs, she could stand it no longer.

  Jerking away from him, she cried, “Boris, what’s wrong with you? How dare you just…maul me this way, the second we walk through the door? What do you think I am?”

  “A beautiful, desirable woman,” he declared hotly, reaching for her again. She stepped back.

  “I want you desperately,” he cried. “Don’t you know that? Why do you torture me?”

  “In time!” she said sharply. “You promised me dinner, and I’m famished.”

  “Yes.” He nodded and moved to the little kitchen area. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m rushing things, but I just want you so much. We’ll eat first…” He began rattling things around. “And then we’ll go to
bed, where we’ll be nice and warm, and I’ll make it so good for you, my dear Natasha, so good.”

  He turned to give her an adoring gaze, and she managed a tight little smile.

  He held out a drink to her. “You’ll like this. I got it especially for you. It’s called Palusookhoye, a nice champagne.”

  She took it eagerly and gulped it down, then asked for a refill. Then she watched, her mind whirling, as he scooped some sort of stew from a large pot on the stove.

  “You should recognize this,” he told her. “It’s pelmeni, very popular in Siberia, made of reindeer meat.”

  Marilee shuddered. It did not smell very good, but she had no intention of eating, anyway. She was on her third glass of Palusookhoye, feeling just daring enough to pretend idle conversation. “You have such a dangerous job. I worry about you all the time. What if some of your prisoners escape? Isn’t that a frightening possibility?”

  Boris’s back was turned, and he was glad she could not see the knowing smile that touched his lips. The little vixen. He would play her game, but only for a little while, because he intended to have his fill of her before Rudolf arrived. He had told Rudolf to wait till near midnight. A glance at the clock told him he had nearly two hours. That was why he had arranged to bring her here early, so there would be time for him to do what his loins commanded so hungrily.

  Finally he replied, “Well, not really, Natasha.” He feigned indifference.

  “But every jail is vulnerable somehow,” she persisted. “Each has a weakness.”

  “Of course.” He shrugged. “I suppose if we have one, it would be around daylight, when there’s so much going on—the changing of the guard, inspections, the prisoners receiving their breakfast trays in their cells. I’ve made a note to put more guards on duty then, but I don’t really worry about it.”

  He could not resist giving her a probing look. “Why do you?”

  She looked up at him coquettishly through lowered lashes and laughed softly. “Why, no reason really, except to reassure myself that you’re safe. We’ve become so close. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Boris.”

  “And nothing will, I promise you.”

  He filled two bowls with pelmeni, then set them down on the table, gesturing for her to join him. “Let’s not waste any more time, Natasha, darling. The fire is burning down, and we’ll be much warmer in bed.”

  Marilee sucked in her breath and sat down. There was no chance that he would pass out this night, because he wasn’t even drinking. She pointed to the bottle he’d placed on the table. “Aren’t you joining me?”

  “No, I’m determined to make up for last night. I want all my senses to be keen tonight so I can make sure that you receive all the pleasure I have to give you.”

  Marilee was afraid she was going to be sick.

  “Eat.” He gestured impatiently. “You said you were famished.”

  Marilee knew it was time. She had quite easily learned when the jail was most vulnerable. More information than that she could not expect. Giving her plate a shove, she declared petulantly, “I don’t like reindeer meat.”

  Boris raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Well, that’s all I have. Eat it or go hungry, but make up your mind, because I’m ready to go to bed.”

  “Well, I’m not!” she cried indignantly, ready to start an argument so she could storm out and be finished with him forevermore.

  Getting to her feet, she snapped, “I must say, sir, that you are not a very polite host. Not only do you not ask me in advance about my food preferences, but when you learn you’ve prepared something I don’t like, you don’t even care. If that’s your attitude, then I doubt you’d have any regard for my preferences in your bed, and—”

  “Oh, but I do care!” he said with a roar, leaping to his feet so quickly that his chair tipped over and hit the floor with a bang. “And now I’ll show you. I promise that you’ll not only like it, little milochka, you will beg for second helpings.”

  “No…” She tried to stand, but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her and lifted her in his arms. Then he carried her across the room and threw her on the bed.

  Terror rose bitterly in her throat as she watched him quickly pull off his clothing.

  “No…” she repeated. She tried to get up, but he threw her back down roughly. “No, you can’t do this...”

  “Oh, yes, I can!” He laughed, then fell on top of her, straddling her as he began to tear at her dress.

  She fought with every ounce of strength she possessed, but she was no match for him. When she was completely, naked and totally vulnerable beneath him, he glared down at her with lust-filled eyes. “Now, you treacherous little vixen, you’re going to find out what happens to women stupid enough to think they can fool Boris Gorchakov.”

