20

T he lunar sphere cast a silvery essence down upon Moscow as it climbed in a lofty arch across the night sky. Coldly aloof and forbidding in its nocturnal setting, it lent no warmth or cheer to Synnovea’s heart as she stared dejectedly into the blustery darkness beyond her bedchamber windows. If someone had ventured to ask, she’d have been wont to declare that her husband had already been gone for a year or more. Since his departure, it seemed as if her life had paused in solitary flight, much like the moon, which now lent an illusion of being momentarily frozen in its heavenly orbit. It was a cold hard fact that through the remnant of this eventide, she could look forward to nothing more exciting than huddling alone beneath the quilt in an effort to warm herself. If she were fortunate, treasured memories would wash over her like softly cresting waves, bringing mental images vividly to life. At times she could almost sense Tyrone’s presence, his face looming before her, lending her solace from her abject loneli ness and reawakening her to sweet remembrances of when they had made love, of his huskily whispered words brushing her ear and his long, hard body moving upon her own. Such memories provoked longings that were difficult to subdue, and she’d then lie awake, tortured even more by their separation.

Hourly she fretted for her husband’s safety, loathing the wars and conflicts that might snatch his life. Though she sought to keep her fingers and mind actively occupied, she found no abatement for her deepening anxieties. The threat of Ladislaus was too real, too well marked in her memory to allow her to dismiss her apprehensions with menial tasks.

Heaving a disconcerted sigh, Synnovea turned from the windows with no heart to face the solitude of her lonely bed. Aimlessly she meandered about the bedchamber, taking no note of its elegant appointments as she thought back on the weeks which had recently plodded past. She now had a clearer sense of how one could suffer a feeling of unbearable isolation even in the midst of caring friends. Though Ali had liberally practiced her Irish wit in hopes of entertaining her, Synnovea could hardly manage a vague smile for her tiny maid. Even Natasha and Zelda’s cheery companionship had failed to ease her gloom.

Social outings had not helped in the least. If anything, they had set her more on edge, especially during those two separate occasions when Prince Aleksei and Major Nekrasov had dared to approach her in public. Though the presence of a pair of hefty guards riding atop her coach or following closely behind while she roamed the marketplaces of Kitaigorod had dissuaded her persistent suitors from extending their visits to only a few moments, they had voiced their causes with equal fervor. Concerned that his earlier visit might have caused her dismay, Nikolai had displayed his merit as an honorable gentleman by offering a quietly spoken apology. Aleksei, however, had proven himself as adamant to have her as he had been in the past. If anything, his quest for fleshly appeasement and simple revenge had grown even stronger since she had become the wife of a man whom he now considered an adversary, as if the idea of stealing her away, whether by captivation or forcible capture, had become something of a challenge to him. Though the pair of guards, whom Tyrone had hired to protect her, both hindered and annoyed the prince, Synnovea wasn’t entirely certain that they’d be successful in keeping Aleksei from his purpose.

“’Tis obvious your husband is afraid of being cuckolded during his absence.” Aleksei had smirked in haughty arrogance after falling in beside her during a tour through the marketplace. He cast a glance at the two brawny giants following closely upon her heels. “A chastity belt might have been less costly than those clumsy oafs he has employed.”

Synnovea had managed a less-than-tolerant smile as she replied with derision, “Why, Aleksei, can it be that you’re outraged because my husband has actually dared to thwart your lecherous little ploys by engaging men whose loyally to him is unswerving? Such fealty to an Englishman must seem strange to you, what with them being Russians. Why, I’d even venture to guess that their allegiance to him is so firmly rooted that you’ll find your princely status of no consequence to them, surprising as it may seem. I don’t imagine that you’ve ever experienced such loyalty yourself.”

Aleksei’s dark eyes had skimmed her with a strange mixture of angry insolence and hungry fervor. “My dearest Synnovea, you remind me of a well-preened swan gliding over the warm waters of a lake, completely oblivious to the dangers of the hungry wolf lurking in the tall reeds near shore.”

Synnovea had responded by lifting a lovely brow in chiding condescension. “Be careful, Aleksei. You could get snared wallowing in the treacherous bogs of conceit ere you learn your lesson. His Majesty hasn’t yet forgotten your last miserable undertaking to steal me from the colonel. A second attempt just might cost you your head.”

