12

I n the silence of the still night, a growing din reached the upstairs bedroom, and Aleksei raised his head to listen as the sounds of rumbling wheels and thundering hooves heralded the approach of a coach and a large party of riders. Loudly shouted orders accompanied the arrival of the conveyance and its escort in front of the colonel’s quarters. A moment later, Ladislaus called up the stairs from the room below.

“You can come down now, Your Most Gracious Highness.” The disdain in his tone could not have gone undetected. “We’ve caught the Englishman.”

Synnovea gasped as the renegade’s words struck fear into her heart. Though Tyrone’s abilities had seemed to extend well beyond that of normal men, she now had to face the full import of Aleksei’s threats and could only tremble in deepening apprehension as she thought of the vengeance the prince and the band of highwaymen intended to exact from her lover.

“Now you’ll see!” Aleksei flaunted his triumph with a victorious chortle. Catching Synnovea’s arm in a cruel vise, he hauled her along with him as he hurried down the stairs. When she stumbled to her knees after leaving the last step, he dragged her to her feet and shoved her toward the door. “Get out there, bitch!”

The rented livery had been halted in front of the house where Ladislaus now waited with Petrov and several of his men. Another score or more miscreants were still mounted beyond the coach. Confronted by their vast number, Synnovea began to understand the reason for Tyrone’s lack of success in gaining his freedom. There were enough rogues to have formed a human web around a wide area, greatly reducing his chances for escape. It was just as apparent that Aleksei had been willing to promise Ladislaus and his men a generous stipend to see his orders carried out, one way or another.

Aleksei’s long fingers gripped Synnovea’s arm, and with a savage curse he thrust her roughly against the side of the carriage, drawing a sharp wince of pain from her. Having been completely thwarted in his efforts to claim the girl as his mistress, he was hardly in a mood to relent. He stalked toward her and, bracing a hand against the conveyance, took a finely boned wrist within his grasp. He smirked in smug satisfaction as he squeezed it nigh to the point of breaking and then chortled vindictively when she writhed in silent agony. “I know you’ll never bow to me for your own comfort, but listen well, my girl. If you try anything, I can assure you that it will go far worse for the Englishman.”

Having observed the intimidation, Ladislaus stepped beside them and, with a satirical glint in his pale eyes, fixed the boyar with a chiding stare. Then, as if amused by the prince’s baffled regard, the thief grinned broadly and swung open the carriage door. “Your quarry is inside, Great Prince Aleksei,” he announced, jerking a thumb inwardly. “Your rival is trussed up like a goose awaiting a roasting, just the way you wanted him. He shouldn’t do you any harm now.”

“Excellent!” Aleksei exclaimed buoyantly.

Feeling a mixture of terror and revulsion roiling within her, Synnovea wrenched free of Aleksei’s grasp and pushed with all of her might against his chest, managing to catch him unawares. He stumbled back at the impetus of her assault. Synnovea didn’t waste a moment, but scrambled up into the carriage’s dark interior just as Aleksei recovered his balance. He thrust out an arm toward the brigands on the far side of the coach and barked out a strident order for them to secure the door. Then he scurried into the conveyance after Synnovea and seized her arm to halt her flight, but he soon realized there was no need to restrain her, for with a moan of despair she sank to her knees beside the seat where the colonel lay as still as death.

The ominously inert form cauterized Synnovea’s mind with burgeoning fear. She wasn’t even sure that Tyrone was breathing. He lay on his side with his wrists and ankles tightly bound. A woven leather rope had been tightly looped several times among the weighty hemp cords that secured his hands and feet, nullifying any possibility of him launching an attack once he roused from his senseless state. The thieves’ precautions had at least one benefit. They reassured Synnovea that Tyrone was still alive.

Fearing the gravity of his injuries, Synnovea searched beneath his shirt and along his along torso for an open wound. Her hopes rallied briefly when she found no evidence of an injury, but her worry intensified sharply into panic when she slipped her fingers through his tousled hair to cradle his head and immediately discovered a large, swollen lump, the ridge of which was marred by a bloody gash. She lifted her hand before her face and, in paralyzed horror, stared through the tenebrous gloom at the dark splotches of glistening wetness now staining her fingers.

