Forever in Your Embrace (8 page)

“Indeed, sir!” Synnovea fairly flung the words at him. “I can understand why you’re in want! Have you no ken that a gentleman would have informed a lady of his presence ere her disrobing?”

His bruised lips twitched with amusement as his eyes glimmered back at her through the shadowed gloom. “Alas, Countess, I do not claim to be a saint. I greatly enjoyed the interlude and the perfection you displayed and, for the life of me, couldn’t bring myself to interrupt. Were I any less a gentleman, I’d surely take advantage of this most provocative embrace….” He settled her a bit closer as she, in some irritation, tried to push herself free again. Her thighs brushed hard against him, snatching the man’s breath and flicking a fiery brand across the fibers of his senses until he dared not move lest he lose control of his hard-won poise. With some difficulty, he drew rein on his hotly flaming passions and continued in a warm, mellow voice, stilling her struggles as his words struck home. “Since I’ve already saved you from one ravishment this evening, ’twould seem I’m honor-bound to carry you to safety again.”

“Saved me?” Synnovea’s lips pursed in a silent
Oh!
as it came to her just who the man was. “You mean…”

“You left ere we could be properly introduced, my lady,” he reproved, distracted by the slick, wet feel of her soft breasts against his chest. He doubted that there had ever been such a moment in his life when he had been assaulted by such exquisite torture or when the need to maintain a ruse of imperturbable calm was absolutely crucial to his aspirations. He was certain she’d have flown his embrace posthaste had he foolishly revealed the full extent of his admiration. But then, she had to be an innocent not to be aware of his awakened passion. If not, then she was a woman well-versed in the art of tempting men and was merely being coy. “And though you are a delicious sight to behold and even more delectable to enfold, I must admonish you for your bad manners.”

“Sir, this is hardly the time to discuss bad manners, either mine or yours! Now let me go!” Synnovea struggled briefly in the circle of his arms and was surprised when he spread his arms wide. The imminent threat of going under once again made her throw her arms about his neck and tighten her grasp. She reddened profusely beneath his deepening grin, and with a stifled groan, she dove away from him. Swimming back to the edge of the pool, she tossed a glance over her shoulder to find him stroking leisurely through the water behind her. In urgent haste, she leapt up the steps and made a flying dash across the room to fetch her robe. Shaking it out, she quickly sought its protective covering.

Thus armored, Synnovea faced the officer as he climbed those same stone stairs. Wondering what the next moments would bring, she watched him cautiously lest she be taken by surprise. Though obviously far from handsome, the man was exceptionally well-formed. He was as tall as Ladislaus but not nearly as thick or bulky. Even so, he had a hard-muscled look about him. Recalling the agility and easy strength he had displayed battling the outlaws, she could only guess at the discipline he practiced to maintain a good fighting form. His ribs were tautly fleshed, his chest firmly muscled beneath a matting of crisp hair, his waist lean and hips narrow—

A gasp escaped Synnovea as his loins came fully into view, and she whirled with burning cheeks, shocked to the depths of her virginal innocence. Though well traveled, she had been carefully sheltered throughout the span of her life. Even with a score of years behind her, this was her first glimpse of a completely naked man. Yet he didn’t seem the least bit abashed by the boldness that he exhibited in her presence.

Synnovea heard his soft, chuckling laughter coming near and faced him in sudden apprehension, fearing that she’d have to fight him off. But he only fetched the robe which had been left on the bench. Careful to keep her glance brief and well-elevated, she gave him a seething glower before she jerked around again. For several moments she stood in mute silence, fuming over the fact that he hadn’t made his presence known before she had disrobed.

“You can turn around now,” he informed her, mirth liberally imbuing his voice.

“Then I shall make haste to leave!” she declared irately, incensed by his obvious enjoyment of a situation that, for her, had been a horrendously embarrassing experience. Tossing him another glare to convey her outrage, she began to gather up her possessions. “The very idea! Spying upon me like some sneak thief! You’re the most despicable knave I’ve met in some time!”

“Not since this afternoon, at least,” he responded with a lopsided grin. An indolent shrug lifted his wide shoulders as he queried, “Or did you appreciate that thief’s company more than mine?”

