“I know that, but General Vanderhout doesn’t. It seems he’s looking for you. You’d better hope we leave ere he finds you.”
“Aye! But what can I tell Synnovea? She’s bound to hear all this filth while I’m gone if I don’t tell her now.”
“I agree! ’Tis better you tell her yourself rather than allow anyone else to wound her. Will she believe you?”
“She must!”
Seated inside the coach, Synnovea was content to inspect the gifts that they had purchased, but when she became aware of a shadowed form filling the open doorway, she glanced up with a smile, expecting to find Tyrone beside the coach. Her greeting froze on her lips as she met Aleksei’s darkly smoldering eyes.
“Synnovea, my beautiful little ice maiden,” he greeted huskily. “I didn’t think it possible, but you’ve grown even more lovely since last we met. Can it be that you’ve become enamored with your husband, and that the radiance of that devotion is what I see? Perhaps you can even be grateful for my lenience in allowing your husband to keep what he no doubt treasures most.”
Synnovea’s icy gaze conveyed her contempt, nearly chilling him to the bone. “I’m extremely grateful that Ladislaus and His Majesty kept you from doing your foul deed, Aleksei. But tell me, why do you brave my company when my husband is so close at hand?”
Aleksei seemed taken aback by her statement and glanced around nervously. Then he arched a brow, displaying a rampant distrust. “Really, Synnovea, you shouldn’t lie like that. What man would foolishly leave his wife alone where dastardly villains could approach her?”
“I’m not alone,” Synnovea reminded him, sweeping her hand around to indicate the location of the driver and the footman. “Stenka and Jozef are here with me, and should I scream, I have every confidence that they’ll both be here a mere step or two before my husband arrives.”
“Tsk, tsk!” Aleksei admonished. “You ought to know by now that I can have their hands lopped off if they dare touch me.”
Synnovea’s eyes grew even colder. “Didn’t His Majesty warn you about your manners after you took Tyrone and had him whipped? If you were to dare such a thing, I assure you that Tsar Mikhail would hear from me. But tell me, do you intend to remain here until my husband returns? Or will you flee like the coward you are once he arrives?”
“I doubt he’s here at all, my girl, so you can cease your feeble ruse, because I’m in no mood to leave just yet.” Slipping into the coach, Aleksei settled himself across from her and, for a lengthy moment, considered her heightened beauty. “You know, Synnovea, I might be persuaded to share my attentions with you after all. You’re clearly worth the effort it will take to forgive you.”
“Please, Aleksei! Forebear the struggle!” Synnovea enjoined sarcastically. “Lend me your hatred instead! I’m better able to cope with your disfavor.”
“I’ve heard rumors that your husband will be leaving the city soon. You’ll need a man to comfort you while he’s gone.”
“Why should I settle for your attentions when I’ve had the best there is?”
“You’re still such an innocent, my dear.” The swarthy prince leered at her in unswerving arrogance. “After you’ve been with me for a while, you’ll learn how to recognize a real man.”
“A real man!” Synnovea scoffed. “Why, you pompous, braying ass! You haven’t the simplest notion what those words mean! Do you honestly think you can judge a man by the number of trollops he has bedded? Why, you’re no better than a boorish swine who mounts the closest haunch to serve his rutting instincts.”
Aleksei’s face hardened with ill-suppressed ire. “I see you haven’t yet learned to curb your tongue, Synnovea. If you think I’m unable to wound you, then you’re mistaken. I have ways to make you grovel at my feet.”
Leaning forward with narrowed eyes and an evil grin, he caught her wrist in a cruel vise. By slow degrees, he increased the pressure upon the finely structured bones and began to smirk as she writhed in pain. “You remember our ride in the hired carriage that night, don’t you? Well, I can think of better ways to deal with your husband than by merely having him flogged, my dear, and I needn’t take the blame for it at all. You see, there are enough Russians who loathe foreigners who’d be willing to carry out a proper gutting of any foreigner they find. I need only hint at what great service they’d do their country if they’d take the colonel for a little jaunt beyond the city.” Aleksei lifted his broad shoulders briefly. “Of course, he’d never return, and you’d be left a widow—”
Aleksei glanced toward the carriage door as he detected a shadow looming beyond the opening. In the next instant he leapt aside with a start of surprise, reminiscent of a dog that had just been scalded.
