Mikhail's eyes twinkled. "I will be sure I am not the one who serves you that second cup. I have had experience with your temper."
"It was only a pinprick of a wound," Silver protested. "And you shouldn't have let Nicholas persuade you into doing something so foolish. I had to defend myself, didn't I?"
Mikhail nodded. "I hold no ill will." His brow wrinkled in a frown. "But I told you that Nicholas did not try to persuade me. He wanted it done, but he did not ask me to bring you to him."
"Do you always do what Nicholas wants you to?" Silver asked curiously. "You told me once that your loyalty would always be to him. I find it strange that you set no boundaries."
"Nicholas set no boundaries when he gave me his help," Mikhail said simply. "He gave up what he would have given his soul to keep. It is only right that in return I try to give him whatever will make his life tolerable."
"If that includes abducting women, I believe you will soon find your life intolerable."
Mikhail only smiled.
"What would Nicholas have given his soul to keep?"
"Freedom."
Silver gazed at him thoughtfully. It wasn't the answer she had expected, and it only demonstrated how little she really knew about Nicholas. "Freedom is a great gift."
Etaine shivered. "It's more than that. It's life itself. Every time I heard the key turn in the lock of the cage and knew there was no escape—"
"Don't think about it." Silver's arm slid quickly around the child's shoulders.
"She has to think about it." Mikhail's voice was gentle as his gaze rested on Etaine's face. "It's a part of her. It will always be a part of her. We are what life makes us."
Etaine's eyes met Mikhail's with complete understanding and that odd sense of kinship. "Yes, that's true.
"But there's no reason we can't enjoy what we have in the present," he said gravely. "There are many pleasures. The sunlight, the flowers ..."
They were almost the same words Etaine had used before Mikhail had joined them. Why, they were really very much alike, Silver realized suddenly. They both possessed a shining simplicity of spirit, a belief that each minute must be treasured and filled with as much delight as possible. No wonder they had instantly recognized each other as kindred spirits. How wonderful it must be, she thought wistfully, to know a perfect meeting of the spirit would banish loneliness forever. Perhaps when her child was born she would have someone to belong to and to share moments like these.
She took one last sip of her sassafras tea and set the cup and saucer down on the bench beside her. She stood up and briskly smoothed the skirts of her gown. "Well, I've had enough of sunlight and flowers. Doing nothing every day is driving me mad. I'm going to see if I can find something interesting to read in the library."
Mikhail unwound his powerful limbs and rose to his feet. "I will go with you."
"You don't have to stay at my side all the time." She gazed at him in exasperation. "I don't need an escort to curl up in a chair with a book."
"I promised Nicholas that when he was not with you, I would be near."
And Nicholas chose to not be with her an amazingly large part of every day, she thought with a wrenching pang. "I don't want you. I can amuse myself," she said with sudden fierceness. "I need no one near to—"
"I think I'll go inside too." Etaine jumped up and slipped her hand in Silver's. "Come along, Silver. Are there any books about tsars, do you suppose? Mikhail told me about Tsar Peter and how he built this city out of marshland." She was pulling Silver swiftly down the path toward the terrace, chattering brightly. "And he moved the capital from Moscow to here and made all his nobles follow him. I think that's interesting, don't you?"
"Very interesting." A faint smile tugged at Silver's lips as she allowed Etaine to lead her down the path toward the distant palace. "And you don't have to try to distract me any longer. Your precious Mikhail isn't in any danger of being scalped at the moment."
"What a relief," Mikhail murmured. "I understand red hair is very much prized among your people."
Etaine grinned as she slowed her pace to a walk. "It wasn't only for Mikhail. You're not happy when you're annoyed, Silver. I wanted only to—"
Silver began to laugh as she held up her hand. "I know exactly what you wanted to do, Etaine. Sunlight and flowers. Am I right?"
Etaine nodded. "I'm sure it's much better for you and the baby not to be troubled.''
