You Belong to Me Page 8

  Her room wasn't empty. Her loud entrance startled both Nina, who'd been bending over a valise on the bed, and Bojik, who gave a short growl before he realized who it was and charged Alexandra with a demonstration of apology.

  She had locked him in her room that after­noon out of habit, because they would be hav­ing guests in the house, and he didn't get along well with guests he didn't know. She shouldn't have. She should have let him run loose to do what he did best to unsuspecting strangers. A chunk missing from the popin­jay's backside might have made that inter­view she'd just suffered through end more to her liking.

  The thought calmed her somewhat. She hadn't realized she could be vindictive—at least in her thoughts. Too bad she'd never use an an­imal as a weapon other than for defense, be­cause it had been a really satisfying thought, imagining that Cardinian howling with pain.

  After assuring the large wolfhound that she wasn't angry about the way he had first greeted her, she glanced over at Nina, the va­lise, and the pile of clothes strewn across her bed. "So you've heard?"

  "Everyone has heard," Nina said neutrally. "What we don't know is what you're going to do. So I started packing in case you decide to marry the man, but I can just as quickly put all this away."

  Nina didn't betray by the slightest expres­sion which answer she'd like to hear, even if she was strongly opinionated and had already decided which answer Alexandra ought to make. Loyally, she'd support whatever Alex­andra decided to do, though it was likely that there would be some arguments first if Nina thought Alexandra had made the wrong deci­sion. Alexandra loved her for that.

  Socially they weren't equals, and they were the exact opposite in looks. Nina's black hair was a riot of curls, and her light blue eyes were huge, giving her an owlish appearance that could be disconcerting when she was se­rious. Otherwise, she was a sweet dumpling with her slight chubbiness, her short stature, her dimples, and her bawdy sense of humor. And they were the dearest of friends.

  Alexandra sat on the edge of the bed and fingered a pale mauve ball gown, recalling the one time she'd worn it. She'd received her first kiss that night—from Christopher, and it had been everything she'd ever imagined a kiss to be.

  She held up the skirt of the old gown and asked Nina, "What were you packing this for?"

  "You'll need something to get married in," the girl said pragmatically.

  Alexandra prayed it wouldn't get to that point, and if it did, she'd insist on having a grand wedding gown made in order to buy herself more time. Perhaps something in black.

  "You can forget about the valise," she said decisively. "I want trunks, and lots of them. Have someone dig out whatever is in the at­tic, and then beg, borrow, or steal some more from town. I want enough to fill at least two wagons."

  Nina no longer contained her opinion. Her grin was self-explanatory. "So you're actually going to marry a king's cousin?"

  Alexandra ignored her friend's delight. "No. I gave my word I would, but that doesn't mean if s going to happen—not if I can help it. My betrothed thinks he can't break the betrothal—I know I can't—and arguing with him about it isn't going to get me anywhere. So I'll just have to show him that I'll make him a terrible wife."

  "But you'd make him an excellent wife," Nina contradicted loyally.

  "Not him I wouldn't. But even if it were so, he's never going to know it, and he certainly isn't going to think it by the time I'm done with him."

  Nina sat down beside her and asked hesi­tantly, "Why don't you marry him instead?"

  "And betray Christopher?"

  "Christopher ought to be betrayed," Nina muttered.

  Alexandra sighed, not prepared to argue with her friend about the love of her life— again. None of the Razins had anything good to say about Christopher anymore—especially not Nina—and she was tired of taking his side when she had nothing to show to support her loyalty.

  "Even if I weren't in love with someone else, I wouldn't marry that arrogant Cardi-nian. And before you build up to a really good protest, you might as well know he doesn't want to marry me either."

  Nina was incredulous, not to mention in­dignant. "He said that?"

  "He did. But he still plans to sacrifice himself and me, even though his fattier isn't alive to be disgraced by his breaking the betrothal. And would you Eke to hear what he has planned for our marriage? To get a child from me and then to ignore me. He threw it in my face that he's got mistresses and will continue to keep them. Of course, he'll be magnanimous and allow me some lovers."

