Satin Ice

by Iris Johansen

  "I did not realize it was she you were protecting." Mikhail studied Silver's face thoughtfully. "I can remember a time when you would have rushed in and done battle to make them accept her."

  "Etaine would be the first to be hurt in the melee, and acceptance from those people isn't worth any child's pain." She took a sip of tea and changed the subject. "Do you see those two women sitting across the room? One of them is dressed in pink and the other in blue. Is it some kind of uniform? I have seen women dressed like that before on the streets."

  Mikhail's gaze followed her own to the two laughing young women sipping tea across the room. The women's sheepskin coats were open to reveal the traditional bright blue and bright pink embroidered sarafans and on their braided hair rested diadem- shaped kokoshniks of matching blue or pink velvet. He hesitated. "Yes, it is a uniform."

  "What kind? Are they housemaids to a great house? Our housemaids don't dress like that."

  "No, they are not housemaids."

  "Then what—" She broke off in astonishment as she saw Mikhail's face. "You're afraid to tell me. Why would you be afraid?" Then understanding came to her. "They're nursemaids?" she whispered.

  He nodded. "Wet nurses. It is the traditional uniform. The woman wearing pink is nursing a girl, the one in blue is nursing a boy. The amber beads about their necks are good luck amulets to ward off illness."

  Silver had been expecting his confirmation, but it still brought sadness in its wake. "Don't look so worried. It's not as if someone else wouldn't have told me eventually." She lowered her lids. "It's all right, Mikhail. The pain is still there, but it's like the throb of an old wound; it's not raw and bleeding any longer. I try to think of my baby with love not sorrow. She deserves love."

  "That is good. You have learned a great deal in the past months."

  "Not enough." Her gaze swung from Etaine's sled, flying down the ice-covered ramp, to Mikhail's face. "I still feel bitterness toward her murderer and I've learned nothing about what I came to court to find out. Either no one knows anything about the doctor and his activities or they won't talk to me." Her hand tightened on the wooden cup. "But you know something. Help me."

  "I cannot," he said gently. "I told you all I could, Silver."

  "But it's not enough," she said in frustration. "Why? Who are you protecting, Mikhail?"

  Mikhail turned his head to look at Etaine, who stood at the bottom of the slope, laughing. "I did not say I was protecting anyone."

  Panic flowed through Silver. Who would Mikhail protect if not Nicholas? "Tell me, Mikhail."

  "Etaine is getting in line again. We may be here for a while," Mikhail said. He glanced at Silver's cup. "Let me get you more tea."

  He would say nothing more, she realized, and her frustration was mixed with relief. If he would not say the words, she could not be sure Nicholas was guilty. "No, I've half a cup left."

  "You are sure? It is cold sitting here with nothing to warm you. Nicholas would not want you—"

  "Stop it," she said firmly. "I don't need you to coddle me." She smiled bitterly. "Nicholas has probably told you to stay close and make sure I'm not given an opportunity to stain the family honor."

  The big Cossack shifted uneasily and his chair squeaked again. "Silver, I do not want—"

  She held up her hand. "I know. It's not your choice." She smiled with sudden recklessness. "And if I wanted to see Count Stepvan or any other man alone, I would do so even if Nicholas set the entire palace guard to watch me. It just doesn't happen to suit me at the moment."

  "I hope you will not do that." Mikhail's expression was troubled. "Nicholas's temper is—" He hesitated before finishing. "Uncertain right now."

  "I wouldn't know about that," she said with a brittle laugh. "He hasn't seen fit to exchange more than a few words with me for the last two weeks. Not that it matters to me, but the tsar is wondering why he finds Apothecary Island so much more attractive than the Winter Palace."

  "He feels more at home there."

  "With his Gypsy with the heavy thighs?" She drained the rest of her tea in one swallow. "Not that I care. It's nothing to me whose bed he sleeps in." She set the cup down on the table with a resounding thud. "Gypsies or countesses or—" She broke off as she saw Mikhail suddenly stiffen. "What's wrong?"

  "Monteith." Mikhail jumped to his feet and started for the door. "He is standing beside Etaine in that line."