“That’s only the beginning,” Aleksei needled, recognizing her rapidly expanding trepidations. His cocky arrogance was greatly inflated by the power he presently held in his grasp. Now that the Englishman was his hostage, he could make the girl plead for mercy, and he promised himself that he’d see her groveling at his feet before he finished with the man. Piece by bloody piece, he intended to exact his revenge upon the colonel until the girl was reduced to a quivering mass of daunted humanity. “Take comfort, my dear. Your cherished colonel is still alive, but he’ll soon beg us to kill him.”

“You can’t blame him for what I did!” Synnovea cried harshly, jerking around to glare through welling tears at her adversary.

“Oh, but I can, Synnovea,” Aleksei assured her almost pleasantly and lifted his broad shoulders in an indolent shrug as the conveyance lurched into motion. The moon was bright enough to illumine the interior, which had been darkened, and in its silver-hued glow he could see tears glistening in her dark eyes and streaming in shining rivulets down her pale cheeks. It incensed him that she could display so much concern for the colonel when, in sharp contrast, she hadn’t shown the slightest bit of remorse for the wounds she had inflicted upon him. Even now, his nose was still sensitive to the touch, not to mention the lump that had formed after the fracture, marring its aristocratic lines. “Colonel Rycroft has stolen from me a very special pleasure I had reserved entirely for myself, my dear, and for that I intend to make him pay dearly.” Smiling in self-complacency, Aleksei bent toward her. “And you will watch it all, my beautiful Synnovea, as part of your punishment.”

Her eyes grew cold with hatred. “Reserved for yourself, Aleksei? I thought it was your intention to deliver me unsullied to Vladimir.”

Aleksei swept a knuckle across his mustache as he sniffed in stilted arrogance. “I might have allowed your husband first taste, but then again, I might not have.”

Synnovea bit her tongue to keep from venting several appellations that would have done the cocky boyar justice. If she dared, in all probability he’d spite her by heaping more violence upon Tyrone’s frame. Yet maintaining her silence hardly diminished the hatred she felt toward him. Even the idea of sitting within close proximity to the man sickened her, but she could do something to remedy that situation.

Pushing herself up from the floor, Synnovea ignored Aleksei’s sudden wariness and, gently lifting Tyrone’s head, slid into the seat beneath it, giving no thought to the blood that would stain her gown as she laid his head in her lap.

“How loving and kind you are to him!” Aleksei derided with a caustic laugh. “I’m sure the colonel will feel greatly indebted to you once I explain that he was nothing more than a petty pawn in your frivolous little game. After the jewels of his manhood have been stripped from his loins, I’m sure he’ll want to heap accolades of honor upon your winsome head.”

Synnovea clutched a trembling hand to her throat and averted her face, tormented by his threat and the role she had played in bringing Tyrone into his hands. She knew she wouldn’t be able to live at peace with herself if Aleksei accomplished everything he vowed to do. It would be far better if the overflowing draught of his dark vengeance fell upon her head alone.

Curling his handsome lips scornfully, the prince leaned forward to antagonize her further, seeking additional retribution to ease his rage and jealousy. “Do you know what that means to a man, Synnovea?” He became vulgarly explicit in his explanation and was spurred on to further crudeness by the sharp intake of her breath and her horrified stare. Perhaps he might have only imagined the deepening stain that seemed to darken her cheeks, but seeing the look of stark terror on her face was almost enough to satisfy him. “You’re no longer an innocent, Synnovea, so you know I’m telling you the whole dirty truth of it. He’ll never again have the ability to make love to you. He’ll be a eunuch when I get through with him, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. I warned you, but you were too stubborn to listen. Now you’ll both pay.”

If Synnovea had been able to summon some minute hope that Aleksei would listen to her pleas for clemency, she would’ve gladly gone down on her knees before him and begged for Tyrone’s release, but the prince was clearly in a vengeful mood and wouldn’t be content until his deeds were carried out. He made no idle threat. She could believe he would do exactly what he had threatened.

In spite of her frantic search for a way to bring about Tyrone’s escape from this predicament in which she had entangled him, Synnovea was frighteningly aware that with each whirling turn of the wheels, she and her valiant but senseless suitor were being taken ever closer to a moment of reckoning. And she could do nothing whatsoever to stop it from happening.

