The Beloved Scoundrel

Chapter 16

C HAPTER 16

W hy do they call you the Duke of Diamonds?” Jordan’s tongue gently traced the aureole around her nipple. “What brought that to mind?”

“I remembered something Dorothy said a long time ago.”

“And you’re just wondering now?”

“She said it had something to do with pouches of diamonds and women.… I think I didn’t want to know.”

“Then why are you questioning me?”

Because now she had a hunger to know everything about him, the bad and the good. She wanted to savor every aspect, every quality. She would have only memories later, and those memories must be of the complete man. “Tell me.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said impatiently. “I don’t practice such idiocies any longer.” He rubbed his cheek back and forth against her breast. “And it’s not for my wife’s ears.”

“But I’m not your wife.”

“You will be.”

She did not argue with him. She had no wish to spoil the moment. “I want to know.”

He raised his head. “You won’t like it.”

She looked at him from beneath her lashes and murmured teasingly, “It cannot be any worse than what I know of you already.”

He flinched. “What a comforting thought. However, I beg to disagree.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the palm. “There are details of my unsavory past that you don’t know and should not know.” He asked absently, “What on earth is that smell?”

She stiffened and tried to tug her hand away. “What smell?”

He sniffed her palm. “I noticed it before. It’s familiar, but I can’t quite place it.…”

“Horse,” she said quickly. “I told you that I had little chance to bathe on this journey.” She forced a smile. “And you should not be so ungentlemanly as to remark on it.” She had to distract him. “Or are you merely trying to avoid my question? I want to know about the Duke of Diamonds.”

He frowned. “By God, do you never give up?”

He had dropped her hand, but she must be quite sure the memory of that scent was blotted from his mind. Her jaw set, and she said, “Evidently everyone in the ton is familiar with the reason they call you that. I think it completely unfair you should know everything about me, and I—” She stopped as he made a gesture of surrender.

“It was only an absurd conceit. At the end of an evening of pleasure I’d leave a leather pouch of diamonds for the lady. The pouch would contain one diamond for every time she had pleased me.” He looked away from her. “It aroused a certain competitiveness that intrigued me.”

He was not telling her everything. “Dorothy said there was something else…that they laughed when they spoke of it.”

“Dorothy should not have even discussed this with you.” He shrugged and then said curtly, “It was the places I left the pouch in that they found amusing.”

“The places—” Then she understood, and heat flooded her cheeks.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.”

“I don’t like it!” She sat up and reached for her cloak. “I find it wicked and depraved.” She jumped to her feet, flung the cloak about her, and strode toward the door. “As I find you.”

“For God’s sake, where are you going?”

“Away from you. There must be somewhere in this huge place where I can avoid seeing—”

“It was years ago. I was scarcely more than a boy.” He was on his feet, following her into the foyer. “Come back to the fire. You can’t go wandering around in this cold.”

“You were never a boy. You were born a wicked, lustful scoundrel who—”

“Why are you so angry?” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I only told you what you asked of me.”

“I didn’t think—” She hadn’t thought it would hurt so much. She hadn’t thought the picture of that wild boy and his debaucheries would fill her with this anger and pain. She had been wrong. She did not want to know the complete Jordan Draken, if it meant she had to think of those women in his past. “It should not surprise you that I’m shocked at such an act.”

His eyes narrowed on her face. “It wasn’t shock.” He added softly, “Jealousy?”

She quickly shook her head.

“Why not? If you’d told me you’d had your own Duke of Diamonds, I’d have wanted to kill him…and you.” He took a step closer. “But then I have reason. I’ve already told you I love you.”

“You don’t—”

His lips covered hers, smothering the words, his tongue entering to joust and play. She was breathless when he finally lifted his head. “And I think you must feel a similar affection for me. Or something very near it.”

“No,” she whispered.

He smiled recklessly. “Then you must be feeling cheated. I can think of no other reason for this display. I shall have to rectify the omission immediately.”

“What do you— Jordan!”

He had picked her up and was carrying her toward the staircase.

“I want you under me,” he said hoarsely as he climbed the stairs. “As you were this afternoon, but with nothing between us.” He paused at the sixth step. “I believe this is right.”

“I don’t want this.”

