4

“Weren’t you born a slave?” she asked, curious despite her fear. He stayed where he was and explained.

“No. I was not born a slave. My brother Paulus and I come from the north of Greece. Our father was a Greek Orthodox priest. Our mother died when we were twelve and fourteen, and father then married a woman in the village who had one daughter. Mara was the most beautiful woman in our town, and unknown to Father, the most corrupt. She had not been in the house a year when she bedded us both. Then father began to sicken, and soon he died. I imagine she was poisoning him, but I didn’t know it then. Our loving stepmother quickly arranged a match between her ugly daughter and the eldest son of the richest man in the village. We kept hearing talk in the village of an enormous dowry for Daphne, but we could not understand where Mara was going to get such a dowry. In the meantime she kept us content, and happy in her bed.

“Our stepsister’s wedding day was a week away when a mounted troop of men arrived in our village. They were slave traders. As our ‘mother’ it was her right to sell us, and she received a large sum. The money, of course, was for our stepsister’s dowry. Without it, our stepsister Mara wouldn’t have gotten any husband, let alone a rich one! I overheard Mara haggling our price with the leader of the troop, and believe me, she got every penny she could from him and more.” He chuckled. “What a woman she was! ‘They can both fuck like stallions,” she told the slaver. ‘I’ve taught them myself, and they’re both potent as hell. I’ve aborted myself seven times in the last year!”

“That’s horrible!” Miranda cried. “What an evil woman she was to sell you into slavery.”

“She did us a kindness,” was his surprising reply. “Our village was poor, and our father had been the priest. We were the poorest of all. When Mara sold us she knew we would be sent to a breeding farm as we were too old to be successfully gelded. That is why she told the slave merchant that our seed was so potent. The farms are always looking for fresh stock, and the slaves on the farms are very well treated.

“Paulus and I were brought to Constantinople, and there we were both bought by Dimitri Gregorivich. He was on a buying trip for Prince Cherkessky, who had just come into the estate. We have been happy here, and you will be too, I promise you. Just give it time.”

“My story is not like yours,” Miranda said. “You were a peasant, and slavery has improved your life. You left nothing behind when you were brought here. Both your parents were dead, your stepmother and her child meant little to you, you had nothing. I had everything.

“I am wealthy in my own right. I have a husband and a child I love, a mother, a sister, a home! I do not belong here.”

“Then why are you here?” he asked, moving just a bit closer.

“Your prince kidnapped me from my yacht in St. Petersburg because, it seems, my coloring matches yours. I am told you father daughters, and Prince Cherkessky believes a race of our daughters will make him richer. But if you touch me I will kill myself!

“I am not a brood mare! I am Miranda Dunham of Wyndsong Island, wife to Jared Dunham, the lord of the manor.”

He sighed. “Poor little bird,” he said. “Whatever was is no longer. You are here now, and this is your life. I don’t want you unhappy, for I am a softhearted man and a sad woman pains me.” He moved closer.

“No!” She backed herself into the farthest corner of the bed.

“Miranda, Miranda,” he said chidingly, tasting her name for the first time. “I have never taken a woman by force, and I promise you that I will not force you. Trust me, little bird. All I want to do is sit by you, and hold your hand. I will court you as the boys in my village used to court the pretty maidens.”

“It will be no use,” she said. “I will never yield to you, and when they find out that you have not done what you should they will force us. Sasha warned me.”

“ Sasha! ” Lucas’s voice dripped scorn. “The prince’s little pretty-boy lover! What can he know of a man and a woman? Dimitri Gregorivich knows that I will do my duty, and he trusts my judgment in these matters. Eventually we will make love, Miranda, and with God’s blessing you will conceive my child, but you need have no fear that I will rape you. You will come to me willingly, little bird.”

“N-no!”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Give me your hand, little bird. You will see that you can trust me.”

“It’s too dark. I can’t see you,” she said.

“Just place your hand in the center of the bed,” he said. “I will find it.”

She hesitantly slid her small cold hand across the mattress. Instantly his big hand covered it, and she started, frightened by the contact.

“No, Miranda, it’s all right. I will not hurt you,” he reassured her.

For a few moments they sat in silence, and she could hear his calm, even breathing. It was odd to sit here almost peacefully with this stranger and talk of lovemaking. “Your French is excellent,” she said finally, in an effort to ease the awkward silence.

He chuckled as if understanding her thoughts, and the sound was somehow comforting. “One of my women is French. She came here over two years ago, and we could not understand each other. So, having been a teacher, she set about teaching me her language, and I taught her some of the Russian dialects I know.”