  "Dear Lord." Silver's gaze flew to the queue leading to the steps of the slide. Monteith was dressed in a gray cloak trimmed with a lighter gray fox collar, his fair hair shining in the sunlight. He was smiling with infinite satisfaction at his daughter. As Silver watched he reached out one well-shaped hand and touched Etaine's cheek. "No!" Silver was on her feet running after Mikhail, bolting across the ice-encrusted street, narrowly avoiding the hooves of the horse of a drozhki driver. "Etaine!'

  Both Etaine and her father looked up at her call, Etaine with relief, her father with no expression whatsoever.

  Mikhail skidded to a stop and scooped Etaine up in his arms. "I think we will go now. It is too cold for you."

  "It seems you have a protector, my dear," Monteith murmured. "Does Savron think this bull can keep me from you, Etaine?"

  Silver drew up beside them and spoke before Etaine had a chance to respond, "What are you doing here, Monteith?"

  "Isn't it permitted for a man to take a stroll through the streets of the town?" His gaze never left Etaine's face. "And stop to speak to the child of his loins. Have you missed me, Etaine?"

  "No." Etaine looked fearlessly at her father. "And I won't come back to you. Not ever."

  "Ah, such determination. Such spirit. You're coming along quite nicely." He smiled with genuine pleasure. "I hadn't hoped for such progress. I think you may be ready to return to me."

  "Then you think wrongly." Mikhail's arms tightened around Etaine. "She goes nowhere with you."

  Monteith ignored him, gazing at Etaine with something like pride in his expression. "Yes, you may be ready," he repeated softly. "You're to be congratulated, Silver."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Silver said impatiently. "But you'll continue to stay away from Etaine or I'll—"

  "Etaine knows what I mean. Don't you, my dear?"

  Etaine met his gaze steadily. "Yes."

  Monteith's smile deepened. "And you're not afraid?"

  Etaine drew a trembling breath. "No."

  "Of course you're not. You're of my blood."

  Something beyond the words spoken between father and daughter frightened Silver. "Monteith, I want you to leave and never—" She broke off as Monteith turned to look at her. His light eyes held emptiness ... a void that was no void because it contained something incomprehensible.

  "It doesn't matter to me what you want, Silver. You've given me what I need. I thought you would. That's why I let Etaine go to you."

  "If you try to take Etaine, I'll fight you," Silver said fiercely.

  "But I've known that from the very beginning, from the first moment I saw you at the circus in St. Louis. It was only a question of time before the struggle between us began. Fight. I shall enjoy it." He paused. "But I will win, Silver. No matter what you do, I will win." He turned back to Etaine. "Until we meet again."

  He moved quickly then, striding through the crowd around the slide as if the people were butter and he the hot knife.

  Silver felt drained and her knees were trembling. Monteith's aura of power lingered though the man had disappeared from sight.

  "He's going to kill me now." Etaine's voice was curiously without emotion.

  "No," Mikhail said. "We will not let him hurt you."

  "You may not be able to stop him." Etaine moistened her lips with her tongue. "He's changing. He's stronger than he was before."

  She was right, Silver realized with sudden panic. Monteith was different. It was as if a light within that he had carefully kept shaded had been allowed to burst forth at last. It filled her with sick terror. "We'll stop him,
but I don't think we'll risk you leaving Crystal Island until we do." She tried to smile. "Perhaps we'll ask Nicholas to have an ice slide built for you there."

  "That will be nice." It was clear Etaine was abstracted, her gaze still on the crowd into which her father had vanished. "I'd like to enjoy myself before—" She broke off and turned and walked with Mikhail toward the waiting troika.

  Silver felt another chill pierce through her. Before what? Before Etaine was killed by her father? But they wouldn't let that happen. They would watch her and guard her so that couldn't happen.

  She hurried after Etaine and Mikhail. She must talk to Nicholas and Valentin.

  "We'll double the guards," Nicholas said briskly. "And set a watch on the dock. She's safe here on Crystal Island and Mikhail will never leave Etaine's side when she is off the island." He turned to Valentin.

