Satin Ice

by Iris Johansen

"Good," Silver said with satisfaction. "Then we won't have to worry about her getting in my way."

  Valentin gazed at her in sudden apprehension. "In your way?"

  Silver nodded briskly. "I've decided that your plan is far too tame if you want me to gain the tsar's interest."

  Valentin's apprehension turned to alarm. "Silver, what are you—"

  "Don't worry. I'll take care of it." She began to move across the room.

  "Don't worry?" Valentin echoed as he whirled around to glare at Nicholas. "Stop laughing. She's turning my careful plans into dust. What the hell is she going to do?"

  "I have no idea." Nicholas still smiled. "Why don't we follow her and find out?"

  "Oh, God, she's heading straight for the tsar," Valentin muttered. "She'll be lucky if that damn Nubian doesn't chop her head off with his scimitar."

  The smile abruptly disappeared from Nicholas's lips. "The hell he will." His steps quickened, his gaze on Ahmed's face. "Let's get over there."

  Silver moved quickly through the bowing, curtsying throng. She heard shocked whispers and exclamations as she passed but ignored them as her gaze fastened on the tsar. Alexander had not caught sight of her yet, and his head was bent as he listened to the words Peskov was murmuring in his ear. However, the Nubian's dark eyes were fixed on her with a fierceness that caused her to hesitate for a brief instant. Then she drew a deep breath and crossed the last several yards separating her from the tsar and the cluster of courtiers surrounding him. When she was within two yards of His Majesty, the Nubian drew his scimitar.

  The tsar heard the hiss of the metal on the leather scabbard and broke off his conversation to turn and stare at the woman approaching him.

  "Tell him to put away his sword," Silver said, meeting the tsar's gaze. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. I merely wanted to introduce myself."

  Alexander's eyes widened. "Introduce yourself? My dear young woman, it is not—"

  "The custom," Silver finished for him with a gesture of impatience. "I know, but that is such foolishness. I don't understand such a custom. We're far more direct in America."

  There were murmurs of outrage from the men and women within hearing distance, but a sudden flicker of interest appeared on Alexander's face. "Are you indeed? Then why are you here among us foolishly indirect people?"

  The Nubian took a threatening step forward, and Silver whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "One step nearer and I'll cut your heart out with my little knife."

  A shocked silence fell on the ballroom. Then Alexander chuckled. "Sheathe your sword, Ahmed. I wouldn't want to see you injured by the lady."

  Peskov, beside him, protested. "Your majesty, this is a terrible lack of respect. She must be punished."

  "Perhaps." A curious smile touched Alexander's lips. "But I find the lady very refreshing." He motioned for Silver to come closer. "Who are you, child?"

  "I'm not a child." Silver kept a wary eye on the Nubian as she took two steps forward and swept the tsar a deep curtsy. "I'm Silver Del—Savron, and I'm very happy to meet you. Will you dance the polonaise with me?"

  Alexander blinked. "You wish to dance with me?"

  "Very much," Silver said briskly. "Valentin says it's necessary that you find me interesting." She stood upright. "Do you find me interesting?"

  "Exceedingly." Alexander's eyes narrowed on her face. "You're Nicholas Savron's bride? I've heard about you."

  "That I'm a half-breed Apache and illegitimate? It's all true." She lifted her chin proudly. "I still want to dance with you. I promise I won't step on your feet. Valentin says I'm very good at dancing now. Will you be my partner?"

  The tsar gazed thoughtfully at her for a moment and then made up his mind. "It will be my great pleasure." He held up his hand and the musicians began to play the music for the polonaise. He stepped forward and took Silver's hand in his own. "If you promise to restrain yourself from cutting my heart out. Do you truly carry a weapon?"

  Silver smiled with relief. "Of course. I don't have a Nubian with a great sword to protect me, you see. I must look out for myself."

  The couples were forming behind them even as the tsar led Silver onto the ballroom floor.

  "My God, she did it," Valentin said as his gaze followed Silver and Alexander's gracefully measured steps. "By all that's holy, look at his face. I haven't seen him so intrigued in the last ten years. I wonder what she's saying to him."