“She adjusted to this … this way of life after having been free?” Miranda asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I will not, Lucas,” she said.

“Yes, you will, Miranda. You tell me you had a husband and son. If he loved you as you loved him, why didn’t he come after you?”

“Because the prince convinced him that I drowned in the Neva River,” she cried.

“So as far as your family is concerned you are dead. Eventually your husband will marry again, for that is a man’s way. He will have other children, and your own child will forget you. In the meantime you will sit here lonely and unloved. Is this the kind of life you want? If your husband can make himself a new life, why can’t you?”

“Jared honestly believes I am dead, but I know I am not! If he marries his mistake will be an honest one; but if I yield my body to you I am an adulteress, a whore! I will not do it!”

“Because you love your husband, Miranda, or because your proud spirit cannot violate the morals which you were taught as a child? You must think about this carefully, for Dimitri Gregorivich is only so patient, and the prince is not patient at all.”

“I would sooner be dead than a slave!” she said fervently.

“Little bird, they will not let you die. Eventually they will demand I force you. And then I will be ashamed, for I have never forced a woman. Or else the prince will give you to the others to play with as a lesson to those who might be tempted to follow your example. But I will love you, and be good to you. You are very beautiful.”

“How can you know that? You can’t see me here in the dark.”

“I have seen you before tonight.”

“Out walking with Sasha?”

“No.”

“Wh-whén?”

“I have come to your room each night when you were asleep, and watched you. They do not know.”

There was nothing she could say. He was not at all what she had imagined. She had expected a brute, and he was gentle and understanding. She wished she could see what he looked like. It was growing chilly, and she shivered in her light cotton caftan.

“Are you cold?” he asked solicitously. “Come, let me hold you, little bird.”

“ No! ”

“Miranda, it’s damp and cool in here,” he said patiently, as if reasoning with a child. “Only in winter is a blanket or fire supplied. The rest of the time we are supposed to make our own heat. Let me hold you and warm you. It cannot be disloyal to your husband if I keep you from pneumonia.” His voice held a hint of laughter.

“No!” she repeated, and then she sneezed, not once but three times.

Without another word he reached over in the blackness and yanked her back across the bed into his bearlike embrace. She started to struggle, but he tightened his grip. “Easy, little bird, I told you I would not force you. Now, be quiet, and let me warm you.”

“You’re naked!” she protested.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

Her cheek, against his furred chest, grew hot with embarrassment. She was settled quite comfortably into his lap, and although at first she was rigidly resistant, she gradually began to relax. He was a very big man. Shyly she moved her arm into a more comfortable position, and felt the muscles of his upper chest rippling beneath her hand. He smelled clean, yet definitely masculine, and she felt quick tears prick her eyelids as a hundred sweet memories assailed her.

“I am a very patient man, little bird,” he said quietly, as if reading her thoughts.

“Why do you call me ‘little bird’?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“Because you are graceful and golden, and soft, like a canary my mother once had. It lived in a little willow cage in our house window. When she died, it died.”

“You are very big,” she said.

“I am six feet six inches tall,” he said. “My brother is taller by a half-inch.”

She could feel his heart beating evenly beneath her cheek. He was so sure of himself. Suddenly she realized how fortunate she was. He was kind. He had said he would be patient, and it occurred to her that she might very well hold him off long enough to make good her escape. Her heart quickened at the thought. Outside, the night creatures hummed and sang in the moonlight, and as his body heat began to penetrate her she grew sleepy again. It wasn’t half bad here in this windowless place, safe and warm in this gentle giant’s arms. Instinctively she cuddled nearer, and his big hand began stroking her head gently.

“Good morning, Miranda Tomasova!” came Marya’s cheerful voice, and the sun was bright in Miranda’s confused eyes. She was back in her room! “Get up, dearie. Sasha and your breakfast are both waiting. I have brought you a pitcher of warm water to bathe with, although perhaps later you will want a real bath. The girls all say Lucas is an insatiable bull, but then I’m too old to know, more’s the pity!” Cackling merrily at her wit, she left the room.

How on earth did she get back from the breeding hut? He must have carried her. She swung her feet over the bed and got up, removing the wrinkled caftan. Washing her face and hands, and cleaning her teeth with a mint leaf, she went to the wardrobe, picked out a new caftan, and put it on. She brushed her hair fiercely. She had a bone to pick with Sasha!

“You worm!” she hissed at him as she entered the small dining room. “You lied to me!”

“I did not lie,” he protested.

“You didn’t tell what you were going to do last night, you worm! You tricked me!”

“If I had told you, would you have cooperated?”

“ No! ”

“Didn’t Lucas please you,” he said slyly. “I have been told that he always leaves his women begging for more.”