The conveyance turned into a lane near the Taraslov manse and came to a halt in front of the carriage house. As the steeds jaunced to a halt and the coach finally ceased its motion, Synnovea realized she was neither mentally nor physically prepared to face the frightening ordeal that Aleksei had planned for them. She was overwhelmed with feelings of regret for having devised the diabolical scheme that had led them to this end. Indeed, had some reprieve been extended toward them with payment being her marriage to Prince Vladimir, she’d have gladly gone that very same hour to see the nuptials performed. She couldn’t abide the thought of Tyrone suffering because of her offenses.

Ladislaus and his men dismounted and crowded around the coach as if fully expecting the Englishman to be awake and dangerous. They seemed relieved when they found him insensible to his surroundings and incapable of even the smallest struggle.

Aleksei bade four of the burly outlaws to carry their prisoner into the carriage house and hang him by his wrists from the rafters. For good measure, Ladislaus instructed several more to stand guard with pistols held at the ready, just in case the good colonel revived before they had made him sufficiently secure.

Aleksei barely considered the idea of Synnovea trying an escape now. She seemed far more intent upon following the procession, which he pompously led. His attention was occupied with giving orders to his recruited culprits, and so delighted was he with that particular task that he failed to notice a diminutive form quickly scurrying behind a shrub as he and Ladislaus’s men passed with their burden. He was equally unobservant when the tiny, shadowy shade reached out to grasp Synnovea’s arm and yank her behind that same bush.

“Ali!” Though the cry was no more than a startled whisper, Synnovea could have shouted out the servant’s name in sheer joy. Her relief to see someone who could help was nearly overwhelming. “Why are you still here?”

“As ye can probably guess for yerself, me lamb, Stenka is takin’ his own sweet time comin’ back for me.” The Irish-woman cocked a curious eye after the departing men. “What’s that thievin’ beastie Ladislaus doin’ here anyway? An’ Prince Aleksei, is he in cahoots wit’ the brigand?”

Synnovea had no time to answer the woman’s questions. “Ali, you must help me! Colonel Rycroft is in great danger.”

“Well, I figgered as much meself as soon as I seen him bein’ toted an’ guarded by so many,” the servant commented dryly. Ali peered around the bush, closely eyeing the four who hauled their captive through the door of the stable. “But I haven’t a ken what I can do ta save his handsome self from all ’em foul brutes. They’d only knock me senseless again if’n I interfere, an’ what help would I be then?”

“Listen carefully, and I’ll gladly tell you!” Synnovea whispered urgently. “You must leave here posthaste and halt the carriage on the street before any of Ladislaus’s men have a chance to see you. Once you find Stenka, have him take you immediately to the tsar’s palace. There you must urge a guard to fetch Major Nekrasov for you. Tell the major that Ladislaus is here in the city and that Colonel Rycroft is in imminent peril. It is imperative that a force of men come at once to his rescue. Do you understand?”

“Aye, that I do, lamb,” Ali replied with a nod. “But I gotta go now ’cause I hear Stenka comin’ down the lane.” With a leaping skitter, she raced off to meet the coach as it rumbled up the thoroughfare toward the manse.

Now, with some hope for Tyrone’s rescue flourishing within her breast, Synnovea caught up her skirts and raced after the men who were crowding inside the carriage house. Several tallow lanterns had been lit here and there throughout the barn, but for the most part, the light seemed concentrated upon an open area which they were now surrounding. Synnovea grew cold with dread as the brigands chortled and loudly boasted of their own participation in the capture of the Englishman, but she slipped through narrow breaches in their broad-shouldered ranks until she gained the inner circle. Aleksei stood near the core of that area, and she suffered a moment of panic as she sensed his heightened exhilaration. Facing her, he smirked with malevolent glee and raised a hand to beckon her forward.

“You’re just in time, my dear.” He casually indicated the long, manly form dangling from the rafters. “We were about to awaken your handsome lover with a cold bath. Would you care to admire him for one last moment ere he’s forever scarred and mutilated?”

The strength ebbed from Synnovea’s limbs when her eyes found Tyrone. He now wore only the chausses he had donned beneath his breeches, but they drooped around his narrow hips, barely preserving his modesty as he hung by his wrists. His head dangled forward limply between upstretched arms. His ankles had been shackled to a pair of huge, weighty anvils, which had been separated to keep his legs widespread and at an uncomfortable angle. She could imagine the reason.

