11.3

“I’m sorry,”

she whispered tearfully beneath his lingering kisses.

“I didn’t think I was such a coward.”

“Shhh, love,”

Tyrone soothed, stroking her womanly softness.

This time Synnovea surrendered herself completely to him, totally abashed that she had acted like a spineless chit when she had desired the consummation as feverishly as he.

Her hand came up to rest tentatively upon his chest.

“May I touch you again?”

“Not yet, love,”

Tyrone answered, too shaken by the pain of his mounting desires to accept such sweet, excruciating enticements.

“Let me pleasure you; then I’ll seek mine.”

It seemed only a passing of a moment before Synnovea found her embarrassment eclipsed by new, rapidly expanding sensations.

Overwhelmed by the waves of effervescent bliss that began washing over her in crescendoing rapture, she began to twist and writhe beneath his persuasive fondling.

Arching her hips upward against him in an invitation he could not resist, she was soon leading the stirring hardness to the tender breach.

Tyrone was shaking nearly as much as she as his hands clasped her buttocks for the final thrust.

The hardened shaft plunged inward, drawing a sharp gasp from her as the membrane split.

Just as quickly, Synnovea was searching out his mouth, seeking the sultry kisses that would sweep her beyond the pain.

He indulged her with tantalizing exchanges of lips and tongues, yet he was now sheathed in her warmth, and a spiraling ecstasy began to goad him.

His thrusts were long and sure, stirring her ardor until she began to rise up to meet him.

Beneath his kisses, soft mewls were transformed into astonished gasps as she soared ever higher toward that delectable culmination of their union.

Tyrone was not far behind. His breath rasped harshly in her ear when the first, thrilling fruits of ecstasy began to wash over him. Then suddenly a rapidly approaching sound intruded, wrenching his mind clear with a brutal abruptness.

“What is it?”

Synnovea whispered as he lifted his head to listen.

Her eyes widened when she heard the clattering hooves of many riders thundering toward the house.

“Someone’s coming!”

Tyrone muttered.

Synnovea moaned in despair as he snatched away and rolled to the edge of the bed.

Grabbing up his clothes, he thrust his feet through a pair of chausses and, jerking the close-fitting hosiery up over his narrow hips, hurriedly knotted them at his waist.

“Get your clothes on, Synnovea!”

he bade anxiously as the hoofbeats came to a halt before his quarters. “Hurry!”

She just stared at him, frozen by the realization of what she had done.

Despite her change of heart, everything was occurring just as she had planned.

In another moment Aleksei would be ordering his men to break down the door, and Tyrone would be caught in the middle, exactly where she had contrived to place him.

Seeing her horrified stare, Tyrone seized her by the arms and gave her a shake.

“Good Lord, woman, what ails you? Do you not ken? There are men outside the house, and in all likelihood they’ll be coming in here! I cannot defend the two of us with you stark naked! They’ll likely kill me to get to you.”

Sweeping her off the bed, he set her on her feet and then gathered up her clothes.

He dumped them on the bed near at hand and shook out her chemise just as a heavy fist pounded on the front portal and a mumbled voice called through the barrier.

“Colonel Rycroft! I must speak with you.”

“Lift your arms!”

Tyrone commanded in an anxious whisper, for the moment ignoring the summons.

As Synnovea complied, he yanked the chemise down over her head and settled it into place around her slender waist.

“I can dress myself!”

she declared, coming to her senses as she felt his lean fingers fastening the tiny buttons between her breasts.

“You’d better get your own clothes on and get out of here!”

“What! And leave you here by yourself to confront those men alone?”

Tyrone laughed harshly, denying the possibility.

“If I leave at all, Synnovea, I’ll be taking you with me.”

From down below came the rattle of the broken latch accompanied by a garbled question.

“Colonel Rycroft, are you there?”

It was obvious after another testing of the lock that the portal would not yield to the intruders’ attempts to open it.

Heavy fists began to pound the planks, demanding entry.

“Colonel Rycroft, we know you’re in there!”

Tyrone stepped to the door of his bedchamber and yelled down the stairs.

“I’ll be down in a moment.

I’m getting dressed.”

“You must come now, Colonel!”

came a reply.

“I know the Countess Synnovea is with you.

If you don’t open this door immediately, my men will break it down.”

