Grigori came forward with a towel wrapped around his lean hips. Solicitously he handed a small vial of vodka to his commander. “This should ease your plight to some degree, Colonel.”
“Or put me in the grave,” Tyrone quipped. Nevertheless, he tossed the drink down with a shiver of revulsion, promising himself henceforth that he’d limit his consumption of the libation for his own good. To say the brew was deadly was definitely an understatement of the truth.
Lieutenant Colonel Walsworth gestured to the bandages that still bedecked Tyrone’s torso and arm. “Tell us, now. Did your lady claw at your back or try to hold you off?”
Tyrone waved away the officer’s raucous speculations. “ ’Twas nothing more than a tainted wound or two that my wife treated, so spare me your humor, Edward, until I’m better able to handle the abuse, or I’ll be wont to seek revenge.”
Walsworth’s hearty laughter nearly deafened Grigori’s chuckling statement. “There’s another day of celebration planned, Colonel.” Winning Tyrone’s dubious regard, the Russian lifted his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. “It’s common to make the most of every occasion here in Russia. It saves us from the tedium of our long winters. And, of course, our fruited vodka seems to lighten the spirits even before we’re into the festivities.”
“Try to keep your wits clear, my friend,” Tyrone cautioned. “On the morrow we must return to duty.”
Grigori followed him to a secluded corner where a large bathtub was being filled by a manservant. “You sound as if you have something dire on your mind.”
Tyrone cast a glance toward the attendant and, for the sake of caution, delayed his answer until that one had left. If Synnovea’s mother had spent enough time on the premises to instruct a servant in the language, no doubt others were also versed in it. “As soon as it’s practical, I mean to confront Ladislaus in his lair. My goal is to capture him and other leaders of his band before the year is out. On the morrow I plan to introduce some new tactics to the men in anticipation of that event.”
“Will you leave your bride so soon?” Grigori asked in amazement. More than anyone, he knew how fervently his commander had sought to win the maid and was surprised that he had decided to go back to duty so early. “You certainly have reason to take a few days off, considering the condition of your back.”
“The tsar has informed me that he’d like us to put on a parade for some foreign dignitaries in weeks to come. Between the task of readying men for a parade and others for the campaign I mean to launch against Ladislaus, I can foresee the possibility of being pressed for time between now and then. And you know well enough that I cannot allow my personal life to interfere with my responsibilities as a commanding officer.”
“You’ve been here for almost a year and haven’t yet taken any time off for yourself. I thought, under the circumstances, you’d be staying in the city and training the troops here rather than going after Ladislaus.”
“Winter is rapidly approaching. If we delay until spring, we may never find his camp. We must act before the first snow. That means we can’t waste any time now. We’ll have to plan our strategy and condition the men to be ready for anything we might have to face. I want them thoroughly confident of their own capabilities. We can’t leave anything to chance if we intend to capture Ladislaus and his cohorts.”
“If you’re so adamant about going after them, a scout should be sent out to search for the brigands’ camp.”
“I’ve already thought of that. Avar will be the likely choice to go. He has no love for Ladislaus after the brigand stole away his sister last year.”
“How do you suppose Prince Aleksei found them?”
“Ladislaus let it be known here in the city that he was looking for me. It’s not too hard to guess that Prince Aleksei responded to the call when he realized he’d have to get me out of the way. Whatever their connection, I don’t think they’re the best of friends.”
“Considering the whipping they gave you, I’d say you were extremely fortunate that Lady Synnovea sent her maid to the castle to bid Major Nekrasov to come to your rescue.”
Tyrone was clearly bemused. He couldn’t remember a time when Synnovea had been given any opportunity to send Ali on such a mission, at least not while he had been in full command of his senses. But then, being clobbered on the head had left much of what had happened hopelessly muddled. “What do you mean? When did she do that?”
“Major Nekrasov told me the other day that Ali brought him word that you were in terrible trouble. From what I understand of it, the old woman was visiting the cook at the Taraslovs’ when your captors carried you into the carriage house.”
“I must express my gratitude to Ali,” Tyrone replied, still somewhat confused by the captain’s revelation. “Until now, I never knew how I had actually been delivered from their schemes, except that Nikolai and Tsar Mikhail were there when I most needed them.”
“Ali told the major that her mistress had sent her.” Thoughtfully Grigori scrubbed a hand over the bristly stubble covering his chin before cocking a querying brow at his commander. “How could Lady Synnovea have been at the Taraslovs’ when she was supposed to be sick upstairs? At least, that’s what Prince Adolphe had been led to believe.” Though his superior seemed suddenly intent upon loosening the knot which held the bandages together over his chest, Grigori pointedly awaited an answer.
Tyrone’s eyebrows twitched upward noncommittally. “Perhaps she wasn’t upstairs at all. Perhaps she was with Ali at the Taraslovs’.”
Cautiously lowering his voice, the Russian boldly offered a conjecture. ‘The countess was with you, wasn’t she?”
Tyrone frowned sharply as he grasped the bandages with both hands and ripped them in twain. “Even if true, Grigori, do you actually think I’d tell you?”
