To Love a Horseguard (9 page)

“He is beautiful is he not?”

Rose jumped at the unexpected sound of Dimitry’s voice. Turning her head she spied him standing on the path in front of her. He smiled, walked over and sat down on the bench beside her chair.

“Yes,” Rose agreed, returning her gaze to the restless creature. “What is he?”

“You have never seen a Siberian tiger before?”

“No.”

“There are not many here anymore, although there are still quite a few up north. This one was captured as a kitten. His mother was killed after she attacked a farmer outside a village east of here.”

Rose couldn’t help but shiver at the gruesome thought.

“Are you cold?”

S
he shook her head without taking her eyes off the tiger.

Dimitry continued his story. “My father had him brought here as a pet. I called him Ivan after the old tsar. As you can see he has grown past a manageable s
ize so my father had this cage built for him.” When he paused she looked over at him. He was studying the animal with a thoughtful expression. “When I look at him I think I know how he must feel, being locked in that cage all the time. Like me, he wants to be free.”

Rose regarded Dimitry with a critical eye
. “You feel caged? But you are a man, so you are free to come and go as you please. Not like a woman who must do as she is told and who must always do what is expected of her.”

“Since I became the head of the tsar’s army last year my life is not my own any more. Even I have responsibilities and expectations to live up to that I wo
uld like to avoid,” he said, bitterness edging his tone.

“As a man you can choose certain things for yourself, like who you wish to marry. Unlike me, a woman who must marry a man of my family’s choosing,” she argued.

He raised an eyebrow. “You do not choose to marry the Frenchman?”

Rose
looked away. “No, I do not believe that I do, at least I think I was not happy. I am so confused. I remember bits and pieces of things, but nothing seems to make any sense. It is like a puzzle. There all these brightly colored pieces which do not quite fit together as they should.”

“What do you remember? Mayhap if you talk about the piec
es I might be able to help you determine where they fit. I am very good at puzzles, or so my mother always used to tell me.”

Rose tried to keep her tears in check at the mention of famil
y. “I cannot remember my family.”

Dimitry gazed
off into the distance as if years of sad memories wandered across his mind.

“My mother died giving birth to my younger brother. My father loved her very much and was heartbroken when she died. He was never the same after that. For years he locked himself away, leaving Anya to look after us. My uncle, Alexander, ran everything while everyone still assumed my father was behind the orders he gave. Uncle Alexander was greedy and dishonest. He took everything he could from people and gave nothing back, until there was nothing left for him to take.  Soon after my uncle took control of the estate, my father met Katrina.  It turned out she was my uncle’s mistress, but my father didn't know it. He fancied himself in love with her. She was sleeping with both of them at the same time, and soon after Sergi was born. My father and my uncle both refused to lay claim to the baby and Katrina seemed to have
no maternal instincts at all. She disappeared one day leaving Sergi, who was two at the time. Anya took him under her wing and raised him as if he was my full brother. Then the old tsar died in a suspicious hunting accident. Even then, at my tender young age, I suspected my uncle had a hand in his death. Nothing could be proved however, and the tsar sent my uncle and Sergi to a remote estate by the Polish border. A few years later my uncle was killed when he got greedy and tried to take some Polish land. The Poles burned his estate to the ground, killing my uncle and his wife. A servant managed to get away with Sergi. Poor Anya really had her hands full. We four boys, including the current tsar, ranged from ten to fifteen years of age at the time. She was the only mother we had.” 

Rose sympathized with Dimitry. It seemed he had a very sad childhood.
Perhaps that was why he was so gruff and unfriendly. “Why does Sergi hate the tsar so much?”

Dimitry sighed. “He blames the tsar for his father’s death. Sergi refuses to accept his father was an evil man. As we matured, that resentment grew until my father finally sent him away to live with a distant cousin when Sergi was thirteen. Then last fall, my father passed away, and not long afterward the old tsar followed him.  It was decided years earlier that Peter would be the next in succession for the throne. We have since learned that Sergi killed Peter’s younger brother, Nicoli, and took his ship to England. He wanted your country to help to take over Russia, but you already know that.”

Rose studied him. Pain and loneliness lingered in his icy blue eyes. “It must have been so hard for you growing up without a close and loving family.”

The unveiled emotions she thought she detected in his gaze disappeared, replaced by anger so raw it hurt her to see it. “Do not pity me, princess. Pity your friend, Sergi, because I promise when I get through with him he will wish he had died in that fire too.”

“But—”

Dimitry glared
at her and rose. “I warn you, I will not be like my lustful father in being seduced by a deceitful woman.” He turned and stalked to the palace. Rose watched the prince go with a mixture of anger and pity. How dare he think her a dishonorable woman! How could he think Sergi was any friend of hers? She told him she was trying to escape from the man. At the same time she couldn’t help but pity Dimitry. A picture formed in her mind of the sad little boy he must have been. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him, without a mother’s loving arms to soothe away his hurts.

Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to recall her own childhood.
A brief flash of a Yule log and many colorfully wrapped boxes, then, she was at a party where she stood in the embrace of a tall man. Finally, a vision of feeding apples to a bay horse crossed her foggy mind. The fleeting images were gone as quickly as they came, without her being able to explore the scenes. Her head ached and she rubbed at her temples to soothe it. Somehow she was more lost after the brief memories than she was before.

“Princess.”

