To Love a Horseguard (4 page)

Sergi returned a few minutes later with his neck bandaged. He was followed by two rough looking sailors. The men held her as Sergi forced her to drink a cup of
bitter tea. “Luck is with you Princess, for I cannot bed you when there is a wicked storm approaching.”

Chapter
Three

Rose had no idea how many days or weeks passed during her drugged stupor. Her dull mind briefly registered the tossing and turning of the ship, men’s voices shouting, loud noises and the painful moments when her mouth was pried open and the bitter tea forced down her raw throat. When her mind finally began to clear she struggled to orient herself to the unnatural quiet. She lay in the dark listening to the waves lap against the side of the ship’s hull. The gentle motion of the vessel convinced her they were anchored, or at least in a calm sea. Squinting, she tried to clear the dimness from her vision
. Is it night? If so why are the lanterns not lit like every other night?
She rubbed her hand across her eyes. Perhaps the repeated drugging affected her sight. There must be a lamp nearby, but as hard as she tried she could not will her limp body to move.

A scratching at the door roused her sluggish mind to attention. The door clicked before swinging open. Rose squeezed her eyes shut against the offending shaft of light that stabbed her senses. Someone crossed to her bedside.
Have I been found? Could it be John here to rescue me?
She lay still listening to the person’s quiet breathing. If it was Sergi here to rape her perhaps she should pretend to still be in a stupor or try to convince him she was dead. Maybe she could fool him and make her escape.

“Get up.”

Rose bit her lip to keep from crying out and opened her eyes.

Sergi stood over her. He tossed a dark cloak on top of her. “Get up.”

Rose struggled to make her limbs obey her mind’s commands. Her muscles protested as she forced herself to roll onto her side and then into a sitting position. What did Sergi want with her now? Was he taking her somewhere? Her stomach recoiled, either from the lack of food or from the sudden movement. Miserable, she hunched over the bedside and dry heaved. Why couldn’t Sergi let her be?

When she tried to lean back onto the bed Sergi jerked her into a sitting position. “Get up. We have to go.”

She moaned, letting herself go slack in his grip. He released her and she flopped back against the feather ticking. His footsteps irritated her miserable state as he crossed to the table. A glass clinked, followed by the sound of water trickling.
Good. He is at least going to get me a drink.
His footsteps returned to the bedside. Something icy and wet splattered her face. Sputtering she scrambled into a sitting position, her numb mind reeling at the unwelcome sensation. In shock she stared through her soggy tresses at Sergi.

He tossed the glass onto the bed beside her, his face blank and emotionless. “Come on.”

It took all of Rose’s willpower to drag the now damp cloak up around her shoulders. Her stiff fingers fumbled with the ties. With a grunt of annoyance Sergi reached down, knotted the strings and hauled her to her feet. She stood there swaying like a drunken lout while he tied a short cord around her wrists and then stuffed a wad of dirty cloth between her lips. The material stuck to her dry mouth and lips, threatening to gag her as she was dragged across the room to the open doorway. He shoved her into the arms of a waiting sailor who picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of wheat. She wheezed as the sailor’s shoulder jabbed her stomach with each step he took along the dark corridor. When they stepped out on deck a sharp wind blew the hood of the cloak over her head. She shook her head trying to dislodge it so she could see. The sailor grunted and growled something in Russian.

“Be still
,” Sergi hissed from behind her.

They crossed the deck, with hardly a sound. Water lapped against the sides of the ship and somewhere a bird squawked, its shrill call sending
a shiver up Rose’s neck having nothing to do with the dampness in the air.

Without warning the sailor stopped and swung her from his shoulder. She stumbled back a step when her feet touched the deck and he steadied her. The hood slipped from her head and sh
e looked around. Lights twinkled on the distant shore. Where were they? Were they still in England or were they somewhere far from her home?

Sergi stepped around her and climbed over the ship’s rail. His head bobbed down inch by inch until he disappeared from sight. Panic rose in her chest. Surely Sergi didn’t expect her to climb down the side of the ship with her hands bound as they were?  The sailor turned her to face the railing and then lifted her off her feet. She let out a muffled squeak as he swung her feet first over the rail. He dumped her upon Sergi’s lap, who wrapped a strong arm around her waist as the swing he was seated on was lowered. A small row boat bobbed in the water below. When the swing was close enough a sailor already in the
boat lifted her from Sergi’s grip and laid her in the bottom. Her captor jumped from the swing and helped the maid, Dinah, down the last few rungs of the ladder and then the two men began to row away from the ship. The rhythmic swish of the oars was the only sound as they skimmed through the water. The wind picked up once they cleared the bulk of the ship and she shivered, starting to cramp in the uncomfortable position. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer the bottom of the boat scraped across gravel.

“Be quiet,” Sergi warned in a hushed voice. “Our lives depend on it.”

He slipped from the boat while his companion helped the maid and then picked Rose up. He stood her on her feet in the cold, ankle-deep water keeping his grip on her arm. When he cocked his head as if listening for something, she caught a whiff of his musky cologne and sneezed. The sound echoed like a gunshot along the deserted beach.

Sergi groaned and pushed her ahead of him. “Get moving.”

They waded to shore, Rose cringing when her satin slippers filled with fine, wet gravel. They crept up the beach until they reached a low patch of bushes. Sergi jerked her down on the sand behind them and produced a pistol from his pocket. She shrunk back as the moonlight glinted on the dark steel and swallowed. After checking the load he gave a quick nod to his friend and pulled her up. They slunk around the edge of the bushes, crouching when they came to some large crates stacked by the roadside, as the bulky form of a night watchman passed by. Rose considered making a run for it, but as if he sensed her intent, Sergi’s hand tightened on her arm. They waited. When the watchman turned the corner of the deserted street his grip on her arm relaxed.

