Synnovea moved away before Nikolai could offer further comment and waved to the rest of the soldiers, who grinned and responded in kind. Then she slipped an arm around Ali’s thin waist and gently guided her to their suite of rooms in the manse.
In the flickering glow of nearly a score of candles that burned atop a trio of candelabra, it became immediately evident that their new accommodations could not be faulted. A tiny cubicle just off the main bedchamber was furnished with a narrow bed and basic essentials to meet Ali’s requirements for comfort and cleanliness. Within that tiny niche, Synnovea pushed open the windows to let in the cooling evening breezes and then folded down the linens on the cot. Intent upon the maid’s comfort and full recovery, she bade the maid to rest until it was time for the servants to eat. After blowing out the tapers, she withdrew and closed the door quietly behind her.
The main bedchamber was spacious and comfortably furnished with a chaise, several large chests, and a canopied bed draped with gold silk panels. A heavily decorated porcelain stove stood in a favorable spot where it would provide heat for both rooms during the winter. In all, the room was fit for royalty, yet at the moment, Synnovea felt much like an impoverished orphan within its opulence. Simple truth, she’d have been much happier at home, living well away from the Taraslovs.
Privately ensconced at last behind closed doors, Synnovea washed thoroughly and then wrapped a long robe about her naked body before snuffing out the candles. The chaise was inviting, and she collapsed in pure exhaustion upon its cushions. Though she needed solace and rest from the ordeal of her meeting with Anna, sleep seemed as evasive as the legendary firebird that Tsar Ivan had purportedly searched for in a Russian fable. Her mind wandered far afield, lingering for a time on the servants whom she had left to tend her home and the myriad questions they had presented about her expected return, which, sadly, had been beyond her ability to answer.
In greater detail Synnovea mulled over the qualms she had battled after receiving the tsar’s message. Anna was his cousin and touted to be his favorite, though some close to the monarch had offered the theory that the princess had been the one to exaggerate their fondness for each other since their contact in past years had been, at best, distant. Anna had just recently moved to Moscow from the small province wherein she had grown up. Mikhail, on the other hand, had been sequestered for most of his life in a monastery where, as a child, he had been taken by his mother. Throughout his youth it had been a safe haven from the dark plots, schemes, and intrigue of ambitious boyars. Considering the fact that they hadn’t spent much time together over the years, the deep regard the cousins supposedly shared for one another didn’t seem likely.
No, their relationship really didn’t bother Synnovea as much as Anna’s aversion to Natasha. With the princess’s most recent insinuations roiling in retrospect through her mind, Synnovea was hard-pressed to think kindly of her hostess. Indeed, if Anna continued to express her animosity toward Natasha, a sharp wedge would likely be driven between them, and they’d be ever at odds.
Curling up on her side, Synnovea stuffed the pillows beneath her head as she probed the possible causes for Anna’s intense dislike. Natasha had socialized with affluent boyars for many years now, having gained a substantial number of friends over the course of three marriages, but Anna stubbornly refused to recognize her as a person of any import. Earlier in the year Natasha had reproved Ivan Voronsky for his gauche manners in insulting one of her guests and had kindly advised him to be more considerate in the future. Having witnessed his overt contempt for anyone who wasn’t immediately appreciative of his every thought and deed, Synnovea could imagine the scope of his complaints to anyone who would lend him a sympathetic ear. The princess certainly seemed a gullible candidate.
As for Prince Aleksei, it was widely rumored that he had a roaming eye that was wont to wander to maidens much younger than his wife. For years, the blame of a barren womb had been laid upon Anna, but of late, gossips were more apt to surmise the judgment against the princess had been unfair, since it was believed that Prince Aleksei was scattering his seed among a whole battery of young women whose reputations had never been publicly compromised. When the tsar had issued his decree, Synnovea had found such hearsay disturbing, for she had had no way of knowing what she’d encounter under the Taraslov roof. It was one thing to vie with Anna, but quite another to be ravished by the woman’s lecherous husband.