Silver's hand went protectively to her abdomen. The baby . . . Was it really bad for the baby for her to be upset? And, if it was bad, how did someone with her uncertain temperament keep from exploding occasionally? There was more to this matter of having a baby than she had dreamed.
"What's beyond the wall?" Etaine was pointing to the high brick wall that bordered the western perimeter of the garden. "Another distraction?"
Silver shook her head. "I have no idea. I've never been curious enough to inquire."
"No, truly. I've been wondering about it ever since I came here." Etaine turned to Mikhail. "Do you know? Yesterday I tried the door in the wall but it was locked."
"It is the bathhouse garden and only Nicholas has the key."
"The bathhouse?" Silver frowned in puzzlement. "But a hip bath is brought to my room every morning."
"That is because it is summer. The bathhouse is used only in the winter."
"But that doesn't make sense. I've heard it becomes terribly cold here in the winter. Why should anyone trek down from the house in the freezing—"
Pain!
Silver stopped dead in the center of the path, swaying, breathless.
"Silver . . ." Etaine's face was suddenly pale and frightened as she peered up at her. "Silver, what's wrong? You look so—"
A scream issued from Silver's throat as jagged pain ripped through her belly. She bent over, clutching her abdomen. The garden shimmered around her as wave after wave of agony struck through her. "No! Dear God, I won't have it!"
"Let me help." Mikhail was lifting her easily, his rough-hewn features above her taut with concern. "It is all right, Silver. I will get you to Nicholas."
"Hurt ..." Tears were running down her cheeks, she realized dimly. She should have had more courage than to weep like a babe in a papoose, but the suddenness of the pain had surprised her. Another spasm shuddered through her and she gasped, trying to draw up her knees.
"I know you hurt." Mikhail walked swiftly toward the terrace, his gaze fixed straight ahead. "It will soon be over."
She had never seen Mikhail look so grim, she thought hazily. "Mikhail . . ." Then another convulsion of agony caused her to clutch his arms, digging her nails into his flesh.
"Don't be frightened, Silver." Etaine's voice was urgent, frantic. "We'll take care of you."
She would not be all right, Silver knew with sudden dismal clarity. Nothing would ever be all right again. There was only loneliness and sadness and pain in the world. Once there had been a hope for something else for her, but it was gone. "Nicholas," she whispered. "Nicholas, help me!"
Then the darkness began.
"She's lost the child," Matthew Rellings said. "She's very young and no doubt the journey from America was too much in her frail condition."
Nicholas's hands closed into fists at his sides. Lord, the man was a fool. "She's not frail. She's strong and healthy and this shouldn't have happened. You shouldn't have permitted it to happen. What kind of doctor are you, anyway? If there was a problem, you should have seen it coming."
"I'm only a physician not a seer," Dr. Rellings said ponderously. "I know you're upset, Your Highness, but you mustn't be unreasonable. Sometimes these things are guided by a higher power than our humble selves and—"
"Get out of my sight." Nicholas's voice cracked like a whiplash across Dr. Relling's sentence. "I never want to see your face again."
Dr. Rellings sidled quickly toward the door of the study. "You're being most unfair," he whined, glancing apprehensively at Nicholas and then to the corner of the room where Mikhail loo
med intimidatingly. "Her Highness had lost the child before I ever set foot inside your front door. It's not my fault—"
"I don't feel like being fair," Nicholas said savagely. "I feel like throttling someone, and if you don't get out of here, it may be you."
Dr. Rellings opened the door. "I'm sure you'll realize how inevitable this tragedy was when you become calmer. Do call on me at any time. I've given my instructions to Count Marinov regarding the care of your poor lady." He smiled tentatively over his shoulder. "You'll be happy to know it was only a girl child, Prince Savron. No heir for you. Perhaps next time you'll be more fortunate. I've left an elixir for Her Highness that may help her to conceive a fine, healthy boy to—"
"Get out!"
The door shut quickly behind Dr. Rellings.
