Secret Fire

by Johanna Lindsey

  Impatiently Katherine crossed Dimitri’s room to get to the hallway instead of going through her own room. So it was with some surprise that she came face to face with Dimitri’s aunt when she opened the door.

  Sonya had been about to knock. She was given a start by finding Katherine coming out of Dimitri’s room, when she had distinctly heard the order for her to be placed in the White Room. If she had needed further evidence of what the woman was doing here, she had it now. And her disreputable appearance was a wanton announcement of her calling. A woman did not wear her hair down except in the bedchamber. That this one was about to leave with her hair flowing down her back only increased Sonya’s sense of moral indignation.

  Katherine recovered first, enough to take a step back so that she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look up at the imposing woman. She started to smile, but blushed instead on noting the censure in the older woman’s cold blue eyes. Good Lord, that was something she hadn’t considered in her newfound happiness, but here it was in abundance. Of course her new relationship with Dimitri was scandalous. She would have been the first to admit it if she hadn’t been one of the parties involved. Anyone else would say so without hesitation.

  And yet she had made her decision, or rather, it had been made for her. She loved the man. And she was sure that he felt rather strongly about her as well. So she didn’t have a ring on her finger—yet. She had high hopes that the matter would eventually be rectified. After all, this was not a schoolgirl infatuation that she had succumbed to. For her, this was an everlasting commitment. She had fought against it too long not to fight for it now.

  Unconsciously Katherine stiffened her backbone, assuming a pose that was inherently regal. Sonya saw it as haughtiness and was outraged.

  “I am looking for my nephew.”

  “So am I,” Katherine replied politely. “So if you will excuse me…”

  “One moment, miss.” Sonya’s tone was commanding, her miss derogatory. “If Dimitri is not here, what are you doing in his room alone?”

  “As I said, looking for him.”

  “Or taking this opportunity to steal from him.”

  The accusation was so incongruous that Katherine couldn’t take it seriously. “With all due respect, madame, I don’t steal.”

  “I’m to take your word for it? Don’t be absurd. The English might be so gullible, but we Russians are not. You will have to be searched.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “You’ll do more than that if we find anything of value on you.”

  “What the—” Katherine gasped as Sonya began to drag her down the hall.

  She tried to shake off the woman’s grip, but it was as if talons had hooked into her arm. Sonya was nearly a foot taller than her, and her spare frame was deceptively strong. Katherine found herself being pulled down the stairs, where several servants had stopped in the hall to gape at yet another spectacle she was involved in.

  Keep your temper, Katherine. Dimitri will straighten this out. After all, you haven’t done anything that he would object to. His aunt is just being bitchy. Didn’t Marusia warn you she was a tyrant, that Dimitri’s personal servants stayed well out of her path?

  In the large entrance hall, Katherine was pushed into the hands of the nearest footman. Older than the others, but the more thickly built, he seemed genuinely nonplussed about what he should do with her.

  Sonya was quick to clarify. “Search her for anything of value, and be thorough. She was found unattended in the Prince’s chamber.”

  “Now just a minute,” Katherine said with forced evenness. “Dimitri wouldn’t stand for this, madame, and I believe you know that. I demand that he be sent for.”

  “Demand? Demand!”

  “Your hearing is quite excellent,” Katherine cut in sarcastically.

  She probably should have resisted the gibe, but then she was really angry now, her diplomacy gone by the wayside. The witch had no right to charge her with any wrongdoing. There was simply no basis for the accusation. And for her to presume to treat Katherine like one of her serfs was the outside of enough.

  For Sonya, Katherine’s sarcasm was the last straw. No one had ever spoken to her with such lack of respect, and in front of the servants. It couldn’t be allowed.

  “I will have you—” Sonya began in a shout, then seemed to recollect herself, though her face was suffused with angry color. “No, I will let Dimitri attend it, then you will see that you mean nothing to him. Where is the Prince?” She rounded on the servants, who were watching this scene in fascination. “Come now, someone must have seen him this morning. Where is he?”