He laid her on the steps and then straddled her. He impatiently pushed aside her cloak. She gasped as she felt flesh on flesh, hardness against softness.

“Then convince me, and you won’t have it.” His thumb and forefinger pulled gently on the tight curls surrounding her womanhood. “Convince me.”

A hot shudder went through her, and her breasts swelled.

The moonlight streaming through the long windows on the landing touched the crystal chandelier beyond his shoulder with icy radiance. Cold and heat. Darkness and fire. Dominance and submission. She tried to retrieve the anger that had faded into the shadows of sensuality. “I’m not one of those women to whom you gave those pouches. I won’t have you treating me—”

“Shh.” His fingers touched her lips, silencing her. “It will never be like that with you.” His eyes were suddenly glinting with mischief. “Though I may give you diamonds someday.” He felt her stiffen and bent forward to whisper in her ear. “There are two huge diamonds that my barrister keeps for me in London. They’re very beautiful with a clear, bold fire. Like you, Marianna.”

“I don’t want diamonds.”

“But you’ll want these.” He slipped two fingers deep within her. “Because we’ll put them here.”

She gasped and arched upward.

His fingers thrust slowly back and forth. “I like the idea of you wearing my diamonds, love.” A third finger joined the others, and the rhythm quickened. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. “I believe you’ll like it too. I hope you’ll wear them as you work, dine, ride, and walk. Every time you move, you’ll find they rub together and bring you a burst of pleasure.”

The erotic words were as inflaming as his fingers within her, stroking her to fever pitch. She was barely aware of him moving, adjusting her position. He smiled wickedly as he whispered, “And it will be my great privilege to remove them when we do this.”

He plunged deep, ramming her to the quick.

She cried out and reached out blindly for him. He lifted her legs about his hips and rode her with a passion that was almost brutal in intensity.

She was whimpering, her fingers clutching helplessly at his shoulders. The sensations were unbelievable. She thought she could bear no more, and then he gave her more and it was not enough. He was everything that was savagely male, and she was female accepting with equal primitive wildness.

When the explosion came, she convulsed, her scream echoing off the high arched ceiling.

His breath came in short, labored gasps as he lifted his head to look down at her. “I was too rough. Did I hurt you? Are you well?”

She was, except for a weakness that pervaded every limb and a feeling that the world had ended and been reborn. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I had to make you see.” His hand gently stroked her cheek. “The Duke of Diamonds was a long time ago, another man. The only time I’ll resurrect him is for you, when it brings you pleasure.” His gaze held hers, willing her to believe. “It’s only for you now. Forever. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“But you still don’t trust me.” It was a statement, but she knew he wanted her to deny it.

In this moment she could almost trust him, almost believe he loved her.

Almost.

“I’m cold,” she whispered.

Hope faded from his expression, and he forced a smile. “And no wonder.” He moved off her and stood up. He pulled her to her feet and draped the cloak about her. “Come back to the fire.” He took her hand and led her down the stairs. “I believe I said that before. I must admit I’m delighted you didn’t comply.”

She had the cloak, but he was totally nude. “You must be cold too.”

He shook his head. “I feel as if I’ll never be cold again.” He closed the door of the anteroom and led her to the rug before the fire. “Lie down. I’ll hold you until you go to sleep.”

As he had held her at Dalwynd. She had been so full of fear and resentment during those weeks that she had not appreciated those precious moments of intimacy. Well, she had tonight and would savor it to the full.

She cuddled close to him before the fire. She would not think of tomorrow. He was holding her with exquisite tenderness, and tonight she could pretend everything he said was true. She could pretend he loved her more than he wanted the Jedalar, that his passion was only for her.

And that there was a love that could last forever.

A h, this is very good.”

Marianna drowsily opened her eyes to see Gregor standing in the doorway.

“For God’s sake, Gregor.” Jordan snatched the cloak from the floor next to them and covered Marianna. “Didn’t it occur to you to knock?”

“I was in a great hurry.” He beamed. “And there is no shame in this room. You are very beautiful together.” His smile faded. “And it is better I find you here than Nebrov.”

“Nebrov.” A cold chill went through Marianna as she sat up and brushed her hair back from her face. “He’s here?”

“Not yet. Niko says he will be here within two hours.”