“Aleksei!”

Synnovea whispered.

Meeting Tyrone’s questioning glance, she blushed and lifted her slender shoulders in a disconcerted shrug.

“He hired men to watch Natasha’s house.”

“Good Lord, Synnovea! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could’ve gone elsewhere.”

Tyrone gave her a gentle shove toward the bed.

“Put your gown and shoes on.

We’ve got to get out of here! And fast!”

His statement was promptly underscored by the sudden contact of several stout thuds against the front door.

Another crashing blow soon followed, testing the sturdiness of the formidable barrier.

Seeing now a chance to escape the consequences of her ploy, Synnovea quickly obeyed as Tyrone yanked on a pair of hide breeches, boots, and a shirt.

Belting on his sword, he seized her hand and led her in a brisk descent of the stairs.

He paused briefly in the lower room to judge the strength of another assault against the front portal and roughly estimated the time they had remaining before the sturdy planks would give way.

Scooping up her cloak from the floor, he wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled her along with him to the back door.

Tyrone drew forth his sword and laid a silencing finger across his lips before he motioned her to stay where she was.

Receiving her nod of compliance, he slid the bolt back carefully, quietly from the lock and then pulled the door open.

His cautious tread was just as noiseless as he slipped through the portal.

Pausing just outside with his sword held ready, he scanned the shadows, slowly turning until he glanced up suddenly to his right, where a burly fellow squatted atop a wooden barrel residing in the corner of the house, only a couple of steps away from the back door.

Like a flash of quicksilver in the night, Tyrone’s blade whipped upward to block the descent of the other’s ax.

A shout from the man brought the sound of running feet around the end of the house as Tyrone parried the next blow, but any hope for his escape with Synnovea dwindled rapidly when a dozen more stalwarts came charging toward them with swords and weapons drawn.

Tyrone swiftly retreated, slamming and bolting the door behind him.

“Get upstairs!”

He jerked his head in the direction of his bedchamber as he faced Synnovea.

“I’ll try to hold them off down here!”

“You must leave me and escape!”

she cried frantically.

“Woman, do as I say!”

Tyrone barked.

“I’ll not leave you to your own defense!”

Frustrated by his commanding tone, Synnovea clenched her fists at her sides and tried again, this time in a louder tone so she could be heard above the jarring jolts that were now bombarding both doors.

“Will you please listen to me, Tyrone Rycroft! I know what I’m saying!”

“What? And allow Aleksei a chance to rape you before he takes you to safety? Go, I said!”

Groaning in despair, Synnovea whirled toward the stairs just as the front portal crashed inward, sending several stout hearties stumbling in on top of it.

Their entry hastened Synnovea’s flight even as she heard Aleksei bellow her name from a safe distance behind the first battery of men.

Tyrone leapt to cover her retreat with the long blade boldly in evidence.

“Seize him!”

Aleksei railed out the command, thrusting a long finger toward the colonel.

Tyrone chortled as he mocked the prince.

“Have you no heart to do it yourself, my lord?”

A half-dozen men plowed forward to accomplish the prince’s bidding and promptly yelped and stumbled back, suffering the pain of newly inflicted wounds.

“A weighty purse to the one responsible for that rascal’s capture,”

Aleksei promised, incensed by the colonel’s tenacity.

“You wanted him! Now here he is! Do with him what he did to you and those who rode with you! Seize him!”

Tyrone had no chance to answer as a full dozen toughs raced toward him, forcing him to retreat up the stairs.

Upon gaining the upper level, he dashed into the bedchamber and slammed the portal closed behind him.

He tossed the sword onto the bed and then pulled the tall, weighty armoire in front of the door to bolster the strength of the heavy planks.

Synnovea watched in helpless bewilderment while he grabbed a small chair and raced across the room to throw it through a window.

He returned to the bed and, whipping the top sheet away, tied a knot in the end before he stepped back to the window.

A small ledge, wide enough to comfortably accommodate a man’s boots, jutted out from beneath it.

Then his gaze flicked outward and carefully searched the shadows enclosing the house.

Turning, Tyrone beckoned for Synnovea to draw near.

“I’ll lower you to the ground with the sheet and then climb down behind you.”

He glanced toward the door as the ponderous blows strengthened against it and was forced to speak over the din.