  “He’s not here, Princess.”

  “Who said that?”

  The girl almost didn’t step forward. To have attention drawn to her when the mistress was in one of her rages wasn’t the greatest piece of wisdom. But she had opened her mouth. She had already put her foot in it. She was damned already and couldn’t do worse by telling all.

  Katherine thought the girl was Lida at first glance, but she was younger, and lacking Lida’s confidence, seemed actually frightened. What did she have to be frightened about? Katherine was the one in a pickle here.

  “My sister woke me before dawn, Princess, to say goodbye,” the girl explained, her eyes trained on the floor. “She was in a rush because the Prince had already left, and she and the rest of his entourage had to hurry to catch up.”

  “Never mind all that!” Sonya snapped. “Where has he gone?”

  “To Moscow.”

  There was a moment’s silence, and then Sonya’s lips turned up at one corner as her cold eyes fastened on Katherine. “So he takes his duty seriously after all. I shouldn’t have doubted him. I should have known he would leave in all haste to resume his courtship of the Princess Tatiana. But he’s left you behind for me to deal with. I should just put you out.”

  “A capital idea,” Katherine said tightly.

  She was still angry enough not to be bowled over by this bit of news. Dimitri gone? Just like that? And to secure himself a fiancée? No, that was his aunt’s assumption, not fact. Don’t you dare jump to conclusions, Katherine. There’s probably a very good reason for him leaving without a single word to you. And he’ll be back. You’ll have answers, the right answers, and you’ll laugh that you even doubted him for a second.

  “So you would like to be on your way?” Sonya broke into her thoughts tersely, her moment of improved humor past. “Then perhaps I should keep you here. Yes, Dimitri might have forgotten your existence already, but his man, Vladimir, isn’t so lax, though apparently he was so harried this morning he overlooked leaving instructions concerning you. But there must be some reason you have been left behind, so I suppose I must make certain you are still here when they return, much as I would wish it otherwise.”

  “I can tell you exactly why I am here,” Katherine retorted indignantly.

  “Don’t bother. Anything your kind says must be held in doubt.”

  “My kind?” Katherine fairly shrieked.

  Sonya didn’t elaborate. Her expression and the way she looked Katherine up and down said it all. Her eyes narrowed. She was queen bee again, through with her fury, under control, and every bit the dried-up old tyrant Marusia had called her.

  “Since you are to remain at Novii Domik, you must be taught the proper conduct. Disrespect is not allowed here.”

  “Then you could use a few lessons in courtesy yourself, madame, because I recall being quite polite to you until you made your unfounded charge against me. You, on the other hand, have been insulting from the start.”

  “That will do!” Sonya shouted. “We will see if a visit to the woodhouse doesn’t curb your insolence. Semen, take her there immediately.”

  Katherine almost laughed. If the witch thought locking her up in the woodhouse was going to make one whit of difference, she was sadly mistaken. She had just spent endless weeks confined on the ship. A few more days’ confinement until Dimitri returned wouldn’t bother her
at all. And she could spend the time envisioning Dimitri’s high rage over his aunt’s tyranny.

  Even the servants could envision it, Katherine thought rather smugly. The fellow holding her— Semen was it?—had hesitated a full five seconds before he began to tug her toward the back of the house. The others who watched them registered expressions from shock and amazement to outright fear.

  Katherine was marched outside and over to one of the outbuildings she had noticed on her arrival. From the back of the house she had her first view of the village nearly a half-mile away, and the endless acres of ripening wheat, like a sea of gold in the morning sunlight. Funny that she could appreciate what a splendid scene lay before her while she was on her way to being locked up. But she could. It was the quest for new sights, new experiences, that made this whole trip an adventure that satisfied a longing she had long held dear.

  The woodhouse was a small shedlike structure where cut wood was stored. Windowless, floorless even, Katherine’s first look inside took chink out of her smugness.