“How many?” Jordan asked.

“A hundred men, perhaps more. Riding hard.”

“Against twenty.” Jordan muttered an obscenity. “Did they know Niko saw them?”

Gregor shook his head.

“Then we can still surprise them.” Jordan began to hurriedly dress. “They’ll have to come through the hills as we did. There has to be a place where we can—”

“No,” Marianna said. “Bring him here.”

Jordan gave her an impatient glance. “What?”

“Bring him to me.”

“The devil I will.”

“You don’t have enough men to fight him.”

“That may not be so,” Gregor said. “One of our men is worth three of Nebrov’s.”

“That still leaves you outnumbered,” Marianna said. “Hide your men here in the palace and then go meet Nebrov and tell him you’ll bargain with him. Tell him if he’ll spare you and your men that you’ll surrender me and the Jedalar.” She held up her hand as Jordan started to protest. “Then bring him to me here. He can’t take his entire force into the palace. You’ll have a chance to defeat them.”

“Let us be very clear. I’m supposed to bring him to you?” Jordan asked carefully. “Do you have any idea how enraged he must be with you?”

“Of course I do. I also know he won’t kill me until he’s sure he knows where the tunnel is located,” she said matter-of-factly. “And that will give us a chance to rid ourselves of him once and for all.”

“Goddammit, I won’t make you bait again!”

“You’ve never made me anything I didn’t choose to be. I choose to do this now.” She turned to Gregor. “Tell him. If we cut off the head, the snake will die. His men won’t attack if we kill Nebrov.”

“That is true,” Gregor said. “But severing that head may be difficult.”

“But we have a better chance here than you do attacking his full force in the hills.”

“She is right,” Gregor said to Jordan. “And if we are defeated, he will still come here for her.”

“Not if she comes with us.”

“I won’t come with you.” She met his gaze. “You’ll have to tie me on my horse. Bring him here.”

“Why the devil are you being so obstinate?”

“Because I’m right.” She added wearily, “And because it has to end. You told me once that he would never give up. Nothing has changed.” Her expression hardened. “Except that he’s hurt Alex. I can’t let him keep harming the people I love. He deserves to die.”

“He will die. But not here. Not with you—”

“Bring him here or I’ll ride out and meet him and bring him myself.”

“Blast you,” he said softly, his tone laden with frustration. He stared at her another moment before whirling on his heels. “Come on, Gregor. We’ve had our orders. Let’s go get the bastard for her.”

“I’ll be waiting in the chapel,” Marianna said.

Jordan glanced at her over his shoulder.

She shook her head. “I won’t be praying for deliverance. I told you the Jedalar was there. Nebrov won’t be fooled again. I’ll have to show him what he wants to see.”

“You swore you’d never do that.”

“Circumstances have changed. I have no choice.”

“You know that I’m going to be there. Whatever you show Nebrov, you show me.” He paused. “Even after we rid ourselves of Nebrov, you’ll still lose.”

“I know I’ll lose.” Not in the way he meant, but in a manner that would be more devastating than he could dream. “I’ll have to face that when it happens.”

“Marianna…” He took a half-step toward her, then stopped. “Dammit, there’s no time.” He turned and strode out of the room.

Gregor hesitated. “You must not blame him. He does not want this.”

“I don’t blame anyone.” She was beginning to believe Jordan’s words about the inevitability of fate. Nothing else could explain the tangled threads that had interwoven all their lives. “No, that’s not true. I blame Nebrov.”

He searched her expression. “You are no longer afraid of him.”

“I wish I could say that was true,” she said wearily. “But I can’t let the fear stop me. For years my fear made me think I was helpless. I’m not helpless. He killed my mother, and he hurt Alex. I’m not going to let him hurt anyone ever again.”

“Gregor!”

It was Jordan calling from the hall. Gregor hesitated and then walked out.

She waited until she heard the sound of their horses’ hooves on the stones of the courtyard before quickly throwing on her clothes. She left the anteroom and headed toward the chapel.

She had two hours, perhaps less. With the preparations she had made after she had first arrived, it should be enough time.

She threw open the door of the chapel and paused for a moment, staring up at the glorious stained-glass window over the pulpit.

She had told Jordan she was not going to pray for deliverance, but she muttered a prayer beneath her breath anyway.