“You were saying…” Tyrone interrupted caustically and drove a fist toward the man. His blow caught the prince on the cheekbone, forcibly propelling that one toward the door on the far side. The back of Aleksei’s head hit the inner wall near the window, and frantically he sought to right himself and reach the door, but a warbling cry of fear was wrenched from him as Tyrone leapt upon the step and, seizing the hem of the man’s ruby-red kaftan, dragged him back.
Aleksei frantically searched for leverage against his adversary’s relentless vise and clasped his arms tightly around Synnovea’s legs as he was being hauled past her. He grimaced with the strain of trying to resist the inevitable force that drew him nearer the beast who held him, and he raised his head to glare at her as she tried to shove him away. “Be warned, Synnovea! I’ll do more than see your husband gelded this time! I’ll set the dogs to eating his foul carcass! Synnoveaaa…help meee!!”
Snatching Aleksei up by the scruff of the neck, Tyrone yanked him away from his wife and growled near his ear. “You sniveling coward! Where is your courage now that Ladislaus isn’t here at your beck and call?”
The prince’s arms and legs thrashed wildly about as he was dragged swiftly through the door and then launched into midair. He came to earth a short distance away and skidded through the muck of slimy vegetables, which a vendor had just tossed from his cart. The prince scrambled to his feet, and without so much as a downward glance at the clinging bits of offal that adorned his gold-trimmed kaftan, he clasped its hem and made his departure with great, leaping strides.
“Colonel Rycroft!” The name was barked from a different vicinity, and as Tyrone spun around, General Vanderhout stalked toward him with irately flushed cheeks. His outrage was obvious. “What is the meaning of this offense? Have you gone mad?”
“The man was assaulting my wife!”
General Vanderhout blustered in vehement rage. “How dare you attack a Russian boyar when it’s you who should be horsewhipped! I’ve a mind to see you court-martialed for your offenses!”
“My offenses?” Tyrone arched a brow in question. “And just what are they, sir?”
“You thrashed that boyar!” Vanderhout shouted, thrusting an arm after the long-departed prince.
“He deserved at least that much and more for hurting my wife! I should have broken his neck!”
“The tsar will hear of this!”
“Aye, you tell His Majesty! And this time perhaps he’ll have the bloody beggar’s head lifted off his shoulders! That toad has been warned before by His Majesty. It might not go so well for him again!”
“Nor for you, Colonel, when I tell His Majesty what you’ve done!” the general warned irately.
“Precisely what have I done, other than to protect my wife?” Tyrone asked crisply.
Vanderhout sneered in disdain. “You know what you’ve done better than anybody. Frankly, I’d like to see you gelded.”
Tyrone snorted. “That has been tried before, by that very same one who just now tried to accost my wife!”
“Obviously he wasn’t successful,” the older man snapped. “Or did that happen after you bedded my wife?”
The bronzed cheeks flexed with ill-suppressed ire. “I’ve just heard the rumors about Aleta’s condition, General. The only thing I can s
ay is that I’m not the one at fault.”
“Aleta says you are, and for that affront, Colonel, I’ll see you stripped of your rank and sent home in disgrace.”
Tyrone muttered a curse as he felt the sting of Aleta’s conniving revenge. No doubt she was seeking retribution for his rejection of her, but he was not about to accept her accusations without defending himself. “I suggest, General, that you seek out the truth of this matter ere you proceed with your claims. You’ll save both yourself and your wife a great deal of embarrassment.”
General Vincent Vanderhout reddened to the neck of his shirt as he struggled to find an appropriate rejoinder to refute the colonel’s claim of innocence. With equal fervor he searched for a threat to frighten the man, but when he met the steely stare of those blue eyes, he could do naught but sputter and spew in frustration.