Sleep finally lent peace to Synnovea’s troubled mind, but alas, it was only a brief respite. She came awake in slow degrees, her mind roaming in a detached search for the cause of her disturbance. She couldn’t remember hearing anything, yet she was inundated with a feeling that something wasn’t quite right in her universe.
From beneath sluggish lids, the jade-brown eyes wandered in a drowsy inspection of the ceiling. A shaft of light stretched across it, reaching to the far wall to her right. Languidly Synnovea lifted a hand to the luminous ray and thought it strange that only the tips of her fingers caught the glow, and they, in turn, were cast in similar shape against the wall above a dark configuration that looked very much like the head and shoulders of a man.
The shadow moved, and with a gasp Synnovea sat upright in sudden alarm, realizing this was no figment of her imagination. She swung about to face the door from whence the light was flowing and saw to her surprise that it had been pushed open. A tall man stood silhouetted against the candlelight filling the hallway, but as her gaze fell on him, the intruder moved beyond the doorway to the left and, with muffled tread, disappeared from sight.
Synnovea glanced down at herself and realized that her silken robe had fallen open to reveal a goodly length of thigh and the upper curves of her bosom. Her cheeks fairly flamed with indignation as she snatched the silken robe closed and leapt from the chaise. By the time she reached the door, not even the shuffle of footfalls could be detected. Squat tapers burned in several sconces located along the corridor, dispelling any shadows that might have invited one to lurk there. Across the hallway, a door stood ajar, opening into a room that was as dark as the night outside.
A wary prickling crawled upward along Synnovea’s nape. If the man was waiting there, expecting her to follow, it seemed advisable for her to stay behind a locked door where she’d be safe. Retreating, she pushed the heavy portal closed and slid the bar home noisily, forbidding any further intrusion by Prince Aleksei Taraslov, a most notorious debaucher of women!
4
Synnovea carefully debated her alternatives. As much as she considered prostrating herself before Tsar Mikhail and begging him to release her from this prison he had inadvertently created for her, it wouldn’t be wise to do so. She’d only expose herself to harsh criticisms, if not from him, then surely from the Taraslovs, who’d be outraged by her suppositions. They’d naturally resent any grievances that would make them seem less than worthy of the tsar’s trust. And who could predict what they might say or do to save face? They could twist her petitions to their liking, possibly causing severe judgments to be leveled against her. Very simply, she could be maligned as ungrateful and hopelessly self-willed. It was therefore crucial that she hold her peace and endure whatever hardships might arise until she could think of a more judicious way of gaining her freedom.
The traditional garments of a Russian maiden would definitely be the best choice to wear on her first evening at the Taraslovs, Synnovea decided. Not only did she hope to guard against Aleksei’s rudely prying eyes by wearing such garb, but she deemed it wise not to test Anna’s tolerance. Over a ribbon-trimmed underskirt and a shirtwaist fashioned with full, billowy sleeves, she donned a sarafan of rich ruby satin elaborately stitched with threads of silk. Upon this embroidery, an ornate overlay of gilded threads had been sewn to enrich the artistry of the piece, copying the pattern of tiny flowers that embellished the blouse. Low-heeled slippers of ruby-red, bedecked with the same needlework, were also adorned with soles that formed wedges of gold. Her long, lustrous black hair had been intertwined with ribb
ons and woven into the customary single braid for unwed maids. Upon her head, she settled a rounded kokoshniki, formed in the shape of a crescent. Tiny jewels and beads of gold and red shimmered amid the elaborate needlework. Lastly she fastened on earrings of finely worked gold filigree adorned with delicate clusters of rubies.
When the last bow was tied, the final clasp fastened, Synnovea assessed the results in a long, silvered looking-glass, a luxury she also enjoyed while at home and was grateful to find here. At least, in furnishing the guest chambers, Anna had been keenly aware of what would please her guests, even if she hadn’t had the present one in mind at the time. Boyars never knew when they would be entertaining or housing important visitors. In short, it was far better to be prepared than embarrassed.