Synnovea stifled an anguished moan as Ladislaus reached up a hand and seized a short thatch of pale-streaked hair, jerking his captive’s head upright. Then, with a snort of derision, he let it fall again and signaled a comrade to awaken their prisoner. In the next instant a bucketful of water was flung into Tyrone’s face, bringing him around to a half-muddled state. His head only lolled listlessly between his shoulders while the trickling water cascaded down his body, weighing down the stockings until they sagged against him wetly. Once more the pail was filled from the watering trough and heaved into his face, this time startling Tyrone awake with a gasp of surprise. Tiny droplets of water sprayed outward as he jerked up his head and glared about him. His gaze softened briefly when it paused on Synnovea, but his eyes hardened just as quickly when he took note of the dark bruises on her brow and cheek and the split and swollen bottom lip.

Aleksei stepped forward almost jauntily and held a tallow lantern high to see the Englishman’s face better. “So, Colonel Rycroft, we meet at last.”

“Forbear the introductions,” Tyrone growled, and squinted against the light to fix the man with a piercing scowl. “I know who you are. You’re the toad who tried to force Synnovea into serving your pleasure. It must gall you considerably to think that she prefers me over you.”

Aleksei laughed harshly in loathing disdain. “About as much as it might provoke you to be told that she only used you for her own devices. Only a few days ago my ward became formally betrothed to Prince Vladimir Dimitrievich. She swore to see herself disgraced by the likes of you rather than submit to the marriage. So you see, my friend, you’ve been foolishly duped into believing the wench cared for you. ’Twas but a ruse she invented to save herself from an arrangement of marriage which she abhorred.”

Tyrone shifted his gaze to Synnovea, feeling her treachery pierce his heart as deeply as any steel-tipped pike. Though she stepped awkwardly forward and struggled in vain to speak the words that came to her lips, he knew of a sudden that everything Aleksei had said was true. He had been used! Deceived! Played the fool! And now he would pay for it!

The blue eyes turned coldly away from her to peruse the leering faces of the men who watched him; he recognized several from his first encounter with Ladislaus’s pack. He had heard their sniggering laughter when someone made the translation into Russian. It was just as obvious that they were gloating over their good fortune at having seized him at last.

“So now you have me in your trap.” He faced Aleksei with the declaration. “What do you plan to do with me?”

“Oh, I’ve reserved a special punishment for you, Colonel, one that I’m sure you’ll forever revile. ’Twill serve to remind you of your folly in sullying a Russian boyarina . Indeed, my friend, after tonight you’ll never be able to make love to another woman as long as you live. After you’re given a proper lashing, you’ll be gelded while the girl is forced to watch.”

Aleksei strode around Synnovea, reveling in the revenge he would take, but Tyrone gnashed his teeth against the effort of propelling his body forward against the ponderous weights ensnaring his ankles. Relaxing as he swung backward, he recouped his strength and strained forward again. Over and over he tried until he was swaying to and fro, with each subsequent movement gaining momentum to pull the anvils with him. He saw his goal near and stretched his legs outward to lock the prince in the steely vise of his thighs, but a warning shout from one of the men alerted Aleksei, who, upon espying the imminent threat, gasped in sudden alarm and stumbled back from the dangerously encroaching limbs. From a place of safety, he looked at the colonel with eyes that momentarily portrayed evidence of fear.

When the prince finally regained his aplomb, he gave a crisp nod to the tall, brawny fellow who had stripped himself to his waist, baring a massive chest that was covered with a thick thatch of curling black hair. It was the Goliath who had once sent the colonel’s helmet sailing off his head. Now it seemed that he would have the personal pleasure of dealing out what the thieves deemed a befitting punishment upon their adversary.

The Goliath hefted a many-tongued lash as he strode to a spot slightly behind and to the right of Tyrone. “Brace yourself, Englishman,” he rumbled deeply. “The weapons I wield are more often spikes and cutlasses, but I can assure you that you’ll wish for a quick end ere I’m finished.”

Aleksei smiled in eager anticipation. Bracing his feet apart, he folded his arms across his chest like some dark-skinned sultan as he awaited the first scourging stroke. The titan drew back his arm, shaking out the lash in preparation.