She laughed mockingly. “I am untouched!” she said triumphantly.

His face darkened. Leaping across the space between them, he grasped her by her pale-gold hair. “You bitch! What have you done?” he shrieked into her face. “Every time you refuse to cooperate I am forced to remain here another day!”

“I warned you!” she shouted, pulling away from him. “I will not be treated like an animal! I am Miranda Dunham, wife to Jared Dunham, lord of Wyndsong Manor.”

The first blow caught her unaware. “You bitch! Miranda Dunham is dead! You are Mirushka, a slave belonging to Prince Cherkessky.” He hit her again. “Your function is to breed, and if you don’t cooperate I swear to God I’ll stand over that peasant giant and make him do his duty!”

She saw the third blow coming, and raised her hands to defend herself.

“Pieter Vladimirnovich! Don’t injure her! Remember the prince!”

Dimitri Gregorivich placed himself between them. Sasha’s cupid face was almost purple in his rage. The overseer turned to Miranda, and spoke quietly. “You little fool! Go to your room before he loses control entirely.” She fled gratefully, and he turned back to Sasha, who was now simpering to himself.

“I have never been away from Alexei Vladimirnovich. I cannot bear it, Dimi. ‘I can trust no one else but you, Sasha.’ That’s what he told me, Dimi. Now I am exiled from his sweet presence until that bitch whelps her firstborn!” His black cherry eyes glittered with self-pity and malicious anger. “Is it true? Is it?! Why didn’t he fuck her? Why!”

“Calm yourself, Sasha, calm yourself. You yourself said that Miranda Tomasova must acclimate herself to her new life. Lucas agrees with you. He did not force her because he wishes to earn her trust. He is a gentle man.”

“I don’t care if he earns her trust or not! He was supposed to fuck her! He didn’t! There is, therefore, no chance of her being pregnant, which means I am exiled here an even longer time. I want him whipped!”

“No,” said Dimitri Gregorivich. “Alexei Vladimirnovich sent the woman especially for Lucas, and although I have my reservations yet, she is perfect for him. If he forces her she will be unhappy. Unhappy women make trouble. We have never had trouble here, and the prince would not like it if there was trouble. You are hardly an expert in relations between a man and a woman. I will let Lucas handle her in his own time, and in his own fashion. If you try to interfere I will complain to Alexei Vladimirnovich.”

“I hate it here!”

“You only hate it here because you are lonely and you miss St. Petersburg. I would not offend you, dear Sasha, but among our youth is a most charming and affectionate lad whom I know would be a great consolation to you. Let me bring Vanya to you. Lucas will do his duty as he always has done it, but he must do it in his own time. If you are less concerned with the timing it will happen more quickly. Diverted, you will be happier.”

“I don’t know,” demured Sasha.

“Let me show you the boy,” tempted Dimitri Gregorivich. “He is a delight.”

“I can’t promise I’ll like him, but I suppose I can look. How old is he?”

“Twelve,” was the smooth reply, and Dimitri Gregorivich knew he had won. That night it was he who escorted Miranda to the breeding hut, for Sasha was involved with his new young friend.

Miranda was feeling rather pleased with herself for, after having fled the infuriated Sasha, she had found the kitchens. Playing on old Marya’s sympathies, she had eaten her breakfast there, which gave her plenty of time to look around. She had seen where the bread and fruit were kept, and where the waterbags were hung. Yes, she was pleased with herself.

“Where is Lucas?” she asked the overseer.

“He will be waiting for you,” came the reply.

“I can go from here without you,” she said.

“Are you anxious to see Lucas?” he asked. She ignored him, but then he said, “Remove your caftan.”

“What?” Miranda was shocked.

“Remove your caftan,” he repeated.

“Please, Dimitri Gregorivich, I was cold enough last night with it.”

“If you do your duty, Miranda Tomasova, you will not need the gown.” He held out his hand, and she knew there was nothing she could do. Shrugging fatalistically, she complied with his request and entered the small structure, leaving him behind. As the door shut she saw Lucas’s bulk in the dimness, but the room darkened too quickly for her to make out his features.

“I see you are no longer frightened of me,” he said teasingly.

“You were very kind to me last night,” she said.

“I should like to be kinder to you tonight,” he replied.

Suddenly she felt shy. “Please …”

He laughed ruefully. “My brother says I am being too easy with you; nevertheless, I don’t want you hating me. We will share a bed tonight, Miranda, but we will do nothing more than sleep the sleep of the innocent.” He reached out and found her hand. “Come, little bird.”

She lay down, and felt the rope bed supports give as he joined her.