She looked up as Dimitry strolled toward her, a small brown leather book in his hand. She sighed.
Now what does he want?
She really didn't feel like talking to him again.

“Here.” He stopped in front of her and held out the book. “I came to give you this before, but…” he paused and looked down at his feet. “I am sorry, I did not mean to...what I mean is I...well...I just thought you might like something to read.”

Taking the book from him she realized it was a peace offering of sorts. She looked at the cover. It was titled in English, Russia—A Guide to Flora and Fauna. She smiled despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Thank you.” Flipping through the pages she stopped to look at some of the drawings of native plants and animals it contained.

“Would you like to see some of my horses? Most of the best ones are at my other residence, but I do have some I have bred here, if you would care to see them.”

She looked up and smiled, shy in the presence on this new, softer Dimitry. “I would like that.”

Dimitry pushed her chair along the path to the garden without speaking until they reached the grand stable doors. She took the hand he held out to help her up, her fingers tingling at the contact. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as he escorted her down the immaculate aisle. Bit by bit he seemed to lose some of his reservations as he pointed out each horse, describing its parentage and personality quirks.

A warm pleasant calm settled over her. Somehow discussing horses was right, like something she knew and was familiar with. She relaxed and was soon drawn into a discussion on breeding programs and breed traits, of which she was quite knowledgeable judging by Dimitry’s surprised expression and praise of her understanding. She followed him into the stable office. He unrolled some pedigree documents and she bent over the desk next to him to study them. His breath tickled the side of her neck as he explained the various notations on the sheets. Engrossed in the topic he didn’t notice when she studied him. She focused on his lips as they formed each word, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them with her fingertips. What would those lips feel like against her own she wondered? The words he spoke were meaningless and forgotten as their eyes met. His voice trailed off and his eyes darkened. His lips parted as if to speak.

“Dimitry?” Victor’s voice echoed down the aisle way.

He blinked and looked away. “In here.”

Rose’s face heated and she
stared down at the papers on the desk.

Victor poked his head around the corner of the office door. “I need you to look over those supply requests when you have a minute.”

Dimitry re-rolled his papers and placed them back in the desk drawer without looking at her. “I will look at them just as soon as I escort the princess back to her room.”

Victor went on ahea
d and Dimitry escorted Rose back to the push chair. Once she was seated he rolled her back up the path to the veranda and carried her up to her room. The housekeeper met them in the hallway and opened the door to the bedchamber.

“I see a little fresh air did you good,” she commented aft
er Dimitry excused himself and sauntered off down the hall humming.

Rose changed the topic. “I would like to write down some of the things I am remembering. The doctor said it might help my memory return quicker.”

Anya nodded. “Of course, I will go get you some materials.”

“No. I have taken up more than enough of your time. If it is all right, I can fetch them myself if you just tell me where to locate them,” Rose insisted. “I have not had a chance to see much of the palace, and I would love to see more. The little bit I have seen is so beautiful.” Anya gave her directions to Dimitry’s study and told her
she would find all the writing materials she needed in the top drawer of the desk.

Rose wandered
down the halls looking at the various paintings hanging on the walls. She made her way down the main stairs and took the passage to the left as the housekeeper had instructed counting the doors until she came to the fourth one.

Victor’s voice carried
through the closed door. “You two certainly looked cozy when I saw you in the stables earlier.”

Dimitry snorted. “So what, I was showing her the horses.”

“Do you still think she is a spy?”

“I cannot prove she is not.”

“Really Dimitry, can you honestly imagine her sneakin
g around snooping through your drawers? I bet she would not know a military secret if it was written in bold red letters at the top of the page.”

Rose turned to go. She certainly didn't need to hear any more of the conversation.

“You never know,” Dimitry replied. The door to the study swung open. Dimitry looked shocked to see her at first. He cleared his throat and scowled at her. “What are you doing here?”

Her tongue refused to cooperate for a moment. “I—I was just... umm...looking for some paper.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Paper?”

“And ink.” She paused, adding, “And, umm, a quill.”

“Is there anything else?” His lips pressed into a thin line briefly.

“No.” Rose looked down at the carpet.

“Do you need to send a message to someone?”

“I do not think so. I just thought…” Rose trailed off as Dimitry
turned around and walked back into the library, closing the door and leaving her standing on the threshold. Thinking she was dismissed, she turned and headed back down the hallway in the direction she had come.

“You are forgetting something.”

She stopped and turned around. Dimitry approached holding out the supplies she requested. Annoyed he had the power to make her feel guilty when she had done nothing wrong, she took the offered materials and stalked off.

Victor's voice carried down the hall. “Really Dimitry, must you treat the poor girl like a criminal?”

She didn’t hear Dimitry’s reply because one of them chose that moment to shut the door.

 
Chapter Ten

Rose was finishing her list of recollections when there was a knock on her door. “Come in.”

Dimitry entered the room. “I thought once you finished your letter, I could see it gets on an England bound vessel.”

“Why?” Rose asked, still angry over the overheard conversation. “So you can read it first in case I am a spy?”

He frowned at her before a shadow of guilt passed across his face. “Of course not, I just wanted to be helpful.”

She glared at him. “Thank you, but I do not need your help!”

“Oh, now that is a hay penny jest,
as you English say, because without my help you would be lying dead at the bottom of that hill right now,” Dimitry spat back.