Whitefire

by Fern Michaels

  Christ, he ached with wanting a woman. Not just any woman, he told himself, but the Kat. He wanted her, desired her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He rubbed at his throbbing cheek and felt his fingers go to his eyes. She said she preferred Western eyes. She said she preferred hair the color of winter wheat. Was he so ugly that his dark hair and slanted eyes offended her? No, he told himself, Katerina had only one reason, and he doubted he could ever make it right with her. His dark eyes became hooded as he watched her throw back her head and laugh at something Kostya said. Rage surged through him as he thrust out his booted foot to kick at the low oak bench where saddles were piled. The pain in his foot made his eyes smart with the pain. “Bitch,” he seethed. Skinny, scrawny, bitch, how could she have such an effect on him? He stormed from the arena to the corridor, where he saw Katerina walk each morning before the others were awake. He would search the stable till he found what he wanted, and the first person who tried to stop him would find his hands around their neck. After that, they would be dead.

  Banyen investigated methodically, the way he did everything. “Somewhere there must be an entrance to another room. I won’t give up till I find it even if it takes all night.” Already he had spent hours, and still he was no wiser. “It has to be this room. She went in two hours ago and still hasn’t come out,” he muttered in frustration. “The only thing I haven’t done is tap the walls to see if they’re hollow. And what will I do if I manage to find a secret opening?” he asked himself, shrugging his shoulders. If I just knew where to enter the room, that would be sufficient for now, he tried to convince himself.

  This area, what was so special about it? Katerina had said it was off limits to any and all people in the fortress. Later he would decide what he would do. For now he wanted to see if what she said was true, that the animals responded only to her. If there wasn’t any way he could handle them, then there would be no point in doing anything or making any sort of plans. One step at a time, he told himself as he began tapping the thick stone walls.

  While Banyen hunted his way around the underground chamber, Katerina stirred restlessly and finally woke, her amber eyes smarting from the smoke that was whirling about the room. She struggled to her feet and added another log to the fire and sat down, shivering from the cold. Tears gathered in her eyes as she leaned back against the large fireplace, the ermine cape wrapped tightly about her. She admitted to herself that she hated her circumstances, the position she was in, the beautiful princess and the damn Mongol. She hated everything and everyone. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep forever; she was tired, very tired. Somehow, somewhere, her hatred had waned and been replaced by strange, unfamiliar feelings. She needed to talk, and decided to seek out Mikhailo. By now he would be up preparing tea for himself. She dressed quickly and ran to the kitchen.

  “Katerina, what is it?” he said gruffly as she threw herself into his arms.

  “Help me, Mikhailo!” she pleaded. “I have so many peculiar feelings that my mind cannot deal with.” Tears formed in the gold-flecked eyes and trickled down her smooth cheeks.

  “Is it Banyen or Kostya?” Mikhailo asked, seating her near the fire.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t any experience in the ways of the world, like the princess.”

  “What do you feel for Kostya?”

  Katerina answered honestly, “I have no feelings for him.”

  “Then it’s the prince that’s making you unhappy. Do you feel drawn to him?”

  “Yes, Mikhailo,” she said unhappily. “Soon it will be spring and he’ll leave. What will I do, how will I feel when that happens?”

  “I have no answers for you, Katerina, you must search and find your own answers.”

  Kat wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She couldn’t allow any man to come into her life, consuming her to the point where there was no room for anything else. That couldn’t be love. Love was understanding and forgiveness.

  “What is it, Katerina? What is tormenting you?”

  “Can a person love and forget something . . . something terrible? No,” she answered for the old man. “It’s possible to forgive, but one never forgets. Never!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Never!”

  “What is it, tell me!” the Cossack said, drawing her to him.

  “Nothing, Mikhailo. Don’t concern yourself. I’ll go and visit with Stepan and the stallions.”

  Mikhailo nodded. The stallions would work their magic and comfort her as he couldn’t.

  The moment she stepped into the stable, she heard a sound. Standing in the darkness, she watched Banyen rapping on the walls, an iron bar in one hand and a lantern in the other. She remained quiet as he slowly worked one side of the chamber and then another. From time to time he cursed softly in the dimness and moved on, the iron bar clanking and grazing off the rough stone. Her eyes narrowed as she watched. What would he do if he found the latch that opened the door? Would he walk through, or would he wait for another time, a time when the snows had gone, and would he try to lead the stallions from their home? Her heart felt heavy as a deep sadness settled over her. It was always the horses; it always ended with the horses.

  Katerina stepped forward boldly, her boots making no sound on the hay-strewn floor. Banyen, intent on his search, did not see her or hear her till she reached up a slender arm and pressed the latch at the top of the shelf. “Is this what you’re looking for?” she asked quietly.

  Stunned, Banyen dropped the bar he was holding and stared at her. “Yes. I would never have thought of looking there. Why is it that the walls give off no echo?” he asked, hoping to wipe the look of defeat from her face. She shrugged as the shelf moved, and motioned him to precede her down the narrow tunnel.