“I must be leaving now, General,” Tyrone continued tersely, “but if you wish to address this matter further, be assured that I have witnesses to testify in my behalf, several high-ranking officers who can vouch for the number of times I’ve turned aside your wife’s invitations. Her indiscretions are none of my affair, but I promise you, I won’t let her lies ruin my life.” Inclining his head with a crisp nod of farewell, Tyrone ended the conversation abruptly. “Good day, General.”
“This is not the end of it, Colonel Rycroft!” Vincent Vanderhout railed. “You’ll hear about this again!”
Ignoring the man’s threats, Tyrone turned and gestured for Stenka to make ready to depart before he climbed into the coach and took a seat beside his wife. As the conveyance lurched into motion, he muttered through grinding teeth, “ ’Twould truly seem that a woman scorned has the sting of a venomous viper.”
Synnovea searched her husband’s angry visage, wondering what else had occurred to thwart his good humor. “Beyond our confrontation with Aleksei, what has happened to make you say that?”
“Aleta is with child,” Tyrone stated with a heavy sigh, “and General Vanderhout claims he’s not the father. ’Twould seem that she has taken the initiative to lie by claiming that I am the one at fault, obviously to cause trouble for me.” He looked into his wife’s worried gaze. “I’m not, Synnovea. I swear to you that I’ve never touched that woman except to thrust her out of my sight.”
Leaning forward, Synnovea pressed her brow gently against the side of his stalwart neck and, in a soft whisper, dissolved most of his anger. “I believe you, Ty.”
Slipping a hand beneath her chin, Tyrone drew it up and searched her softly smiling face for a lengthy moment before he lowered a long, tender kiss upon her lips. When he drew back, his eyes delved warmly into hers. “Have I told you yet, madam, that I love you?”
The green-brown eyes grew misty with elated tears as she searched his face. “Do you really mean that, Ty?”
“Aye, madam, very much. Indeed, I cannot remember a time when I haven’t loved you. You’ve been the one for whom my heart has beat ever since we came together in the pool months ago.”
“My dearest, dearest colonel,” she breathed as his lips lowered to savor hers again.
As the coach rumbled away from the square, they clung together, luxuriating in their marital contentment. It was several moments before Synnovea broke the revelry by telling her husband of the princely boyar’s intent.
“Aleksei has heard rumors that you’ll be leaving soon. He has also decided that he would like to resume his efforts to have me in his bed.”
Tyrone stared at his wife in some surprise and recognized the worry written on her face. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he snuggled her close against his chest and soothed her fears as much as he was able. “I’ll set men around the house to watch over you in my absence. Aleksei isn’t brave enough to confront several armed guards alone. He needs a whole regiment behind him to give him courage.”
Synnovea smiled into the beautiful blue eyes above her own. “I’ll miss you terribly, Colonel Sir.”
“I’ll be leaving my heart with you,” he whispered, caressing her face with his lips. “Guard it well for me.”
“I’ll never betray you, Ty,” she promised softly, bracing herself up higher on his chest. She traced a fingertip over his lips and chin before lifting shining eyes to his. “I think I love you, Colonel Sir.”
In the next phase of a heartbeat, their hungering mouths came together in a kiss that sealed their vows of love more thoroughly than any spoken word. A long moment later, they pulled apart, but that same evening they retired earlier than usual to the upper chambers, where they spent many wakeful hours sweetening their passion with mutual demonstrations of their devotion.
19
The sun concluded its languid journey across the welkin blue and, for a lengthy moment, seemed to pause above the distant line that marked the end of its passage, as if delighting in its own magnificence, much like an actor posturing grandly for his audience before making his nightly departure from the stage. Crimson rays flared outward from the western sky, piercing the thin, ragged clouds that mischievously sought to veil the fiery brilliance of that great and notable visage. Replete in its unyielding condescension, the daystar finally bowed its head of its own accord and sank slowly from sight, allowing the heavy curtains of dusk to close behind it. Only a soft, rosy aura remained to evidence its passing until that, too, dwindled beneath the trailing hem of an ebon cloak that scattered a myriad of glittering crystals in its wake.
