You Belong to Me

  "I can't tell you how glad I am to know that, Mother. In fact, I can guarantee that you aren't going to find anything amusing to­night."

  "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

  "He would be referring to me, madam," Al­exandra said from the doorway. "Since he can barely tolerate me, he .must assume that you won't be able to either."

  "My dear girl, whatever gave you that... idea?"

  Vasili barely managed to keep from laugh­ing. His mother's hesitation came from finally noticing that Alexandra was still wearing the clothes she had arrived in, minus the coat and hat. And Maria was remembering what he'd said about never seeing her in a dress, if the sharp glance she gave him was any indica­tion.

  But Alexandra ignored their silent commu­nication to address Maria's question. "If you don't believe me, madam, you have only to ask him. He quite despises me."

  Vasili should have known that this evening wouldn't go entirely as he had hoped it would. Alexandra's frankness was going to shock his mother, yes, but he wasn't going to escape un­scathed from it.

  Maria was now indignant again. "Vasili, tell her that isn't true."

  He obliged. He even did so with a lazy smile. "Of course it isn't true. Whatever I feel for you, Alex, I could never despise you. That's such a cold emotion, and mine run much—warmer—where you're concerned."

  She ignored his allusion to passion com­pletely, and provoked him with an arched brow. "So we are to lie for your mother's sake?"

  "I don't despise you, dammit!"

  "Vasili!" Maria admonished.

  He sighed. If he was going to lose his tem­per this soon, he'd never get through the evening. And Alexandra's smug look was de­signed to make him lose it again. The little witch. She was deliberately putting him on the spot.

  "Forgive me, Mother. Why don't we assume the subject is exhausted and go in to dinner?"

  Maria quickly acquiesced. "An excellent suggestion—except, Alexandra, wouldn't you like to change first?"

  Vasili had never seen a more feigned look of innocence as the one Alexandra wore when she replied, "Change what?"

  And his mother accepted it. "Your clothes, dear. We dress for dinner here."

  Alexandra glanced down at herself. "But I am dressed."

  "No, I mean—"

  "Give it up, Mother," Vasili cut in. "I hon­estly don't think she owns any dresses."

  "Of course I do," Alexandra said. "What do you think was in all those trunks we carted here?"

  "Whips and daggers," he said, straight-faced.

  She actually laughed. That it was genuine surprised him. It also warmed him and brought a smile to his own lips. Maria wasn't amused.

  Sternly, she said, "We will continue this dis­cussion of clothes tomorrow, Alexandra. For now, Vasili, escort us to the dining room."

  He did, but he wondered if maybe he should have given his mother some previous warning of Alexandra's eating habits. If Maria happened to insult Alexandra in her shock, the girl could lose her temper with her, and there was no telling where that would lead.

  As it happened, he needn't have worried about it. He should have recalled that Alexan­dra rarely took offense about her unusual habits. And some time actually passed before Maria noticed that Alexandra was eating with her fingers. When she did, she wasn't so much shocked as embarrassed, though she wasn't very careful about broaching the sub­ject. Maria could be direct at times herself.

  "Didn't anyone teach you proper table manners, dear?"

  Alexandra shrugged. "I suppose they did, but it's been so long, I forget."

  "Why didn't you continue the lessons?"

  "You must be joking." Alexandra laughed. "To deal with so many utensils is a waste of time, when I could be spending that time with my babies instead."

  Now Maria was shocked, and her honey-gold eyes turned on Vasili. "Her babies?"

  "Horses, Mother."

  More shock. "You call her babies horses?"

  "No," he replied patiently. "She calls her horses her babies. She breeds them."

  "That isn't funny, Vasili."

  "It wasn't meant to be."

  Alexandra could feel Maria's incredulous gaze on her again, but she didn't care. Keep­ing up the pretense for Maria's benefit was much easier than she'd thought it would be, with Vasili present. Of course, he wouldn't re­main here. After dinner, he would return to his own house and ...

  "Just how many others do you have besides that concubine at your house, Petroff?"

