They did search his saddlebags, shaking the contents on to the muddy road only to discover nothing more than a shaving kit and a few apples. He was glad the present he’d brought for Anna-Maria as a peace offering was safe in his coat pocket. They let him pass and Stepan nodded his thanks. The two young men were only doing their duty, but the incident reminded him far too much of the Kuban he’d left and a certain fear took up residence in the pit of his stomach.
Stepan urged his horse forward. The logical part of him knew the fear was irrational. Captain Denning was no Tsar Peter. Denning didn’t have a country at his disposal. But one did not need to be a Tsar to instill fear and fear was a powerful motivator: fear of one’s neighbour, fear for one’s family, fear about the future and what might take place. Fear caused friends to turn against friends, to see to one’s own protection instead of the protection of others. He’d seen it happen.
He was already seeing signs of it as he jogged his horse through the surprisingly quiet, empty streets of Shoreham. Well, mostly empty. The soldiers were out, patrolling the streets while shopkeepers stood behind empty counters with no customers to help. Denning was smart. Stepan had to give him credit for that. The man had wasted no time in recognising he wouldn’t succeed by going after the smugglers alone. He had to go after the whole town. Otherwise, the town would protect the smugglers. Now, however, there was a personal cost to each shopkeeper: no business meant no income. Stepan tapped a hand against his leg as he thought. Would the town recognise there’d be no business either if there was nothing to sell? Smuggled goods made up a significant portion of the items on the shelves—goods no one could afford to buy if merchants had to pay full price to purchase them.
A commotion up ahead grabbed his attention. A shopkeeper was dragged into the street between two soldiers, a third drove a blow into the man’s stomach. A fourth took a club and swung it into the shop window, the sound of shattering glass overriding the man’s struggles as he bore blow after blow. They would render him senseless at this rate.
‘Stop!’ Stepan swung off his horse, running forward before thought caught up with reason. He grabbed the collar of one soldier, pulling him off the man, and went for another, yelling all the while. Hands grabbed at him, restraining him.
One soldier recognised him. ‘Prince Shevchenko!’ That brought the brawling to a halt with more effectiveness. Men picked themselves off the ground, dusting their clothing and looking around for leadership. What did one do when a prince was scuffling in one’s midst? Did one obey the prince or a twenty-year-old lieutenant?
Stepan stepped in front of the beaten man, not wasting the opportunity provided by uncertainty. ‘On what grounds have you destroyed this man’s property? On whose authority have you beaten him?’ People were peeking through windows and coming to doors now in curiosity.
The lieutenant stepped forward, eyes narrowed, a sly smile on his thin lips. Stepan knew his type immediately. Ambitious and selfish. ‘Captain Denning gives the orders around here, not you, your Highness.’ The last was said with deliberate sarcasm, pointing out that Stepan had no real authority except that which his personality commanded.
Stepan chose to overlook the insult. ‘And where might I find the captain?’
Again the smirk. ‘On your ship, your Highness. He is going through your books and I believe your guest, Miss Petrova, is with him.’
Stay calm, Stepan counselled himself. It was what he did best. He stayed calm in the eye of the storm. It had been his calmness that had seen Nikolay freed. It had been his calm that had won the argument with Dimitri’s father to evacuate to London. It had been his calm that had helped Anna-Maria over that narrow cliff in the mountains. But today, that calm was sorely taxed. He wanted to punch someone, starting with the lieutenant and his arrogant smirk. With luck, he’d get to punch the captain.
He nodded his thanks as if the lieutenant had not insulted him and walked back slowly to his horse. He swung up and headed towards the docks, at a walk, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he was not concerned about Captain Denning boarding his ship and perusing his accounts, which he wasn’t, or that he wasn’t in the least bothered by the revelation that Anna-Maria was with the captain. That worried him far more than the captain being aboard his ship. There was nothing Denning would find aboard the Lady Frances. But Anna-Maria was a different story. What was she doing there? Was she there of her own accord? Had the captain learned something? Was he using her as bait to get to him?