“ NOOOooo! You mustn’t!” Synnovea railed and threw herself at Aleksei’s feet, where she sobbed out a desperate plea. “Oh, please spare him! I beg you, Aleksei, don’t do this thing! I yield you whatever you want from me if you would only have pity on him. I’ll give myself to you gladly! Just don’t hurt him!”

“Do you think I’ll sully myself by taking his leavings?” Aleksei sneered as he glared down at her. “You were merely one of the colonel’s fleeting fancies, my dear. Don’t you know that? Bedding every wench who strikes his fancy is what a soldier does best when he’s not chasing the enemy. There’s no accounting for how many others your precious colonel had before bedding you! But no! You had to give yourself to him! Well, I don’t want you now! After this, as far as I’m concerned, you can serve Ladislaus’s pleasure. ’Twill be a fitting punishment for ignoring my warnings.” Lifting his head, Aleksei looked inquiringly at the leader of the thieves. “What say you, Ladislaus? Will she be payment enough for you?”

Synnovea’s head snapped around, and she stared in horror at the flaxen-haired thief whose ice-blue eyes gleamed back at her above a broad grin.

“Oh, Great Exalted Prince,” the lordling thief casually mocked. “With the colonel rendered his just due, she’ll be more than payment enough for me. My men, however, will have to be paid in gold, as you have promised.”

Whirling back to face Aleksei, Synnovea glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare attempt this outrage! The tsar—”

Aleksei intruded curtly. “Natasha was responsible for you during the absence of my wife,” he informed her loftily. “If she allowed you to wander off with the Englishman, and you and he were never seen again…then the fault will lie with her. You can be sure that is as much as the tsar will ever know about this matter.”

Dismissing her with a wave of his hand, Aleksei faced the bare-chested brute and gave him a nod, urging the man to continue. That one hauled back the whip, and an instant later it fell, bringing a pained grimace from Tyrone and a sobbing scream from Synnovea as she threw herself between him and the one who had delivered the stroke. Clasping her slender arms around her lover’s thighs, she braced herself to be his shield and glowered back at the men in defiance.

Tyrone’s rage was supreme. He saw the taunting grins of his foes through a furious red haze. He had no need for them to call him a fool for having played into the countess’s hands. The throbbing in his back served to remind him of that fact, but the pain was not as unbearable as the one that throbbed near his heart and in his brain. Gnashing his teeth in a savage snarl, he tossed Synnovea away with a sideways heave of his body, curtly rejecting her protection. “You conniving little bitch! Get away from me! Even if these louts mean to skin me alive, I’ll take nothing from you, least of all your pity or your shelter! As far as I’m concerned, Ladislaus can have you! With my most earnest blessings!”

Aleksei chortled in uproarious glee as he contemplated her completely astounded visage. “’Twould seem neither of us wants, you anymore, Synnovea,” he mocked. “That must be a new revelation for a woman as winsome as you. To have not one but two men reject your attentions. Why, you must be devastated.” Wary of drawing near the colonel, he picked up a barn rake and, holding it like a sword, nudged her away from that one. “Now get back and let the fellow be dealt his due. Learn from his example and grit your teeth against the pain of our rejection. Be content that Ladislaus still wants you.”

With another imperious nod, Aleksei bade the Goliath to continue, but retreated hastily to a safe distance before the second stroke fell. Blinded by a deluge of tears, Synnovea stumbled away to a dark corner and cringed in silent, agonizing anguish each time the cat-o’-nine-tails made its venging descent. She heard no mumbled plea for mercy issue forth from Tyrone’s lips, not even a muffled groan as he hung helpless before the master whip. Yet every blow laid to the stalwart back ripped through her with equal savagery.

Covering her head with her arms as the scourging continued, Synnovea couldn’t still her violent quaking or her remorseful weeping. Though she had lost count through her own unending torment, she was crushingly aware of the ominous repetition of the punishing whip. Each time the lash fell, she cringed in horror, and then shuddered in agonizing dread when the whip was dragged back for yet another blow. The strain seemed beyond her endurance, and her spirit whimpered beneath the terrible punishment exacted upon her.