  Banyen drew back, hating the expression he saw on her face. “There’s no need for you to take me. I would never have found it on my own.”

  “Eventually you would have, or watched me, and sooner or later you would have discovered their stalls. This way, I’ll give you a tour of the stallions’ quarters and you’ll tell me what you plan to do. Note, I said ‘plan,’ not ‘do.’ There’s no way you’ll ever take these stallions from their home. I have no intention of parting with them. What do you think you could do? They are worthless to you without the mares. Is it possible that you believe that I’ll regain the Cosars and that way you’ll have the breeding secret? Fool!” she said softly. “I’m the only one who has the secret, and I would die before I gave it to you. A stallion is a stallion, a gelding is a gelding, and a mare is a mare. There’s no way you could succeed. And another thing, as long as we’re discussing the horses, let me tell you that I lied to my uncle. I am not going to give him a colt and a filly. The only way he could get the animals is to kill me, and even then I would fight and kick to the death.”

  “Yes, I know of your intention. The Khan himself was aware that you lied to him. It amused him to watch you barter the one thing you held dearest for his help. He would have given you assistance for nothing, he has no need of the horses.”

  “You lie. If what you say is true, then why are you seeking out the stallions? Do men ever tell the truth?” she asked in a tormented voice.

  “About as often as a woman tells the truth,” Banyen said coolly.

  “Why should women be any different from men?” Katerina asked, just as coolly.

  “It takes a strong, honorable person to tell the truth. I need you,” he said simply.

  Katerina’s heart leaped in her throat at his words. She stopped and stared into his eyes.

  “Even from here I can smell the fragrance of your desire.” He made no move to touch her, but stood still, returning her deep gaze.

  “No,” Katerina whispered huskily.

  Banyen’s voice was deep and sensuous when he answered, “Lie to me, but don’t lie to yourself. You want me, desire me as much as I want and desire you.”

  “No,” Katerina whispered again, backing off a step.

  “Look at me!” Banyen orde
red. “Tell me what you see in my eyes. Put a name to it. Do it,” he said, advancing until he was mesmerizing her with his nearness. Still he made no attempt to touch her.

  Katerina swallowed as she gazed at him. “I don’t know what it is,” she moaned.

  “It’s the same thing that is mirrored in your eyes. You must be the one to give it a name.” Unexpectedly, the red welt on his cheek began to throb, and he fought the urge to reach up to still the pain.

  Katerina saw the muscle in his cheek begin to twitch and, without meaning to, reached up and laid a gentle finger on the angry, throbbing welt. The words tumbled out.

  “I did that to you, but I’m not sorry. What you did to me that night on the steppe was brutal. I can forgive you, but I’ll never forget.”

  “If I say I’m sorry, will that help? If I grovel at your feet, will that make any difference? I can do anything but undo what has been done. I’ll devote the rest of my life to helping you forget,” he said, reaching out to gather her in his arms. He took her in the damp, clammy tunnel, and afterward he stared deeply into her eyes. “What we just did was savage and animalistic. Now I’ll make love to you the way a man makes love to a woman. Come!”

  If Mikhailo had stood in front of her and said the Cosars were standing at the doors of the fortress, she couldn’t have cared less. All she knew was she had to follow him, she needed to follow him as surely as she needed to breathe. She nodded, moistening her lips as he wrapped his arms around her. “The stallions,” she whispered inanely.

  “I don’t care if I never see the stallions. You’re the only thing that matters to me.” Suddenly he stopped and spun her around by the shoulders. “You want to hear the words, is that it?” He shook his dark head, an amused light in his slanted eyes. “I can’t undo the time on the steppe. What I did was awful. I ask your forgiveness. You belong to me now and forever, so that might ease your feelings about what I did to you.” His face took on a dejected look as he stared at her, hoping against hope that his words were meaningful to her.

  She felt a slight trembling in his arm as he drew her to him. Not trusting herself to speak, Katerina laid her head against his broad chest and sighed deeply.

  He led her gently from the tunnel.

  The blazing fire snapped and crackled, sending sparks shooting out of the cavernous depths of the enclosure.

  Naked flesh met naked flesh. Savagely, beneath the gossamer tent of her cascading hair, his lips met hers in a searing, burning kiss that sent a dancing line of white fire coursing through her body. He allowed his touch to become gentle, stroking her skin with tender, teasing touches, stirring her to heights of passion she had only dreamed of. Katerina stirred as he smothered her with kisses, pulling her to him, closer, always closer. Her passion heightened, she was totally aware of his maleness, his lean, hard, muscular body next to hers. Husky murmurings filtered throughout her being as he stroked and caressed her breasts with his gentle touch. Moaning in ecstasy, Katerina strained toward him as desire rose in a tide, threatening to engulf her.

  Strong arms encircled her more tightly as she felt the rippling muscles beneath the broad expanse of his back. Her tone was low and throaty as she called his name over and over, bringing her lips to meet his, searing and scorching his very being with her nearness.