“Ha! I’d venture to say, sir, that Ladislaus has much to learn from you about boorish manners!” Her curiosity got the better of her, and Synnovea paused to peer up at him with narrowed eyes. “What happened to the blackguard anyway?”

The officer emphasized his supreme displeasure with an angry snort. “The cowardly wretch fled when you raced off. And he took
my
horse! A most worthy steed it is, too. Believe me, I haven’t a ken which vexes me more, letting that rogue escape or losing my horse! Had I not tried to help you when his stallion reared, I might’ve been able to capture the brigand. But were you grateful? No, indeed! You gave no slightest thought to my welfare and obviously made no effort to send out any of your escort in search of me. If not for my men beating the woods for me, I’d still be out there! Believe me, Countess, I’m here with no special t
hank
s to you!”

Synnovea raised a dainty chin, pricked by his admonishing tone and her own condemning conscience. “You seem dreadfully rankled by your loss.”

“And well I should be! I’ll not likely find another steed half as gifted in the field as that one!”

“On the morrow I shall instruct Captain Nekrasov to leave you Ladislaus’s stallion,” she stated loftily. “Perhaps that will mollify you.”

The man scoffed sharply. “Hardly! It cost me a goodly sum to have my own stallions shipped here from
England
….”

“From
England
?” she repeated in surprise, and then realized she had overlooked the obvious. His subtly clipped speech clearly betrayed his place of origin. “You’re an Englishman?”

“I thought it might have been apparent to one who also speaks the language!” he quipped with rampant sarcasm.

“But you led a Russian troop…” Synnovea began, clearly bemused. Then she recalled Ladislaus’s comment about foreign cavaliers being hired to teach their fighting skills to the tsar’s troops. “You’re an English officer in His Majesty’s service?”

Though he wore nothing more dashing than a long robe, the man gave her a debonair bow, a gesture which might have been accompanied by the clicking of heels had he worn something more substantial. “Colonel Sir Tyrone Bosworth Rycroft at your service, Countess. Knighted in
England
and now Commander of the Third Regiment of the Tsar’s Imperial Hussars. And you are…”

“This is hardly the place for introductions, Colonel,” Synnovea replied hurriedly, reluctant to provide him with a name. She could imagine him spreading lurid tales of their watery meeting among his troops and friends, leaving her reputation hopelessly besmirched.

A grin slanted across his swollen lips. “And you are the Countess Synnovea Altynai Zenkovna,” he continued smoothly, “en route to
Moscow
, where you’ll be under the tutelage of Princess Taraslovna, the tsar’s cousin.”

Synnovea felt her chin sagging in surprise and made haste to close her mouth. Breathlessly she whispered, “You know a great deal about me, sir.”

“I wanted to know,” Tyrone replied with an air of confidence that shattered her own. “When we arrived here this evening and I found that you had also taken shelter in the inn, I made inquiries among your escort. Captain Nekrasov refused to accommodate me, but his sergeant proved far more generous with the facts. I was relieved to hear that you’re unmarried, especially to that pompous little upstart who serves as your companion and who had the audacity to ask me to leave the bathhouse to him! He obliged me by his own departure. From his obvious contempt, I gathered he thinks much of himself or his station in life. Or perhaps he sees some hope of elevating himself through his association with you.” The colonel arched an unmarred brow as he looked at her pointedly, awaiting some declaration as to her relationship to the man.

Though desirous of denying any attachment to Ivan Voronsky, Synnovea refused to appease the officer’s curiosity. It seemed prudent to keep the man from gaining further knowledge of her lest he prove bothersome or an embarrassment in the future.

Gathering her satchel, Synnovea moved toward the door but found her progress promptly thwarted by the colonel, who stepped in front of her. His uneven lips eased into a gentle smile. “Will you allow me to see you again, Countess?”

“That’s impossible, Colonel,” she declined coolly. “I shall be traveling on to
Moscow
on the morrow.”

“But so will I,” Tyrone assured her softly. “I’m here in this area only because I led my men on an exercise in the field. We’re scheduled to return by the morrow’s evening.”