It was the last that Stepan feared. When a man acted alone, he had nothing to lose which he hadn’t already come to grips with losing. But when a man had someone he cared about... Well, that was the most powerful leverage of all. Stepan tethered his horse at the gangplank of the ship and went up, straight to the captain’s quarters, brushing by his ship’s captain, Rustinov, with a curt nod. He opened the door, the sound of it heralding his entrance.
Two heads swivelled in his direction, one from the window with wide eyes and a hesitant smile, the other from behind the desk with hard eyes and a frown. One looked happy to see him, relieved. The other looked...
‘Disappointed?’ Stepan said coolly, drawing all of Captain Denning’s attention. He strode forward and planted his hands on the desk in front of the other man. ‘Can’t find what you’re looking for?’
Denning met his hard gaze. ‘Not yet.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘Not ever,’ Stepan corrected without hesitation. ‘The books for the Lady Frances are in order and there are receipts for the goods imported just last week.’ It was easy to speak with conviction. Each word in those sentences was true. ‘All duties have been paid, as you can plainly see.’ He didn’t want the captain to find a reason to search further. Not that there was anything to find. The other books had been removed from his office and safely tucked away elsewhere. But what he did not want to happen was a repeat of what he’d seen in the street: windows smashed, the wilful destruction of property and perhaps the attempt to wilfully harm his person. If they came for him, he would fight.
Perhaps Anna-Maria sensed it, as well, as he and the captain stared one another down. She came forward from the window with purpose. ‘Stepan, this is the new protocol,’ she explained with one of her light touches on his sleeve. ‘Captain Denning is reviewing everyone’s books.’ She flashed Denning a smile Stepan did not like at all, especially when the captain’s stern expression seemed to soften.
Stepan looked past Anna-Maria. ‘The new protocol? Then, I assume you have a warrant for this invasion of private property?’
‘I am the warrant, your Highness.’ Denning rose from behind the desk, but Stepan was willing to challenge the quality of that authority.
‘I find it suspect that you could not wait until I returned, so that I might assist you with your questions, but instead you had to search when there was only Miss Petrova on hand, who knows nothing of my business interests. Is that your “new protocol”, Captain? Preying on lone women? Smashing merchants’ windows and beating helpless, unarmed men senseless in the streets? One would think you were looking to make examples of some very specific targets; unarmed men and foreigners simply trying to make a new life. Be careful it doesn’t make you appear to be a bully, Captain. No one likes a bully, not even the army. They won’t promote you for it.’
Anna-Maria’s hand on his sleeve tightened. ‘Stepan, I volunteered. I had no idea when you’d be back, but I knew you had nothing to hide. I offered up the books to Captain Denning in hopes of being a peaceful example.’ Her brown eyes searched his, pleading silently for co-operation and for caution. He saw a hundred stories in those eyes. She was thinking of Kuban, of how it had been at the end when the Tsar’s tyranny had targeted them at last; she was thinking of Nikolay, bloody and broken, of Illarion in chains, of Ruslan’s father dying in prison because he would not recant, of her own father nearly imprisoned for Dimitri’s broken betrothal to an eastern Pasha’
s daughter. Only the intervention of her cousin, Yulian, and his willingness to marry in Dimitri’s stead had stopped it. Now Stepan saw her fear for him in her gaze. She understood how vulnerable they were as outsiders. They were easy targets. No one would stand up for them.
No, Stepan corrected mentally. Not they. He. He was an easy target. No one would stand up for him, no one of any merit. Joseph and the land crew would, but they were adolescent boys and they could offer nothing that wouldn’t incriminate the larger business beneath the Seacrest cliffs. He was in this alone. It was safest for everyone. At least that’s what he used to think. The captain looked at Anna-Maria in such a way that had Stepan rapidly rethinking the premise.
‘Miss Petrova has the right of it,’ Denning said with a hint of what might have been warmness to his tone. ‘She did volunteer, your Highness. I am most appreciative of her efforts.’ Denning rubbed his hands together in a manner that suggested a forthcoming confession. ‘I am afraid you are right, however. I am looking to make an example of you, a good example. If everyone sees how co-operative you are, I hope they will follow suit and we can avoid further nasty business.’