Her reminder hadn’t been kindly accepted by the prince, whose eyes had chilled to a piercing darkness that promised dire consequences. “You should’ve learned by now just how adamant I can be when I set my mind to a matter, Synnovea. I do so hate to repeat a lesson I’ve already taught, but it’s evident you aren’t willing to take me at my word.”

With a last smug smirk, Aleksei had stalked away to his waiting coach without a backward glance. Now, nearly a week later, Synnovea had cause to hope that he had given up the idea of seizing her for his own lecherous purposes, for she hadn’t seen him at all, not even with Anna or others with whom he consorted. She could only pray that he had left Moscow in search of some new conquest.

Synnovea doffed her robe and slipped between the cool sheets, recalling the many times that Tyrone had been there, and his arms had reached out to draw her close against his hard body. Now an empty void greeted her, and darkness was the only thing that enveloped her after the tapers were snuffed out. Solemnly she stared across the room at the moon hovering in a starlit sky beyond the windows, and she wondered how she’d ever be able to get through untold weeks, perhaps even months of lonely anguish.

Fighting the chill of the lonely bed, Synnovea rubbed her hands briskly over the sleeves of her nightgown, but her arms remained cold beneath them. Nothing sufficed in comparison to her husband’s, embrace, and her heart pined to have him with her once again. She drew his pillow to her breast and hugged it fiercely, just as she yearned to do with him.

Much later, when Tyrone meandered through her drifting dreams, it seemed as if she floated on a gently wafting breeze, and for a while she was content…at least until she was rudely snatched to awareness by a broad hand clapped tightly across her mouth. It masked nearly half her face, effectively squelching a scream that was born of terror. Against her struggling efforts, a gag was stuffed into her mouth and secured by a narrow strip of cloth wound tightly between her teeth. Her captor leaned over her as he knotted the rag behind her head, and Synnovea’s heart nearly leapt from her breast as she recognized the pale, scruffy thatch that covered the man’s head.

Ladislaus!

Her mind screamed the name out in dread as she struggled vainly against the overpowering strength of his huge hands. She now knew this would be no simple robbery which would end in a swift departure of the culprit. As his casual disregard of her emerald brooch had once attested, Ladislaus wanted her —and everything a woman could yield to a man!

The renegade prince flipped her over onto her stomach and, seizing her wrists, lashed them securely behind her back. He wrapped the bedclothes around her so tightly that her breathing became seriously restricted. In burgeoning panic Synnovea thrashed her head back and forth, desperately seeking some opening from whence she could draw breath. Finally Ladislaus recognized her dilemma, rolled her over, and tucked the quilt beneath her chin.

“Is that better?” he asked, his voice liberally imbued with humor. In the meager light, the pale orbs sparkled with merriment as he leaned close. “I’d be dreadfully put out with myself if you were to pass away from lack of air ere I’ve made love to you, my beauty.”

A thousand insulting epithets came to mind as Synnovea writhed in protest and glared up at him, but Ladislaus only chuckled and swept her up from the mattress. He tossed her casually over a shoulder and made his way around the end of the bed. Upon passing the open door of her dressing room, he paused to reflect upon the insufficiency of the nightgown she wore beneath the quilt. It would hardly keep his men from ogling her, nor would it keep her from freezing during the long ride to his den.

“I suppose you’d prefer to garb yourself rather than wander naked around my house. Though I’d appreciate such a sight, I rather doubt Alyona would.”

Entering the narrow room, Ladislaus rummaged through her armoires and chests, stuffed an assortment of womanly accouterments into a large satchel, tossed a heavy winter cloak over his arm, and then crossed to the anteroom. In the hall outside her chambers, he paused to listen until reassured that all was quiet.

In spite of the awkward bundle and her added weight, Ladislaus flitted easily through the shadowed corridor and then hastily descended the stairs. He left the house by way of the garden door and raced around to the front. Awaiting him in the street beyond the ornate gate were a handful of mounted men, at the fore of which sat Petrov astride a tall, muscular steed.

Synnovea raised her head, frantically searching the garden for her guards, and mentally groaned when she saw them struggling against the sturdy cords that bound them to the base of a tree. Their protesting grunts were muted by constricting gags, and though they writhed furiously against their bonds, they were no more able to free themselves than they were to prevent Ladislaus from whisking her through the gate to the street beyond.

