Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5

by Patricia Hagan

  Czar Alexander, in one last effort to restore some semblance of honor and respectability to the man he had loved as a brother, had Annine and her family brought before him. In front of Dolskoi and Drakar, the Czar informed Annine that if she would renounce her radical, revolutionary beliefs, and her lover, and return home to her husband and family, all would be forgiven. Otherwise, she would be deported to Siberia where Zigmont had already been taken.

  Annine spat in his face.

  She was taken to Siberia, and, infuriated beyond reason, Alexander demanded that Dolskoi resign from his position in his government. Then, in an attempt to prove to everyone that he wished to completely remove himself from any ties to the Mikhailonov family, he ordered the return of the Alexandrovsky Palace Egg.

  Dolskoi, a broken man, said he would comply, but when he went to get the treasured egg, he was horrified to discover that Annine had taken it and given it to Zigmont to be sold to help finance the revolution.

  Drakar saw his world blow apart in bits and pieces. Zigmont was hanged, apparently taking his knowledge of the whereabouts of the valuable egg to his grave. His father was killed by one of the Czar’s staunch supporters. Drakar believed his father wanted to die that way. Then, his mother escaped, and he was never to see her again.

  Drakar’s friendship with Alexander III deteriorated. The revolutionaries successfully killed the Czar in a bomb blast, and, overcome with grief, Alexander, as the new Czar, called Drakar before him and proclaimed that as far as he and the Russian government were concerned, Annine Mikhailonov was a whore and a traitor. His father was without honor because he refused to return the Alexandrovsky Palace Egg. No one, the new Czar declared, had believed Dolskoi’s story that he could not find the egg.

  Czar Alexander III stripped Drakar of his family name, his honor, and banished him from Russia.

  Drakar was angry but grateful that although the Czar might have stripped his father of all honor, they could not touch his wealth. With inherited holdings in many countries, Drakar could leave his homeland to make his own life.

  But then, only a half year after leaving, he was called back to Russia by divine summons of the Czar. He went, more out of curiosity than any sense of duty.

  Alexander told him that because of their own once treasured friendship, he would confide to him a rumor that his mother had, indeed, stolen the egg and given it to her revolutionary lover. There were stories from Siberia that told of Zigmont secretly painting a scene of the Alexandrovsky Palace. Somewhere within the painting was a clue to where the egg was actually hidden. Drakar’s mother was said to have taken the painting away with her when she escaped.

  The young Czar further went on to inform Drakar that his mother had died in Paris only a few months before. No one knew the whereabouts of the painting.

  The Czar also promised Drakar that no one else would be told, that everything would be kept confidential. If he could find the painting and, ultimately, the coveted Fabergé egg, then his father’s honor would be restored.

  “As long as the egg is missing, no one will ever believe that it was not sold to help finance the revolutionaries,” Czar Alexander III tersely informed Drakar. “It must be returned to the Imperial Court, as was the wish of my father.’’

  Drakar agreed…and thus his quest began.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Dani returned, Drake was pretending to be browsing about the shop, not wanting to arouse her curiosity by staring at the painting. However, he was still very much in deep thought. He knew it had to be the painting he had been searching for, but he needed closer scrutiny. Zigmont Koryatovich, amateur artist though he might have been, had evidently known what he was doing when he created a mystery on canvas. From what Drake had seen thus far, there was not an inkling of a clue to tell him where the egg might be hidden.

  At the sound of Dani entering the shop, he complimented her on her selection of goods.

  It was she who mentioned the painting. “Did it make you homesick for your native land?” she inquired pleasantly.

  He hesitated before answering, as though he had really not thought about it, then shrugged. “I suppose. It does have a uniqueness about it that I find intriguing.” Then, offhandedly, he said, “I might want to buy it from you.”

  Dani shook her head, cinnamon eyes narrowing slightly. Lord, what was it about that painting? “I’m sorry, Drake, it isn’t for sale.”

  “Why not? It doesn’t exactly complement the masters you discovered.”