“If I don’t make it, run to the carriage and have the driver take you back to Natasha’s! Do you understand?”

“Clearly, Tyrone, but I plead with you.

Flee before you’re taken.”

Sweeping her into his arms, Tyrone thrust her through the window and clasped her hand tightly as she balanced on the ledge.

Loud, booming laughter came from below, prompting Tyrone to lean out through the opening.

A huge fellow with a long, shaggy mustache and a lock of hair sprouting from a bald pate strode forward with arms widely outstretched.

“Oh-ho! Colonel Rycroft! We meet again, eh? So good of you, my friend, to toss the wench down to me.”

The huge man chortled in uproarious mirth as he held out his arms expectantly.

“The little pigeon is tasty sweetmeat, eh? Now I taste for myself what you have feasted upon.”

“Petrov!”

Synnovea gasped in shock and glanced back at Tyrone.

“That means Ladislaus is here!”

Tyrone cursed beneath his breath, then muttered derisively, “I must question the sort of friends Prince Aleksei consorts with!”

He helped Synnovea back through the window and swept her to her feet.

“I fear the prince has made the place secure against our escape if he’s hired those thieving miscreants to seek me out.

You can be certain they’re hungry for revenge, a fact which I’m sure Aleksei was cognizant of ere he went searching for them.”

“How would he have known where to find them?”

Synnovea asked in confusion.

“That is a question I’d like to ask Aleksei if I’m given the opportunity.”

“You’ll have a greater chance of escaping without me,”

she replied, laying a hand upon his furred chest.

“Will you not try? I promise you, Aleksei won’t let these men take me, not when there’s a chance the tsar will find out.”

Tyrone scoffed at the idea.

“Aleksei may not even have a choice with Ladislaus and his men breathing down his neck.

That brigand wanted you before.

This time he may not stop until he takes you.”

“Please listen, Tyrone,”

she pleaded desperately.

“I’ve no liking for Aleksei or Ladislaus, but if you leave me and seek your freedom, then you may be able to arrange an assault on those brigands and take me back.

You all but snatched me out of Ladislaus’s hands before.

Can you not do so again?”

Tyrone musingly lifted a brow as he considered her suggestion.

If they were both captured, he’d be confronting an overwhelming force anxious to kill him.

The thieves would probably keep him shackled or so busy trying to protect the two of them that he wouldn’t be able to carry out her rescue.

“I might be able to arrange such an event within the hour,”

he replied thoughtfully.

“I have friends living nearby.

English officers.

If I can get through Ladislaus’s men, I know they’ll help me.”

Beneath the ramming bombardment of the door, the wood facing around the bolt began to splinter away, motivating Tyrone to take up his sword again.

As he sheathed the weapon, the splotches of red marring the whiteness of the bottom sheet caught his attention.

He paused briefly to consider the stains and then, facing Synnovea, pressed a hurried kiss upon her lips.

“I’ll finish what I started ere long,”

he promised in a warm whisper.

“Save yourself for me.”

Fighting back a rush of tears, Synnovea braved a smile.

“Just be careful!”

“Tell Aleksei and Ladislaus that I’ll kill them if they harm you in any way,”

Tyrone said before he strode to the window.

With a casual salute, he ducked through the opening, bringing her forward on flying feet.

Synnovea watched, fear throbbing in her throat, as Tyrone climbed out onto the ledge.

There he braced his feet wide to balance himself and, tucking two fingers into his mouth, whistled loudly, drawing an astonished gasp from her.

At the shrill summons, Petrov came racing back to serve as the colonel’s audience of one.

The brawny giant leaned his head far back and gaped upward with jaw aslack as Tyrone swept him a jaunty bow.

“So good of you to come when I call, Petrov.

Now catch me if you can,”

he taunted with a chuckle and, springing lightly from the ledge, somersaulted once through the air and then dove directly toward the burly one, who staggered backward in rapidly expanding amazement.

Synnovea clapped a hand over her mouth to squelch a frightened scream, but any sound that might have es caped was quickly overshadowed by the loud, wavering warble that issued forth from Petrov’s thick throat.

His scream strengthened to a deafening roar until it was abruptly squelched beneath the falling weight of the colonel.