  Maria gasped. Vasili nearly choked. He couldn't believe that even Alexandra, as frank as she was, would bring up such a topic in front of his mother, and where the hell had it come from anyway? But at least she was los­ing her temper with him, and not with his mother. He really couldn't have arranged it better himself. This was going to be the crowning touch, the coin to tip the scales.

  "Only three others," he answered, aware that his mother's gaze had just swung back to him, but he kept his own eyes on Alexandra. And Alexandra was gloriously furious. This could only get better. And it did.

  "Only three others? And you keep them all, pay for them all, fornicate with them all?"

  He nearly choked again. His mother sounded as if she were also choking. He didn't dare look in her direction. Even expecting something of the sort, he could still feel heat rising in his cheeks. And he'd thought Alexandra couldn't shock him anymore.

  Somehow he managed to answer calmly, "Something like that."

  "I'll find them, Petroff, each one of them, don't think I won't. You won't be enjoying them much longer."

  "Then I suppose I will be visiting you quite often, won't I?"

  "In your mother's house?" she countered triumphantly. "I don't think so."

  "You really don't think that will stop me from keeping my promise, do you, Alex?" he asked in a softly warning tone.

  "For a lecher like you, no, I suppose not. But Bojik will, and he'll be sleeping with me from now on."

  Maria finally found her voice, and it came out quite loudly. "Who ... is ... Bojik?"

  More color mounted Vasili's cheeks. Alex­andra so aggravated him, he had actually for­gotten, briefly, that his mother was still sitting there with them. And finally looking at her, he was afraid that he'd managed to shock her as much as Alexandra had.

  "Bojik is her dog, Mother."

  "There will be no dogs in my—on second thought—oh, God." Maria started fanning herself. "You will not go sneaking into her room, Vasili, until after the—oh, God. This can't be—she's—oh, God."

  "I know, Mother," Vasili commiserated.

  "Did you know?" Her voice was accusing.

  "Not everything, certainly. The trip was quite an eye-opening experience."

  "And you didn't return her?"

  "I believe you told me that wasn't an op­tion," he reminded her.

  "No, of course, but—oh, God, this is too un­expected. A lady who thinks horses are more important than—"

  Vasili wished his mother hadn't begun her complaints there, because now he had to stop her before she got too far along. But he knew Alexandra wouldn't tolerate any complaints that included her horses.

  "She has a mind of her own, Mother." And then he grinned at Alexandra. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

  "I must have misplaced it, to be sitting here listening to you two dissect me," Alexandra replied as she stood up. But there was no an­ger in her tone. She even licked her fingers, loudly, before adding, "If you have anything more to say to me, Petroff, I'll be in the stable. Don't bother if it's not what I want to hear."

  At that moment, watching her leave the room, he realized that she expected him to end the betrothal tonight, that just about ev­erything she'd said tonight had been deliber­ate. Jesus, had she figured out what he had, that his mother could end this thing for them? No, she was guessing, testing the waters, so to speak. When he recalled some of the language he'd heard her use" on the trip, he knew she could have been even more outrageous than she'd been. Perhaps she'd merely
been trying to show Maria her worst so she wouldn't be shocked by her on a regular basis—as he'd been.

  "My God, Vasili, that girl is barbaric/' Ma­ria said as soon as they were alone.

  "Yes, splendidly so."

  "You can't marry her as she is."

  "Can't I?"

  "Of course not. She'd disgrace us both. She'll have to be taught proper behavior first."

  He wasn't expecting that. But his surprise quickly turned to amusement. Teach Alexan­dra to be a lady? It would never happen.

  "You don't know what you'd be letting yourself in for, Mother. Don't you think send­ing her home would be the wisest course?"

  She thought for a moment, he'd give her that. But he knew the way her mind worked. This was the closest she'd ever come to get­ting him married. She wasn't going to give up yet.

  "No, the girl needs a little help is all. She was undoubtedly taught better at some point—she's a baroness, after all. She's just forgotten, as she said. Her father must have let her run wild after his wife died."