  "It's been months since we set the investigators to work on Monteith. Why haven't we heard something?"

  Valentin shrugged. "They sent word they were finding little trail to follow. Since Monteith seemed to be making no move, I didn't hurry them, but there should be some word soon."

  "What good will it do to find out what Monteith has done in the past?" Silver asked hotly. "It's what he does now that's important. We have to keep Etaine away from him."

  "We will," Nicholas said quietly. "She's safe here on the island. I promise you, Silver, we won't let Monteith get her."

  Silver felt a little of her panic leave her. If Nicholas gave his word, he would do everything under the sun to keep it. She released her breath shakily. "He frightened me so."

  He looked at her in surprise. "It's a rare occasion when you admit to being frightened."

  "He was . . ." She gestured helplessly. It was no use; there were no words to convey what she had sensed in Monteith. "We have to be so careful of her, Nicholas."

  "We." His lips twisted. "I suppose I should feel flattered you trust me in this instance, at least."

  She looked uncertainly at him.

  He shook his head wearily. "Don't worry, whatever is between us doesn't concern Etaine. I want to keep her safe as much as you do."

  Her shoulders straightened and the moment of vulnerability was gone. She turned and walked swiftly out of the study.

  Nicholas's hand swept over the desk with sudden violence, hurling account books, letters, and inkwell to the floor.

  Valentin eyed him warily. "I take it this display isn't because of Etaine."

  "She closes me out," Nicholas said harshly. "Why the hell does Silver close me out?"

  "Perhaps if you spent more time with her."

  Nicholas laughed shortly. "So I can watch her dance and flirt with other men? I came close to killing that pup Stepvan a fortnight ago."

  "Silver doesn't flirt," Valentin said. "She's just ... Silver."

  Nicholas knew what he was trying to say. There was no artifice in Silver's magnetism. She was supremely natural in her vitality, passion, and beauty. Nicholas stood up and headed for the door of the study. "Whatever she does, it makes every man at court nuzzle around her as if she were a mare in heat. Well, I'm tired of watching it. You can escort Silver to the Bal Masqué at the palace tonight."

  "You're going to Tania's again?"

  Nicholas's eyes were blazing recklessly as he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, yes, I'm definitely going to Tania's."

  "I'm not going to stay long," Silver told Valentin as she entered the Winter Palace. The hall was crowded as usual with men and women wrapped in rich furs, and she suddenly felt like a forest animal caught in a glittering, brilliant trap. Bal Masqué they called this event, but no one had yet donned masks, she noticed wearily. They probably wanted to make sure no one made a mistake about who was wearing what splendid costume before they entered the ballroom. "I want to get back to Etaine."

  "Mikhail is with Etaine," Valentin said gently. "And you know he wouldn't let an army take her away from him."

  "Yes." She shifted restlessly. "Still, I don't want to be here. I'm tired of all of this. It's beginning to smother me."

  "It would be polite to stay until after the polonaise. Then we can slip away."

  Her lips curled. "Why should we worry about politeness? Nicholas didn't bother to come at all."

  And that was the heart of the matter, Valentin thought. After he had been forced to tell Silver that Nicholas had once more gone to Apothecary Island, he had noticed the instant change in her demeanor. She had been silent all the way from the island, but he had been able to feel the waves of tension and unrest she emitted. Blast Nicholas! He should have realized Silver was upset, on edge after that confrontation with Monteith. "After the polonaise," he coaxed.

  She nodded wearily. "Very well. I suppose it doesn't matter."

  Valentin shrugged out of his cloak and handed it to a waiting footman. "I see Dzosky on the first landing. He's Nicholas's attorney, and I'd like to speak to him about hurrying the report on Monteith before we leave tonight."

  "Well, then go on and speak to him." She unfastened her ermine cloak and slipped it off. "Get it over with."

  Valentin turned and moved swiftly across the crowded foyer and then up the Jordan Staircase.

  "You look quite charming, my dear."

  Silver turned to see Katya Razkolsky smiling at her and consciously braced herself.