“’Twill be light soon,” the renegade prince observed as he lifted his captive into the waiting arms of Petrov, who laid her across the saddle in front of him. “Prince Aleksei will be expecting us any moment now. Once he realizes I’ve played him false, he’ll alert soldiers in an attempt to halt our flight. We’ll have to make haste to leave the city ere the sun comes up.”

Synnovea silently cursed Aleksei for the snake he was. Now, thanks to him, she had to contend with another who was just as dangerous.

A deep chortle shook Petrov’s massive shoulders. “Prince warn you to bring her straight to him with no tricks, but what you do, my friend, you tweak his nose. You take his gold an’ girl, too. Prince not be satisfied till your head be lifted on a pike.”

A wide grin attested to Ladislaus’s jovial indifference. “That cowardly toad never paid us for accomplishing his last orders, and though he promised to yield us twice that amount when we brought him the girl, he shouldn’t have expected us to believe him. ’Twas his folly to seek us out a second time.”

“The Englishman be very angry, too, I think, when he learn you take his wife. Never mind what he say before his whipping. Our spies say colonel now dotes upon the girl. He sure to come after you, an’ we know he more dangerous than any ten men the prince can send. Maybe colonel catch you this time—maybe even kill you. You bed the wench, you can expect him to do just that.”

Synnovea nodded vigorously, having listened in rapt attention to their exchange. When the two men paid her no heed, she squirmed, trying again, but Petrov only shifted her to free the hand that held the reins.

Ladislaus chortled in amusement at his friend’s warnings. “Colonel Rycroft will have to find us first, my friend, and that leaves him at a great disadvantage.” Catching the dark mane of the stallion that Tyrone had once owned, he leapt astride the animal and, leaning down, patted the steed’s neck as he grinned up at the giant. “You’ll see, Petrov. I will ride his wench just as I ride his stallion now. He cannot stop me.”

Tyrone swung around in surprise as Grigori tossed back the flap of his tent and swept through the opening.

“Colonel!”

“What is it?” The question was filled with dread, for Tyrone knew his second-in-command well enough to grasp the fact that whatever was troubling the younger man was of a serious nature. If his tone wasn’t a clear indication of the depth of his alarm, then his worried frown was.

“Ladislaus is coming!”

Tyrone almost relaxed, thinking he had become too easily unnerved with all the waiting. “At last! I had nigh given up hope.”

“Colonel! There’s more!”

Tyrone halted, again feeling a coldness creeping through his vitals. “More? What do you mean, more? Does he bring the whole Cossack clan back with him?” The sharp scowl that gathered the younger man’s brows did not ease, spurring Tyrone’s impatience to know the worst of it. “Dammit, Grigori, spit it out! What frets you, man?”

“It’s your wife…the Lady Synnovea…”

In one long stride Tyrone was across the tent, clasping the front of Grigori’s cloak as his apprehension deepened to a cold, hellish fear. “What about Synnovea?”

“Ladislaus has taken her captive, Colonel! She’s with him now, even as they ride toward the camp!”

“Are you certain?” In agonizing anguish, Tyrone slowly thumped his limp fists against the other’s chest as he demanded affirmation. “Are you positive about what you saw?”

“Aye, Colonel. Avar and I both saw her. She’s riding behind Petrov, and it appears that there’s a long tether binding her to the brigand.”

“ Damn! ” The word exploded from Tyrone’s lips as he all but hurled himself from the tent. Heedless of the cold, brisk wind that quickly penetrated his woolen tunic, he stalked over to Avar, who stood waiting. “You saw her, too?”

The scout met the probing gaze of the blue eyes unwaveringly. “Aye, Colonel. There iz no question. It iz yur wife. Ve vere vaiting in the coverin’ of trees vhen Ladislaus rode past. Ve vere both near enough to see her face clearly. There vas no mistake.”

“How can this be?” Tyrone clamped a hand to his brow as the horror of their announcement crushed down upon him with merciless gravity. Frantically he searched his mind for some strategy that would secure Synnovea’s immediate release, but he knew that none would be totally free of danger. Whirling, he faced his second-in-command as that one joined them. “I’ve got to free her, Grigori! I’ve got to go down there and meet Ladislaus face-to-face!”