  Her father had a live-in mistress. Why hadn't she done something about Alexandra's behavior?

  "She swears like a drunken sailor, she wields a whip, she threatens to cut off the ears of any woman who comes near me. And you're going to turn her into a lady?"

  He could tell by his mother's expression that she didn't believe a word he'd just said. She wouldn't even address it, asking instead, "Why has Alexandra gone to the stable at this time of night?"

  He sighed. "Because she spends every spare moment with her horses. I wasn't joking when I said she breeds them. She also trains them and cares for them, and she's brought her whole herd with her."

  "Well, that will have to stop. I've never heard of anything more unladylike."

  "Those horses mean everything to her, Mother. She gets violent where they're concerned. Go ahead and try to turn her into a lady, but I would advise you not to even men­tion keeping her from her babies."

  "We'll see about that," Maria huffed, but only to maintain her position. She would take his warning to heart and work around the an­imals for the time being. But she wasn't going to work around him, so she added sternly, "And you, my boy, will stay out of her bed­room. Don't think I didn't understand that byplay between you."

  He smiled, remembering her aborted "on second thought." "If you haven't seen her dog yet, Mother, I assure you, I'm not going to tangle with it."

  "See that you don't." And then she sighed. "Dogs in my house. The things I do to ..."

  She didn't finish. She didn't have to.

  30

  Vasili had not intended to go to the stable. Alexandra had said not to bother if he wasn't going to tell her what she wanted to hear, and he wasn't. But instead of sending a servant around to collect his horse as he al­ways did, he went himself.

  It was a large stable, though it still wouldn't have been able to accommodate all of Alexan­dra's whites, plus her servants' mounts, if his mother didn't keep so few animals herself, no more than her carriage horses, and a few ex­tras for running errands. The stable was so large that, standing just inside the door, he couldn't see anyone down the dimly lit aisle, and could barely hear voices deep inside, then laughter.

  Following the sound, he soon realized the laughter was Alexandra's, and it gave him a warm feeling, just as it had earlier at dinner. He had so rarely heard her laugh, and usually she did so only in mockery. But this was a sweet sound, full of real humor, and he wished...

  Vasili turned around abruptly when he real­ized the direction of his thoughts. He had to be crazy to come in here to see her when he didn't have to. And she was enjoying herself. He would only ruin that and ... who the hell was she enjoying herself with?

  He turned around again and, taking long, angry strides, reached the large, well-lit stall in moments. What he found, however, de­flated the hot emotions that had just assailed him.

  Four of her mares were in the stall, and Al­exandra was applying a poultice to the foreleg of one of them, on a scratch that appeared too minor to fool with. Of course, this was one of her babies and she treated them all as such. And helping her was the Cossack Stenka, who was doing anything but helping, which was why she was laughing. He was lifting the mare's leg, but maneuvering it so that every time she tried to place the poultice, the leg would move out of her way.

  "Enough, Stenka," Alexandra said, still chuckling. "Go away now, or I will put this on you instead, and then you will stink so bad, none of the maids will—"

  She didn't finish. One of the mares had greeted Vasili with a nicker, and she turned in that direction and saw him standing at the entrance to the stall. Her entire demeanor changed, as he'd known it would, the hu­mor gone, her expression becoming carefully blank.

  "It's over, then?" she asked.

  It hadn't occurred to him that she would immediately assume that by his presence. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we're still very much betrothed."

  Alexandra could breathe again. It had felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her stom­ach when she'd seen him there. Now she felt queazy, as if she'd just experienced fear. But that made no sense.

  She turned back to the mare. She was going to ignore him. He was probably here only to complain about her behavior at dinner, and she could do without that.

  "Leave us."

  Her head snapped back around. Vasili was staring at Stenka, and Stenka wasn't budging. Her friend was angry, and no wonder. He'd just spent the better part of the past hour try­ing to lighten her mood with the most ridicu­lous antics, and having finally managed it, he didn't appreciate Vasili ruining the effect. But she'd succeeded in keeping Vasili and her friends from one another's throats for the past five weeks. She wasn't going to let them have at each other now.