Though Tyrone now sagged limply in his fetters and had no strength to lift his head, his valor and spirit hadn’t yet been daunted. His display of unyielding tenacity captured the reluctant admiration of those who had sought to deliver their own form of justice upon his frame. Ladislaus and his followers were a band of outlaws who had lived and fought with the smell of death all around them for a good many years. They had taken the worst of what the colonel had given them. Some had died by his sword, but it had been an honorable fate, with weapons in hand. It was in their minds that this stalwart enemy deserved the same consideration. A flogging was what they reserved for whimpering, cowardly dogs, and as they all knew, Colonel Rycroft was a warrior of superior skill and courage. Thus, as a whole, the brigands ceased to enjoy the whipping. Instead, they began to mutter among themselves, growing increasingly agitated as Aleksei pressed for at least a hundred or more lashes. A score and ten strokes from the lash crisscrossed Tyrone’s back before the flogging finally ceased, but it was only because the Goliath threw down his whip in disgust and refused to pick it up again.

“Are you mad?” Aleksei railed in outraged astonishment. He was unique among their number in that he suffered no similar convictions of honor and respect but insisted that his revenge be sated to the utmost. “I give the orders here! And I say you must carry out the discipline as I see fit—or, I swear, you’ll not be paid!”

“We’ve done your service!” Ladislaus roared as he strode forward to confront the prince. “You’ll pay us or you’ll die!”

Petrov smirked as he drew forth a gleaming blade and twirled the shining tip between his thumb and forefinger. “We take payment from your hide, maybe, just like you mean for the Englishman.”

“I’ll pay you after he’s gelded and not one damn minute sooner!” Aleksei declared, too incensed by their lack of commitment to consider the threats they made against him.

“Do it yourself, then!” Ladislaus snarled in derision. “We’ll not hurt him anymore for the likes of you! As far as we’re concerned, he has paid his due. We’re fighting men and give him honor as a swordsman. If you had wanted us to duel with him, then we’d have seen him killed by our blades, but not your way.” Contemptuously the brigand jerked his chin outward to indicate the bloodied, lacerated back. “Your way is the penalty for gutless cowards. Outnumbered by scores, the English colonel was taken and abused by your decree, but I tell you this, Boyar, he’s more of a man than you’ll ever hope to be!”

It was the second time that evening that Aleksei had heard the likes of such a statement. The insult infuriated him all the more. His reddened lips drew back from gnashing teeth for barely a moment. Then, with a savage snarl, he glared around him and cursed them viciously for their refusal to help him. His ire heightened progressively until he whirled and, snatching up a sharp blade, plowed forward to seize the top of the colonel’s leggings. Tyrone struggled to protect himself against the mutilation and struck out in defense of himself, but in his much-weakened state, his efforts proved far too feeble.

It was Synnovea who threw herself against Aleksei in a desperate bid to stop him from doing his evil. Even if she must accept the thrust of the blade herself and sacrifice her own life, she was determined to halt his assault. Viciously she clawed at his face and sank her teeth into the hand that held the knife as he tried to yank free of her. A pained yowl curdled upward from Aleksei’s throat, but she gave him no heed as she gnashed her teeth tighter against his flesh, drawing blood and forcing his grip to slacken until the blade finally plummeted from his grasp. Snatching herself free, Synnovea stooped to retrieve the weapon, but the dark eyes of her antagonist flared with highly inflamed fury. With a horrendous curse, Aleksei caught her by the wide-spreading cloak and whirled her around with all the strength at his command, in a furious temper flinging her deliberately into a sturdy post. Jolted nearly senseless by the sudden impact, Synnovea tottered unsteadily away.

Dismissing her with a satisfied smirk, Aleksei caught up the knife again and plunged toward the object of his jealousy, but the carriage house rang with a loud bellow of rage as Ladislaus leapt to Tyrone’s rescue and knocked the blade from the prince’s hand, sending it skittering across the rough planking of the floorboards.

“No more!” he bellowed. “You’ve had your bloodletting! Now be content, or I’ll see you unmanned myself!”

All reason was sundered beneath the unrestrained fury of Aleksei’s indignation, and he gave no thought to back ing down in the face of the other’s challenge. “You filthy barbarian! How dare you threaten me! Why, I’ve had better men than you slashed and split in twain for daring to oppose me!”