“Whether you do or not, my friend, your answer will go no further than the two of us. You know that.”
In spite of Synnovea’s flagrant disregard for him, Tyrone was unwilling to cause her shame. “Would I boast of such an event? The lady is my wife.”
“Tsar Mikhail was most anxious to have you and your bride speak the vows in haste.” Grigori gently prodded with a smile. “What really happened that night?”
Tyrone growled in exasperation and tried to make light of his vexation. “You may never get promoted to major, my friend, if you don’t learn to keep your questions to yourself.”
Chuckling, Grigori voiced a few suppositions of his own. “Now, I know you’re no liar, Colonel, so I rather suppose that Prince Aleksei and Ladislaus caught you unawares and ordered the whip laid to your back. And if Ali was sent to fetch Major Nekrasov from the Taraslovs, I’m inclined to believe that the Lady Synnovea was taken there with you. If you were forced to marry her, then I can better understand why you were so out of sorts with her yesterday.”
Although surprised at the accurateness of the captain’s conjectures, Tyrone carefully maintained his silence.
“It all falls into place,” Grigori mused aloud as he thoughtfully scraped a hand across his chin again. “You were obviously caught with the girl and, because of that reason, were forced to pay penance by her guardian, Prince Aleksei…”
“The devil you say! He wanted her for himself!”
“Then you were whipped for taking the lady from him.” Grigori’s eyes danced with humor as he heckled his commander. “All this time you’ve been hot and eager to take her into your bed. You just couldn’t wait for the tsar to give her to you. Now you’ve had to pay for your error and are angry with her—”
“What the blazes!” Tyrone barked, feeling the prick of truth in the man’s conclusions. “Do you imagine yourself able to read my mind?”
“I know you, my friend.” Grigori briefly lifted his wide shoulders in an indolent shrug. “If you weren’t upset with her, you’d stop this feeble pretense.”
“So I’m pretending, am I?”
“If things were as they should be between the two of you, you wouldn’t care if th
e whole Russian army came marching into this house to seek you out. You’d still be making love to her upstairs, and you wouldn’t come down until you had thoroughly exhausted your cravings.”
Tyrone stared at his second-in-command. He couldn’t deny Grigori’s deductions, for he’d only be lying. Indeed, the man seemed to know him better than he knew himself.
“And what’s more, you’re not going to be satisfied until you make peace with her and settle this rift between you. Your bride is very beautiful, Colonel, and if you love her as I think you do, you’d hasten to make amends before she loses heart.”
In a show of irritation, the colonel tossed aside the bandages. “It’s not that simple, Grigori. I mean nothing to her.”
The younger man scoffed in disbelief. “I challenge the truth of that statement. If you asked me, I’d say that she’s quite taken with you.”
Tyrone tossed his head jeeringly. “She’s an actress of great merit. I applaud her skill.”
“Spare your lady such slander, my friend! It’s absurd to think that she doesn’t care for you!”
“How can you claim to know the mind of the maid when she bemuses me at every turn?” Tyrone angrily questioned. “I’ve no idea what she’s thinking, though recently I foolishly imagined I did!”
“Colonel, does our friendship mean nothing to you? Do you consider me a loyal compatriot? A tovarish? Have I not proven my worth as such? Did I not warn you that Nikolai had followed your lead and had rushed to the tsar to plead for the countess’s hand himself? You wanted to challenge the man outright, yet I cautioned you to wait. Can you not allow that another may be able to see the truth more clearly than you may be able to at the present moment? You’re too close to the heart of the matter to view it objectively. You’re anxious for answers and entertain hasty judgments. Let your wife have a chance to verify her love.”
Tyrone heaved a weary sigh. “She’ll have plenty enough time to demonstrate her feelings toward me while we’re here. I can’t very well have the marriage annulled while Tsar Mikhail is breathing down my neck to see that I comply with his edict.”
“Your work here in Russia wouldn’t be very effective if you were allowed to do such a thing,” Grigori pointed out, piqued with his friend for having contemplated such a thing. “We Russians have a way of taking offense when one of our boyarinas is cast aside or embarrassed by a foreigner. Aleksandr Zenkov was a diplomat well respected in this country. I’d urge you as a friend to tender favorable treatment of his daughter.”
“Great Caesar’s ghost! What do you think I’ll do to her? Beat her?” Tyrone was incredulous. “Synnovea is my wife! If for no other reason than that, she’s deserving of my protection and care!” A bit outraged at Grigori’s warnings, he doffed his breeches and settled his long frame into the steaming bath. Immediately, he sucked in his breath as the hot water reminded him of the mangled condition of his back, especially the area that Synnovea had recently tended. Still feeling the weight of the captain’s perplexed frown, he cocked a challenging brow at the man. “Was there something else you wished to discuss with me?”