  “No,” she admitted simply, “but obviously you find it appealing. So did Cyril Arpel, and so do I. I intend to keep it for myself.”

  He shrugged as though it were not important, turned his attention to an exquisite temple lion of jade and pearls. All the while, his mind was whirling. Possession of the painting for only a short time was not going to be enough. Hours of meticulous study and scrutiny would be needed. He had to have it.

  For almost ten years, he had been aimlessly wandering about, searching for the painting in a desperate effort to restore the family honor. Only then did he feel his father could rest in peace. It was not his fault, by damn, that his wife had brought such shame and degradation upon the family name. Through the years, Drake had tried to feel pity for his mother, make excuses for her, call her insane…anything except what she was. But reality was harsh and cold; she had been a revolutionary, betraying her husband and her son. She had been selfish, willful, not to be trusted—as so many women were.

  “I enjoy talking with you, Drake,” Dani said, interrupting his thoughts, “but there are some things I need to do if I’m doing to be ready to open tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll be glad to lend a hand,” he offered.

  There was a small alcove at the very rear of the shop where Dani had had shelves built to display the books she had bought from the other antique shop. Proud of her collection, she still had the top row to arrange in alphabetical order. Drake offered to do it, but she declined, gesturing toward the small wooden ladder. “Just hold this for me. It won’t take but a moment.”

  She clamored up, faster than he had anticipated, and before he could step into position to steady the ladder, it tipped. He held out his arms, and she fell right into them. With a knowing smile, he accused, “You did that on purpose,” and then his lips claimed hers in a hungry, soul-searing kiss.

  For an instant, Dani was stunned, then, slowly, liquid fire began to consume her. Her arms went about his neck to hold him tightly, and she returned his kiss, pressing her body closer against him.

  At long last, he raised his mouth from hers, set her gently on her feet, but his arms remained about her.

  Dizzily, Dani swayed in his embrace, and her voice was not convincing even to her own ears when she proclaimed shakily, “That should not have happened—”

  Drake threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, Dani, Dani, don’t play demure with me. You wanted it as much as I did, and you know it.” His eyes met hers hungrily, and his voice was tremulous with desire. “And you want more…now…like this—”

  He crushed her against him, and their lips met, and held, and then his tongue touched hers in a melding delight of sensation that sent both their pulses soaring. His hands moved down her back to clutch her tiny waist, then slipped lower to cup her firm, rounded buttocks beneath her thick skirt, pulling her close…so close she could feel the swell of his desire. Her own needs cried out within her, and she fought the impulse to press yet closer. With reluctance, she forced herself to pull from his embrace.

  “Too much, too soon, monsieur,” she stated more calmly than she felt.

  “As you wish, mademoiselle. I have all the time in the world.”

  Dani turned away, and bit back a sarcastic retort. Why bandy innuendoes when it was apparent they both desired the same thing? She could not deny that she wanted this charmingly handsome, enigmatic man in a way she had never wanted another. True, there had been embraces, caresses, kisses, but dear Lord, she had never before felt the physic
al evidence of her own body’s desire for a man.

  She began to walk toward the front of the store. “I have some things to do.”

  He was right behind her. “I see there’s a loose shelf on one of the display cases. If you have the tools, I’d be glad to fix it. Later, perhaps we can have dinner somewhere.”

  Quickly, she said, “Oh, I don’t think so. There’s so much I have to do before tomorrow that it will probably be late when I leave, and—”

  He spun her around, taking her in his arms once more. Nostrils flaring, eyes blazing, he cried, “Dammit, woman, stop acting like a little girl. You know what we both want.”

  He kissed her once more, and Dani could not make herself pull away. It was happening too soon, and she would not allow it to go any further, not yet, perhaps not ever. He was a womanizer, and she had no intention of being added to his collection. But there was also another factor to be considered: She had never met a man like Drake, whose very nearness aroused her. Love? Lord, it could not be happening, and she was not about to let it happen. Love meant giving herself over to manipulation, subservience, and never again, God, would she allow that to happen, no matter how much he stirred her…

  She tried to pull away, but he held her tightly, and then she was yielding once more. She would face her feelings, enjoy them, and when, if the time came and she wanted to succumb, then, by God, she would!