“Colonel, I need not tell you how dangerous a deed it would be for you to do that,” Grigori cautioned, understanding the depth of his friend’s distress. “He’ll likely kill you without pausing to ask questions. And if you try to take a force of men with you to guarantee his good comportment, he’ll likely escape and take your wife with them.”

“I know all of that, but that doesn’t change anything. If it’s Synnovea…” Tyrone was set to argue with all of his heart.

“Then you must be exceedingly cautious about what you do. If they slip out of our trap with so precious a prize in their grasp, we may never get her back. You must think this through carefully. We’ve no other choice but to bide our time until we close the trap around them. Only when the passes are closed will we prevent their escape.”

“I’ve got to go down there alone before the trap is sprung and get Synnovea out of there!” Tyrone barked impatiently. “If I don’t, they’ll try to use her as a hostage against us.”

“If your mind is set, Colonel, please consider the possibility that you’ll be giving them a second hostage,” Grigori advised, “one they’ll likely kill! Ladislaus may have you cut down just out of spite.”

Tyrone raked his fingers through his wind-tossed hair as he fretted over the dilemma that now faced him and debated his choices, but only briefly. Arriving at a decision, he spoke brusquely. “Even thieves should know what a white flag is for. I’m going down to talk with Ladislaus, and I intend to make him understand how perilous his position is. If he kills Synnovea or me, then he’ll have to answer to the cannons. I must convince him that there’ll be no escape for any of them once the passes into his camp are closed. When he’s faced with that threat, I rather doubt that even Ladislaus will prove unreasonable.”

Moving away from the two officers, Avar crept into the trees buttressing the edge of the gorge and, from there, observed the arrival of Ladislaus and his men as they came through the pass. He silently beckoned the officers near, and when the two joined him there, they watched for several moments while Ladislaus and most of his men dismounted. Then they saw the lordling thief approach Petrov’s mount and whisk the feminine form to the ground.

“Colonel, I agree vith yu. Yu shouldn’t give Ladislaus time to relax an’ settle his mind on yur wife. My sister iz down there somevhere. I haven’t seen her since she vas taken a year ago, but I’ve no doubt she has been sullied by the man. Like yur vife, she iz too pretty for Ladislaus to ignore. My earnest quest iz to find my sister an’ take her back home vith me.”

Tyrone laid a hand upon the scout’s shoulder and then returned to his tent, giving orders as he went for his mount to be saddled and a white cloth to be tied to a standard. Then he donned a weightier leather doublet to better guard against the thieves’ weapons. Hopefully it would also lend him some bit of protection from the cold that had settled its frigid breath upon their camp.

Grigori came to inform his commander that everything was in readiness, but the Russian brooded over the perils his friend would be facing without a weapon to defend himself. “You know my concerns. Colonel. I pray that you also give heed to your own welfare in this matter.”

Tyrone made every effort to reassure him. “By God’s mercy, Grigori, I’ll come out of this alive with my wife at my side. I tell you now that I have every reason to live, but she’s down there in my enemy’s hands. Without her, I think my very breath would cease of its own accord.”

Releasing a pensive sigh, Grigori squared his shoulders and met his commander’s searching gaze with a rueful smile. “My mother always claimed that I worried too much, Colonel. Perhaps she was right.”

Tyrone managed an indistinct smile. “Every man has a tendency to do that at times, my friend. Right now, I’m concerned because my wife is down there at the mercy of my enemy. You know what the plans have been and un derstand what needs to be done in my absence. When I give the signal to fire the cannons, close their back door promptly. As for the rest, I’ll leave that to your own discretion as you observe the sequence of events, since you’ll be in command while I’m gone. Above all, we must convince that braggart thief we are deadly serious.”

“Don’t worry. Colonel. I’ll make Ladislaus consider his vulnerability as he has never done before.”

“Good! That may be the only way he’ll prove tractable. If I find no other means of escape, I’ll climb up here by way of a rope with Synnovea on my back. Keep your eyes sharp and be ready to drop one down should I come running.”

“Believe me, Colonel, we’ll be watching your every movement,” Grigori assured him.

Leaving his tent, Tyrone swung astride his horse, gathered the reins, and accepted the flag of truce. After returning a crisp salute to Grigori, he reined the stallion toward the trail that offered him the fastest descent.

