You Belong to Me Page 7

  "The change will do her good, though I warn you, she won't give up her daily rid­ing."

  That was such a moot point, Vasili said indifferently, "Most noblewomen ride for pleasure."

  "What about racing?"

  "Preposterous. No lady races—she races?"

  "Occasionally."

  "Not anymore," Vasili said stiffly.

  "Splendid."

  Vasili slumped a bit in his chair. He was supposed to be hitting on the things that would not please the baron, not turn out to be the ideal solution to the man's apparent prob­lems with an unnatural daughter.

  Trying for a desperate about-face, Vasili said, "I do, of course, own several country es­tates not too distant from the capital. I sup­pose she could be allowed to pursue her... hobby there."

  Constantin smiled. "Alexandra will be de­lighted to hear that."

  Vasili gritted his teeth, giving up. His last hope, with the baron at least, was that the man might be lying about this betrothal. It was a slim hope, but Vasili was feeling des­perate again.

  "I would like to see a copy of the betrothal contract, sir. Apparently my father's copy was misplaced or lost, since it was never found."

  "Certainly."

  Vasili flushed slightly, seeing that the con­tract had been lying there on the desk between them. Constantin handed it over, obviously having anticipated the request, and it didn't take long for Vasili to peruse the brief docu­ment—and find his father's signature on it. So much for slim hopes.

  "Might I ask why you waited so long to write?" Vasili asked as he handed the contract back. "Your daughter is quite beyond the age when most girls marry."

  "That was selfishness on my part, wanting to keep her with me for a bit longer," Con-stantin said. "And she was content with her life here."

  "I don't doubt it. Are you aware that she doesn't want to marry me?"

  "She told you that?"

  "She did."

  Constantin thought frantically for a mo­ment before he waved his hand dismissively. "Nervousness, and the thought of change. It happens to many brides—and grooms."

  "Usually such feelings are kept to oneself," Vasili replied in a near grumble.

  Constantin chuckled. "Ah, you've discov­ered my daughter's propensity for frankness. I'll admit it can be disconcerting at times, but refreshing at others. Alexandra will never waste your time getting to the point, you can be sure of that. But you needn't take her re­mark to heart. If s not you she doesn't want to marry, but anyone. As I said, she would have been perfectly happy going on as she has been—indefinitely. But she will marry you. I have her word on that."

  That was not what Vasili was hoping to hear. "With all due respect, sir, are you sure you want to force your daughter to marry a man she doesn't want?"

  "Come now, doesn't want?" Constantin smiled in such a knowing way that Vasili nearly blushed. "I saw what happened when she first beheld you, and I assure you, no man has ever rendered her speechless before." Not even that damn Englishman.

  Vasili was blushing now—unaccountably, because it wasn't as if he weren't used to ren­dering women speechless. "She claims I sur­prised her."

  "No doubt you did."

  "It was mutual."

  "No doubt it was. My youngest daughter is nothing if not unique," Constantin said with a good deal of fatherly pride. "I also have no doubt that a man of your years and experi­ence will have little difficulty in winning her affections—and easing her fears."

  Not if Vasili could help it. And he was get­ting nowhere with the baron. The man had accepted him wholeheartedly, would appar­ently use any excuse to continue to do so. Vasili knew he needed to concentrate his ef­forts on Alexandra, and there was no time to spare.

  He assured the baron, "I will make every effort where your daughter is concerned." It wasn't exactly a lie, just a statement that was open to different interpretations. He stood up to end the interview. "Because of my delay in arriving, I'm afraid we'll have to leave very soon, preferably tomorrow, before the weather makes traveling too dangerous."

  He'd managed to surprise the older man.

  "But arrangements aren't finished for the wedding."

  Vasili feigned a look of remorse. "I'm sorry, but did I forget to mention that my cousin in­sists the wedding take place in Cardinia, in the palace? It was the queen's suggestion, and Stefan does love to give her anything she de­sires."