  Buck up, Katherine. So it’s not going to be pleasant. All the more reason to expect profuse apologies from Dimitri when this is over. He’ll make it up to you, see if he doesn’t.

  Besides Semen, the brawniest of the footmen had also accompanied her at a nod from Sonya, as had Sonya herself. The four of them were now inside the woodhouse. Ample sunlight spilled in from the open doorway to light the stuffy room. But instead of being released and left alone, Katherine was handed over to the younger, more muscular fellow who gathered both of her hands in his and held them tightly in front of her.

  “Am I to be tied up too?” Katherine sneered at this. “How quaint.”

  “There’s no need for ropes,” Sonya said condescendingly. “Rodion here is quite capable of restraining you for however long it takes.”

  “However long what takes?”

  “You will be caned until you are ready to beg my pardon for your insolence.”

  The blood momentarily left Katherine’s face. So that’s what a visit to the woodhouse meant! Good Lord, this was right out of the Dark Ages!

  “You’re out of your mind.” Katherine said each word slowly, clearly, as she turned her head to glare at the older woman, who now stood behind her. “You can’t get away with this. I’m a member of the British peerage, the Lady Katherine St. John.”

  Sonya was given a start, but only for a moment. She had already drawn her conclusions about Katherine, and serfs weren’t the only ones who clung tenaciously to first impressions. The woman was of no account. Dimitri’s treatment of her proved it. It was Sonya’s duty to break such haughtiness before it spread to the other servants.

  “Whoever you are,” Sonya said coldly, “you must learn some manners. You may determine yourself how long it will take for you to improve your disposition. You may beg my pardon now—”

  “Never!” Katherine spat. “I give respect only to those deserving it. You, madame, have only my contempt.”

  “Begin!” Sonya screeched, her face livid with rage once again.

  Katherine’s head swung back, her eyes impaling the footman whose hold had tightened on her wrists with the order. “Release me this second.”

  There was such authority in her voice that Rodion’s hold actually loosened. But the Princess was standing right there. Katherine saw the fellow’s dilemma, saw the indecision and worry cross his craggy features, and knew the moment the Princess won out.

  “You had better hope you’re not around when the Prince finds out about—”

  Katherine stopped, steeling herself, hearing the horrid whish of the cane just before it struck. The pain was worse than anything she could have imagined. The breath hissed through her teeth. Her mind shrieked. That first blow brought her to her knees.

  “Tell her what she wants, miss,” Rodion whispered imploringly, looking down at her.

  He was the only one to see her face when the cane struck, and then the second blow, even worse for landing in the same spot, and then the third, striking her lower back. Her hands trembled. Blood appeared on her lip where her teeth had dug in. She was so tiny, so delicate, not a hardy peasant whose body would have been conditioned by hard labor to undergo such punishment. A few blows of the cane was nothing to a serf. But this was no serf. Whoever she was, she couldn’t take this kind of abuse.

  “Let me go” was all Katherine replied to Rodion’s entreaty.

  “Sweet Mary, I can’t, miss,” he said miserably as Semen wielded the cane yet another time.

  “Then don’t…let me…fall.”

  “Just tell her—”

  “I can’t,” she gasped then swayed forward under the next blow. “St. John pride…you know.”

  Rodion was incredulous. Pride? And she was serious! Only the aristos let pride rule their actions. Dear Sweet Mary, what was he a party to here? Could she have been telling the truth about who she was?

  It was with the greatest relief that he was able to say a moment later, “She’s fainted, Princess.”

  “You want me to revive her?” Semen asked.

  “No,” Sonya said testily. “Stubborn woman. It obviously won’t do any good to pry an apology out of her. But administer a few more strokes, Semen, for good measure.”

  It was Semen who protested this order. “But she’s unconscious, Princess.”

  “So? She won’t feel it now, but she will when she wakes up.”