As Tyrone had hoped, his daring dive had been sufficiently broken by the thief’s bulk, and, no worse for wear, he drew back a clenched fist and delivered a powerful blow to the stout jaw of the dazed man, knocking that one completely senseless.

The large head lolled limply as Tyrone tested the brigand’s lack of response.

Satisfied, he jumped to his feet and dusted off his clothes as if on a casual errand.

Turning with a lopsided grin, he swept into another debonair bow, this time for his lady love, who still stood at the window with her hands clasped tightly over her mouth.

It was a full second before the shock faded, and Synnovea clapped her palms to her cheeks, laughing in relief.

Briefly she acknowledged his daring feat with applause and blew him a kiss before he whirled and raced toward a nearby house.

She observed his flight, peering after him intently as far as she could see until the darkness consumed his tall form, leaving her strangely disquieted yet relieved by his escape.

The cabinet began to slide inward, and a brief moment later, Synnovea whirled to face the men who burst through.

Ladislaus led the brigands with a drawn sword.

He halted just inside the door as his pale eyes scanned the length and breadth of the bedchamber for the Englishman.

Dragging the furry cap from his flaxen head, he strode across the room, but paused briefly beside the bed to consider the bloodied sheet.

His ice-blue eyes chased to her and then swept beyond her, narrowing to angry slits when he noticed the curtains fluttering at the window.

Racing forward to the opening, he leaned out and scanned the area, finding his hulking companion sprawled limply upon the ground.

Synnovea lifted her chin, giving Ladislaus her best at tempt at a haughty demeanor as he came back to her.

“You’re too late,”

she announced.

“The Englishman has gone.”

“I can see that for myself, Countess.

I’m also aware of the pretty bauble he left behind.”

His eyes raked her cloaked form before he reached out a hand and thoughtfully rubbed a soft, dark curl between his fingers.

“You’ve allowed my enemy to feed upon your rich treasures, my beauty.

I’ll forgive you for that, for there’s clearly enough for me to savor, but I would know where he has gone.”

“Do you think I would tell you?”

she scoffed in amazement.

“You must be as addlepated as your unconscious friend.”

Aleksei pushed his way through the door, safely behind an escort of four stout-chested men.

“Don’t waste time trying to get any answers from her,”

he snapped, glowering at her.

“She’ll never tell you where her lover has fled.

You’ll have to find him yourself.”

Turning imperiously, he snapped his fingers at the bandits, sending them running out again.

“Remember!”

he shouted after them.

“A weighty purse to the one who captures him!”

Aleksei listened to their thudding footfalls on the stairs before he turned a challenging sneer upon Ladislaus, who had made no effort to follow.

“Well? Are you going to help your men scour the area for that English rogue, or do you intend to hunt him down yourself?”

He arched a taunting brow at the hulking man.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of him.”

Ladislaus jeered at the man’s gibe.

“There’s only one coward here, and I’m looking at him.”

The insult ignited Aleksei’s dark eyes, leaving them flaring with fiery rage.

“From what I hear of your attack on the countess’s entourage, you ran when the Englishman appeared on the scene.”

“Be careful,”

the giant warned him ominously.

“One less boyar in this city won’t be noticed, I assure you.”

Synnovea glanced between the two men, her hopes rising.

Though in league with each other, they apparently shared a mutual dislike.

If prodded into a violent quarrel, they might even forget about searching for the Englishman long enough to ensure his escape.

“Your hired henchman doesn’t seem to appreciate your elevated status, Aleksei.

But then, I must remember, he’s also a prince, albeit of questionable descent.

Has he been in your employ very long?”

The lord-of-thieves snorted loudly.

“No man employs Ladislaus,”

he rumbled.

“Your precious boyar came to search me out in Kitaigorod when I let it be known that I was seeking the whereabouts of a certain Englishman.

Otherwise, Countess, you wouldn’t be seeing us together.”

Warily Synnovea queried, “Is it your intent to kill Colonel Rycroft?”

“I’ll allow the prince to have his due ere I take mine,”

Ladislaus replied and smiled at her mockingly.

“In any case, my lady, there’ll be little left for you to enjoy after we’re finished with your precious colonel.”

“ If you manage to take him,”

Aleksei interjected with rancor.

“I’m sure this delay will cost you his capture.”