Everything was quiet for a moment, and just as she was wondering what they were waiting for, a sm
all coach creaked into view. Sergi gave a low whistle. It stopped, an answering whistle carrying on the breeze. He tugged on her arm dragging her behind him toward it. His companion flung open the coach door and helped the maid in before he vaulted up onto the seat next to the driver. Sergi shoved Rose ahead of him and then jumped in. The wind was knocked from her as she hit the floor. The door slammed shut and the coach lurched into motion. Once she caught her breath she rolled onto her side and pushed herself up into the forward facing seat.

Sergi lit the small interior lamp and settled back on the seat opposite her. He stretched out his legs in the cramped quarters and grinned. “We will be long gone before sunrise and Nicoli’s abandoned ship is discovered anchored in the bay.” He chuckled, obviously very pleased with himself, and leaned forward to pull the wad of cloth from her mouth.

Rose took a deep breath and licked her lips as he trimmed the wick on the lantern, dimming it so the interior of the coach was almost dark.

“I am going to take a nap. It has been a long night. I suggest you do the same. By morning we will be at my camp.”

Rose glared at him.
Nap?
She had done nothing but—for who knew how long—aboard his ship. “Where are we? Where are we going? What—”

Sergi waved his hand to silence her, settled back against his seat and pulled his hat down over his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I would not tr
y jumping from the coach while I sleep if I were you. At this speed the fall would surely kill you.”

It was at that moment the coach turned onto a main road and picked up speed, the driver’s whip cracking to urg
e the horses on. Rose pivoted to peer out the window. The darkened landscape changed as they rolled on, from numerous houses and shops to small farms. She turned to Dinah. The maid’s closed eyes and even breathing told her the woman had already fallen asleep. She peeked at Sergi out of the corner of her eye. It seemed he too, slept, but she couldn’t be sure. He was probably right she decided as she stared back out the window—jumping from the fast moving coach would most likely injure if not kill her. There seemed no way to escape for the moment.

* * * *

Dawn was turning the sky pretty pastels when the coach rolled to a stop. Sergi opened his eyes, leaned forward and untied her hands. He threw open the coach door and leaped to the ground, immediately surrounded by a large group of men. They hugged and slapped him on the back greeting him with broad smiles and loud Russian words. A crude camp spread out before them. Rows upon rows of tan-colored tents cluttered the clearing with a large fire pit at the center.

Sergi said something to the men gathered about him in Russian and then turned back to the coach. He held out his hand, waiting to help her down. “Princess.”

Sitting up straighter she pressed her lips together and glared at him. Dinah rose and placed her hand in his. Sergi helped the maid out and then re-extended his hand. Rose refused to budge, leery of his intent and the men gathered around him.

He smirked at her. “I would come out if I were you
, because I have no problem turning you over to all these men if you refuse.” Fear clutched at her chest as she stared out across the sea of unfriendly faces. When she still hesitated he said something over his shoulder to his men in Russian. The crowd broke out into raucous laughter. Face burning with the assumption he repeated his threat to them, she refused his hand and climbed down from the coach. She regretted not accepting his help when she lost her balance on the first step.  There was nothing she could do to keep from falling to the ground in an undignified heap. Embarrassed, she sat up and glared at the crowd as they laughed.

Sergi smirked
and then spoke to his men in Russian for a minute. When he was finished they all cheered.

She staggered to her feet and shot him any icy look. “What did you say to them?”

“I told them I have brought the English princess whom we shall use to gain our freedom, as uncoordinated as she seems.”

Ignoring his taunt she crossed her arms.
“Just how do you propose to gain your freedom by kidnapping me? I am not the princess you know.”

He waved a hand at her. “Save your lies. The king will give anything to have his daughter returned to him. He will help my Cossacks take over Russ
ia. If you play your part well Princess, I might even be persuaded to keep you around as my tsarina.” When she scowled at him, he laughed. “Come we will eat.”

He pushed her forward to the campfire where a large chunk of meat roasted over the flames
,  motioned for her to sit on a nearby stump and handed her a wooden cup he filled from a canteen. Rose sampled the drink and found it minty and cool. Though she feared it was drugged her parched throat screamed for the soothing feel of liquid. A small boy scurried over balancing a wooden bowl of hot meat. The tantalizing aroma made her empty stomach growl with approval. She took the bowl and smiled at the boy who stared at her with a blank look and turned away.

Nibbling at the meat she studied the camp. Most of the crowd had dispersed back into their tents, except for a couple of men who stood talking to Sergi. Rose wished she could understand their language so she knew what they were saying.
A horse whinnied and she peeked to her left. A crude rope corral was filled with saddled horses, two of which stood tied to the outside of it, legs cocked, swishing at flies. She glanced back at Sergi but he didn’t seem to be paying her any attention. Setting her bowl on the ground she pretended to stretch, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He glanced her way just as she began to edge in the direction of the horses, so she stopped and brushed some dirt off her skirt. When she looked up again he had resumed his conversation, bent over a piece of paper. Taking a deep breath she crept toward the horses.
Don’t look back. Just keep walking, I am almost there.
If she could make it perhaps she could escape. It mattered not at this point where the animal would take her just as long as she got away from Sergi and his men.

“Going somewhere?”

She froze, her heart thumping so loud she was sure he heard; then turned around. Sergi stood behind her his, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I have to umm...” she floundered trying to think of a believable excuse.

He raised an eyebrow, the icy glint in his eyes making her shiver.

Her nerves got the best of her and she said the first thing that popped into her head. “I n
eed to use the chamber pot.” Wincing she dropped her gaze to the ground, her face heating. Her grandmother would be mortified by her lack of propriety. She swallowed the lump in her throat that rose with the thought of her family.