In nothing less than pure exhaustion, Synnovea leaned against Petrov’s horse as Ladislaus cut the leather cord that had bound her to the brawny giant throughout the major portion of their journey from Moscow. His men were already dispersing to other areas of their small village, gladly leaving the two men to handle their captive.

Ladislaus was feeling in fine spirits after the successful abduction and bestowed a wide grin upon Petrov. “You see, my friend, it’s just as I told you it would be. The wench has become quite tame in recent days. Mayhap she’s looking forward to sharing my bed.”

Petrov grunted in unfaltering skepticism. “Wait till she get her wind back, then you see. Maybe she even come after Ladislaus again to kill him.”

“You just don’t understand my way with women,” Ladislaus argued in good humor. “I’ll let this one have a bath and some sleep. She’ll be a different woman once she has rested. I tell you, Petrov, she’ll be grateful enough to love me when she wakes!”

“Hmph!”

Turning to face the source of the contemptuous snort, Ladislaus bent his attention upon the girl, who glared up at him with eyes smoldering with unrestrained fury. Within the drooping cowl of her cloak he could find little evidence of that richly attired countess he had once seen courageously alight from her coach. He beheld instead the face of a small, grubby sprite who had taken enormous delight in antagonizing each and every one of them. At the very least, a score of his cohorts had felt the sharp sting of her wit as well as the pangs of her kicks, scratches, blows, or bites whenever they had made the mistake of venturing too close. Only Petrov had been exempt from her abuse, no doubt because he had become her protector of sorts, for it was that good fellow who had stepped repeatedly between her and those who had sought instant retribution for the injuries she had liberally dispensed. Though her smugly challenging smile had further provoked those whom she had assailed, none had dared test her benefactor’s brawn in their quest for appeasement.

Making no effort to brush back the snarled tresses that formed a tangled, weblike veil across her face, the recalcitrant countess peered up at him jeeringly. Her lean jaw was smudged with a streak of black, and a heavy grime now covered her entire face, a result of their rapid flight across a dusty field. For all of her smirking derision, she seemed much too exhausted to lift herself from her slouched stance, which in the main was supported by the horse’s rump.

“You see!” Petrov jerked his thumb toward her. “She kill you quick if you crazy enough to trust her! Just like the other night, when she escape and take my knife.”

Ladislaus rubbed the healing wound across his palm as he recalled his foolish endeavor to take advantage of the girl’s attempted flight. From beneath drooping eyelids, he had watched her lean stealthily across the loudly snoring Petrov and slip the man’s knife from its sheath. Covertly she had slashed the cords that had fastened her to the sleeping giant and then had rolled away from his side.

Though Ladislaus had fancied the idea of creeping into the shadows after her and taking his pleasure while the rest of his men slumbered on, he hadn’t been prepared for her vicious assault when he neared the place where she had been hiding. He had barely jumped back in time to avoid the death-threatening slash of her knife. Thinking he could easily disarm her, he had grabbed for the weapon, but, in the next instant, had felt the tip of the blade open a gash across his palm. If not for the fact that several of his men had been awakened by his deafening curse, the little chit might have escaped. As it was, she had been dragged back kicking and screaming while she laid every insult she could think of upon their scruffy hides.

Ladislaus faced his cabin and bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Alyona!”

In the next instant the front door was thrown open with sudden force. It rebounded with a loud crack, and in the deafening silence that ensued, a young, dark-haired woman, ponderously close to delivering a child, emerged from the doorway with dark eyes fairly snapping with ire. Halting at the edge of the porch, she glowered at the dumbstruck Ladislaus for a long moment before her gaze flicked mutinously toward Synnovea, bringing that one to alert attention. Then her gaze returned to the lordling thief, where it settled in cold contempt. “So, Ladislaus! At last yu’ve brought a woman home to share yur bed, as if I haven’t served yur lustin’ needs all these many months. Vhat do yu intend for me? Vill yu throw me aside now that I’m fat-bellied vith yur bastard vhelp?”

Ladislaus tried to shush her angry questions with a quieting gesture of his hands. “Now, Alyona, you know I’ve never made any promises that you’d always be the only one. A man like me enjoys a little variety now and then.”