  "Whatever she feels like saying." Nicholas sipped from a glass of champagne. "And probably none of the correct, polite things you told her to discuss with him."

  "Whatever she's doing, it's working," Valentin said.

  Oh, how it's working."

  Nicholas set the glass down on the long banquet table. "Perhaps too well. The dance is almost over. Let's go."

  "Where are we going?" Valentin followed him across the room.

  "To reclaim my wife," Nicholas said grimly. "And to make sure His Imperial Majesty knows the intrigue ends in the ballroom."

  "But it's going so well," Valentin protested. "Silver told you she'd permit no familiarities. Why not let her—" He broke off as he caught Nicholas's chilling glance. "Oh, all right. I suppose we've won enough of a victory for one night."

  "Victory may be in how one perceives it." The music stopped. Nicholas moved three steps forward and was beside Silver and Alexander. He bowed. "Your Majesty."

  The smile on Alexander's face faded as he gazed at Nicholas. "You wish something, Nicholas?"

  "Only to retrieve my wife, sir. Silver isn't accustomed to dancing. It tires her."

  Alexander's gaze went to Silver. "I would never have known it. She appears to have amazing vitality."

  "It's deceptive, I assure you." Nicholas reached out and deliberately took Silver's hand from Alexander's clasp. "As many aspects of life are deceptive. Haven't you found that true, Your Majesty?"

  Weariness suddenly robbed Alexander's face of amusement. "Sweet Mary, yes. I can never be sure what is a truth and what is a lie."

  "Then you should be careful not to surround yourself with liars," Silver said.

  Valentin inhaled sharply and took a half step forward.

  Alexander's face clouded. "Are you suggesting that I may be foolish?"

  "A man who surrounds himself with people he can't trust is surely not wise." Silver met his eyes directly. "Why not get rid of them?"

  A slow smile lit his face. "It sounds very easy. Replace deception with truth, dishonor with honor. Perhaps I should start with you. Would you lie to me, Silver Savron?"

  Silver shook her head. "I hate lies."

  "So' do I." Alexander turned to Nicholas. "You have a very charming wife. I find her exceptional."

  "It doesn't surprise me." Nicholas's hand tightened around Silver's with blatant possessiveness. "A blind man can see that Silver has qualities that aren't common."

  The tsar's lips tightened. "You haven't changed, Nicholas. You're still as disrespectful as ever." Then as he looked again at Silver, his expression softened. "But I'll forgive you this time. It's not often that an ornament such as your bride is brought to my court."

  "As long as you realize that it's the court she's to ornament," Nicholas said bluntly.

  Valentin muttered something beneath his breath.

  Alexander's lips tightened. "You go too far. You're—"

  " Truthful,'' Silver interrupted quickly.'' Honest

  "Arrogant," Alexander added. Then he smiled grudgingly.

  "But yes," the tsar said, "with all your husband's faults, he's never tried to deceive me in regard to his views. However, I find honesty far more palatable when spoken by a beautiful woman." He inclined his head in a bow. "I look forward to seeing you at all our entertainments, my dear Princess Savron."

  "You will give me what I want?" Silver asked.

  "The royal favor? Why should I not when it is what I wish also?" His eyes twinkled. "I believe this season is going to prove very interesting." He turned and strode away and was immediately surrounded once more b
y the men and women of his immediate set.

  Valentin expelled his breath in a rush. "Merde. I'm glad that's over. I expected him to throw one or both of you into the deepest dungeon at any moment." He drew out an immaculate white handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration beading his brow. "I don't think I want to be involved in this any longer. It's too hard on my nerves."

  "Nonsense," Silver said. "I think it went very well. Though you really should have told me the tsarina's name was Maria."

  "Why?" Valentin asked warily. "I guess I thought you knew."

  "How could I know if no one told me?" Silver asked reasonably. "The tsar was very surprised when I told him you had said he was surprisingly faithful to his wife."

  Nicholas's gaze narrowed on her face. "I'd be curious to know how that comment came to be brought up in the conversation."

  "I asked him to show the entire court he favored me and he asked if I meant—"

  "What difference does it make how it came up?" Valentin interrupted. "She spoke to Alexander about his mistress, for God's sake."

