Secret Fire Page 10

  She had spoken the moment the door opened, in a clear though petulant tone. “Mitya, I have waited hours while you sleep the day away, but I will wait…no…longer.” The last two words fell slowly as she halted, finally seeing that he was not alone. She dismissed Katherine with a glance, but her whole demeanor changed when she saw Dimitri’s annoyance as he rounded on her. “I’m sorry,” she offered quickly. “I didn’t realize you were conducting business.”

  “Which is beside the point,” Dimitri said sharply. “It is no wonder the Duchess washed her hands of you, Anastasia, if this lack of manners is another of the new faults you have recently acquired.”

  The woman’s manner changed again, becoming defensive at this set-down in front of a stranger. “It is important, or I wouldn’t—”

  “I don’t care if the ship is afire! In future you will obtain permission before you disturb me, no matter the hour, no matter the reason!”

  Katherine, viewing this autocratic display of temper, was almost amused. Here was a man who had let nothing else disturb him, not even her slap, which had been as forceful as she could make it, now blustering over a minor interruption. But then she had met Russians at court and had also heard numerous stories from the English ambassador to Russia, who was a close friend of the Earl’s and knew Russians to be inherently volatile, with quick changes of temperament and mood.

  Until now, the Prince had shown no tendency toward such a variable disposition. At least this display of temper was comforting in that it was more what Katherine might have expected from a Russian. Predictability was always easier to deal with.

  Quickly assessing her options, Katherine decided to gamble. Assuming a subservient manner that was alien to her, she jumped into what was on its way to being a heated exchange, if the woman’s now-angry expression was any indication.

  “My lord, I don’t mind waiting while you attend the lady. I’ll just step outside—”

  “Stay where you are, Katherine,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Anastasia is leaving.”

  Two commands, one for each of them. But neither woman had any intention of obeying without a fight.

  “You will not put me off, Mitya,” Anastasia insisted, stomping her foot to make sure he noted how upset she was. “One of my maids is missing! The little bitch has run away!”

  Before Dimitri could respond to this, Katherine, moving slowly but steadily around him and toward the door, said firmly, “My business can wait, my lord.” Mistakenly she added, “If someone has fallen overboard—”

  “Nonsense,” Anastasia cut in, not even acknowledging Katherine’s assistance. “The sly creature slipped off the ship before we sailed. She was deathly ill on the voyage to England, just as my Zora was. She simply didn’t want to sail again. But I refuse to give her up, Mitya. She belongs to me. I want her back.”

  “You expect me to turn this ship around for a serf, when you know I have offered them all their freedom any time they want it? Don’t be a fool, Anastasia. You will have any one of a hundred women to replace her.”

  “But not here and now. What am I to do now, with Zora sick?”

  “One of my servants will have to suffice, don’t you agree?” The question was in fact an order.

  Anastasia knew that was the end of it; he wouldn’t change his mind. She hadn’t really expected him to turn the ship around. She had simply needed an excuse to vent some of her frustration with this forced voyage on him, to make him a little more sympathetic to her feelings, and the runaway maid gave her that excuse.

  “You are cruel, Mitya. My maids are well trained. Your servants would not know the first thing about being lady’s maids. They only know how to serve you.”

  While they argued over domestics, Katherine took advantage of their distraction to inch her way to the door. She didn’t bother to repeat once more that she would wait outside until the Prince was free to finish their own discussion. She opened the door quietly and slipped through it, closing it just as quietly.

  Chapter Eleven

  The narrow corridor was dimly but adequately lit. A lantern hung at one end, and daylight spilled down the stairs at the other end from the open door leading onto the deck above. The corridor was also empty, a fact that gave Katherine pause. This was too easy. All she had to do was make her way up those stairs to the deck, reach the railing, and quickly slip over it. But for a full twenty seconds Katherine did nothing but stand outside Dimitri’s door and hold her breath.

  After two days of such rotten luck, it was natural to doubt that an opportunity like this was suddenly within her grasp. Her heart began to pound. There was still danger. She couldn’t really feel safe until her feet touched the riverbank and she could watch this ship sail on until it was no more than a dark speck on the water and a bad memory.

  Get a move on, Katherine, before he realizes you’ve flown while he argued with that gorgeous creature.

  If she had thought she could persuade the Prince to have the captain turn this ship around for her, his refusal to indulge that beautiful woman in the same request dashed her hopes entirely. Not even for a member of his own party would he return to London, so he certainly wouldn’t for her, when it was by his order that she was on this ship to begin with. Why? Why?

  Not now, Katherine! Wonder about it later, after you’re safely out of that man’s reach.

  The voices raised in anger inside the room were indistinguishable, but served to remind her that at any moment Dimitri could notice her absence. She had no time to lose. She could only be grateful that this opportunity for escape had come before the ship reached the mouth of the Thames and left the coast of England behind. Once out to sea, there would be no escape.