  Constantin had no comment for that and could think of nothing but the dilemma this unexpected development was going to cause. "But I've made no provisions to travel at this time."

  "You can always wait until spring next year and bring her to Cardinia then," Vasili was quick to suggest.

  Too quick, Constantin noted, which was why he said, "No, it isn't necessary for me to witness her wedding. With the betrothal, you are almost as good as married. I'll wait and visit when she has her first child."

  Jesus, the man already had him married and soon to be a father, Vasili thought with dread. "But surely she'll be disappointed?"

  As angry as she was with Constantin? He barely kept from snorting. "Not at all. If any­thing, she'll be glad to be out from under my authority."

  And instead be under mine, Vasili realized, the thought intriguing him—until the conse­quences reared up to horrify him. Seducing the little wench was no longer a possibility, in fact, it was absolutely forbidden. But it would be easier to get her to break the betrothal if her father wasn't there to see how utterly de­spicable he intended to be—if he couldn't get her to cry off before tomorrow.

  9

  Constantin sat back behind his desk and waited, almost positive that Alexandra would join him as soon as she saw that he was alone. It took less than two minutes for her to arrive. She must have been watching for the count to leave the study. She would try to avoid Vasili. Constantin wouldn't be that lucky.

  She still hadn't changed out of her work clothes and looked anything but a lady. After what Vasili had told him she had said to him, Constantin was afraid the oversight was de­liberate. It would be her way of protesting, and he knew from experience that she could be quite stubborn about it. He almost wished he could make the trip with them, just to watch her rough edges being softened by a man who, by the look of him, was no doubt an expert where women were concerned.

  Come to think of it, the change in events could be quite beneficial, he concluded. Had plans gone apace, the pair would have been wed in less than a week, which was not very much time for them to get to know each other. But traveling to Cardinia first, which could take close to a month, depending on how en­cumbered they were, would give Vasili the opportunity to court Alexandra and win her over completely before they were actually married.

  Knowing his daughter, Constantin had a feeling she wouldn't be very appreciative of that possibility, not yet anyway. And, as ex­pected, she got right to the point of her visit.

  "When is he leaving?" she demanded.

  "You are both leaving tomorrow."

  "Both? Then he didn't cry off?"

  "What made you think he would? What you told him? You disappoint me, Alexandra. I thought honor meant more to you than—"

  "Enough!" she snapped. "I merely tried to end this farce by telling him the truth. But if he wants a woman who wants nothing to do with him—I should have known it would make no difference."

  When she said no more, he asked hesitantly, "But you will marry him?"

  "I won't be the one to cry off," she replied with all the bitterness she was feeling.

  "But you think he will?"

  "Once he gets to know me—"

  "Dammit, Alex, I know you are attracted to the man. I saw that myself."

  She gave a shrug that was supposed to in­dicate her indifference, but her tone was vehe­ment. "I can't deny he comes in a very pretty package, so pretty he's more than likely as vain as a peacock, but with the personality of a worm—a lecherous worm."

  "You have some reason for phrasing that re­mark just so?" he asked ste
rnly.

  "Merely that he flirted with me—before he knew I was his betrothed."

  "And you have so much experience with men that you know the difference between flirting and being friendly?"

  Alexandra snorted. "Friendliness doesn't call for endearments like 'sweetheart.' "

  Instead of the fatherly outrage she had counted on, he smiled. "I am delighted to hear that he was attracted to you, even dressed as you are. And since we have also established that you are equally attracted to him—"

  "We didn't establish that," she cut in hotly.

  But Constantin ignored her to finish, "—you could at least try to like him."

  She made him wait a long, tense moment before she said, "Very well, I'll try."

  Constantin blinked in surprise. "You will?"

  It had been such a bald-faced lie, she couldn't repeat it, so she asked instead, "What was that you said about leaving tomorrow?"

  "An unexpected development, I'm afraid. I had assumed you would be wed here, within a matter of days, but apparently you're going to have a grand ceremony at the royal palace in Cardinia—at their king's insistence."