  He tried to spread her legs with his knee, and Marilee twisted from side to side, clawing out at him.

  He slapped her, then he backhanded her. “Goddamn you!” he bellowed. “Stop fighting. I will have you again and again, as much as I want.”

  He tried to slap her into submission as he continued to rant. “And I am going to love every second I am fucking Drakar Mikhailonov’s daughter!”

  Marilee froze in sudden shock. He knew who she was!

  He took advantage of her momentary stillness and was about to enter her when she came alive at just the last second and caught him off guard. She threw him off-balance, and he fell to the floor with a mighty thud.

  Scrambling off the other side of the bed, she raced across the room, not caring that it was freezing outside or that she was naked. All she knew was that she had to reach that door and escape.

  Boris was scrambling to his feet. Marilee was so terrified that she tripped and fell, and he was on top of her at once.

  “I’ll take you right here!” he screamed. “On your knees like the bitch you are!”

  He attempted to mount her, but she fell forward, screaming in terror.

  Boris had lost patience. He knew he was running out of time, and that if she kept on yelling someone might come to demand what was going on.

  He fastened his huge hands around her throat and squeezed.

  Marilee felt herself choking. The world was getting darker, and she was getting dizzy. Suddenly the yawning blackness of oblivion gave her momentary peace.

  Satisfied that she was merely unconscious, Boris picked her up and threw her down on the bed roughly. Then he positioned her for his pleasure and prepared to proceed.

  So intent was he on his lust that he had not heard the scraping at the lock, nor was he aware when the door quietly opened.

  He did not even notice the sudden blast of cold air as Cord Brandt let himself in.

  Boris knew nothing until he heard a whistling sound.

  But there was no time to wonder what was happening. He felt an explosion of pain at the base of his skull, then he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Thirty

  Cord rushed to Marilee’s side and lifted her in his arms. He whispered her name, cold dread seizing his heart at the thought that Boris might have killed her.

  He laid her down on the bed and saw with great relief that she was breathing. He then tapped her cheek in an attempt to bring her around.

  Her eyes opened slowly. She coughed and gasped, shaking her head to dispel the roaring in her ears. Then she looked up and awareness dawned in her eyes. “You! What—”

  He cut her off. “Are you all right, Marilee? Did he hurt you?”

  Then the nightmare came flooding back to her. She turned her head to see Boris lying in a heap on the floor.

  In answer to her unspoken question, Cord told her, “No, he’s not dead, just unconscious. We’ve got to get out of here before he wakes up. I’ll tie and gag him, to give us extra time before he sounds an alarm. Try to get yourself together.”

  Marilee suddenly realized she was naked, and immediately began to fumble for her clothing, suddenly feeling terribly self-conscious. But Cord was not paying any attention. He
began to look around for something to tie Boris with, finally settling on his belt.

  “Hurry up,” he snapped when he saw she was still not dressed.

  Her gratitude was fast turning into humiliation and fury. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Herr Brandt,” she told him scathingly. “I found out how to get my father out of that prison, and I’m heading for the Whites to enlist their help. If you try to stop me, I’ll scream to high heaven, so help me, because nothing is going to stop me now.”

  Cord was bent over Boris, who was moaning as he started to come around. Glancing over his shoulder at Marilee, Cord gave her a crooked grin. “You still don’t believe we’re on the same side, do you?”

  She shook her head adamantly. “And I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing by trying to convince me otherwise.”

  He stood and came toward her. When she backed away, he grabbed her and held her tightly against him. “Because I love you, Marilee…” he declared fiercely. His blue eyes searched her face for some sign of trust. “I think I’ve loved you since that first night I held you in my arms—”

  “When you thought I was someone else!” She gave him a violent shove and darted for the door. He had been about to kiss her, and for one instant she had almost let him, even wanted him to. She knew that if she did not get away from him quickly, she would succumb to the desire burning within her.

  Cord started after her, and they both froze as the door suddenly opened. Rudolf was standing there with a pointed gun.

  Cord muttered an oath and Marilee gasped. Rudolf was the last person either of them had expected to see.

  He stepped inside, grinning in triumph. Pursing his lips, he made a smacking sound in Marilee’s direction. Then he scowled as he saw Boris trussed up on the floor.

  “Untie him. At once,” he commanded tersely.

  Cord could not argue with the gun aimed right at him. He only wished he could get his hands on his own. Rudolf sensed what he was thinking and ordered him to unbuckle his holster and toss it aside before he proceeded. He had no choice but to obey.