Sometimes Fate had to have a little help.

T hey were coming.

Marianna tensed as she heard the clatter of boots on the marble floor of the hall. Fear tore through her as she realized Nebrov would be walking through the door in a matter of seconds.

She looked up at the stained-glass window. “Help me, Grandmama,” she whispered.

She must not be afraid. Everything was ready.

But suppose something went wrong? It might mean—

“If you think you’ll avoid punishment by having our meeting in a chapel, you’re destined to be disappointed,” Nebrov said. “I promised Draken his life and safe passage, but the bargain did not include your own.”

She braced herself, stood up from the pew on which she had been sitting, and turned to face him.

Nebrov’s large eyes were glittering with excitement and triumph as he moved down the aisle toward her, closely followed by Jordan and four soldiers dressed in the green-and-gold uniform of Nebrov’s army. “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” she greeted him.

“The Jedalar,” he said impatiently. “I do not have to tell you how annoyed I will be if you try to trick me again. So annoyed, I will be forced to cut your throat from ear to ear.”

“There’s no need for threats,” Jordan said. “She’s promised to show you what you want.”

“I will give you the Jedalar.” Marianna looked at the soldiers. “But do you really want them to see it? Czar Paul found witnesses both a danger and an inconvenience.”

He hesitated and then waved his hand in dismissal. “Wait outside in the hall.”

Marianna waited until the door closed behind the guards before moving toward the altar.

“Where are you going?” Nebrov asked sharply.

“The Jedalar is behind the altar.” She retrieved the glass panel. “I’ll have to climb on the sacrament table to replace the left lower panel in the window with the Jedalar. I’ll need someone to hand me the panel.”

“I’ll do it.” Jordan strode down the aisle to stand beside the altar. He took the Jedalar and looked down at it. “A rainbow…”

“Grandmama always said that life was always full of rainbows and that we must follow them,” she said in a low voice. “She said great treasures always follow.”

“What treasures?” Nebrov was beside them, peering down at the panel. “Was the tale true? Is there really a treasure room in the tunnel?”

“She said the czar had plans for such a room. I suppose you’ll have to see for yourself.” Marianna lifted her skirts and climbed up on the high marble table. She worked gently at the panel she had previously loosened and withdrew it from the window. She handed it down to Jordan in exchange for the rainbow Jedalar. It took her only a few moments to secure the Jedalar in place.

She glanced over her shoulder and nodded with satisfaction. “It’s positioned correctly. The sun is behind a cloud now, but I think we should see something in a few minutes.”

“See what?” Nebrov asked.

“I imagine we’re about to see what we came for.” Jordan lifted Marianna down from the table. “The map?”

“Yes.” She moved out from behind the altar. “The complete map of the tunnel. The sunlight pours through the panel and—”

A brilliant stream of sunlight flooded the chapel, and no further explanation was necessary. Magnificent colors and dark shadows were cast over the chapel.

Nebrov made an exclamation and moved toward the left side of the chapel where the rainbow panel’s shadow fell on one of the large white-veined marble blocks that composed the floor of the chapel.

Jordan followed him, but Marianna stayed where she was beside the altar. She knew what they were seeing. The arcs of the rainbow intersected with the veins in the marble in a pattern that was both complicated and detailed. “Zavkov marble. All of the marble for this palace was taken from a small mine in Zavkov, Siberia. My grandmother spent weeks there searching for just the right veining in that marble block so that it would form the precise blend with the Jedalar.”

“The lock and the key,” Jordan murmured. He lifted his head to look at her across the chapel. “Brilliant.”

“There’s a small square here that might indicate a treasure room.” Nebrov bent over the block. “It appears to be at this end, near the beginning of the tunnel.” Nebrov whirled to face her and snarled, “But it does not show the entrance. What good is the map without the entrance?”

“The czar knew where the entrance was,” Marianna said. “The passages were intricate and required a map, but he knew exactly how to get into the tunnel.”

“And so do you.” Nebrov’s gaze narrowed on her face. “Where is it?”

“I’ll tell you.” She paused. “When you promise me safe passage as you did Jordan and Gregor.”

“I don’t have to promise you anything. I could force the information out of you.”