  "Well, isn't it fortunate that I can manage to pack in so little time."

  She said it so dryly, her opinion of the situation was obvious, at least to her father. After all, women were known to take days, weeks even, to prepare for a journey. And although Alexandra usually traveled lightly, even she began packing several days before a sched­uled trip.

  "You're wrong, Alex. He's not trying to in­convenience you. It's merely the time of year. His delay in getting here makes it imperative that you travel quickly now, to avoid the harsh snowstorms in the mountains."

  Her brows suddenly rose with interest. "I happen to like snow. You mean he doesn't?"

  The fact that she grinned as she said it made Constantin groan. "You wouldn't inten­tionally delay the journey, would you?"

  "To postpone the wedding?" Her grin got wider. "What do you think? Besides, it's only fair that he finds out what life with me will be like."

  "Alexandra, I insist that you behave on this—"

  "You've already gotten the only promise you'll get from me, Papa, and you were lucky to get it."

  His face was turning red as he became up­set. "You said you would try to like him."

  "Oh, I will, and I'll have lots of time to do so before the wedding. Not tonight, however, so you'll have to entertain our guest this eve­ning by yourself. I have so much packing to do, after all, that I'm quite certain I'll need a wagon for all my trunks."

  "You'll pack lightly, dammit, just as you always do. I won't have you caught in one of those storms in the mountains because of your stubbornness. I'll send the bulk of your things as soon—"

  "Make that two wagons," she tossed out as she headed for the door.

  "Alex!"

  She closed the door quietly behind her. She would have preferred to slam it, to throw things, to scream, but there was no point when she had already lost the battle, at least with her father. She still felt hurt and be­trayed, and doubted she'd ever forgive him for that. And to think she had awakened this morning to an ordinary day. Now her whole world had been turned upside down, and it wasn't going to be easy to right it.

  But she would. It might have been a jolt to hear that the wedding was still on, when she had thought she had settled the matter to her satisfaction, but she was not defeated yet where the Cardinian was concerned. The an­ger still simmering inside her was no longer just for her father. She was now infuriated with that pretty-faced popinjay. How did he dare to still want her after what she had told him? And how did he dare to drag his feet in getting here, so that she had to be rushed in leaving?

  Her hands were clenched as she marched up the stairs, and still tightly fisted as she pounded on the door to the guest room she assumed the count had been put in. Vaguely she noted that three of the upstairs maids were loitering at the end of the corridor, but she gave it no thought, unaware that her be­trothed was like a flame to moths in the way he drew females to him. Since she would rather be doing anything except having to deal with him again, it wasn't surprising that she failed to make the connection.

  She'd picked the right room, though. Abrupt­ly Vasili Petroff stood before her, half dressed, his coat and boots removed, his white shirt open, the wrinkled tails pulled out of his pants, a wide stretch of chest and belly showing. Her eyes got ensnared, could move no farther than his chest, which was sparsely sprinkled with hair so light it was barely noticeable. He really was golden all over, like a tawny lion, and like a lion, he was a predator, and very, very dan­gerous. She knew this instinctively.

  "Just the little wench I wanted to see."

  His tone was utterly condescending and contemptuous of her. It wasn't difficult to guess why. She was still wearing her work clothes, minus her hat and coat. She hadn't even bothered to repair her hair after return­ing from her ride. The tight coiffure she had started with that morning was now quite straggly, and without her hat to stuff the loose ends into, she had a number of errant, silky strands streaming down her back and shoul­ders. The people who knew her were used to seeing her this way, she tended to pay so little attention to her appearance. Guests were not.

  When she looked up at his face, she was startled to see that he was smiling. And what a smile. Her stomach seemed to turn over, which was such a funny feeling, she was ap­palled by the urge to giggle. She never gig­gled. She was never at a loss for words either, but for the second time that day, words de­serted her.