  Banyen released her for a mere moment, looking deeply into her eyes. A low moan of passion escaped his mouth as he tore at her, his lips searching and hungry for her sweetness. His hold became tighter and tighter; Katerina clung to him, reveling in the feel of him, cherishing this moment of time, remembering it, burning it into her very soul. She knew without a doubt that this Mongol would love her and cherish her for all eternity.

  She stirred slightly, moving her head from the hollow in his neck, and reached up a slender finger to trace the outline of his oblique eye, her own eyes moist and full of love. Gently she traced the deep-ridged scar before she brought her lips to meet his, her long, slender body straining toward him.

  Katerina knew in that one sweet kiss that she could never belong to anyone save Banyen. Without doubt, without reservation, she gave herself to him.

  Spent, they lay in each other’s arms. Quiet, rapturous words were whispered, words that only lovers use.

  Banyen lay studying her beneath hooded, slanted eyes. She was beautiful, more beautiful than he could ever have imagined.

  Katerina moaned, delighting in his touch, feeling him against her, aware of the comforting weight of him. He twined his fingers through her hair and lifted it off her neck and shoulders as she suddenly realized the stroking she felt were kisses, warm and moist across her shoulders and the nape of her neck. A barely audible groan escaped his lips as he brought his head to the curve of her throat.

  Drawing in her breath, Katerina turned, encircling him in her arms, offering her mouth. She felt his powerful hands in her hair, his lips burning hers. She drew his head gently into the cradle of her hands and lowered it to her breasts, her body arched beneath him. She needed him, wanted him, as she was sure no woman had ever wanted a man.

  When he pulled away from her, she clung to him, forcing him back with her passion-filled lips, gentling away his reserve and hers with bold, intuitive caresses of her tongue.

  Banyen’s mouth was on her throat, her breasts, drawing moans from somewhere deep within her soul. Her senses soared, making her lightheaded with passion, bringing her to the borders of lust, as she answered his caresses with her endearing embraces, responding to his kisses with animal passion she had never dreamed she possessed. She sought for and found the most rapturous caress, reveling in the pleasure she gave him.

  Banyen rejoiced to find his passion matched by hers, delighting in her moans of exquisite joy as her body welcomed his.

  White flames of passion raced through her veins as she sought to extinguish the scorching fire engulfing her.

  “Have me, have me now!” she urged.

  Banyen moved his head slightly to stare down into her eyes. Her words were softer than the muted sounds of the sparks in the fire, echoing in the fullness of his heart, filling him with fierce protectiveness toward her that left him gasping for breath. He had never heard the words spoken before. An ever-surging tide of ecstasy swept over him as he once again crushed her to him, mouthing the words aloud that she wanted to hear, needed to hear. She was his, now and forever more.

  As the heavy snow continued to fall, word came by falcon from the village of Kisinev that Ivan’s madness had worsened. The word spreading throughout Russia told of Ivan wandering through the palace howling so loudly his cries were audible to people outside.

  Several weeks later, a second message arrived that read:

  Czar Ivan forsakes Christianity, seeking comfort in the prophesies of witches and magicians who were brought to Moscow from the far north where paganism still flourishes.

  The last message received in the fortress read:

  The peoples of Russia say each day Czar Ivan commands his servants to carry him, sitting in a chair, to his treasury. While his attendants stand and watch, he plucks jewels from their coffers and puts them against his skin. Ivan fancies the jewels change color, proving that he was “poisoned with disease.”

  Katerina turned to Mikhailo. “I understand the Czar still has moments of rational thinking. If he were completely insane, the boyars would have taken over his rule.”

  “You’re right, Katerina, the man is mad, but still strong enough to rule. We all know his days are numbered,” Mikhailo said dourly.

  Chapter 20

  The days that followed were happy days for Katerina. The men were honed as sharp as a razor’s edge. They were indeed Cossacks to be proud of. Happiness radiated from her whole being. Just being in the same room with Banyen, meeting his warm gaze, was all she needed to complete her joy. Passion-filled nights were sweet at the end of a long, hard-working day. She cherished the warm, tousled look of the man next to her on awakening. There was no one in the whole world that was more exultant than she was unl
ess it was Banyen, she told herself. He, too, took on a fine-honed look. His mocking arrogance was gone, in its place a fierce protectiveness to Katerina and all in general.

  Banyen watched his men, a smile on his face. He was proud of them. Totally untrained when they arrived at the fortress less than six months ago, now they were efficient soldiers he would be proud to fight with and serve with. He told himself he was a happy man. There was nothing he lacked. His eyes swiveled to where Katerina stood next to Mikhailo. His deep scrutiny made Katerina aware of him, and she looked up and smiled sweetly. How he loved her! Six months ago he would have laughed if someone had told him he would love a Cossack woman, a woman who wore men’s clothes and looked like an angel. He blinked and turned from her silent gaze, his loins taking on an ache only she could quell. Was it only hours ago he had felt her next to him, her head cradled against his bare chest? It seemed like an eternity. He wished it were night so he could gather her close to him near the fire and make love to her. A love that she returned with every fiber in her body.