  "Well, I didn't know this Catherine was his mistress. I thought she was the tsarina until His Majesty straightened everything out for me. You should have made that clear, Valentin."

  Nicholas's lips were suddenly twitching. "Yes, Valentin, how very remiss of you."

  "Oh, Lord." Valentin groaned. "I'm the one the tsar is going to throw into the dungeon."

  "Don't be silly," Silver said impatiently. "He wasn't at all upset once I explained that I understood men were seldom faithful to their wives and that he was no worse than anyone else."

  "The tsar of Russia is no worse than anyone else," Valentin repeated dazedly.

  "Well, is he?" Silver frowned. "He didn't seem so bad to me. He said I reminded him a little of his Catherine when he used to visit her at school many years ago."

  "How ... nice," Valentin said weakly.

  "I don't know why you're behaving so oddly. We accomplished exactly what we set out to do."

  "But not the way I planned to do it," Valentin said, dabbing again at his forehead with his handkerchief. "The safe, gradual way."

  "I couldn't do it your way." Silver's face became troubled. "Don't you see? If I'd schemed and tried to manipulate the tsar, I would have been just like all those other people he was talking about. But I'm not like them. I need a favor from him, but I won't give him lies to get it."

  "Yes, I do see." The hardness had completely vanished from Nicholas's face as he gazed at her. "I suppose I should have expected it."

  Silver turned and met his gaze. "You understand?"

  "I understand."

  "Well, I'm not so idealistic," Valentin said. "And I think it was the height of foolishness to risk—" He broke off. It was obvious neither Silver nor Nicholas was listening to him. They were looking only at each other, caught up in an intimacy, an exchange, that held a multitude of heated emotions and complexities. "Nicholas, it's time for you to withdraw from the ballroom."

  "The hell it is," Nicholas said softly, his gaze still holding Silver's. "It's time I danced with my wife."

  Valentin frowned. "It would be a mistake. You've already displayed an unfashionable amount of possessiveness with the tsar. You must let the gentleman of the court know they won't have to risk facing you with a sword or pistol if they ask Silver to dance. An idea like that can be most unsettling and damage everything we've worked for."

  "And what difference does it make?" Nicholas's voice was urgent, coaxing, and it was clear he was speaking only to Silver. "This isn't what you want." He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. He could see the rapid throb of the pulse in her wrist and was jolted by a surge of lust. "We could leave now. There's nothing here for you."

  Color glowed in her cheeks and her crystal eyes shimmered. "Nicholas, I don't know—"

  "I do. Come with me."

  She took a step toward him as if drawn by invisible strings.

  Valentin sighed. "So much for making you the rage of the court." He started to turn away. "I'll tell a footman to order the carriage brought around."

  "No." Silver's voice was a level above a whisper. She closed her eyes for a tenth of a second, and when she opened them the softness was gone though wistfulness remained. "No, I'm staying. You're wrong, there is something for me here, and nothing is going to stop me from getting it." She pulled her hand from Nicholas's grasp and stepped back. "If Valentin thinks it's the wrong thing to do, I won't dance with you. And I won't leave here. Perhaps you'd better do as Valentin says and withdraw."

  Nicholas was silent, his tension and anger nearly palpable. "Very well." He whirled on his heel and strode away through the throng.

  Silver gazed after him and a tremor ran through her. The light from the candles in the chandeliers turned Nicholas's hair to golden fire. She knew how angry he was. Zeus ready to hurl his thunderbolt, she thought. Yet just a moment before he had been a sunlit Apollo, warm, loving, drawing her within his radiance with a power she had found almost impossible to resist. She must continue to resist. There were things she had to learn before she could trust him.

  "You could change your mind," Valentin said softly as his gaze followed hers. "Nicholas isn't pleased. The situation could become difficult."

  "No, you're wrong. I can't change my mind." Silver tore her gaze away from Nicholas and forced a smile. "Now, what's our next step?"

  "You have to do something." Natalya's eyes were blazing as she paced back and forth across her boudoir. "Do you hear me? I won't stand for it."