  Incredibly, in the space of a few hours, her memory didn't do him justice. He was so beautiful, she found it hard to look at him with any calm, much less coherent thoughts. For God's sake, was she going to have to mentally pull herself together every time she saw the man?

  Getting yanked into the room and hearing the door close behind her brought her back to her senses real quick. With some contempt of her own, she cocked her brow and said, "Is this where you try to seduce me?"

  His eyes had been inspecting every inch of her, yet it still disconcerted her to hear him ig­nore her question and remark with consider­able surprise, "Jesus, you look like you're fresh out of bed."

  On top of his condescension, that observa­tion was more than she could easily tolerate, and recalled to her every bit of the anger she was feeling—for him. "It will be a wonder if I find my bed tonight at all. Thanks to your inconsideration, I'll be packing all night."

  He stopped looking at her as if he'd like to see her back in bed, his in particular, and said with an indifferent shrug, "To answer your question, this is where I tell you that I'm on your side. I have no wish to marry, either, so if you'll just inform your father that you won't have me, I'll be able to leave here to­morrow without you, and you needn't lose any sleep tonight packing."

  "You expect me to break the betrothal?"

  "Certainly," he said, his tone patronizing. "Women are known to be notoriously fickle."

  "I wouldn't know. But in this case, there is a little matter of honor and sworn oaths that happens to mean something to me, much as I wish it didn't. So you'll have to be the fickle one and do the crying off, and I would appre­ciate it if you got around to it before you waste my time with a trip to Cardinia."

  "Impossible," he replied, his exasperation beginning to show. "Just tell your father that you don't want me. How difficult can that be for you?"

  "I've already told him that, you dolt, clearly without result. But I've also given my word that I would marry you—if you don't cry off." And then she sighed. Getting into a shouting match with him was not going to help. She forced herself to use a reasonable tone. "Look, as long as we're being honest with each other, Count Petroff, and are agreed that neither one of us wants to marry the other, why don't you use the most obvious excuse and simply tell my father that I wouldn't make a suitable wife for you?"

  "An excellent idea, except it would be a lie. As a baroness, you are, unfortunately, quite suitable. That I don't want to
marry you, or any woman for that matter, is no reason to go against my father's wishes—at least, that is what my mother assures me."

  She gave him a look of disgust. "You let your mother dictate your life?"

  She'd managed to get to him with that. He flushed, snarling, "You let your father dictate yours!"

  "My father is one of the two parties who ar­ranged this ridiculous marriage. I couldn't face him again if I failed to keep his word. But your father is deceased."

  "All the more reason I can't get out of this damned trap. My father is not available to be argued out of it, but yours is. So change your mind, wench—or do you need to hear how it will be if we marry? I promise you that you will never be anything to me but a nuisance, though one that I will endeavor to ignore. To please my mother, I'll have an heir from you, and then you will be free to pursue your own amusements, as I intend to do. My life won't change one bit, but yours most certainly will. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

  Alexandra had to grit her teeth for a moment before she could manage a smile. "Certainly, as long as you don't mind embarrassing public scenes."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Be warned. If you force me to marry you, you will be mine, and I don't share what's mine. And you won't be able to ignore me, I promise you that." And then she threw his words back at him. "Does that sound accept­able to you?"

  He took a step toward her so that his height would intimidate her, but she didn't budge an inch. "I don't like threats, wench."

  "Who's threatening? You told me how it's going to be, and I merely told you how I'll re­act. I'd sleep on it if I were you, Petroff. It's li­able to be the last night of untroubled sleep you'll get."

  10

  Alexandra managed to close Vasili's door quietly, just as she had closed her father's door, but she couldn't quite manage to do the same with her own, which was just down the corridor. She was so angry she could spit and chew nails. How did that man dare to threaten her with a loveless marriage, with mistresses— she hadn't misunderstood his amusements—and with babies? Babies! He was tempting her and didn't even know it, the cad, the arrogant swine! to mention the one thing she did want. But not from him. From anyone but him.