The night-born darkness was what Tyrone’s troop had been waiting for to mask their advance up the hill. Avar, Grigori, and a small vanguard of soldiers had already ascended to the bluff to take captive there a pair of guards living in a hut and to secure the area so the company could move stealthily into place. On his earlier scouting expedition, Avar had clandestinely observed the lookouts long enough to become familiar with their routine. Whether by soft, reassuring whistles, which came at regular intervals, or by sharper signals that alerted the camp of approaching danger, the scout now had the knowledge to enable the detachment to continue a covert surveillance of the canyon over which they’d be keeping watch. Already Avar had employed a birdlike trill to placate the half-dozen or so stalwarts who normally kept vigil in the camp down below. Everything was in readiness for the soldiers’ advance.
It was of paramount importance that Tyrone and his company of soldiers gain the hilltop positions undetected. Only when they were well assured that Ladislaus was in the camp would they launch their attack. If an alarm sounded ere the rascal was securely caught in their trap, the chances of capturing him were nil. Tyrone was adamant that nothing go wrong. He had come too far to think of springing his trap before the fox was in the bag.
Thus, in preparation for their ascent, the horses’ hooves had been padded, the axles of the supply wagons and the gun carriages heavily greased, and the wooden wheels wrapped with leather strips to muffle every bit of noise possible. No word was to be spoken except in the faintest whisper. Having already stressed the need for caution, Tyrone swung astride the huge black and casually drew the reins through his lean fingers as his men followed his lead and mounted their steeds. He raised an arm and swept it forward, silently motioning for them to move up the incline.
Long before he had actually started planning the foray, Tyrone had determined that their primary goal would have to be the capture of Ladislaus and the more important members of his band. By stripping away their leadership, he hoped to hamper the remnant’s ability to regroup. Without Ladislaus, he could foresee the others being dispersed in a state of chaos or perhaps scattered by those prone to struggle for positions of control. If his planned assault proved successful, then the prisoners would be taken back to Moscow, where they’d be subsequently judged for their crimes. Whatever happened beyond that point wasn’t within Tyrone’s power to dictate. If found guilty, the thieves would either be held for eons behind dungeon walls or be escorted to the spot near the Lobnoe Mesto, where the city held public executions.
Many in positions of authority had intent
ionally been led to believe that Colonel Rycroft’s objective was of no great import. To guarantee that such would be the case, Tyrone had deliberately bypassed General Vanderhout and, with Grigori acting as his interpreter to ensure that he’d be clearly understood, had taken his petition directly to the field marshal, who had proven entirely receptive to the idea of ridding the countryside of Ladislaus’s army of bandits. Tyrone’s appeal for secrecy had influenced the man to keep the matter to himself while allowing contrary rumors to filter down to the other men in the division. Nearly the whole Russian army thought the English colonel was merely leading his men on another practice maneuver in an area far afield from whence they’d actually be going.
When Vincent Vanderhout finally became cognizant of the fact that he hadn’t been advised of Colonel Rycroft’s plans well in advance of the actual issuance of orders, he had ranted and raved as if his second-in-command had committed a treasonous crime. The general was even more aghast when he had discovered that the colonel had requisitioned a half-dozen small cannons affixed on their own ribauldequins and twice that number of artillerymen to man them. His bushy brows had shot up to lofty heights of unparalleled disbelief at this affront, for he was sure the younger man was now trying to undermine his command or, at the very least, hoping to reap honors rightfully due him. Taking great exception to the clandestine manner in which these supplies had been obtained by his second-in-command, Vanderhout became resolved to teach the Englishman a lesson. Gaining audience with the highest military authority within his immediate reach, he had vehemently demanded that another be chosen to lead the expedition, but he was informed that his request would have to be approved by the field marshal, who at the time was far too busy to see him.