  "But I can't place who you're supposed to be," the countess continued silkily. Her gaze traveled down the sweeping skirt of Silver's white velvet gown. The hem of the gown together with the underlying red ruffled petticoat had been lifted and was caught beneath the crimson velvet sash at Silver's waist, revealing an occasional glimpse of crimson knee-length velvet boots embroidered with pearls in an exquisite floral design. "You're always so original. My own costume appears mundane in comparison." She glanced down at her pink shepherdess gown. "But then, I've always believed it's safer not to be too bizarre."

  Silver gritted her teeth at the biting sarcasm in the other woman's tone. Katya had never let an opportunity slip by to insert her claws since that first night at the Summer Palace when Nicholas had introduced them. But tonight Silver was in no mood to put up with the woman's snide remarks. "I'm Diana, the huntress," she said curtly. "I must go now. Valentin is waiting for me on the landing."

  "Valentin?" Countess Razkolsky toyed with one of the auburn curls left artfully loosened to emphasize the turn of her cheek. "Not Nicholas? I'm afraid our Nicholas may be neglecting you. What a pity. Nicholas is such a magnificent lover, isn't he? I remember how especially beautiful he was one weekend at my husband's hunting lodge." She moistened her lower lip with her tongue. "His body so smooth and sleek in the firelight and his stamina ... Ah, so like a young stallion. He couldn't get enough of me. Of course, I had to share him with many other women. Nicholas was so much in demand." The countess smiled with delicate cruelty. "And still is. I'm afraid you must wait your turn, Silver."

  A red haze of blinding rage descended before Silver's eyes, and she felt as if she had suddenly gone deaf. She could see the other woman's lips move, forming words that dripped more poison, but she couldn't hear them.

  Nicholas had lain before a fireplace in some woodlands hideaway with this woman, plunging into her, stroking her, turning her this way and that to make her feel every inch—

  She mustn't think about it. She had known Nicholas had had many lovers in the past, but she hadn't realized how painfully, how bitterly she had resented those other women until Katya had started detailing her experience with Nicholas. The pain was over-powering, but the anger was a conflagration burning everything in its path. Her grip tightened on the red velvet crop in her hand. She wanted to lash the woman's face and go on striking, striking, and striking....

  Silver grappled with her rage. She must control it. She must do nothing to damage the Savron name. But Nicholas had probably had a hundred, no, a thousand mistresses he had touched and to whom he had murmured sweet words of love....

  She was jolted by fresh pain, and with it came fresh t
endrils of rage. Why should she care if they thought Nicholas was a cuckold? Even now he was probably bedding his Gypsy wench in some room in the inn on Apothecary Island. Why should she be the only one to maintain respectability?

  Katya's acidic monologue was continuing, and Silver found she could no longer stand it. "Be still!" Silver's voice was trembling with fury. "Do you think I care if Nicholas was your lover? Do you think—" She broke off and whirled around, snatching her white ermine cloak back from the footman. She stalked across the white marble foyer and then up the stairs of the Jordan Staircase.

  "Silver?" Valentin turned from the man to whom he was speaking as he caught sight of her expression. "Why do you have your cloak?"

  "I'm not staying." She passed him, her gaze raking the guests crowding the staircase. Then she caught sight of Denis Stepvan in the upper hall and started up the second flight of stairs.

  Valentin was immediately at her side. "Then I'll escort you home."

  "I'm not going home, but I shall have an escort. I won't need you."

  Valentin's gaze followed hers and he muttered a curse under his breath. "Don't do this, Silver. Nicholas is just barely holding on to his control. Don't do something that will enrage him."

  "Angry?" She turned to look at him, her eyes glittering in the light of the thousand candles illuminating the hall. "Warn Nicholas. I'm the one who's angry."

  "Let me go with you. You don't need to involve Stepvan."

  "No."

  "Silver—" Valentin abruptly lowered his voice to make it difficult for the guests around them to hear his words. "You're not going to be foolish enough to go to Stepvan's lodgings here in the city?"

  "No." Her smile was a mirthless baring of teeth. "I'm going to Apothecary Island."