  "He said that?"

  "He did."

  Nina bristled. "Well, you aren't going to marry him. I won't let you. And neither will your papa, once you tell him about this."

  To that, Alexandra snorted. "That's what you think. I told him that the man flirted with me before he knew who I was, and he was de­lighted. Petroff proves himself to be a damned libertine, and all my papa sees in that is that he was attracted to me. So Papa's not going to believe the rest of this, not when he knows I don't want this marriage. He'll think I've made it up and probably be too embarrassed to confront Petroff about it. Even if Papa did mention it, I'd wager even money that the ar­rogant coxcomb would take the coward's route and deny it. After all, they've had their little meeting and seem to be getting along wonderfully. If the man didn't admit his true feelings when he had the chance, he won't now. Only / was privileged to be informed of them."

  Nina stared broodingly at the floor for a moment before she replied, "It sounds as if you will have an ... aristocratic marriage."

  Alexandra dropped back on the bed, laugh­ing. Nina turned to scowl at her.

  "If s not funny," the younger girl said.

  "I know." But Alexandra was still grinning. "I wasn't blind at all those balls and parties I attended in the cities, in St. Petersburg espe­cially. More than half the married people I met were having affairs. And, appallingly, the women discuss it, either by gossiping about someone else or by bragging about their own conquests. What the Cardinian suggested is standard practice in his circles, I would imag­ine. I just don't believe he thought I was aware of it, since he was trying to shock me into breaking the betrothal, not to propose to me a normal marriage."

  "But you don't want that kind of marriage. You're too possessive to tolerate—"

  "I am not."

  "I know you, Alex. You'd take a horsewhip to a husband who wasn't faithful to you."

  "I would not," Alexandra protested vehe­mently.

  She was aware that she'd said something quite different to Vasili. But that had been for effect. She certainly hadn't meant it.

  She added for good measure, "I couldn't care less who that man sleeps with before or after the—never mind, there isn't going to be any wedding anyway. I told you, I have no in­tention of marrying him."

  " If you can help it' were your exact words, and just how do you intend to do that?"

  Alexandra dropped an arm over her eyes before she sighed. "I don't know. Delaying this journey with the wagons was as far ahead as I've thought."

  "That might annoy him, but it won't make him refuse to marry you," Nina pointed out.

  "I know, so help me think. What would make a man refuse a marriage he's already agreed to?"

  "Repugnance," Nina suggested.

  "Shame," Alexandra added.

  "Disgust—"

  "Wait, I can handle that one," Alex said ex­citedly as she sat up.

  "Good, because you couldn't have man­aged repugnance, no matter how hard you tried. And I can't see you managing to disgust him either, for that matter."

  "I already have." Alexandra grinned. "As toplofty and disdainful as he is, he took ex­ception to the way I'm dressed, found me quite disgusting, or so his expression said. And you can be sure he didn't like my frank­ness one bit either. So thaf s it, Nina."

  "What is? You're still betrothed to him, so how did that work?"

  "It hasn't yet, but then, he's only met me, he hasn't met the new me."

  "
Ah, a little pretense." Nina nodded. "Is that what you have in mind?"

  "No, a lot of pretense," Alexandra said, warming to the idea. "He must already con­sider me a provincial, but I'll be the worst provincial he's ever encountered. I'll be coarse and vulgar, ill-mannered, an utter embarrass­ment to him. He'll be horrified at the very thought of introducing me to his family and friends. And he'll quickly conclude that even his father would have broken the betrothal if he could have seen how I turned out."

  "This sounds like fun." Nina grinned.

  "Then you'll come along with me?"

  "You thought you could leave me behind?"

  Alexandra laughed and hugged her friend. "It shouldn't take more than a week for him to send me back, so we won't be gone that long. I'm still going to cart along everything I own, though."

  "You still think you'll need the delay the wagons will cause?"