“A man like yu, ha!” Alyona tossed her head in disgust. “Yu mewl so sweetly in our bed an’ tell me that yu love me vhen yu want my favors. Then, vhen I’m so swollen with child that I can hardly move, yu bring this…this…”

“Lady Synnovea Rycroft.” Synnovea quickly supplied the information, gleaning some reason to hope that she could escape ravishment through the presence of this small, tenacious woman. “Wife of Colonel Sir Tyrone Rycroft, English Commander of His Majesty’s Imperial Hussars.” Turning sharply to bestow a blazing glower upon her abductor, she ended in a rush of words that completely exhausted her breath. “Who-will-surely-kill-this-bumbling-oaf-if-he-so-much-as-lays-a-wayward-hand-upon-me!”

Sensing an immediate accord with Her Ladyship, Alyona offered Synnovea a smile and swept a hand invitingly toward the front door. At least Ladislaus hadn’t yet bedded the woman. Perhaps she had time to persuade him from the idea of serving his selfish lusts and wounding her in the process. “Come inside, my lady. No doubt ye’re veary from yur ordeal an’ vould like a bath….”

Ladislaus grinned broadly, perceiving Alyona’s congeniality as a willingness to yield to his authority. He was now of a mind to think that he’d be able to manage very nicely with two women living in the same house. Having every intention of partaking of the hospitality that Alyona had extended to the countess, he mounted the steps behind his latest captive. Immediately upon gaining the porch, he was abruptly halted by a small hand that had been flung up in unfaltering defiance.

“ Nyet! Yu go to stable to vash and bed down! This house vill be ours alone!”

“Come, now, Alyona.” Ladislaus cajoled and then bristled in discomfiture as Petrov made no effort to curb the chuckles erupting from him. “You can’t do this to me! Not even my own men would dare such a thing!”

“Yu stay away!” Alyona railed, stamping a dainty foot in outrage. “I forbid yu to come inside!”

Ignoring the command, Ladislaus spread his arms wide to encompass his mistress in a great bear hug, hoping to placate her, but Alyona snatched away in angry resentment and glared up at him.

“Yu leave here this instant, Ladislaus, or I vill! I von’t stay in yur camp an’ give birth to yur child vhile yu make another bastard vith the colonel’s wife. Do yu hear?”

“Damnation, woman! I can’t let you order me about as if I were some young whelp! What will my men think?”

Alyona rose on tiptoes to sneer in his face. “An’ vhat vill yu think, Ladislaus, if I leave now? Do yu vant me to go? Does beddin’ down vith the colonel’s vife mean so much to yu that yu do not care if I go or stay?”

“Alyona, you know I’m very fond of you….”

In unabated pertinacity, Alyona stood erect with small fists clenched tightly at her sides. Despite the initial terror she had suffered when Ladislaus had first snatched her from her parents’ home more than a year ago, she had come to love him dearly, but she wanted more from him than just a casual dalliance. His child would soon be born, and she wanted him to treat her with the same regard a man would extend to a cherished wife. “Ladislaus, yu make choice now! The colonel’s vife or me!”

The lord-of-thieves raised his hands lamely in mute appeal. As much as he wanted to pleasure himself with the beautiful countess, down deep inside he knew he couldn’t abide the idea of Alyona leaving him. From the first, she had been like a fresh, sweet breath of wind coming into his stale life. While holding herself from him in staid reserve, she had played the offended maiden to the hilt until gradually it was his heart that had melted. To his amazement he had found himself caring for her in a gentler way, courting her with wildflowers, long walks in the woods, and sonnets of love from a book he had once found in a trunk purloined from a wealthy rake. He had even taught her to read, and she had in turn placated him by sweetly reciting the verses. How could he bear to let her go when he had no doubt that she’d be leaving him bereft of every treasure he held dear?

A gunshot snatched Ladislaus’s mind abruptly from the matter of choices to the immediate needs of the moment. Of primary concern was the safety of his camp and everyone within it. He whirled away from the two women as Petrov spun his horse around to face the barricaded entrance to the pass. Above it, a guard was now shouting and waving his arms in an attempt to gain their attention. Petrov raised a hand and held it to an ear to listen, then promptly conveyed the information to Ladislaus.

“One man ride toward camp with white flag. The guard want to know, should he let the stranger in?”