“You frighten me unduly, my friend,” Ladislaus taunted with a smirk and gestured casually over his shoulder as his men gathered close around them. “Perhaps you should consider the error of your ways, since we have no liking for boyars.”

Suddenly the stable door burst open, and Ladislaus and his men jerked around in sharp surprise to see Major Nekrasov charge inward, quickly followed by the first thrust of a dozen armed soldiers. Ladislaus immediately recognized the man who led them and the rather resplendent uniforms of the new arrivals and promptly decided the time was critical for him and his men to make their escape. It was one thing to accost a small detachment of soldiers in the wilds, but quite another matter entirely to set themselves against the tsar’s imperial guards inside the limits of Moscow, where any number of troops could be waiting to pounce on them. He had no clear opportunity to seize the wench, for he knew from experience that taking her would see him involved in another fray with the major, the likes of which he wished to avoid at the moment. With swift, leaping strides, he raced across the carriage house as he shouted warnings to his compatriots, sending them fleeing in every direction and through any available opening or door. Once outside, they fought their way to their mounts and, after swinging astride, never looked back in their haste to put the gates of the city behind them.

Aleksei was not so astute. He stepped forward to protest this intrusion into his private affairs. Then he stumbled back in stunned awe when he recognized the one who strode through the widening barrier of soldiers. Struck speechless, he fell to his knees before his sovereign lord.

“Your Majesty!” His voice squeaked as it reached a high octave. “What brings you here to my humble house at this late hour?”

“Mischief!” Tsar Mikhail thundered as his dark eyes ranged around the interior. He acknowledged Synnovea’s clumsily executed curtsy and briefly noted her bruised face and disheveled appearance before he stepped over to the colonel. Tyrone had lost his tenuous grip on reality and dangled pendulously from the ropes that secured him to the rafters. He was oblivious to the tsar, who winced visibly as he considered the officer’s striped and bloody back.

“Cut Colonel Rycroft down from there at once!” Mikhail commanded, gesturing to Major Nekrasov, who ran forward with several other men to lift and loosen the Englishman from his bonds. “Take him to my carriage. He will be tended by my own physicians tonight.”

Nikolai glanced yearningly toward Synnovea as his men took up their burden, but she paid him no heed while she gathered up the colonel’s clothing. She wept over the bundle for only a moment before handing it to a guard.

“Please be careful with Colonel Rycroft,” she pleaded through her tears as they carried him to the door.

Mikhail cocked a curious brow when he noted her concern, and then faced Aleksei with a sharp question. “Did you have some reason for whipping this man?”

“Your pardon, Your Most Sovereign Lordship and Majesty,” Aleksei mumbled as he bowed contritely. He spoke discreetly so as not to encourage more of the tsar’s disfavor. “We caught Colonel Rycroft at his quarters with our ward, the Countess Zenkovna, and he did indeed defile her in his bed. We could hardly allow his affront to a Russian boyarina to go unpunished and were in the process of administering a suitable chastisement.”

Mikhail’s tone was incredulous. “You consorted with thieves to carry out his punishment?”

“Thieves. Your Majesty? How so?” Aleksei seemed greatly perplexed.

“Didn’t you know with whom you were dealing?”

The prince sought to play the innocent. “’Twas the first time I laid eyes on the men. They said they were for hire, and I engaged them to instruct the colonel on the folly of insulting a Russian maid.”

Mikhail scowled in sharp displeasure and turned to peer at the countess, who stood across the breadth of an aisle. She was no longer weeping, but her demeanor indicated that she had been mentally vanquished after witnessing the whipping. “Do you have anything to say in this matter, Synnovea?”

“Your Majesty…” She spoke pleadingly from a distance, as if wary of tarnishing his presence with her guilt. “May I be allowed to come forward and speak in the colonel’s defense?”

The tsar beckoned her near. “Come, Synnovea. I’m interested in hearing what you have to say.”

Going before him, she humbly knelt and refused to lift her eyes as she struggled to cope with the shame of what she had contrived to do and what her deceit had actually brought about. “I beg your most humble pardon, Your Majesty. I’m the one completely at fault for what happened here tonight. I couldn’t find it within myself to accept the circumstances of my betrothal to Prince Vladimir Dimitrievich and did intentionally entice Colonel Rycroft to take me into his bed. I preferred to forfeit my virtue rather than be bound to the contract of marriage that had been arranged for me. Do with me as you may, Your Majesty, for I am surely guilty of this havoc which has befallen the colonel. I didn’t mean for him to be caught and chastised. It would have been better if I had been whipped.”