  Rodion flinched with each subsequent blow of that accursed cane, wishing he were taking the punishment instead. But at least he held the woman up, supporting her by her forearms. She didn’t fall, as she had feared, though what was the sense of that he would never know.

  “Search her” was Sonya’s last order.

  Semen bent to do so, looking up after a moment, shaking his head. “Nothing, Princess.”

  “Well, it didn’t hurt to be sure.”

  Rodion and Semen exchanged a glance at that. But Rodion, tight-lipped as he carried the woman out of the woodhouse, was feeling all the impotence and rage that only someone under the yoke of serfdom could feel. Didn’t hurt? The Englishwoman would think differently.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Oh my God!”

  Katherine leaped off the slab she had been lying on the moment she realized what it was. The effort brought a loud moan to her lips. She crouched, out of breath, glaring furiously at the thing. It was one thing to wake up in an unfamiliar place, but quite another to find yourself roasting over coals.

  “A stove! They put you on a bloody stove, Katherine! They’re crazy. They’re every one of them crazy!”

  “Zdravstvui, Gospozha.”

  “Like hell it’s a good morning!” Katherine rounded on the woman who had come up soundlessly behind her. Seeing her back up with a start, she switched to Russian. “Were you planning on serving me for dinner?”

  The woman broke into a toothy smile when Katherine’s meaning became clear. “The stove isn’t lit,” she assured her. “It makes a nice warm bed in winter for the children and the older ones. That is why it is so big, you see. But in summer it is too hot and the baking is done outside.”

  Katherine gave one more fulminating look at the stove. It was huge, about five feet long and four feet wide, indeed large enough to accommodate several people as a bed. But if it wasn’t lit, why did she feel as if she had just been burned?

  “You shouldn’t be moving about yet, miss,” the woman said more seriously now, drawing Katherine’s attention back to her.

  “I shouldn’t?”

  “Unless you feel able, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Katherine’s reply was testy for lack of explanation, but it was accompanied by a shrug, which was the worst thing she could have done. Her eyes flared wide, then squeezed shut as the breath whished out of her. Unfortunately she tensed against the fire whipping down her back, and that just made it worse. She moaned pitiably, unable to resist, uncaring who heard her.

  “That—bloody—bitch!” she h
issed through her teeth, bent over further now in her pain. “She actually…unbelievable! How could she dare?”

  “If you mean the Prince’s aunt, she governs here in his absence, so—”

  “What blasted excuse is that?” Katherine snapped.

  “Everyone knows what you did, miss. The mistake was yours. We learned long ago what attitude to adopt when in her presence. She is of the old order, you see, those who demand total subservience. Show a little fear and the utmost respect, and she is more than benevolent. No one is caned here anymore—you, of course, being the exception. You just have to know how to handle her.”

  Katherine would have liked to handle her all right, with a torch and a whip. But she didn’t say so. She was doing her best to try and will the pain away. If she didn’t move a single muscle, it wasn’t quite so agonizing.

  “How bad is it?” she asked hesitantly.

  She wasn’t wearing her own clothes, so someone had undressed her, and she had to assume it was this woman. The dress that had been put on her was of coarse cotton, cool, but scratchy in the extreme. It had probably been donated by that female despot who called herself a princess. It certainly didn’t belong to this woman, as she was rather on the plump side, and the dress, while uncomfortable, at least fit Katherine.

  “Do you bruise easily?”

  “Yes,” Katherine replied.

  “Then it is not so bad, I think. Many welts and bruises, but at least no broken skin or ribs.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “About the ribs, no. You could better judge. They wouldn’t call a doctor, even when your fever was so high.”

  “I had a fever?”

  “For a day and a half. It is why you were brought here. Fevers I know about.”

  “Where is here? Ah, I don’t know your name. Mine is Katherine, by the way.”

  “Ekaterina?” the woman smiled. “That is a fine name, an imperial name—”

  “Yes, so I have been told,” Katherine cut in, exasperated with yet another version of her name. “And your name?”