Ladislaus leapt off the porch and, settling his powerful arms akimbo, frowned toward the pass for a long moment before squinting up at Petrov. “Can they tell who the man is?”

The single braid of flaxen hair fell over a massive shoulder as Petrov leaned his head far back and cupped a hand to his mouth to project his shout. “Who comes? Do you know?”

Again Petrov returned a broad hand to an ear to catch the other’s answer. Then he gaped down at his lordling chief, completely astounded by what he had just heard. “They say English colonel come here! He ride your horse!”

“What?” Synnovea gasped, flinging herself to the porch railing. Trembling now, she shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun reflecting off a patch of snow as she stared toward the entrance. As yet, she could see nothing of her husband, but that didn’t ease the sudden quaking of her heart.

Ladislaus was of a different bent entirely. Hooting in glee at the idea that his adversary would be coming into their camp, he roared his answer. “Let the rascal enter, if indeed he comes alone!”

Petrified by a sudden concern for her husband, Synnovea waited an eternity before she saw a lone rider emerging from the narrow pass. At the newcomer’s inquiring glance toward the one who stood on the knoll above him, the guard pointed in the direction of the house, prompting the newcomer to urge the stallion forward. Synnovea had no need to see his face or the tawny hair now covered by a helm to know that it was indeed her own dear husband who approached, for none rode with the confident grace he exhibited. The stallion carried him forward at a leisurely canter until he reined the steed to a halt before the lord-of-thieves.

Synnovea would have scrambled down the steps and raced toward Tyrone, but Ladislaus flung up a hand to halt her in mid-stride and promptly barked an order for her to hold fast lest she cause some harm to come to her husband. She acquiesced forthwith, but in the silence that ensued, her eyes melded with the blue ones that anxiously searched her face. At the unspoken question burning within those translucent orbs, she managed a reassuring smile to convey the fact that, as yet, she had not been harmed.

Thoughtfully Ladislaus considered the pair who exchanged unspoken assurances of adoration with nothing more than their eyes. Then he turned his perusal solely upon his rival, espying no scabbard or pistol, only an empty sheath where a knife should have been. “Are you a witless fool, Colonel, to enter my camp with naught to protect you but a white flag and your own arrogance? Do you not ken that my men can drag you from my horse and strip the flesh from your bones, just as they did when we last met? Have you no scars to remind you of that event?”

“I’ve come for my wife,” Tyrone stated unflinchingly, leveling his gaze upon the renegade. “I won’t leave without her.”

Ladislaus laughed with boisterous mirth and spread his arms wide in exaggerated amazement as he mockingly reminded his foe, “But you said that I could have her, my friend. Don’t you remember? Now pray tell us, Colonel, have you changed your mind?”

“If it’s a fight you want, Ladislaus. I’ll give it to you,” Tyrone avouched in a low, rumbling tone. “But I’m not leaving here without my wife.”

“What? And cheat my compatriots of the sport of tying you between two horses and wagering which steed will get the better of you in the end? Come, now, Colonel, I’m not as selfish as all that.”

Tyrone lifted a hand and, glancing briefly toward Synnovea, beckoned her to draw near. She obeyed instantly, evoking a growl from Ladislaus, who leapt forward to catch her, but the thief was brought up short by the bulk of the black stallion as Tyrone nudged the animal into his path. Grinding his teeth in rage, Ladislaus sprang upward to seize his adversary from the saddle, but with a flick of his wrist, Tyrone reined the animal sharply about again, deftly jarring the brigand’s senses when that one met the whirling steed head to head, the hard way. An audible thunk was followed by an even louder yowl of pain before Ladislaus stumbled back in a dazed stupor, clasping a hand to his face. A quick swipe of a finger beneath his nose assured him that he was bleeding profusely from his left nostril.

Petrov coughed abruptly to curb another threatening burst of laughter. Then, with hard-won composure, he straightened his demeanor and, assuming his best doleful expression, swung down from his steed. Solicitously he helped Ladislaus to the steps of the porch, where he urged their leader to sit still until he recovered his wits. Alyona flew inside and, reappearing a brief moment later with a wet cloth, gently dabbed at the blood oozing from Ladislaus’s nose.

