Forever in Your Embrace (21 page)

Aleksei slipped an arm around her waist, but Synnovea snatched away and glared back at him with eyes flashing with feral intensity. “If you force me against my will, Aleksei,” she warned in a low, ragged tone, “I swear you’ll reap my revenge. I’m
not
one of your little trollops whom you can seize and take at your whim! If Anna won’t listen to my complaints, then I’ll take them to Tsar Mikhail. But know this, Aleksei: I’ll have retribution for any offense you commit against me!”

An abortive laugh displayed his contempt for her threats. Still holding her wrist, he smirked with unswerving confidence. “Do you actually think you can threaten me and dance away to your delight, my girl? Nay, let it never be said. Your words will fall on deaf ears, for I shall make of them a lie and pledge my troth that you speak falsely. Anna will hear no slander from you. So you see how shallow your threats are? Truly, Synnovea, there’s no advantage in fighting me.”

Smiling in haughty arrogance, he seized the front of her bodice and, with a downward jerk that startled a scream from her, ripped the stomacher free, leaving naught but a chemise to hide her bosom between the rent. Aleksei stretched forth a hand to test the delectable fullness, but with an infuriated shriek, Synnovea whirled away. Alas, her attempt to flee gained her nothing, for he caught his fingers in the cluster of curls on top of her head and, hauling her back, lifted her struggling form into his arms.

Shouldering the door aside, Aleksei pushed his way into the cottage and kicked the portal closed behind him. With nary a pause, he crossed to a narrow cot in the corner and dropped her upon it. As she lit, wolf pelts seemed to enfold her and threatened to smother her as they flew over her face. Fighting her way free, Synnovea scrambled to her knees and quickly apprised herself of her surroundings. She glimpsed an opening between Aleksei and a small table standing near the head of the cot and lunged for it, intent upon slipping through the breach. Promptly he stepped to block her path, but she eluded his reaching hands and sprang to the opposite end of the bed, from whence she crawled hastily toward an open niche. He was there to meet her and thwarted her attempts again and again. Finally she sat back upon her heels, gasping air into her lungs, and glared up at him.

Casually Aleksei began slipping out of his kaftan. “You see? There’s no escape for you, my beauty.”

Tossing aside the garment, he faced Synnovea, garbed in nothing more than a thin shirt and leggings that clung closely to his scrawny legs. His wide shoulders and the roomy kaftans had made him seem heavier and more muscular than he actually was, for he bordered on thinness and was rather straight from his chest downward. Hardly the sort of physique she had been admiring lately.

Aleksei watched his captive carefully as her eyes flew about the cabin in an anxious quest for escape. She darted toward another opening, but again he caught her and, this time, shoved her back upon the pelts. She gnashed her teeth in frustration and tried to claw him, but he chortled in amusement at her attempts and batted her arms away. Holding her thus, he jerked the cot away from the wall and settled astride the narrow bed, pinning her beneath him and stilling her wildly thrashing limbs.

Synnovea was hardly subdued. When he lifted himself to tug up her skirts, she was bent on wiggling out from under him. Aleksei expected as much and immediately resettled himself across her legs.

In his eagerness to drag her petticoats out from under him, he failed to notice the slender hand closing around a honing stone that had been left on the table beside the bed. Nor did he see her fist swinging upward in an arc away from the nightstand. Synnovea forced every bit of the strength she possessed behind the blow, catching her would-be debaucher squarely against the side of his nose with the edge of the stone, setting it abruptly askew.

Aleksei’s pained yowl seemed to shake the hut right down to its foundation as he reeled backward from the blow. He clasped his hands to his face, a vivid array of colors bedazzling him as an unbearable agony blinded him to everything else. Several red droplets splattered onto his white shirt, and as his sight cleared and he spread his hands, he gaped down in slack-jawed awe at the splotches. He could hardly believe his blood had been spilled by so slender a maid, yet the anguish was too intense for him to doubt the fact. Emitting a groan, he pressed a finger beneath his nose and tried to curb the dribbling flow, but alas, it could not be stemmed. The slightest touch sent sharp, splintering shards of excruciating pain shooting upward from his nose into his brow. From there, his torment expanded and seemed to reach to the very ends of his nerves. The anguish was too great to bear, and losing all desire to fulfill his lustful cravings, he lifted himself from the bed and stumbled in an agonized stupor to the washstand, where he snatched a towel and pressed it tightly beneath his nose.