  Lost in their fevered embrace, neither heard the tinkling of the little bell as the front door of the shop opened and closed. They did not realize they were no longer alone until the irate voice of Cyril Arpel pierced their senses back to the reality of the world about them.

  “Excuse me!”

  They sprang apart, stunned. Dani was flustered, but only momentarily. After all, she reminded herself, what did she have to feel embarrassed about? She had a right to kiss a man if she wanted to. Her voice frigid, she demanded, “What are you doing here, Cyril? You were not expected.”

  “Obviously,” he said with a sneer, eyes flicking over Drakar contemptuously.

  Jealousy bored Drake. Besides, he needed time alone to think through his course of action. He wanted the painting; he wanted Dani. He intended to have both. All he needed to do was figure out how to go about it. “I think I will be going,” he said, addressing himself to Dani. “Perhaps I could take you to dinner later.”

  If Dani had not been so infuriated with the insolent way Cyril was glaring at her, she would probably have refused the invitation, wanting private time of her own to get her thoughts together. The man had thrown her into a whirlwind of emotions. Ignoring Cyril, she placed her hand on Drake’s arm, walked with him to the front door, then said loudly enough to be overheard, “That would be lovely. You may call for me at seven. I should be home by then.”

  He paused at the door, gazed down at her hungrily. Then, in a tone so low as to be barely audible, he said, “I look forward to knowing you better, Dani. What little I do know, I find utterly fascinating.”

  He kissed her hand and walked out, closing the door soundly behind him.

  The instant he was gone, Dani turned on Cyril in a fury. “How dare you walk in here, uninvited and look at me like that? What I do is none of your business, Cyril Arpel. Do you understand?” She faced him, hands on hips, eyes blazing.

  Cyril swallowed…hard. Had he gone too far? If he was going to get his hands on that painting, alienating her was not the way to do it. Quickly he proclaimed, “I’m sorry. Truly I am. The bell sounded when I opened the door, and obviously you didn’t hear it. What was I to do?”

  Dani sucked in her breath, let it out slowly. Oh, she was angry! “You could have done the gentlemanly thing, Cyril, which was to leave as quietly as you came. You had no right to just—just stand there and watch!”

  He defended himself. “I made my presence known. I spoke. Again, I apologize. I should have left, I know, but—” He shook his head, not knowing what else to say.

  She picked up a feather duster, turned and began to vehemently attack a stack of books waiting to be carried up the ladder. “Please go,” she said irritably. “I find your company disconcerting for the moment.”

  Cyril watched her with narrowed, thoughtful eyes. He had no intention of merely walking out and leaving things as they were.

  She turned, glared at him, anxious for him to leave.

  He plunged right in, throwing his arms up in the air in a gesture of defeat. “All right, all right, be angry if you will, but the least you can do is hear me out. I’m your friend, Dani. I can’t let you be taken in by that rogue.”

  He began to pace about as she stared in cold indignation. “You haven’t been out in the world as long as I have. I know you led a sheltered life. I would not be much of a friend if I allowed you to go on blindly—”

  “I am not blind!” she snapped. “Now go, please, before you ruin our friendship!” she warned.

  Stubbornly, he shook his head. “No. No, I won’t. Think me rude if you will, but one day you will thank me for telling you about that man.”

  He stopped pacing and stood before her, reached out to clamp firm hands on her shoulders and look straight into her fiery eyes. “Drakar was banished from the Imperial Court of Russia by the Czar. There was a terrible scandal. I do not have all the details, but I know there is much shame on his family. That is the reason he roams Europe like a gypsy. He fancies himself a connoisseur of women the same as I consider myself a connoisseur of art. He collects them, for God’s sake!” he finished with a disgusted sigh.