It had been far from Synnovea’s intent to achieve such a stunning radiance that she’d actually complicate her dilemma. Yet when she joined the Taraslovs and Ivan in the parlor downstairs, the sly, seductive narrowing of Aleksei’s eyes and the ebullient smile curving his generous lips readily summoned forth an impression of a snake slyly perusing a bird, clearly for the purpose of devouring it. Synnovea’s quick glance toward Anna caught a sharp frown being subdued behind a stiffly fixed visage and a forced smile of greeting. No words parted the princess’s grimacing lips. The prince, however, proved more vocal.
“My dear Countess Synnovea,” he murmured warmly, stepping forward to cradle her hand within the slender length of his. Garbed in a royal blue kaftan bedecked with elaborate embroidery, Aleksei looked like some bronze-skinned sheik from the deserts of Arabia. His warm brown eyes glowed with provocative fervor as they held her gaze in a commanding vise. Beneath a carefully groomed mustache, his red lips widened into a sultry smile. “I had nigh forgotten how lovely you are, my dear. You’re as enchanting as an elegant swan.”
A barrage of accusations tempted Synnovea’s tongue, and though her eyes chilled briefly to indicate her displeasure with his unabashed invasion of her privacy, she held her silence. Still, she was not above purloining some subtle revenge. Deftly she slipped her hand from his, forbidding him the opportunity to kiss the pale fingers, and opened a bejeweled fan between them. Cleverly she denied his compliments as well, aware that Anna was regarding them with icy shards of enmity glittering in her eyes. As the recipient of that chilling glower, Synnovea understood clearly what it felt like to be loathed by another woman.
“I’m humbled by such words of charity, Prince Aleksei.” She feigned a doleful look of regret. “Though sweet succor to my ears, I fear your kindness is exceeded only by your pity for me.”
Her gentle scolding brought a smile of amiable humor to Aleksei’s sensual lips. While he recognized the vexation in her distant manner, it served to whet his appetite all the more. He was intrigued by her spirit, for he had often derived ecstatic pleasure in making conquests among the most reluctant virgins and noting their subsequent compliance to his every whim. Because of the accessibility of her tremendous beauty, this particular maiden promised to be exceptionally sweet provender upon whom his ravenous lusts could be indulged. Her grace and charm would lend great satisfaction to the tryst, at least more than any in which he had recently indulged.
The prince met Synnovea’s aloof stare while his own smoldering gaze promised a fervent seduction. He was confident of achieving his goal. What woman could long resist his amorous attentions and hawkish good looks? His black hair, streaked with gray at the temples, and his warm, swarthy complexion enhanced his handsome features and accentuated his appeal despite a total of twoscore and three years behind him. As he leaned toward Synnovea, his husky whisper conveyed an unfaltering boldness. “Are you really so innocent of your marvelous beauty and its effect on men, my dear?”
“Kind sir, pity me and desist of such flattery before you turn my head,” Synnovea begged coolly, recognizing the challenge twinkling in his darkly shining eyes.
“Flattery?” He laughed in warm amusement. “Oh, nay! I fear it’s infatuation, pure and simple, that makes me speak as I do.”
Feeling decidedly threatened by his temerity, Synnovea lifted the fan higher to flick it in irritation before her hotly burning cheeks. She could understand more accurately now why Aleksei’s reputation had preceded him. He applied his beguiling enticements with the crafty art of a true philanderer and boldly advanced his exploits with unmitigated verve. He didn’t seem the least bit inhibited by his wife’s presence. Indeed, he was brazenly forward, showing little regard for her feelings, while he forced their guest to strike down his overtures and parry his comments in such a way as to hopefully deflect the sharp blade of Anna’s resentment.
Synnovea was adamant in her resolve not to fall victim to his lascivious gambits. Nor would she, for even a moment, allow him to entertain the idea that she would become another willing plaything. Circumventing his ploy, she deliberately drew Anna into the contest. “No need to extend your mercy to the extreme, my lord. I can see quite clearly the high degree of beauty by which I must be judged and am quite resolved to endure the shortcomings of this poor flask that you see before you, knowing it’s far beyond my ability to hold a candle to Princess Anna who would shame the very sun with her radiance.”