“I’m sure Colonel Rycroft would have found it hard to resist you, considering your beauty and his great desire to court you, Synnovea.” As Mikhail voiced his observations, he lifted his consideration to the prince. That one offered no explanation for the betrothal, though Mikhail was sure that everyone within his court knew he was seriously pondering the Englishman’s request to court the countess. Either his cousin and her husband had been to tally deaf to the winds of gossip or they had chosen to dismiss his consideration of a foreigner.

Mikhail looked down upon the bowed head of his subject and gently laid a hand upon the disarrayed curls. “I will talk more of this with you and the colonel, Synnovea. You may arrange a time to see me two days hence, but for now, I would have you find safety beyond this house. Is there someone to whom you can go?”

“Countess Andreyevna is a very close friend of mine, Your Majesty. My coach may be waiting even now to take me back to her home.”

“Excellent! Then go! And mind you, speak no word of this matter to anyone. I’d be averse to having the anger of the boyars aroused against the colonel. Nor would I see you harmed by wagging tongues. Do you understand?”

“Your kindness is beyond measure, Your Majesty.”

When Synnovea had gone, Mikhail faced Aleksei with a stiff smile. “Where is my cousin anyway? I would have a word with her.”

“Anna is not here, Most Sovereign Lord. Her father was ailing and asked her to come and stay with him for a time.”

“Should I, then, believe that this matter rests solely upon your shoulders?”

Aleksei gulped and tried to recoup his scattered wits as he carefully asked, “What matter do you mean, Your Worship?”

“Did you not make arrangements for the betrothal between Countess Synnovea and Prince Vladimir Dimitrievich while you had full knowledge of the colonel’s interest in courting her? Or should the blame be laid solely upon Anna?”

Aleksei spread his hands in a helpless quandary. “Of course we heard of the colonel’s interest, but we weren’t aware that we had to give a foreigner serious heed. At the time, it seemed prudent to arrange a marriage between the girl and Prince Vladimir, considering the old man’s wealth and the fact that he would treat Synnovea kindly. At least. Anna thought so.”

“I see.” Mikhail pursed his lips as he pondered the prince’s answer. “And did Anna not hear of my considerations toward the colonel?”

“What considerations are those, Your Majesty?” The dark brows came together as Aleksei feigned bemusement. “Have we erred in some way and offended Our Supreme Highness?”

“It could be,” Mikhail retorted angrily. The other man apparently thought he could be fooled by a guise of innocence, but he wasn’t that gullible. “’Twould seem that I erred in sending Countess Synnovea here to be my cousin’s ward. I should have given more consideration to the fact that the girl was raised unfettered by most of the strictures of other boyarinas . In view of her upbringing, ’tis understandable that she felt compelled to rebel when you arranged such a betrothal for her. That matter is of no consequence now. You’ll discreetly inform Prince Dimitrievich that Countess Synnovea is unable to marry him for the simple reason that I have decreed otherwise. I must warn you that if you spread one word of this affair involving the colonel beyond Vladimir, who hopefully is wise enough to keep silent, I shall personally be in attendance when your tongue is detached from the place where it now resides. Do you have any questions?”

“None, Your Most Gracious Worship. I shall be completely reticent concerning this matter.” Extremely anxious to placate the tsar, Aleksei bowed several times to lend emphasis to his ingratiating show of respect.

“Good! Then we understand each other.”

“Most affirmatively, Your Majesty.”

“Then I shall say good night and farewell, Prince Taraslov. I hope you’ll never again be so foolish as to address your venom upon someone to whom I have given favor, nor hire thieves to see such mischief done. I’ve yet to judge you on the truth of this affair, but I’m patient enough to see justice carefully preserved until I am otherwise per suaded. For your sake, I hope you’re innocent of deliberately consorting with thieves, because if you’re not, I’ll see that you receive a harsher sentence than any of your cohorts.”

With that, the tsar stalked out of the carriage house, leaving Aleksei unusually pale and haggard-looking.