Synnovea dared not pause. Amid a flurry of flying skirts, she leapt from the bed and raced through the door. No one witnessed her frantic entrance into the manse, but it wasn’t until she had locked the door of her bedchamber firmly behind her that she felt safe from Aleksei and whatever revenge he might seek. Oblivious to the heat, she waited with bated breath until at long last she heard his carriage rumble away. Then she went to the window to watch and saw his stallion trailing behind at the end of a tether. That fact lent her some hope that he wouldn’t be back for several days.

It was the third Sunday after Synnovea’s arrival when cooling breezes finally brought a welcome respite from the hot, sweltering days of summer. Scudding gray clouds chased across the early-morning sky and gave some hope to hearts yearning for rain. In only a few weeks the weather would begin to take on a chill and the intense heat would be but a memory.

Aleksei had returned two days earlier, giving the lame excuse that he had broken his nose after a fall from his stallion. For the sake of his handsome profile, he had endured the torment of his nose being righted by a physician, but by now, it could be determined that a definite lump would mar the previous sleekness of it and no doubt serve to remind him by whose hand he had acquired the wound. A dark purplish swelling around his nose and beneath his eyes tarnished his handsome visage, evidencing the depth of his injuries, and he was wont to liberally indulge in strong intoxicants to ease the pain that still plagued him. He was no longer doubtful of Synnovea’s ability to do him ill and, for the time being, was reluctant to challenge her stilted reserve, fearful that another such blow would see him completely undone.

On this particular Sunday, Aleksei had announced that he would remain at home, for his vanity prevented him from pursuing other light-o’-loves until his swollen nose dwindled in size and the bruises faded. Earlier, Anna had made arrangements to go with Ivan to a private chapel belonging to the immensely wealthy boyar, Prince Vladimir Dimitrievich. The ancient widower had his heart set on another marriage, and since neither Ivan nor Anna wished him to be distracted from their discourse by the presence of a comely young maid, the possibility of Synnovea accompanying them to the
chasovnyas
was simply out of the question. Yet, while her husband remained abed, Anna didn’t trust Synnovea to stay behind either. Thus, she was left with no other choice but to allow the girl to arrange her own sabbatical, as long as it was well away from the Taraslov manse and the invalid, Aleksei.

Whatever reasons Anna had for letting her go, Synnovea was relieved to have finally been granted some freedom. Even the woman’s dire warnings to return before dusk couldn’t diminish her enthusiasm. She even went out early to wait for Stenka to pull the coach around into the drive and wasn’t at all unnerved by the fact that Aleksei came to stand near the windows of his upper-story bedroom. He couldn’t do much harm to her today.

For the outing, Synnovea had outfitted herself in a
sarafan
of ice-blue satin liberally adorned with seed pearls and delicate appliques of white lace. A similarly embellished
kokoshniki
had been settled upon her head, and a blue ribbon, sewn with the same dainty pearls, had been woven through the single dark braid. A matching cloak accompanied her, but after reaching her destination, Synnovea decided to leave the garment behind as she prepared to alight from the coach. The temperature was still warm and the sun had begun to peek intermittently through the clouds, lending her some assurance that the weather would remain clear throughout the day.

Stenka halted the conveyance a short distance from a church on Red Square, close to where the Countess Natasha Andreyevna had paused outside her own carriage. As Jozef swung open the door for his mistress, the older woman hurried across to greet her friend. Catching sight of her, Synnovea descended the steps in a lighthearted rush as Natasha laughed in glee and spread her arms wide. In a thrice of steps, the younger was enfolded within the elder’s embrace.

“I should scold you for not coming to see me,” Natasha fussed and drew back amid a profusion of tears. “Or have you forgotten that I’m not welcome at the Taraslovs?”

“Oh, Natasha, you know I haven’t,” Synnovea replied as her own gaze blurred. “But until today, Anna hasn’t allowed me to venture beyond the limits of their estate.”