  She pushed away from the door and ran toward the stairs, tripping on the first two steps in her haste. But that moment of lost balance saved her from rushing pell-mell into the arms of one of the crewmen who passed the head of the stairs just then. Foolish to forget the deck wouldn’t be deserted at this time of day. She didn’t know what time it actually was, but it had to be quite late in the afternoon; closer to evening would be a likely guess. If only it were evening already and dark above, she would have one less worry. But by evening the opportunity would be lost, the river would be behind her. She just had to take her chances on being seen.

  Her heart was galloping away now as she took the steps one at a time, slowly. Don’t be obvious about it, old girl. Just act naturally, as if you’re just coming up for a stroll on the deck. Nothing to it.

  The only trouble with that reasoning was that she didn’t know if a stroll on the deck would be a natural thing for her to do or not. If she was a prisoner, as she uneasily suspected, it wouldn’t be natural at all. But would everyone know that? Dimitri’s servants, yes, but the sailors, the captain? How could the Prince possibly justify his abduction of her to the captain of this ship? He couldn’t. He had probably meant to keep her secreted away during the whole voyage, and that would be an easy enough thing to do with the help of his many servants.

  One of those servants came into Katherine’s line of vision as she stood nervously in the doorway. It was the young maid who had attended her last night, talking and laughing with one of the sailors about a dozen feet away, and in French no less. The deceitful little chit, speaking only Russian each time she was in Katherine’s presence, undoubtedly so that she wouldn’t have to answer any questions. Well, never mind that now. Fortunately, the maid’s attention was raptly caught up in her mild flirtation and she didn’t glance once toward the companionway.

  The deck was busy with activity, shouts, laughter, even singing could be heard. No one seemed to notice Katherine as she moved casually toward the railing. That was all she kept her sights on, those wooden planks that signified a return to freedom. So when she gripped the top rail and finally looked up, it was with dismay that she saw how far away land actually was. They had reached the mouth of the Thames, that ever-widening body of water that embraced the sea. It looked as though miles and miles now separated he
r from the freedom she had thought was only a short swim away. And yet what choice did she have? Sailing to Russia was out of the question when England was still in sight.

  She closed her eyes and offered a brief prayer for the extra strength she knew she would need, closing off the terrifying thought that she could well be courting a watery grave instead of imminent freedom. But lurking in the back of her mind also was the possibility, which she had considered while locked in the truck, that a watery grave could be her fate anyway, that the Prince could have had that in mind all along to solve the problem she had presented. It was this that brought out the determination that was so much a part of her character. As far as she was concerned, her options were down to do or die.

  Her chest now hurt, her heart was pounding so wildly. She had never been so frightened. And yet she hiked her skirt and petticoats up out of the way to climb over the railing. It was in the instant her bare foot found purchase on a middle plank to hoist herself over that an arm slipped around her and a hand hooked itself under her upraised knee.

  She should have exploded in a rage at the unfairness of being stopped at the last second, but Katherine didn’t. In fact she felt such relief at having the matter taken out of her hands that she was almost giddy. Later she would bewail the fates that kept conspiring against her, but not right at this moment, as all fear washed away and her heart returned to a normal rate.

  The contrary feeling of being saved instead of defeated lasted only a few seconds until she glanced down and saw the green velvet covering the iron arm circling her ribs, just under her breasts. And if that wasn’t enough to tell her whose chest her back was molded against, she recognized the hand that was gripping her thigh so firmly she couldn’t lower her foot to the deck.

  She knew that hand intimately, had kissed it countless times last night in pleasure, in pathetic entreaty, in gratitude. The memories of it were shameful, yet she had instinctively known that to feel his touch again would devastate her. Hadn’t she tried to keep her distance from him? It was too soon, the experience too fresh in her mind for her to have formed the necessary defenses. It was as if the drug were still in her system, its magic working against her. Perhaps it was. Of course it was.

  That’s a good one, Katherine. Deceive yourself, why don’t you. It’s him! It’s that blasted face of his which you see even when you’re not looking at him, and that blasted body which ought to be in a museum instead of walking around destroying the composure of the female population.

  Chastising herself did little good when his arm moved an inch upward, and she was mortified to feel her nipples tingling as they hardened. And he wasn’t even touching them, just pressing his arm beneath her breasts!

  Dimitri was just as aware of the gentle weight resting on his arm as was Katherine. He was having difficulty resisting the urge to put his hands to those soft mounds, to feel again the way they filled his palms so perfectly. But he was also aware that they weren’t alone, that dozens of curious eyes were no doubt trained on them. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to release her. It felt so damn good to hold her again. Images kept flashing through his mind: the smoldering eyes, the soft lips parted in a cry of pleasure, the thrusting hips.

  Heat shot through his loins, worse than it had in the cabin when he had gazed at her open bodice and the creamy ridges of her breasts peaking above the lace of her chemise. If he hadn’t been so pleasantly aroused then, he wouldn’t have been so annoyed with Anastasia for her untimely interruption. And if he hadn’t been so annoyed with her, he would have noticed sooner this little bird’s flight, or realized from her words alone what she was up to.