  "I hope he'll come to his senses in only a week, but I'm not leaving anything to chance. If I do need more time to convince him he'd be a fool to marry me, then I'll have it. But don't worry about the packing. Just stuff ev­erything in the trunks when they get here. I'll send him a bill for whatever is ruined because there was no time to pack properly, as soon as this betrothal is over."

  "That will be throwing salt on an open wound," Nina predicted.

  "I'm counting on it."

  Nina left to start gathering the trunks, but Alexandra had only a few moments alone to reflect on what she had decided to do. Anna arrived, and the feelings of hurt and betrayal that Alexandra had been trying to ignore re­turned with a vengeance.

  "Your father tells me you won't be joining us for dinner," Anna began.

  "I'll be too busy packing."

  Anna couldn't miss the bitterness in her tone. "I'm sorry, Alex. I know you're against this marriage right now, but you must admit your father picked an exceedingly handsome man for you."

  An exceedingly handsome, rotten man, whom she wasn't going to discuss. "So you did know about the betrothal?" Alexandra said instead, as if it weren't a foregone conclu­sion, considering how close Anna was to the baron.

  Anna winced. "Yes, and your father lis­tened to everything I had to say about it, which was a great deal. He just wouldn't agree with my opinion."

  "You could have warned me, Anna."

  "I'm your friend, darling, but you know my first loyalty is to your father."

  Alexandra did know it, and she had never resented Anna's relationship with her father. She even hoped that Anna would give in one day and marry him, which she knew was his hope as well. And she should have known that Anna wouldn't have approved of some­thing as archaic as a betrothal, that she would have been on her side.

  "I believe your father was afraid you would run away if you knew beforehand," Anna continued.

  If Alexandra had known and hadn't run away, she would be wishing right now that she had, instead of wishing she'd been given that option. But she relaxed her tone and even offered Anna a smile. It certainly wasn't the older woman's fault that any of this had come about.

  "Don't worry about it. I've already accepted what I must do," Alexandra said truthfully, since she wasn't referring to getting married. "So take care of my papa."

  "You know I will."

  "You might also prepare him for my re­turn."

  Anna was startled by that remark, but after a moment she laughed. "Now, why don't I think that you are referring to a visit?"

  All of the bitterness Alexandra had been feeling returned abruptly, and with an aching heart she promised, "If I do have to visit, Papa won't be forgiven."

  "Oh, Alex." Anna sighed. "He only wants what's best for you."

  "Then it's too bad we couldn't agree on what that is, isn't it?"

  Anna shook her head sadly. "If you change your mind about dinner—"

  "I won't."

  But Alexandra did; at least she decided to make an appearance when it occurred to her that a little rudeness and a vulgar display or two, made in the presence of both the Cardin-ian and her father, would give Vasili the per­fect excuse to protest this marriage. Of course, she'd do nothing too outrageous, nothing she hadn't done before, so her father couldn't claim her behavior was out of the ordinary just for their benefit, even though it would be. And it would also give her father the oppor­tunity to see how Vasili disdained her and that whatever attraction Constantin had de­luded himself into thinking Vasili had felt when he'd first seen her certainly wouldn't withstand such disgust and contempt.

  She couldn't have asked for better timing. The lavish dinner that her father had planned in order to impress the Cardinian was well under way, the main course just having been served. Anna had donned her finest gown; Constantin looked grand himself in his formal evening wear. And Count Petroff—she was going to have to keep her eyes off him. One brief glance at that superb body, at that beau­tiful face, and she nearly forgot what she was doing there.

  He was impeccably groomed, of course. She had expected nothing less from the fastidious popinjay. So was his companion, the one with the friendly blue eyes, who happened to be the first to notice her in the doorway. He didn't appear shocked, merely surprised, that she hadn't changed for dinner and was still in her work clothes, her hair even more straggly than before since she had purposely pulled loose a few more locks. But then, she wasn't there to have dinner.

  "Don't mind me. I've just come for a bite to eat, since I don't have time for dinner to­night."