He couldn’t win. Cold fingers spread in his stomach. He saw the captain’s play clearly. There was no scenario here in which he was not used as bait. Either he resisted and became a target for the captain to bring down, Denning knowing that no one was likely to stick their necks out for a man they barely knew and, in fact, would likely sacrifice to save their own skin; or he cooperated with the captain and earned the townspeople’s distrust that way. In either case, the captain was culling him from the herd and Anna-Maria had fed right into the strategy in her attempts to do good, to protect him. Well, Denning would find he’d not chosen an ailing bull moose to bring down.
‘Since all is in order, Captain, I think your work here is done.’ Stepan shut the ledger and held the captain’s gaze with serious intent. ‘I’ll see you out.’ He wanted to get Anna-Maria home. He was more convinced than ever that his decision to send her back to Dimitri was the best choice. Then he had to meet with Joseph, even if it meant bringing his crew chief to the house. But needs must when the devil drove and the devil was driving hard. He had Anna-Maria, his boys and his business to protect.
The devil drove him all the way home, Anna-Maria behind him on the saddle, her arms wrapped tight about his waist, her touch a constant reminder of everything that lay unresolved and at risk. His trip to London was supposed to have provided him with distance and objectivity when it came to his feelings. But at one fell glance, all that objectivity had crumbled. Seeing her today had sent a bolt of primal possession through him.
He hadn’t liked that she’d been with the captain, that she smiled at him and he smiled at her as if there was something between them. Dear Lord, he’d only been gone four days and it felt as if the world had turned upside down: checkpoints on the roads, military officers imposing their own sense of law and Anna-Maria consorting with the very cream of that evil crop. It was a nightmare of the past come to life in the present.
* * *
At the house, Stepan helped her down with gruff instructions. ‘Wait for me inside; we need to talk.’
‘Yes, we do.’ Anna-Maria met his eyes with her own unwavering gaze and equal grimness. This was not the petulant sauciness of a young girl in a temper. This was the voice of a woman speaking and it left him feeling somewhat chastised as if he was the one who’d done something wrong.
Stepan quickly sent word to Joseph and returned to the house. He found Anna-Maria in the library, standing before the long windows overlooking the ocean, her shoulders squared, her back straight as she took in the view. Outside, heavy clouds were gathering. There would be rain and worse by dark, not the most ideal circumstances for moving goods. Joseph would have a difficult time. It wouldn’t have been necessary if Anna-Maria hadn’t meddled. ‘I told you to stay away from him.’
Anna-Maria turned from the windows, a storm of her own flashing in her eyes. ‘You did not tell me when you were coming back. I had to manage on my own as best I could. Co-operation seemed most prudent.’
‘It plays into Denning’s hand!’ Stepan explained, crossing the room in swift, purposeful strides. This was not a discussion he wanted to have at a distance. Who knew what the servants might hear and what they’d do with it. The last thing he needed was his borrowed servants sending word to Preston Worth about illegal activity in his own home.
He gripped Anna-Maria’s arms. ‘You should not have meddled.’
‘Meddled? Is that what you call it?’ Her eyes weren’t the colour of whisky any longer, but of hard agate, the kind one finds at the bottom of rushing streams. ‘You were gone and I had the captain up here wanting to take me on picnics and out for rides.’ Stepan heard the recrimination in her words. He’d left her unprotected. Oh, not in the physical sense. Joseph had been on special assignment to look after her and Mrs Batten and the other servants had offered protection aplenty of that sort. But his lack of explanation had left her vulnerable, unable to fully understand the danger presented by the captain. ‘He asked permission to court me and I didn’t know what to say.’
His gut twisted. ‘Is there something between you and him?’ Jealousy had him by the short hairs. Those smiles from the afternoon haunted him. Had they meant something more than play-acting? At the time, he’d not assumed they meant anything of a romantic nature. Perhaps he’d been wrong. He could not lose her, not to a man who was trying to bring him down.