Aleksei drew back to stare at his glowering wife with a jaundiced eye and managed a brief twitch of a smile. “Why, of course,” he replied with a dearth of enthusiasm and then allowed himself to be more magnanimous. “I suppose it’s like the gem that’s too close at hand.”
“Sometimes,” Anna interjected in glacial tones, barely moving her tensed lips, “the rare jewel is overlooked when a more colorful yet far less worthy bauble attracts the eye.”
Ivan came forward from the windows, where he had been all but obscured by shadows, and gave Synnovea a lengthy scrutiny which by no means was intended as a compliment. “I’m greatly heartened, Countess, that you’ve finally regarded the garments of your homeland suitable to don. I was sure you were averse to wearing them.”
“On the contrary,” Synnovea replied, forcing a smile. “I simply had no desire to see such treasures ruined by the journey.”
“But surely you have less extravagant sarafans that you could’ve worn while traveling,” Ivan argued, reveling in the disapproval that Anna had already demonstrated toward the girl. To exact revenge at every turn of the hand while remaining a saint in the eyes of the princess was a temptation he couldn’t resist. “Now tell us true, my lady, was your goal to look your prettiest for your escort?”
His question awakened a nettling irritation within her. “You imagine too much, Ivan.”
Aleksei interceded on her behalf, fully aware of the hostility to which she had fallen prey. He disregarded as irrelevant the fact that his wayward propensities were primarily to blame for his wife’s animosity. For the most part, he ignored Anna’s temper tantrums and visited her bed only when no other distractions were conveniently at hand or when he wanted to maneuver her opinions on certain matters. Like most women, she found it hard to resist his lustful bent, but her penchant for nagging usually drove him off in frantic pursuit of unexplored territories. “Synnovea is fortunate to be so well traveled, and as she has clearly demonstrated, she has become well versed in both cultures and is just as comfortable in our sarafans as in those horrible, stiff English ruffs.” He turned to Synnovea. “I do applaud your diversity, my dear. You’re clearly young enough to be pliable to a variety of changes.”
Anna gritted her teeth in a badly feigned smile as her husband met her glare with a purposefully dull gaze. His dark brow lifted tauntingly, deepening her resentment until she promised herself that if he didn’t escape the manse, as was his habit at late hours, she’d take him to task for blatantly flaunting the youth of their ward in her face.
Boris entered the room to announce that a zakuski had been laid out in the dining room in honor of the guests. As the servant withdrew, Anna faced Ivan and Synnovea. “You both must be thoroughly exhausted after your recent encounter with that band of thieves.” She ignored Aleksei?
??s start of surprise and continued with her carefully delivered ruse of concern. She was anxious to air her displeasure with her husband in the privacy of her chambers and made the necessary excuses for their guests’ speedy withdrawal. “I shall endeavor to remember your great weariness and not delay you overlong with my chattering. But for now, a little wine and a few delicious morsels will help assuage your hunger.”
Anna led the way into the dining hall, but not without directing a warning glower over her shoulder as Aleksei fell in behind Synnovea. The princess was aware that from that angle he could appease himself with a closely attentive perusal of their young ward, a practice he had long employed with every beautiful young woman who had come into their home.
The Taraslovs and their guests came together around the food-laden buffet to partake of the caviar, sardines, balyk, ham, and other delectable selections often served prior to the main meal whenever visitors were present. In making his own way to the sideboard, Aleksei deliberately passed near the girl to sample the elusive fragrance of English violets that drifted from her before he deigned to join his wife. Boris laid out an intricately woven bread basket filled with slices of freshly baked khlebny and poured a lemon-flavored vodka for the men and a milder, wild-black-cherry Chereunikyna for the ladies.
Aleksei accepted the piece of bread that Anna had spread with a generous portion of caviar before stepping back with his libation and directing a question to their new charge. “What is this that I hear about thieves, Synnovea? Am I to believe you were accosted by renegades on your journey here?”