Natasha searched the teary green-brown eyes. “It must be difficult for you to live under such strictures when you’ve been able to enjoy the same freedom granted to women all over England and France. Your mother laid a good foundation for you by instructing Aleksandr in the genteel deportment of an English gentleman. For a Russian, your father was surprisingly receptive to her persuasions. But then, Eleanora had a most endearing way about her.”

“A change may be coming fairly soon.”

“How so, my dear?”

Synnovea lifted a hand to caution the elder. “Mind you, there’s been no indication as yet that Anna will actually go see her ailing father. Nor should I dare suggest that she’ll grant me permission to visit you, but I rather suspect that she won’t feel too confident leaving me alone in the house with Aleksei.”

“I can hardly blame her there. The man is a rake of the first merit.” Natasha raised her brows briefly to lend emphasis to her insinuations and gently patted her young friend’s hand as she urged, “Take warning, my child.”

Synnovea’s own brows flicked upward in agreement. “Oh, I’ve learned by experience what a horrible lecher he is. I’m afraid to leave my bedchamber while that greedy crow waits to pick my bones. Once his nose is mended, he’ll likely seek revenge.”

Natasha’s elegant brows gathered in bemusement. “What happened to his nose?”

“I broke it when he accosted me.”

For a moment the older countess stared at the younger, completely flabbergasted. Then, as the humor of it settled in, she began to laugh in rampant delight. “Poor Aleksei, he’s never been abused by a woman before. ’Tis a rare one who doesn’t adore him. Hopefully, you’ve thwarted his attempts sufficiently, and he’ll be careful about approaching you in the future.”

“I really don’t think he’ll let my affront slip past without demanding some sort of restitution. The uncertainty of how and when it will come leaves me positively skittish.”

Natasha heaved a sigh, extending her sympathy toward the girl. “ ’Twould ease your situation if you could leave their house fairly soon. Do you have any idea when Anna might depart?”

“If she goes at all, it certainly won’t be until after Saturday next. That’s when she intends to honor Ivan Voronsky with a grand celebration.”

“Ivan Voronsky?” Natasha repeated the name incredulously and looked at the younger woman with growing sympathy. “Oh, my dear Synnovea, I do pity your plight. I only wish His Majesty had seen fit to send you into my care, but I’m sure he had no idea we were close friends, especially if Anna told him that I was only interested in your father. There’s no question that Tsar Mikhail thought he was doing you a favor by sending you to Anna. After all, she is his kin, and under normal circumstances it would be deemed an honor to be the ward of the tsar’s cousin. He greatly admired your father, and now that Aleksandr has been taken from us, I know His Majesty would like to be assured of your welfare, so please, try not to judge him too harshly, my dear.”

“I shan’t, of course. He proved the depth of his concern by sending Major Nekrasov to escort me to Moscow. But tell me, Natasha, if Anna does go to visit her father, will you allow me to stay with you during her absence?”

“Oh, my child, need you ask?” Natasha laughed gaily. “Of course you may! Indeed! I won’t tolerate the idea of your staying with anyone else!”

The bells in the belfry began to clang, and as the last grew silent, a lilting hymn drifted from the church. The two women turned their attention to the sweet, melodious voices that beckoned and walked arm in arm into the magnificently embellished interior. A rosy aura, softly cast from the mica windows, seemed to infuse the very air around them as they stood together in a section reserved for women and children. There, they murmured prayers, sang songs, and listened to the oration of the priest and the angelic hymns of young boys dressed in white vestments. It was a peaceful time, like so many others they had shared in the same church, except that now there would be only the two of them after the services. The memory of Aleksandr Zenkov remained sweet to each, and with tears misting their eyes, they clasped hands, silently mourning his passing.

Three hours later, the two women emerged from the church to find dark clouds looming over the city. Lightly splattering raindrops brought sweet respite and stirred forth a refreshing essence, but Synnovea was averse to seeing another gown ruined and stood in the shelter of the portico, worriedly viewing the seemingly endless breach that lay between the church and her coach. Conveyances had already become ensnared in a tangled maze created by drivers intent upon picking up their passengers without delay. Whatever open spaces remained were quickly filling with people hurrying from other churches located in the same area.