She gave a wry smile. ‘Only you, Stepan. You are between us. I was trying to protect you! Why do you think I couldn’t decide how to answer? I wanted to do what was best for you. I thought if I were friends with the captain, it might—’
He broke in, unable to stomach the image. ‘I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to flirt with him.’ This was why it was best to work alone, to be alone. There was no collateral damage.
‘No, you obstinate man, you listen to me this once.’ Her voice dropped to a hush and she stepped even closer, her hands gripping his lapels. ‘While we were out, I asked him about his work. He told me he was here to ferret out smugglers and he mentioned there had been a cargo of spices smuggled in. Shafran and anis, Stepan. Spices from the Middle East, from Turkey and the lowlands of the Caucuses. From our part of the world.’ She shook him a bit in her intensity. ‘The captain is a smart man. It’s a simple connection to make. There’s only one Russian importer in Shoreham, Stepan. It would be easy to pin that blame on you.’ Outside, lightning flashed over the water. The storm was moving in fast.
Anna-Maria’s words came in a rush now. ‘But I knew you hadn’t done it. It couldn’t have been you. The Lady Frances was in port and you’d spent days doing the paperwork. What better way to exonerate you than to volunteer your books? You have nothing to hide. You are not a smuggler.’ Except that he was. Except that he had everything to hide. The Lady Frances was only a very elaborate decoy for the reality of his business. And now, Anna-Maria had brought a viper into his nest.
Her grip relaxed on his lapels, her argument made. ‘Whatever the captain might be doing, my choice was still the best option.’
That was his Anna-Maria, headstrong and stubborn. Heaven help the man who crossed her. Right now, that man was him. She was glorious in her siege, like a Valkyrie of the north. But his pride as a man could not allow her to stand in his defence any more than his pride could allow him to declare his feelings, or to act upon his feelings in the most passionate of ways. He had nothing to offer her and everything to lose by doing so, including her.
Stepan unfastened her hands from his clothing, willing to offer an olive branch. ‘You did the best you could. However, there were no best options,’ he said firmly. ‘The captain is a dangerous man, no matter how solicitous he seems towards you at the moment. It could be that he is using you to get to me as much as you believe you are keeping him from me. I won’t have it, Anna-Maria, whi
ch is why I am sending you back to Little Westbury so that you will be safe until this tyranny of Captain Denning’s is ended.’
Her eyes flared, two whisky-lit flames in the gathering dusk. Lord, she had the most beautiful eyes. It was almost worth courting her anger to see them flash. ‘So that I will be safe? Or is it that you will be safe from me? You won’t have to protect me, won’t have to worry over me, you won’t have to take me dancing and watch me waltz with other men.’
‘I’ve told you before, this is not about kisses. I don’t expect you to understand, Anna-Maria. I am trying to make a new life here.’ A life that could not include her for multiple reasons, her safety for one.
‘You’re not building a new life. You don’t have a new home like Nikolay or Dimitri. They’ve put down roots in their communities. You’ve put down nothing. You move around like a nomad, in and out of rented homes. You won’t even come up to London for my debut. You’re isolating yourself,’ she challenged, stripping him to the bone with such shocking clarity, he was speechless. ‘You refuse to let me or anyone into the corners of your life. There is only you and your precious business, whatever that may be.’
Good Lord, the woman was exasperating! Stepan turned away and pushed a hand through his hair. ‘I am trying to protect you,’ he growled. He’d left town for four days and look what had happened!
‘And I am trying to protect you. That’s what’s really bothering you.’ Anna-Maria was as relentless as the brewing storm. ‘Only a man can protect? Can a woman not protect her family?’
When had she grown up? This was not the child Anna-Maria. He’d known that physically for some time. But these were the words of a woman’s mind, a woman who thought about the world and understood its dynamics. These were not the thoughts of a simpering miss who was nothing more than a blank slate to write on. These were the thoughts of a woman who knew her own mind and, more frighteningly, knew his. Thunder rolled in a great booming clap. He hadn’t time for this. Joseph would be waiting downstairs for orders.
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