  Dani laughed harshly. “So what? Perhaps I will start my own collection of men!”

  “You don’t mean that!”

  “If I do, it is none of your business!”

  Their eyes met, each challenging the other.

  Cyril decided he would go one step further. “They say his mother is responsible for the assassination of Czar Alexander.”

  Dani raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

  He suppressed a smile. Good. He had caught her interest, at last. “She was a revolutionary.”

  Again, Dani laughed mockingly. “So what? So am I! I think it’s time all women revolted. Far too long have we been treated as serfs!”

  Cyril almost laughed himself. She looked so adorable talking of revolutions. Yet he managed to maintain his severe expression and continued. “You don’t understand. She was a revolutionary against the Czar.”

  “Revolutionary or dissident?”

  “It doesn’t matter. She was having an affair with one of the leaders of a terrorist group committed to assassinating the Czar. She walked out on her marriage…her son…to live in sin with a man ten years younger than she—a radical. When he was caught trying to blow up the train the Czar and his family were traveling on, she was sent to Siberia right along with him.”

  He stood back and waited smugly for her reaction. Surely she would run from a man with such a sordid background.

  His complacency quickly vanished when she gasped, “Oh, poor Drake! What a terrible thing.” Silently, privately, she was starting to understand why he regarded women in such a callous way. Unknowingly, he probably felt aversion toward all women because of his mother’s behavior.

  Cyril could not believe his ears. “You feel sorry for him?”

  Dani regarded him coolly. “Of course. It must have been a terrible thing for him to live through. And,” she added condemningly, “it must be even worse to have people like you gossiping about him behind his back.”

  Cyril groaned and decided to try another ploy. “I must confess, Dani, that I am terribly jealous of the man. Too many times I have seen him sweep women off their feet, make them fall helplessly in love with him. His power over women is legend, for God’s sake. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

  He dared to reach out and clasp her hands. Imploringly, he gazed down at her and, in a tremulous voice, whispered, “I don’t want to lose you, Dani, before I even have a chance to win your heart for myself.”

  Dani was m
omentarily caught off guard by his unexpected avowal. She had to admit that though she was quite annoyed at his intrusion, and his gossiping about Drake, she did like him. She wanted him for a friend.

  He continued to hold her hands, a beseeching look on his face. “Tell me I haven’t lost you, Dani. Tell me there is still a chance for me.”

  “You are still my friend, Cyril. Let that be enough for now.” She pulled her hands gently from his.

  He nodded and sighed. There would be a chance to smooth things over. “If I promise not to say another word about your personal life, may I stay and help you?” he cajoled.

  She could not help but laugh, for he looked like a little boy, eyes hopeful, wanting desperately to be forgiven. “Oh, all right, but no more gossiping. I don’t like it.”

  He nodded, then went to work without being told what to do. He began to carry the books up the ladder, changing the topic of conversation to the next day’s grand opening. But all the while he was thinking of how he would do everything in his power to stop the relationship between her and Drakar before it truly got started. He was also trying to conjure a way to get the Alexandrovsky painting into his possession.

  Lillian Deauneve stared at the French landscape whizzing by as the train sped from Le Havre en route to Paris. She was not truly looking at the scenery; she was too caught up in thoughts about her unbelievable good fortune. When she had booked passage from London, then across the English Channel, and finally, on the Nord Railway into Paris, she had spent almost her last pounds. She had just enough left to pay for a few nights’ lodging at a cheap hotel while she looked for work. This morning, when she had left London, she had felt as though the world were collapsing about her. Now, in the span of just a few hours, everything had changed…for the better.

  She could make out her reflection in the window; acknowledged, without apology to conceit, that she was still a ravishingly beautiful woman. Hair as brilliant as the finest gold fell softly about her face. Her skin was as pure and soft as alabaster. Smoky purple eyes were fringed with thick, dusty lashes. Her nose was perfectly shaped, with a gentle, saucy tip. Her lips seemed forever curved in a sultry pout.