Ladislaus smirked at the other man.

“I promised you that we’d take him, and so we shall.”

With that, the lordling thief strode across the room and took his leave.

Several moments later, his booming voice was heard outside the bedroom window as he bade Petrov to rouse from his stupor.

Contemptuously Aleksei glanced around the room, disdaining the plain, barren look of it.

Then his eyes blazed with sudden fury when he espied the dark splotches that marred the whiteness of the bed linen.

With a savage curse he whirled upon Synnovea and lashed out with swiftly spiraling vengeance, laying the back of his hand viciously across her cheek and sending her reeling in a daze across the room.

She slammed into the far wall, emitting a muffled groan as her head hit the barrier.

Then she staggered back in a stunned stupor and gingerly touched the growing knot on her forehead.

“So, you bitch!”

Aleksei snarled in seething rage.

“You’ve done what you threatened! You’ve given yourself to that filthy blackguard!”

Synnovea blinked in an earnest attempt to focus her gaze upon her adversary.

Considering that the whole side of her head felt as if it had just been slammed against a stone wall, she didn’t think it unusual that her vision and senses were beclouded.

Lamely she jeered at the prince, conveying her contempt as she wiped a trickle of blood from a corner of her bruised mouth.

“Not long ago I would’ve given myself to Tyrone Rycroft for no other purpose than to thwart your plans, Aleksei, but henceforth, I shall seek his favor with eager diligence, for without a doubt he’s more of a man than you’ll ever hope to be.”

“You will watch him pay!”

Aleksei railed, incensed by her disparagement.

His much-inflated pride was sorely pricked by the realization that she had taken a foreigner to her breast after steadfastly denying him that same privilege the whole of her stay in his mansion.

As if that insult wasn’t enough to rile his temper, he had to endure the added indignity of being told that she’d now willingly share her company with the other man.

“Because of you, Synnovea, the Englishman will suffer well beyond his feeble endurance.”

A sudden, niggling apprehension encompassed Synnovea’s heart.

She didn’t doubt in the least that Aleksei would resort to torture to have his revenge upon his rival.

Yet, when she remembered Tyrone’s skill at fighting, it seemed unlikely that any common man could best him.

Confidence in his abilities eased her qualms significantly, allowing her to boast, “You’ll have to catch him first, Aleksei, and I really don’t think you or your hired lackeys are skilled enough for that task.”

Aleksei smirked.

“I’m of a different opinion, my dear, for you see, Ladislaus and his men have grown to hate the Englishman almost as much as I do.

Twill be only a matter of time before the colonel falls into their hands.

They’ll lie in wait until he appears, and then pounce on him as they would a ravenous dog that has been freed from his cage.”

Bending toward her, he sneered into her face.

“Once I have your lover within my grasp, my dear, I’ll make sure he remembers this night forever.

Before I’m done with him, I’ll see the hide stripped from his back and then assure myself that he’ll never bed you or another woman as long as he lives.”

Some distance from the house, the dense darkness was held secure within a cluster of trees growing near the narrow dirt lane.

It was here that Tyrone tarried to canvass the open, rutted stretch.

After peering carefully up and down the thoroughfare, he scanned the area bordering it.

No dark specter moved beyond the copse, not even the coachman who snoozed atop his conveyance a short distance away.

Tyrone silently unsheathed his sword and crept to the outer edge of the trees, warily pausing there for a long moment as he again surveyed the terrain.

He was unable to put aside the feeling of uneasiness that had settled down upon him after his entry into the grove.

He sensed that all was not as it should be despite the openness of the place beyond where he stood. Still, he was unable to detect any movement or even a shadow which might have alerted him to another’s presence. He was, however, a man who had learned to take heed when his instincts warned him of danger. For the sake of caution, he eased back a step and was about to turn in stealthful retreat when a sudden pain exploded against his head. He sagged to his knees as a billion piercing lights burst in a sea of radiant colors before his eyes and then slowly dimmed to a dull shade of gray. Through the tenebrous gloom, he became vaguely aware of a dark shape stepping close and an arm lifting high above him. His hampered faculties were sluggish and slow to react as a stout club came crashing down upon his skull once again, darkening the murky shadows into the deepest shade of night until all that remained of his world was total oblivion.