"Only a girl child," Nicholas repeated bitterly. "I should have strangled the idiot. What do I tell her? 'It doesn't matter that your child is dead, Silver, it was only a female. Not really important.' "
"As you say, the man is a fool." Mikhail moved out of the shadows to stand beside the desk. "He does not realize you would have valued the child even though she would not have carried on your name." His gaze searched Nicholas's face. "The child did have value for you?"
Nicholas whirled toward him. "Of course the child had value for me. Why do you ask?"
Mikhail's expression became shattered. "One does not learn unless one inquires. Are you going to her now?"
Nicholas nodded jerkily as he strode toward the door. "I want to be there when she wakes. Though God knows how I'm going to tell her about the child."
The door closed behind him.
Mikhail gazed after him for a moment, his broad forehead creased in thought. Then he turned and moved slowly toward the French doors that led to the terrace.
"You can leave now, Valentin. I'll stay with her."
Nicholas moved across the bedchamber to look down at Silver's drawn face. God, she looked so damned weak and helpless in the candlelight. Maybe Rellings wasn't such a fool as he had thought. Perhaps Silver really wasn't as strong as he had believed and should never have conceived the child. She seemed little more than a child herself at the moment, a child whose body he had taken and plundered for his own pleasure. "How long did Rellings say she would sleep?"
"He gave her laudanum for the pain." Valentin rose from the chair beside the bed. "He said she might sleep through the night." He nodded to the small bottle on the bedside table. "He left more laudanum if she needs it." He hesitated, his gaze on Nicholas's ravaged face. "Would you like me to stay with you?"
Nicholas shook his head as he dropped down into the chair Valentin had just vacated. "Go to bed. Thank you for staying with her."
"Silver is my friend." Valentin smiled wearily. "And someone had to keep you from mutilating Rellings. You were like a madman when he told you she might have lost the child."
"He should have been able to save it." Nicholas's hands clenched on the brocade arms of the chair. "And Silver was crying, dammit. You know Silver never weeps like other women. And that idiot Rellings just stood there with a sanctimonius look on his face shaking his head. He should have done something to make her stop crying."
"He appeared to do everything he could for her."
"Perhaps." Nicholas's gaze was fastened on Silver's face. "I still never want to see that bastard again. Send for another doctor to tend her."
Valentin nodded. "First thing in the morning. Call me if you need me."
Nicholas stared unwaveringly at Silver. Why didn't she wake? He didn't want to sit there all night dreading the look on her face when he told her there would be no child. Even the thought sent an ache surging through him. He wanted it over.
He seemed destined to hold vigils beside her, watching helplessly as she suffered because of his own self-indulgence. Sitting there was entirely too reminiscent of that night on the Mississippi Rose after Bassinger had beaten Silver unmercifully. Yet there he sat, wondering how he could ease a pain that was far greater than the whipping she had endured on the Mary L.
Damn, he had never felt so guilty in his life. Why must Silver hurt because he had lost all control since the moment he had met her. He was little more than a rutting animal when he was near her. There was no justice for women in this world. It appeared even God was unfair to them.
His lips twisted in a bittersweet smile. Lord, how he had changed since Silver had come into his life. He had always believed it was the man who was the eventual victim in any relationship with the fair sex, and his cynicism and wariness had become legend in his circle. In the early days of their relationship he had wondered how a woman as strong and demanding as Silver had managed to earn his trust. Now he knew it was because Silver's strength was her own, not sucked from her victims, and he cherished her honesty and lust for life as much as he did her beauty and sensuality.
He leaned forward to carefully tuck the coverlet around her shoulders. Tenderness swept through him and he had to swallow to ease the tightness of his throat. He had hoped she would lose a little of her wariness of him as they shared the coming of their child, but that was not to be. He would have to find another way to gain her trust in the future. Now he must wait and help Silver through the agony to come. Dear God, how was he going to tell her?
Nicholas was sitting in the chair by the bed when Silver opened her eyes. He looked tired, she thought drowsily, and terribly, terribly sad. Poor Nicholas, why was he so upset? She instinctively reached out a hand to comfort him but found it too heavy to move. Strange, her head felt heavy too. She must be ill. She rejected the thought immediately. Nonsense, she was never ill. Then why was she lying there . . .