While the rogues’ attention was diverted, Tyrone reached down and, grasping Synnovea’s arm, swung her up behind him. Petrov’s flintlock made a swift and ominous appearance. Its cyclopean bore was leveled convincingly toward the middle of the leather doublet as the huge man rumbled out a warning. “Keep still, Colonel, or you will die now!”

Though Synnovea clasped her arms tightly around her husband’s waist and pressed close against his back in anxious fear, Tyrone countered the giant’s threat almost casually. “If you kill me, Petrov, these hills will crumble down upon your shining pate. I swear they will.”

Petrov hooted loudly in amusement before he jeered at the colonel. “Are you God to call down mountain upon us, Englishman?”

“Heed my warning carefully with an attentive ear, Petrov,” Tyrone urged. “If you need proof of my power, I shall give you a small sampling, but I must first kindly insist that you divert your aim for the moment to negate the possibility of your weapon discharging accidentally once you realize I have such power.”

Petrov’s eyes flicked quickly toward the rugged, tree-lined hilltops as he wondered what to make of the man’s proposal. He was curious enough to want to see what would follow. Although he turned the bore away from their foe, he held the pistol positioned where he could swing it around upon the man in the flick of an eye. As he cocked a brow and closely observed the colonel, that one raised the white flag and then brought it down sharply in a fluttering descent.

Instantly a thundering explosion rent the silence, followed in quick, ear-numbing succession by several more blasts, each of which caused both Petrov and Ladislaus to start in sudden shock. They gaped in utter amazement as the cannonballs repeatedly pummeled the hills around the second entrance, loosening large boulders and rocks that subsequently began to tumble into the canyon. The falling debris gave momentum to the guards who had been on duty there. Spurred on by churning fear, they raced away as if the demons of hell were nipping at their heels, all the while casting anxious glances over their shoulders as they sought to outrun the falling fragments.

Hardly anyone noticed Tyrone whirling the steed about and racing off toward the far side of the canyon until Ladislaus scrambled to his feet and thrust a massive arm out to point toward the departing colonel, bringing Pe trov’s attention to bear upon the two who were obviously attempting to escape in spite of the questionable direction in which they were riding.

“Shoot the horse, dammit! Shoot the horse! If our captives escape, we’ll likely lose our heads!” Ladislaus barked, nearly jumping up and down with impatience as Petrov leveled his flintlock and held it steady on his target. Slowly the giant squeezed the trigger, hating to see such a fine animal put down, but cherishing his own head a lot more. The discharge was followed by a mere pause of a heartbeat. Then the horse collapsed in a cartwheeling roll that sent its riders flying helter-skelter.

Tyrone swore as he rolled and tumbled to a halt in a large patch of snow. Gnashing his teeth in fierce determination, he leapt to his feet and raced back to where his wife lay motionless upon the ground. She stared at the sky above her as if utterly frozen, but he had no time to shake her from her stupor. Swooping up her limp form within his arms, he started running desperately toward the hill, from the top of which his men waved frantically and shouted encouragements as they tossed down ropes.

Thundering hoofbeats of at least a dozen horses quickly overtook Tyrone, forestalling his flight to safety as the highwaymen passed him and then drew their steeds to a skidding halt in front of him. Briefly facing the leering men as they brandished their swords in the air, he retreated cautiously, sweeping his eyes about in search of another path to safety. In turn, the men nudged their mounts toward him, grinning like fools lusting for revenge. Tyrone gnashed his teeth in unrelenting fortitude and chose to test them, first dashing to the left and then skidding to a halt on the right, running backward, then forward, all the while dodging, twisting, circling around. Everywhere he turned, the rogues closed ranks, forbidding his penetration of the living wall they had erected. Finally he was brought up short as they tightened the snare around him until it was made secure. He had no choice but to accept his entrap ment and perhaps his imminent death, for they allowed him no place to run.

Slowly Tyrone collapsed to his knees and, gasping air into his lungs, bent over his wife, intending to bestow a kiss of farewell upon her parted lips. Then he realized her eyes were closed with a stillness that made his heart lurch in fear. While he rasped in air, he could detect no slightest sign of life, not even a flutter of breath from her lips. He felt an impending shout of remorse building within him, and he let her sag in his arms as he tilted his head far back upon his shoulders and shrieked at the top of his lungs toward the hill.

“Grigori! Avenge us!”