  She hoped someone was embarrassed over that remark, though she didn't look to find out. She strolled forward and snatched an al­ready buttered slice of hot bread from the blue-eyed Cardinian's plate. That she hadn't been introduced to him made it all the worse, but she figured he was the only one there who wouldn't say anything about her behav­ior.

  A glance down at him showed him more on the shocked side now than surprised. She merely flashed him a smile in exchange for the food, then glanced across the table. Anna had a hand over her mouth. Well, it wouldn't do to laugh out loud, which she surely was trying to avoid. Constantin's cheeks had gone red, and not just with embarrassment. Alexan­dra and her father would really have had a roof-raising argument over this latest unre­fined display of hers—if she were around for it. But she wouldn't be around for any more fights with him ...

  "Alexandra—" Constantin managed in a choked voice.

  She gave him an innocent, inquiring look, which assured him that she was hoping for a display of temper, eager for it, and quite will­ing to match it. Realizing that, he didn't oblige and had to swallow his rancor and hope that she wouldn't further embarrass him.

  She would have, except her newest plan backfired on her at that point. Count Petroff, instead of taking advantage of this golden op­portunity she was offering him, had risen from the table and was now standing behind her.

  "I am delighted you decided to join us, Bar­oness, however briefly. It allows me to correct an oversight. Will you give me your hand, please?"

  She turned to face him, suspicious. Give him her hand? If he thought he was going to slap her hand for pilfering that slice of bread, as if she were some naughty child, she prom­ised herself she'd give him back much worse. But when she hesitantly offered her free hand, he ignored it and took up the one grasping the buttery roll. With two fingers and an in­scrutable expression that was surely hiding his disgust, he took the bread from her and set it aside; then, before she could snatch her hand back, he was slipping a ring on her fin­ger.

  It didn't go on easily, probably wouldn't have gone on at all if her fingers weren't coated with butter. She stared at the ring for a moment, bemused to find it so lovely. It was an enormous sparkling diamond surrounded by a twinkling array of sapphires, emeralds, and rubies.

  "Now that I've seen to my duty, you can run along and finish your packing," Vasili said. "I realize it is an imposition, for which I apologize, but we really must leave tomorrow. I do hope you will get some sleep tonight, though, so do hurry with the chore."

  His
apology rang as false as his hope that she would be able to get some sleep—at least to her ears. To the others, he probably sounded sin­cere. And she was even more furious with the man now, for his duplicity, for pretending in front of her father, when she knew his true feelings. That she had come down here to do some pretending of her own was a moot point. She'd obviously wasted her time.

  She picked up the slice of bread again sim­ply because she was hungry, and left.

  11

  Vasili was up at dawn the next morning, not because he'd planned to leave at such an ungodly hour, but because he'd spent such a restless night, managing to get only a few hours of sleep off and on, and had been quite awake when the sun finally approached the horizon. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent such a hellish night.

  Alexandra's remark that he should sleep on what she'd told him, that it's liable to be the last night of untroubled sleep you'll get, was partly responsible. What the hell had she meant by that? What she'd told him was designed to make him lose sleep, yet she'd predicted he'd have worse nights.

  The other reason for his sleeplessness was, surprisingly, Alexandra herself. Vasili had rarely ever been around a woman who was in such a tousled state of appearance as she'd been in, unless he'd been romping in bed with her. And that damn red sash of hers that cinched in her waist so tightly showed just how shapely she really was. And white linen had never looked so good as it did draping and contouring those large, heavenly breasts of hers.

  He'd been aroused. And despite the heated words they'd had in his room, and the exasper­ating subject matter, he'd still been aroused when she'd left him. Then damned if it hadn't happened again when she'd briefly joined them in the dining room, looking just as tou­sled.

  He should have done something about it, sought out one of those giggling maids who had kept bothering him yesterday with the pretense of asking if he needed anything. Any one of them would have been willing to ac­commodate him. They'd made that perfectly clear. But he had already decided to be on his best behavior for Constantin Rubliov's bene­fit, and that excluded bedding one of the ser­vants when his betrothed slept just doors away.