  Monteith gazed at her composedly. "There is no problem."

  "No problem?" She whirled to face him. "She's making my life intolerable. That idiot Alexander absolutely fawns over her, and naturally everyone follows his lead." She drew a deep breath. "And follows her lead. The bitch shows she has no liking for me."

  Monteith smiled wanly. "And you're being rejected by your friends? How sad."

  "It's not amusing," Natalya said fiercely. "Do you think I care about them. They're nothing to me. But I won't let that savage rob me of what I've gained over the years."

  "And that's why you had Peskov summon me to you?" Monteith leaned back in the chair.

  "You have to do something."

  "It will not go on much longer."

  "It's already been three weeks."

  "You have no patience. Soon Silver Savron will have something else to think about besides robbing you of your social victories."

  "When?"

  Monteith only smiled in answer.

  "I must know." Natalya's hands closed into fists at her sides. "I demand to know."

  The smile faded from Monteith's lips. "Demand? You don't demand from me, Natalya."

  "You must help me. You can do it. They listen to you."

  "Yes, I could do it." He paused. "But I do not choose to do so. Can you guess why?"

  "It doesn't matter why. You must—"

  "Be quiet." The words were soft, yet laden with such force that she involuntarily took a step back. "You will listen to me."

  Natalya felt a wild surge of rebellion. She would not obey him. She obeyed no one. Yet she found herself silent, listening.

  "I will not give you what you want because you had the temerity to order me to come running at your call as if I were the most humble lackey." Each word was dropped into the silence with great precision. "Why did you not come to me to plead? You know what I am, what I can give you."

  "You've given me nothing so far," Natalya said sullenly. "Nothing but words."

  "How easily you forget." Monteith's gaze narrowed on her face. "You doubt me?"

  Natalya had an instant of misgiving. "I didn't say that."

  "But you do have doubts, I think," he said slowly. "Perhaps it's good that I came here this morning. I thought you were beginning to waver and that won't be permitted, Natalya."

  She glared at him. "Do what I ask and I will never waver again."

  "You said that once before." He smiled coldly. "You forge
t your promises as soon as you make them."

  "That was different."

  "No, you'll always be rebellious and disobedient unless taught a lesson." He gracefully rose to his feet. "Yes, it was good that I came today. Undress, Natalya."

  Her eyes widened. "Why?"

  "The usual reason you undress for a man in your boudoir. To rut, to copulate."

  "You want to bed me?" Somehow she had never thought of Monteith in that way. He had always seemed too cold and ascetic to indulge in carnal romps. Now she looked at him with new speculation. A man who lusted was vulnerable and could be controlled and it would be very valuable to have the means to control Monteith. She smiled. "You find me desirable?"

  His gaze raked her coolly. "You're very beautiful and will probably remain so for a few more years."

  Chilling fear ripped through her. She must control Monteith. She took a step closer. "That's not kind. I want you to be kind to me."

  "Neither of us is kind," he said. "Your beauty has only a marginal appeal for me. It's your hunger that I find attractive."

  She frowned. "My hunger?"

  "For power. I admire the way you've ruthlessly pursued what you've wanted over the years. It shows unusual strength of purpose." He shrugged out of his pearl-gray coat and laid it on the back of the chair. "But you've grown too smug. You've used your body to purchase power and you think you've found a weapon that's indomitable."

  "It is indomitable." She reached up and released her golden hair from its pins and it tumbled down her back in a shining stream. She smiled seductively. "Let me show you."

  "I intend to let you try." He took off his vest and laid it neatly on top of his coat. "Because you must learn I'm stronger than you are, even in this."

  He was really quite handsome, Natalya thought as she gazed at him objectively. This shouldn't be at all unpleasant, and when it was over she'd have what she wanted. She began to unbutton her blue velvet robe. "But first your weapon will be mine," she said softly. "And I think you'll enjoy defeat even more than you would a victory."

  The harsh sound of Natalya's sobs were very satisfying, Monteith thought. He would like to lie there and enjoy his triumph a little longer, but that would lack discipline and might encourage her to think he had softened toward her. He sat up and swung his legs to the floor.