Forever in Your Embrace (11 page)

Though the woman turned to leave, Synnovea saw the necessity in delaying her. “I pray a moment more of your time, Princess, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Anna faced her again with brows sharply elevated over cool gray eyes. “Yes, Synnovea? What is it?”

“I brought some of my servants with me to attend my needs while I’m here, and I must arrange a place for them to stay. If you have room to house them here, that would serve my purposes well. My coach and horses should also be stabled if there is enough space.”

Anna’s thin lips twisted in vexation. “You’ve taken much upon yourself if you think to keep them here. There’s little enough room for your maid in your chambers without expecting us to house your coachmen and equipage as well. You’d better send them back to Nizhni Novgorod. You won’t be needing them while you’re living here with us.”

“Then if you’d allow my coachmen to rest here for the night,” Synnovea replied with far more cordiality, “I shall make other arrangements on the morrow. I shouldn’t like to be without my coach while I’m here and thereby impose an inconvenience upon you whenever I have need of it.”

Synnovea fervently desired to live in peace with the Taraslovs, at least until she could disentangle herself from their protection and become her own mistress, but if it meant being imprisoned within the confines of their home and permitted to venture out only at their whim, she knew she wouldn’t be able to endure such restrictions for very long. She wasn’t a child, and she didn’t believe it was Tsar Mikhail’s intent for his cousin to treat her like one.

“And just where do you think you’ll keep them?” Anna challenged acidly.

Though Synnovea knew her suggestion would prick the woman to the core, it was a far more acceptable alternative than what Anna had in mind. “I’m sure Natasha will permit me to use her carriage house while I’m here. She lives only a short distance away.”

“I know where she lives!” Anna snapped, offended by the girl’s efforts to instruct her. Her inability to present a plausible excuse by which she could fortify an outright denial of the girl’s petition only deepened her resentment, yet Anna knew the foolishness of testing her cousin’s sense of fairness.

It was a rare event indeed when Anna acceded to anyone but Tsar Mikhail’s dictates. Even then, she had a strong aversion to accepting his will over her own, a fact which she kept prudently to herself. By disguising her reversal now as submission to her husband’s authority, she hoped to save face. Fairly soon she’d take her revenge by demanding enormous remunerations for the added expense of housing servants and stabling horses. If the girl wanted them near her so badly, then by heavens, Anna would see that she paid dearly for the privilege.

“Prince Aleksei will have to decide if you can keep your coachmen and use our facilities while you’re here.” Having issued that statement, Anna excused herself with a curt nod and left the room, throwing back over her shoulder, “Boris will see you to your chambers.”

Synnovea heaved a sigh of relief, feeling as if she had just won a horrendous battle, but only by the skin of her teeth. Obviously Princess Anna was going to be a lot more difficult than she had first surmised.

Returning outside, Synnovea gave instructions to her coachmen and left them to find their own way to the carriage house. Then she paused to bid farewell to the captain. “T
hank
you for your care and kindly consideration, Nikolai. I hope we shall meet again in the future.”

Gallantly Nikolai bestowed a kiss upon her slender fingers. “Adieu, my fair lady, but I pray that it may not be for long.”

Synnovea had no way of knowing what the morrow would bring and could find no adequate response. “Take care, Nikolai…
druga,
my friend.”

“I’m honored by your friendship, Lady Synnovea. Perhaps we shall meet again…and soon. It would give me great pleasure to see you…now and then.”

Lightly touching two fingers to her lips, Synnovea reached up and pressed those same digits against his lean cheek. “Even if we’re destined never to cross paths again, Nikolai, remember that I shall value you as a man worthy of my trust. His Majesty did me a great service by sending you to serve as captain of my escort. I’m truly indebted.”

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!

S
ynnovea 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 ribbons 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.