The baby!
"Nicholas. The child. Is my child safe?" Her words were slurred and she barely had been able to form them.
He slowly shook his head as he reached out and covered her hand with his own. "No," he said gently. "Our little girl is gone, Silver."
Emptiness. Somehow she had known she was alone again. She had always been alone, but not like this. Not with this echoing hollowness, not with this void of desolation. "It was a girl?"
"Yes." Nicholas tightened his hand on her own. "The doctor says you'll be fine in a few weeks."
The doctor was wrong. How could she be fine when the world had turned to ice? "Why?" she whispered. "Why did she have to die? Why couldn't I keep my baby?"
A flicker of pain crossed his face. "Christ, I don't know, Silver. The doctor says it was God's will."
"But how could that be?" Her tone held a childlike wonder. "I've never had anyone of my own. Why would God take my baby too? It's not fair, Nicholas."
"No, it's not fair," he said huskily. "But you will have children."
How could she have children when there was only loneliness and isolation left in the world? She slowly shook her head and closed her eyes. Darkness. It was better in the darkness, where she could not see Nicholas's face. He was trying to be kind, attempting to comfort her for the loss of the child he had never wanted. In a tiny compartment of her mind she realized she should be grateful, but his kindness only reminded her of her pain and she must not remember that pain. She would stay in the darkness and the ice, freezing out all the memories and the loneliness.
"Silver . . ." Nicholas's voice held agonizing sympathy. She should answer him, she thought. But if she did, the ice might go away and that couldn't happen.
She withdrew her hand and deliberately turned away from him. Her hand felt strange, severed from Nicholas, severed from life. She would soon become accustomed to it, she assured herself. She was strong and would build a fine wall of ice that would hold out all the pain and loneliness.
"Silver, for God's sake, let me help you."
"Go away, Nicholas."
"The hell I will. I'm not letting you go through this alone."
But she was always alone. Didn't Nicholas know that? If he wouldn't go away, then she'd have to go away from him. It wouldn't be difficult; even now she was building the high wall of ice.<
br />
She kept her eyes tightly closed. "Then stay," she whispered. "It doesn't really matter."
The cup and saucer were still on the bench where Silver had placed them.
Mikhail stood looking down at them, his blunt features oddly stern in the moonlight. He bent slowly and picked up the cup. The china possessed an eggshell delicacy in his big hands and he held the cup very carefully as he lifted it to his nose. There was still a residue of tea at the bottom of the cup and the strong odor of sassafras assaulted his nostrils. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes, trying to attune his senses to probing sharpness. It had been so long.
But not too long, he realized grimly. He still remembered that night in the Kuban and everything connected with it. The events that had transpired were now being brought back to him with stunning force. Sweet Mary, he had hoped he was wrong, but he couldn't deny that what he smelled was—
"Mikhail."
He almost dropped the cup as he whirled around at the sound of his name.
Etaine, specterlike in her white nightgown and robe, stood on the path behind him, her short fair curls shining as if they were the moonlight itself.
He relaxed and casually replaced the cup on the bench. "You startled me. You should be in bed, Etaine. It is far too late for children to be running around in the garden."
"I couldn't sleep." She came closer. "I was worried about Silver and I was standing at the window when I saw you walking down the path." Her gaze went to the cup on the bench. "I'm surprised one of the servants didn't collect that. I guess there was too much confusion when Silver became ill."
Mikhail nodded silently.
Etaine's face became sad. "How quickly things change. Silver was so happy when I brought her that cup of tea and then later—"
"You brought her the tea?"
Etaine looked at him, surprised by the sharpness of his tone. "Why, yes. Nicholas asked me to do it. I was going to join Silver in the garden anyway. What difference does it make? None of that is important now. Silver's lost her baby, hasn't she, Mikhail?"
"Yes. Did no one tell you?"