“Yes, but that would take time, and I can see you’re eager to find the tunnel. Isn’t that worth the satisfaction you might have from any revenge against me?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Very well. You have my word.”

Which meant nothing, as she well knew, but it had been necessary to pretend reluctance to avoid suspicion. She indicated the floor behind the altar. “The third stone. It’s hinged from below and lifts easily. There are stairs leading down into the tunnel.”

Nebrov strode eagerly forward.

“Wait.” She went to the table and lit one of the two oil lamps she had put there in readiness. “You’ll need this.”

Nebrov had already lifted the stone and was peering down into the darkness. He took the oil lamp from her and started down the steps. He stopped on the third step and cautiously tried the stone door to make sure it lifted easily from below before looking up at them and smiling grimly. “Oh no, I have no intention of going down there alone and have you seal me away in the tunnel.”

“Shall I call your men?” Jordan asked.

“Not until I see what’s in the treasure room. You both shall accompany me.” Nebrov added to Jordan, “I wouldn’t think of denying you the pleasure of seeing what you’ve striven to find all these years, Draken.” He climbed back to the floor, pulled his pistol, and gestured toward the waiting darkness. “After you?”

Jordan started down the steps.

Nebrov turned to Marianna. “And now you.”

She tried to keep her expression impassive. “If we’re all to go, then we’ll need another lamp.”

When he nodded curtly, she lit the second lamp on the sacrament table, turned, and started down the steps.

Jordan was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. “What a strange scent there is down here,” he murmured.

He knew!

Or perhaps not, for he took a step back, training his eyes on Nebrov.

Nebrov gestured with the pistol. “Go on. Straight down the main tunnel, no branching off.” His glance was eagerly flicking back and forth as he followed them down the dark corridor. “The treasure room was on the left,” he muttered. “Where the devil is it?”

“We haven’t gone very far,” Marianna said. Jordan was hesitating in front of her. No, he mustn’t stop now!

She deliberately stepped on the back of his boot to nudge him forward a few more steps. “Perhaps it doesn’t—”

“There it is!” Nebrov’s gaze was on a dark square opening now on his immediate left. “You fools, you would have gone right past it!”

“It’s too dark down here,” Marianna said plaintively. “I can’t see anything.”

Nebrov was already in the middle of the room, lifting his lamp high. “Chests,” he said excitedly, looking all over the large room. “Chests and…kegs! His eyes widened in fear as he realized where he was standing. He started to back from the room.

“Run!” Marianna shouted at Jordan as she hurled the oil lamp to the ground. “Back to the chapel!”

The gunpowder she had spread across the threshold exploded into a wall of flame imprisoning Nebrov within the room!

Jordan grabbed her elbow, and they tore down the corridor toward the steps leading to the chapel. “Christ, there was no treasure room, it was a powder magazine.”

“Hurry!” she gasped out. “Those kegs will explode soon. I spread gunpowder for a little distance down every branch of the tunnel. The timbers supporting the tunnel will catch fire.…”

A shrill scream that chilled her blood caused her to glance over her shoulder.

Nebrov had plunged out of the room, but he was engulfed in flames as he tottered after them like a horrible creature from a nightmare.

“Don’t look at him!” Jordan pushed her toward the stairs now just ahead of them. “Get up those steps.”

A whoosh like a breath of wind went through the tunnel, and she knew the burning Nebrov had ignited the trail of gunpowder in the main tunnel. Another hideous scream and Nebrov was lost to view in a sea of flames.

“God!” Jordan was trying to beat out the flames that leaped from the tunnel floor and reached the skirt of her gown.

“Stop it! You’ll burn your hands.”

Jordan continued to beat at the flames with one hand while he pushed her the final few steps to the surface. “Did you have to seed the entire tunnel? Wasn’t the ammunition room enough?”

She pulled herself onto the floor of the chapel. “I had to be certain.”

Jordan slammed down the stone door. “And nearly got yourself burned to death.”

Her breath was coming in harsh gasps. “Had to be—”

“Certain,” Jordan finished. “How close is the powder room to this palace? Are we all going to be blown to bits?”

She shook her head. “It’s halfway down the hill. Your hands…let me see your hands.”

He ignored her. “It seemed closer.”