“Tonight you are also naked,” he remarked. “You made a delectable sight in the doorway, the setting sun behind you, little bird. One kind word, and I would be your slave instead of the prince’s,” he teased.

“Please, you will make me shy again.”

“I would like to put my arm around you,” he said as he did so.

She stiffened at his touch, but gradually relaxed. “Tell me what you look like?” she asked.

“I am just a man,” he said modestly. “My hair is the same gilt color as yours, my eyes are blue like the Persian turquoise. I prefer to be clean-shaven, while my brother wears a beard. Paulus is a golden blond with light blue eyes.”

He drew her closer, and they were hip to hip now. She was glad he could not see her embarrassment. “I am sleepy,” she said. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he answered pleasantly.

Shortly he was snoring lightly while she lay chilled and wakeful. God, his legs were so long, and they were as furred with soft downy hair as his chest was. She dozed briefly only to awaken when he pulled her closer and began fondling her breasts. She was about to protest when he murmured, “Mignon, sweetheart,” and she realized he must be dreaming. As his thumb rubbed insistently at her nipple she grew more tense. A corresponding ache began to build between her legs, and she realized with horror that she was experiencing desire. But how could this be? How could she feel anything having to do with love for a man whose face she’d never seen, a man who was not Jared? Pulling away from him, she moved to the farthest corner of the bed. Confused and shivering, she softly cried herself to sleep.

Miranda awoke in her own bed. She could hear the sound of an insistent rain. She rose, dressed herself, and went to the kitchens, where old Marya was grumbling. “Rain, rain, rain!” she said irritably. “It makes my old bones ache. I hope the rainy season is not beginning early this year.” She filled a small bowl with kasha, and slammed it on the table before Miranda. “Eat up, dearie. Its warmth will help keep out the chill.” She filled a mug with steaming tea, and lacing it heavily with honey shoved it across next to the bowl. “I apologize for such simple fare this morning, Miranda Tomasova, but everyone has overslept because we were kept so late last night by Pieter Vladimirnovich. He had us prepare a banquet for two, the likes of which I have never seen before.” Her tone, her entire body registered extreme disapproval.

Miranda swallowed her laughter. So it was Pieter Vladimirnovich this morning, was it? Sasha must really be in disfavor with Marya. Miranda ate her breakfast and, seeing a row of capes of various sizes hanging by the back door, she snatched one up and hurried out into the wet morning. With Sasha well occupied and everyone else keeping indoors she had a chance to inspect the boats on the beach. Unless the rain turned into a really bad storm, she intended escaping tonight.

She knew she would not be sent to the breeding hut tonight. Farm policy for women was two nights, then a night of full rest. Dimitri Gregorivich had told her so last night. Tonight would be her night of rest, and she would certainly make the most of it. If the rain continued there would be virtually no chance of anyone being out, and her escape was assured. Sasha was nicely entangled with his new friend, and probably would be for the rest of the day and night. Yesterday afternoon, when he and the boy had been frolicking naked in the sea, she had crept into his room to steal a pair of breeches, a shirt, and a cap. Sasha was so involved with the lad that he seemed not to have missed the garments at all.

The wet salt wind teased at her long hair, whipping it wildly about as she reached the beach. The sea was running a trifle higher than normal, with an occasional two-foot swell, but the rain was soft. Though gusty, the wind was not a sustained one. Experience told her that by evening it would be an even, low gale. She suspected the rain would go through the night before it wore itself out. Nothing could be better, she thought with satisfaction.

There were four boats drawn up on the damp sand. Carefully she inspected them for soundness, and immediately discovered that two of them would not be seaworthy at all, for they were too old and their floorboards were loose. They might be fine for a day’s fishing within the safety of the cove, but not for a trip of several hundred miles down the Black Sea. The last two boats were practically brand new, and would be tight and safe. Unfortunately, only one of them had a good sail. The sail in the other was ripped. This, then, would be her boat. The tide was out, but she could see the high-water mark that ended just beyond the stony part of the beach. Bending, she pushed at the boat, but it was stuck in the sand. For several minutes she shoved at the boat until it finally gave and slid forward. She moved it back and forth several times, smoothing the sandy groove until the little vessel moved easily. God, she wished she might go now, but it was too risky. She had to wait. Her worst mistakes had always been made because she was impatient, and galloped precipitously into situations without stopping to think things out.

Reluctantly, she turned away from the boats and made her way back across the beach and up the hill to the villa. Tonight! She was going to escape. It would be a long time before Prince Alexei Cherkessky tangled with an American again!

“Oh, Jared!” she whispered aloud. “I am coming home to you, my darling! I am coming home!”