  Neither Dimitri nor Katherine noticed the passing of minutes with no word spoken between them. Others did. Lida was shocked to see the Prince appear on deck dressed as he was, even barefoot, and approach the Englishwoman. She hadn’t even noticed her there by the rail, but then she wasn’t a very noticeable person.

  The sailors on deck would have disagreed with this opinion. With Katherine’s long hair tossing wildly about in the wind, and no adornment on her plain bodice to distract the eye from the sharp, upthrust breasts, they found her very noticeable indeed. And when the Prince joined her at the rail, knowing grins split more than one hardened face for the intimate picture they presented. It was actually an erotic picture, with Katherine’s foot up on the rail, her skirts hiked above her knee displaying the shapely turn of a trim calf, the Prince boldly caressing the exposed leg, or so it seemed, her leaning back into him, his chin resting on the top of her head as he held her close.

  Katherine would have died of shame if she could have seen herself at that moment, or worse, if she had known of the lust she was generating among the crew. Her impeccable manners, her sense of self-worth, her modest taste and style (no plunging necklines for her!), had brought her only respect from the men of her acquaintance. At home she was the voice of authority—again nothing but respect, if laced with a little fear.

  She might come in a little package, but she could have the disposition of a general when necessary. She had been known to intimidate men, unman them with a haughty look, make them feel inferior. On the other hand, she could also put them at their ease, soothe ruffled feathers, bolster egos. She had prided herself on being able to handle any situation with a man—until she met Dimitri. But never would she have thought she could stir a man’s lust.

  What had happened with the Prince didn’t count, because of the drug. Nothing about last night seemed real, even with the memories so potently clear. And what was happening right now was strictly one-sided—or so she thought. She was so enmeshed in her own turmoil that she was completely unaware of his.

  It was Dimitri who recalled their position first and why he had rushed up here in the first place. Bending his head, his voice sounded a husky caress by her ear. “Do you come back with me, or do I carry you?”

  He almost wished he hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t wondered why she had said nothing, why she hadn’t even moved a muscle all this time, but he should have. This quiet acceptance of her foiled escape was out of character, just as her final performance in the cabin had been, if only he had been paying attention.

  It was unfortunate that he hadn’t been able to see her face while he held her, or he would have realized the cause of her acquiescence and been delighted to know she was not as immune to him as she pretended. But now as he felt her stiffen at the sound of his voice, felt her try to draw away from him, he was reminded that this was no empty-headed wench but a very clever woman, and he attributed her silence to some new subterfuge.

  “If I hadn’t been distracted, I would have been immediately suspicious of those meek ‘my lords’ you handed out so prettily in my cabin.” The huskiness was gone from his voice, but it was still deeply caressing. “But I’m not distracted now, little one, so no more tricks.”

  Katherine tried once more to break his hold on her, but it was utterly useless. “Let go of me!”

  No sweet entreaty. It was a command. Dimitri grinned. He rather liked this haughty role she assumed and was pleased she hadn’t decided to abandon it just yet, simply because it wasn’t working in her favor.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he reminded her.

  “I prefer to stay right here.”

  “That was not one of your choices.”

  “Then I demand to see the captain.”

  Dimitri chuckled, squeezing her slightly without realizing he was doing so. “Demands again, my dear? What makes you think this one will gain you any more than the others?”

  “You’re afraid to let me see him, aren’t you?” she accused him. “I could scream, you know. It’s not very dignified, but it does have its uses.”

  “Please don’t.” He was shaking with laughter now, unable to help himself. “I give in, Katya, if only to save you the trouble of plotting a way to reach the man later.”

  She didn’t believe him, even when he called to one of the sailors nearby and she turned to see the fellow hurry away to do
his bidding. But when she saw an officer come around the quarterdeck and make his way toward them, she gasped, recalling her position at last, that her skirt was still hiked up and her petticoats wantonly displayed.

  “Let go, will you?” she hissed at Dimitri.

  He too had forgotten that he was still grasping her leg, which had been a purely impulsive hold, unnecessary to detain her. He took his arm away, but did not immediately remove his hand, letting the fingers trail up her thigh as she put her foot down. He heard her sharp intake of breath at the deliberate liberty, but didn’t regret it in the least, even when she swung around to glare furiously at him.

  A brow arched innocently, yet he was grinning when, turning to the man who stopped before them, he made brief introductions. Sergei Mironov was a medium-sized man, stocky of build, perhaps in his late forties. There was gray mixed with the brown in his neatly trimmed beard, deep lines around his brown eyes, which showed not the least irritation at being called away from his duties, and his blue and white uniform was impeccable. Katherine had little doubt that he was in fact captain of this ship, but she didn’t like the deference he showed to Dimitri.

  “Captain Mironov, ah, how shall I put this?” She glanced hesitantly at Dimitri, realizing suddenly that it wouldn’t do to come right out and accuse a Russian prince of wrongdoing, at least not to a Russian captain. “A mistake has been made. I—I find that I cannot leave England at this time.”

  “You will have to speak slower, Katya. Sergei understands French, but not when it is spoken so fast.”

  She ignored Dimitri’s interruption. “Did you understand me, Captain?”