“I don’t think—”

An explosion rocked the palace!

Jordan grabbed her and rolled with her until they hit a wall. She lay there watching as a long, jagged crack snaked across the marble floor and explosion after explosion followed one another.

She heard crashes and screams of panic from the hall, but no one ventured into the chapel.

At last the explosions stopped, but the chapel was filling with thick black smoke, curling up from below through the cracks in the floor.

“We have to get out of here,” she whispered. “All the tunnels below the palace will be on fire by now.”

“Is there another way out of here?”

She shook her head. “We’ll have to go out through the palace.”

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “I doubt if anyone will try to stop us. From those screams I’d say Nebrov’s men are concerned only with saving themselves.” He propelled her down the aisle toward the door. As she stepped over the gaping crack in the marble, she could see the glimmer of flames below like a glimpse into the bowels of hell. Nebrov was down in that inferno, and she had condemned him to a horrible death.

She was in a holy place and should not feel this deep sense of satisfaction.

“It’s done, Mama,” she whispered.

“Come on.” Jordan threw open the door. The corridor was empty as he had predicted and filled with clouds of black smoke. Her eyes were stinging by the time they reached the foyer, and she could barely discern the crystal chandelier that lay shattered on the floor.

Then they were outside, and clean, cold air was in her lungs. There was smoke here also, and half the hill seemed to be in flames. The courtyard was in chaos, with panicked horses and soldiers running about shouting shrilly.

“There you are,” Gregor said, relieved, as he appeared suddenly beside them. “I was about to dash in and rescue you. It is kind of you to save me the trouble. Nebrov?”

“Dead.” Jordan’s arm tightened around Marianna’s waist as they dashed across the courtyard. “Let’s get out of here. The fire is going to break through the floor of the palace any minute. Are all the men safe?”

Gregor nodded. “Why shouldn’t they be? There was no battle. The moment the explosions started, everyone was in a hurry to get out of the palace. They thought the end of the world had come. I sent our men down the hill with the horses away from the flames.” He grimaced in disgust as he nodded at the screaming men in the courtyard. “These are not soldiers.”

By the time they were halfway down the hill, the palace was engulfed in flames. Marianna looked back over her shoulder, and sadness overwhelmed her.

“He deserved to die,” Jordan said quietly. “If you hadn’t done it, I would have.”

She stared at him in surprise. “I wasn’t thinking of Nebrov.”

“No?”

“Grandmama’s work. All her beautiful windows…”

Gregor chuckled as he and Jordan exchanged glances. “Of course, you would think of the windows instead of that vermin. It is entirely natural, eh, Jordan?”

But Jordan was no longer looking back at the burning palace but down the hill at the gaping cavity caused by the explosion. He would not let her blame herself for Nebrov’s death, but she knew he would hold her at fault for the destruction of the tunnels he had wanted for Kazan. “I had to do it.”

“No, you chose to do it,” he said grimly. “There’s a difference. You must have spread the gunpowder in those other branches of the tunnel before Niko even caught sight of Nebrov and his men.”

“Don’t you see?” she asked, desperate to make him understand. “Grandmama created the Jedalar. She was part of that horror in the tunnel, and she had to make it right. She made Mama and me promise that the tunnel would never be used to kill anyone again. She even planned exactly how it could be done. She was the one who spread the rumor about the treasure room. She knew the czar planned to use that room for arms and gunpowder and—” She stopped as she saw Jordan’s face was completely expressionless. She had not thought he would forgive her. She said wearily, “Yes, I chose to do it. Even if I had made no vow, I would still have destroyed the tunnel.”

“Why?” Gregor asked.

“Because my grandmother was right. War is evil, and the tunnel was a weapon of war. Go fight your wars with the weapons you have.” She gazed steadily at Jordan. “I’m glad I did it.”

“Well, I’m not glad. I’m furious with you.” He took her elbow and pushed her down the hill toward the waiting troop. “But I can wait to express my displeasure until we get you to the inn and see if you have any burns.”

Great heavens, she had momentarily forgotten those flames that had nearly devoured them. “I’m not burned. It was you who—” Her glance had dropped to the hand holding her elbow, and she inhaled sharply. Angry red weals crisscrossed the back of his hand; his palms must be even worse. “You’re hurt!”