Synnovea refused to give way to his arguments. “Princess Anna would hardly approve.”

“You’re not…betrothed?” Tyrone held his breath in anticipation of her answer. He couldn’t understand why he should suddenly forget the ache of his shattered life and once again allow a woman to strike sparks in his mind, yet he could keenly perceive the depth of his disappointment if he had to give her up to some other swain.

“Nay, Colonel Rycroft, of course not.”

“Then, with your permission, Countess, I’d consider it an honor to pay court to you.” Tyrone was crushingly aware of his own impatience to settle the matter. In spite of his score, ten and two years of life, he had been caught in a rutting heat over this beauty and was comporting himself like some eager young whelp. True, it had been some time since he had made love to a woman, yet he couldn’t remember another, even that fair and comely Angelina, who had looked as ravishing either clothed or completely devoid of raiment.

“Your proposal overwhelms me, Colonel.” Synnovea was more than a little astounded by his petition, yet she was grateful for the shadows that masked the heat flooding into her cheeks as she recalled how his warm, well-defined body had pressed against her own in the pool. His entreaty was out of the question for a variety of reasons, perhaps the most pronounced being her guardian’s sharp aversion to foreigners, yet for the sake of caution, Synnovea deemed it fitting to soften her rejection. “I shall have to consider your request, Colonel Rycroft. And then, of course, I must seek Princess Anna’s permission.”

“Then I shall await your pleasure, my lady. Until then, I bid you adieu.” Tyrone swept her another courtly bow and slowly straightened as she moved past him and hurried across the room. Her silken robe was now quite damp and clung to her gently swaying hips divinely, reminding him of that moment in the pool when his hand had brushed her buttocks and she had clung to him in an anxious frenzy. His long-starved passions had not yet cooled from that delicious encounter. Indeed, he could easily foresee having to endure a long, restless night tormented by his desires and a relentless onslaught of lustful imaginings.

The portal opened with the same soft creak that had announced the lady’s entrance into the bathhouse and closed again to leave him staring musefully at its oaken planks. As he listened to her hastening footsteps, another vision came to mind, one that was dark and dismally devoid of warmth. It was a painful memory of the graveside where he had muttered his last ragged, bitter farewell to his dead wife.

Colonel Sir Tyrone Rycroft turned with a muttered curse. What fool’s folly had set him on this path toward his own destruction? How could he dare entertain any hope that he could trust another woman when he hadn’t yet gathered the tattered shreds of his emotions and resumed a life unhampered by haunting recollections? The scars he had banished to the dark recesses of his mind burst forth in renewed agony, and with a low growl, he too left the bathhouse.

The dawning sun had not yet touched the land with its torturous glow when Synnovea roused the commander of her escort and bade him to make haste to depart. At Captain Nekrasov’s bemused inquiries, she laid the cause of her dispatch to a desire to have the journey behind her. She dared not reveal the fact that she was afraid that she had attracted the attention of an unwanted suitor and that it was expedient for her to leave ere the Englishman arose and sought her out again.

“Leave the stallion for Colonel Rycroft,” she told the captain as he escorted her to her waiting coach. “ ’Tis the least I can do to repay him for saving me from Ladislaus.”

Ali was still sensitive to movement and had to be carried to the conveyance by Stenka. At the gentle urgings of her mistress, the maidservant leaned back against the pillows that had been solicitously tucked into a corner of the seat and once again allowed sleep to overtake her.

Synnovea braced herself at the opposite end of the seat and closed her eyes, refusing to be drawn into conversation with Ivan. She had bade her driver to waste no moment on this, their final day of travel, and if it so pleased him, to take an unfrequented path that, although somewhat more challenging, would get them to
Moscow
sooner.

Once they were on the road again, Synnovea breathed a sigh of relief, confident that she had seen the last of that English rake. Although he had already failed the standard by which a lady measures a proper gentleman, she fervently hoped he’d prove his merit as an officer of the tsar and refrain from spilling gossip to every person who lent an attentive ear. It was disconcerting enough that her own memory was wont to dwell on the happenings in the bathhouse without having such tales spread abroad throughout all of
Moscow
.