Thoughtfully Grigori perched on a nearby stool. “You’ve managed to bemuse me more than any man I’ve ever known, my friend. You speak of distancing yourself from your wife, and yet in the next breath vehemently declare that she’s yours to care for. When you first came here, you seemed loath to involve yourself with women, as if you hated them all. During that space of time I never saw a soldier fight as fiercely as you did. Although you held true to the code of honor, once you were instructed to serve vengeance upon the enemy, you did so with a tenacity that no foe could long withstand. You seemed to take no account of the danger your valor incited, as if you really didn’t care if you were killed—”
“Of course I cared!”
Grigori wasn’t easily put off by the interruption. “In a way, I suppose you did, but you certainly didn’t seem to give serious heed to the risks. Indeed, if you thought a task too dangerous for any of your men, you were always the one who took the chance.”
“There’s something to be said for experience, or haven’t you realized that as yet?” Tyrone countered tersely. “I’ve more skills in fighting than anyone in our regiment and have faced death many times over. If my ability hadn’t been well seasoned by actual clashes of arms, I wouldn’t be here in Moscow doing what I’m being paid to do—instructing the rest of you.”
“I’ve often wondered if you’d consider the perils of warfare with more prudence if you were content with your life.”
“You probe too deeply, tovarish,” Tyrone mumbled through his hands as he vigorously soaped his face. “Though I understand that you’re trying to find some logic in all of this, I can give you no guarantee that I’ll be doing anything differently from now on. God willing, I’ll serve out my due and live to tell of it.”
“I shall say that prayer for both of us, my friend. ’Tis my hope that we’ll have long life and good fortune, and in that quest I offer an earnest plea that you take into account the brevity of our lives even without the threat of conflict and hasten to restore goodwill between you and your bride.”
Tyrone rinsed the soap from his face and peered up at the man, who grinned and casually saluted him before sauntering away. Tyrone eyed him for a moment and then leaned back in the tub to consider the man’s advice. Though Grigori’s words had vexed him, he couldn’t discount the fact that they had been spoken with as much truth as good intent. Frowning musefully, he thought back on a few of his rather expeditious advances into the roiling core of several frays, including his attack on Ladislaus’s band. In retrospect, he had to admit that his actions might have seemed reckless and daring, but in each event he had seen the necessity for a strong show of force. Had he acted otherwise, innocents might have suffered and Synnovea would have belonged to Ladislaus rather than to him, a situation he would have detested despite the discord that presently existed between them.
Properly groomed and handsomely attired, Tyrone was again accompanied to the bridal chambers by those same cohorts who had carried him upstairs the night before. When they stood outside the anteroom and called for entry, the sounds that emanated forthwith from the rooms were closely reminiscent of a gaggle of geese coming to rest upon a lake. After a brief elapse of time, the portal creaked open just wide enough to allow a young boyarina to peer through the narrow space.
“A moment, please…my lords.” The plea was punctuated with breathless halts and giggles. “Lady Synnovea…hasn’t yet finished…dressing….”
“Bid her to come forth so we may see her beauty,” Walsworth urged with a chortle.
“Come now, maid,” Tyrone cajoled as he plied his best grin upon her. “Would you also hold the groom at bay when he has ventured forth to fetch his bride? Stand aside, I say, and let me enter.”
Synnovea’s muffled voice came from within the bedchamber, bidding the boyarina to open the doors of the anteroom. In eager response, the groom and his friends entered amid the vivacious laughter of elegantly garbed ladies and a pair of young chambermaids, who skittered about in their haste to remove a tub from the dressing room. While the men had made use of the bathing chamber downstairs, the copper vessel had served Synnovea’s needs upstairs, allowing her to bathe and perfume herself in privacy before she and Ali were joined by tittering maids and curious matrons who had craned their necks in an effort to apprise themselves of the condition of the bed and its sheets. Ali was still smoothing down the hem of her mistress’s sarafan when the men came striding boldly through the portal, intruding too quickly upon the bride. Synnovea whirled away from their searching eyes as she hastened to fasten the last few silken frogs on her sarafan, frustrating Zelda’s efforts to cover the loosely flowing black hair with a veil. In the next moment the princess stumbled back in surprise as Tyrone halted beside them and lifted the shimmering cloth from his wife’s head.
“If it’s all the same to you, Princess, I’d rather see my wife’s hair unfettered by braids and veils,
” he declared with a dashing grin, but at Zelda’s horrified stare, his smile turned somewhat dubious. “Apparently it does make a difference.”
With dark eyes dancing warmly, Synnovea glanced over her shoulder at Tyrone, pleased that he should lend some husbandly consideration to her while her friends were there. When he leaned near, her eyes swept his features admiringly. She caught a fleeting whiff of a manly fragrance and, underneath it, the scent of soap, hardly anything at all, yet enough to weaken her knees. “Here in Russia a married woman mustn’t reveal her hair to anyone but her husband,” she informed him shyly. “If you’d like me to leave it unbound when we’re alone, you need only tell me.”
Tyrone reached out and slowly stroked a hand down the softly waving length, recalling the first time he had fed his gaze upon the long tresses, though at the time, he had been reluctant to waste any opportunity to peruse her sleek, naked form.