“Hurt is an accurate description.” His lips thinned. “And pain doesn’t tend to make my temper any better.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant for you to suffer.”

His expression did not soften. “Then you shouldn’t have blown up that tunnel. You may have hurt a great many people with one stroke.”

She shook her head. It was useless to argue with him on a subject on which there could be no agreement.

“I have a medicinal cream in my saddlebag that will help,” Gregor said.

She again glanced back over her shoulder at the burning palace. She wished there was a medicine that would ease the pain from the wedge she had just driven between them.

Why was she mewing like a mournful cat? she thought impatiently. She had known what she was doing and what the result would be. Now, she had to accept it.

Dear God, she wished the pain would go away.

W hen they arrived at the inn in the village, Gregor took charge. His booming voice sent the innkeeper and servants scurrying to arrange for rooms, baths, and food for all of them and clean bandages for Jordan’s burns.

Within an hour Marianna found herself immersed in a tub of hot water in a simple but pleasantly furnished bedchamber. She washed her hair three times, but it still retained a faint hint of smoke.

She leaned back in the hip bath and wearily closed her eyes. It might take a long time to rid her body of the smell of that disaster in the tunnel, but she would never recover from the tragedy itself. She had given up too much with that one act.

“We’ll have to be miles away from this place by tomorrow morning.”

Her eyes opened to see Jordan standing in the doorway. He was dressed in black buckskin trousers and a loose white linen shirt. He had worn black and white that first night at Dalwynd, she remembered. No, she must not think of Dalwynd.

Her gaze flew to his hands, which were now neatly bandaged. “How bad are they?”

“Only minor blisters.” He came into the room and shut the door. “Did you hear me? We have to leave for Kazan tomorrow.” He strode over to the tub and reached for the large toweling cloth the servant had set beside it. “I know you need time to rest, but there are fires breaking out from that burning tunnel all the way to Moscow. Czar Alexander is bound to send someone to find out the reason.” He held out the towel. “Stand up.”

She got to her feet, and he enveloped her in the towel and lifted her out of the tub.

“Your hands!”

“Be quiet.” He patted her awkwardly with the towel. “The czar is nervous now anyway, with Napoleon on the horizon. His response won’t be pleasant when he discovers he was this vulnerable to attack.”

“Then he should thank me. Napoleon can no longer attack him through the tunnel.”

“That’s going to be little comfort when he finds out he had a weapon that might have defeated Napoleon and you destroyed it. I want you on your way to the border when that happens.”

“I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am.” His tone was clipped, his expression set and hard, and the waves of frustration and displeasure he was emitting were nearly tangible.

“Then why are you trying to protect me?”

“One has nothing to do with the other.”

He was still patting her with those poor bandaged hands, she realized with exasperation. “Will you stop?” She took the towel away from him and wrapped it around herself. “You’ll hurt yourself. And why does one have nothing to do with the other?”

“I have no intention of cheating myself out of what I want because you’ve done something for which I’d happily wring your neck.” He glared at her. “No one is going to take you away from me. Not the Czar, not Napoleon, not Wellington, and not you either.”

Hope flared within her, but she was afraid to acknowledge it. “You still wish me to be your mistress?”

“Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? We will wed as soon as we reach Kazan.” He added grimly, “If I can keep the ravin from executing you for your idiocy.”

Wed. She felt the breath leave her body. She had not permitted herself to believe him before and after what she had done. “Why?”

“Now isn’t the time to ask that question, if you expect a tender declaration of sentiment.”

“I’m not going to ask you to forgive me. I did what I had to do.”

“I know.” For an instant his expression lost a little of its hardness. “I’m not so unfair that I would fault you for something I’d do myself. I’d have taken the Jedalar away from you if I’d found a way. You did something that I find unacceptable, but that doesn’t mean you’re unacceptable. None of that has any bearing on what’s between us.”

“No?” she whispered.

“Except that it makes me angry enough to want to rip that towel off you and throw you into a snowdrift,” he said harshly. “For God’s sake, don’t you know there’s no question of forgiveness between us? I cannot think of anything you could do that would make me not want you.” He walked to the door and opened it. “Go to bed. Be ready to leave at dawn tomorrow.”