  "It's all right, Stenka," she said, her voice firm. "I'll see you in the morning."

  Stenka nodded curtly and she finished ap­plying the poultice to the mare. So she missed the looks that passed between the two men. Stenka's expression said clearly, Hurt her and I'll kill you. Vasili's said, just as clearly, She belongs to me now, so don't interfere.

  Not that he really felt that way. He certainly didn't. But he'd been compelled to give that impression to the Cossack.

  His gaze came back to Alexandra as soon as the Cossack left the stall. And Vasili had to wonder why she'd let the man go when he knew she didn't like to be alone with him. But they were definitely alone now. His arousal came immediately with the thought. Oddly, it didn't annoy him this time. He must be get­ting used to it. But then, wanting her was so easy—and it happened so damn often.

  Alexandra washed her hands in a bucket of water. When she deigned to notice Vasili again, she sighed. "You might as well get it over with."

  Could she possibly have been having the same thoughts as he? "What?"

  "The complaints," she said. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

  "Actually, no," he replied. "I thought the dinner went rather well, all things consid­ered."

  "Your mother's not furious?"

  " 'Determined' would better describe her."

  He didn't elaborate, but he smiled, and she was always suspicious of a smile from him. "Then why did you come?"

  "To get my horse."

  "You came to get your horse, instead of sending someone?" she said, her tone going beyond skeptical to the realm of disbelief.

  "Don't make it sound as if I never do any­thing for myself, Alex."

  "You don't."

  Now he sighed. "Do you think we could have a conversation for once without arguing?"

  "Probably not."

  "Could we try?"

  Her look was wary, but after a moment she shrugged indifferently and asked, "Do you have something in particular you want to talk about?"

  He didn't. He simply didn't want to leave yet. But he knew why, or thought he did. His body was hoping he'd do something about the state it was now in. He wasn't going to. Making love to her again could be nothing but a bad idea, leading to complicati
ons—and addiction.

  But for want of a subject, he said, "I noticed the wagons outside are still full. Aren't you going to unpack?"

  "I took a few trunks into the house. I don't see any reason to unpack the rest."

  She was making it very easy for herself to leave on the spur of the moment. He found he didn't like that idea. His body liked it even less, going into something of a panic as he thought of her never being available again to—

  "I should go," he said abruptly.

  "About today," she said at the same time, but she'd heard what he'd said. "Never mind."

  He'd tried, he really had. But if she was go­ing to bring up his promise of making love to her if she committed any violence, what chance did he have of letting it pass?

  "Come home with me, Alex, now."

  Her eyes flared, not so much because of the unexpected request, but because he had slowly started to move toward her. She started to back away.

  "Why?"

  "Because I don't want to make love to you in a stable."

  "Stop it, Petroff! I was going to apologize. I wouldn't have lost my temper this afternoon if that woman hadn't used tears to try and sway you."

  "A common enough ploy, though I suppose it's not one that you would use, is it?" He was still coming forward.

  "Certainly not. But the point is, I was not going to threaten her. I would only have told her she had to leave, which I tried to do—"

  "And you ended up threatening her anyway."

  "But that wasn't my intention! Your ridicu­lous promise shouldn't apply!"

  "Yet what I saw was what you have repeat­edly told me. You don't want me, but nobody else can have me. Isn't that about the gist of it?"

  If she wasn't panicking—her back had come up against the wall, and he was nearly upon her—she wouldn't have gotten angry enough to snap at him. "Exactly! I don't want you, but for the time being, you're mine."

  He was beginning to like the sound of that. "That can go both ways."

  "But it doesn't."

  "Who says it doesn't?"

  And he leaned into her, holding her there against the wall with his body, his mouth seeking hers, leaving her so little room to avoid it, taking what he could get when she did. And she still nearly lost it.