The door slammed behind him.

There had been nothing sentimental or tender in his manner or words. He had given her only anger and understanding, harshness and a promise of eternal endurance.

She stared at the door, feeling bewilderment…and the beginning of joy.

D arkness had fallen when she turned the knob of Jordan’s door.

Jordan was lying on the bed, still fully dressed, staring out the window at the flaring fires marching across the landscape.

He turned his head toward her. “I told you to go to bed.”

She couldn’t see his expression, but his tone was not encouraging. “I had to see you. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.” She closed the door and came toward him. “Are you in pain?”

“Yes, and I don’t take it well at all. So you’d better go back to your room and leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You’ll regret it. When I’m hurt, I have a tendency to strike out blindly.”

“Then I’ll find your conduct unacceptable.” She lay down beside him. The words she had come to say were difficult for her, and she did not want to see his face. She turned her back toward him and fitted herself spoon fashion against his body. “But I won’t find you unacceptable. Not ever.”

She felt him stiffen against her. “Those words sound vaguely familiar.”

“They’re beautiful words. You’ve never been so eloquent.”

“By God, you’re easy to please.”

“No, I’m very difficult to please. I require everything.” She paused. “But I’ll give everything in return.”

He made no motion to put his arms around her. “For instance?” he said, his words were muffled in her hair.

“I will fight any battle for you. You want this Napoleon defeated? I will help you.”

“You should have thought of that this afternoon.”

“I will give you children. I think I would be a good mother.” She said haltingly, “And I will give you my work. It is the most important part of me, and it will be difficult to share, but I will try.” She hesitated and then said in a low voice, “And I will love you as long as I live.”

There was a silence, and then he asked politely, “Is that all?”

She started to turn to him in indignation, but his arms were suddenly around her, holding her still.

“Let me go,” she said, struggling. “I know you’re in pain, but you’re being most unkind, and I—”

“Hush,” he said thickly. “I was joking.”

“I don’t think this is a moment for amusement.”

“I wasn’t amused. I didn’t know what to say, so I—” He stopped and drew her closer. “I didn’t know what to say.”

And when Jordan was touched or moved, he hid behind that mask she knew so well. The anger flowed out of her, and she lay still. “You say, ‘Thank you, Marianna. I realize I’m not worthy of you, that I’m an insensitive, blundering cad, but I will strive to mend my ways.’”

She expected him to laugh, but he did not. “It won’t be easy. I’m not insensitive, but I like my own way, and there will be times when I’ll blunder and hurt you.” His voice deepened and became unsteady. “But there will never be a moment I do not love you.”

Tears stung her eyes. “And there will never be a moment I don’t love you.” She added, “Though there will be times I’ll close myself in my workroom and forget I have a husband.”

“The devil you will.”

She kissed his wrist above the bandage. “The devil I will.”

Papa would have thought this a strange declaration, she thought dreamily, and this setting just as bizarre. His romantic poet’s heart would have been grievously offended, and yet she would have had nothing different. A love that had already survived hardship and challenges did not need flowering gardens and pretty words to validate it.

They were silent, staring out at the fires.

“What are you thinking?” she asked after a long while.

His lips brushed her ear as he whispered mischievously, “I was wondering if you’d call me an insensitive cad again if I made love to you.”

“You’re not going to make love to me. I won’t have you hurting those hands.”

“No?” She thought he was going to argue, but he pulled her closer. “Very well, this is pleasant too. But I must have been a very inadequate lover, if you think I need hands.” He looked back out the window. “It’s a good thing the snows have limited those fires to the line of the tunnel. If they’d spread to the fields, it would be a hungry spring for—” He stopped, and she heard him draw a sudden breath.

She turned her head to look at him. “Jordan?”

“Nothing.” He kissed her absently. “I just had a thought. I’ll have to consider the possibilities. Of course, it will depend on when Napoleon actually arrives in this area of Russia.…”

He had trailed off, his gaze remaining on the trail of fires leading to the gates of Moscow.

He was already making plans, plotting, trying to nullify the damage caused by the loss of the tunnel. She lay quiet, letting him think. It did not matter that he was barely aware of her presence. He would come back to her, she thought contentedly. What a wondrous and magical realization.

From this day forward he would always come back to her.