That was all Dimitri needed, with the Tzar to arrive soon in England. Public sentiment here was already decidedly anti-Russian. Tzar Alexander the English had loved because of Napoleon’s defeat at his hands, but his much younger brother Nicholas, who had succeeded him, was considered a meddler who wouldn’t leave well enough alone, always concerning himself with the problems of other countries. That was true enough, but beside the point. Dimitri was in England now because he hadn’t wanted Anastasia’s outrageous behavior to be an embarrassment to their emperor.
“Does she leave now, Prince Dimitri?”
“What?” He glanced up to see Vladimir standing before him. “No, I’m afraid not. You were right, my friend. She is a most unpleasant young woman, and she has created a bit of a problem with her unreasonableness.”
“My lord?”
Dimitri suddenly laughed. “She wants to see you rot in some English prison.”
Vladimir’s lack of concern over this news spoke well for Dimitri’s ability to look after his own people. “The problem?”
“I don’t think she means to give it up, even after we are gone.”
“But the Tzar’s visit—”
“Precisely. It wouldn’t matter, except for that. So what do you think, Vladimir? Any suggestions?”
Vladimir had one in particular, but he knew Dimitri wouldn’t approve of doing away with the troublesome wench. “Can she not be persuaded—” At Dimitri’s raised brow, he groaned inwardly. “No, I didn’t think so. I suppose she will have to be detained.”
“My thought as well,” Dimitri replied, and then perversely he smiled, as if the solution suddenly pleased him. “Yes, I’m afraid we’ll have to keep her with us, for a few months anyway. She can be sent back here on one of my ships before the Neva freezes up again.”
Vladimir gritted his teeth in vexation. Months of having to deal with that infuriating woman was not what he had had in mind. Someone could be found here to keep her confined. They didn’t have to take her with them. But for Dimitri not even to consider that meant he was obviously not finished with her. What did he find so fascinating about this particular wench?
He supposed he needn’t ask in what capacity she was to be kept, but he couldn’t afford any more mistakes. “Her status, my lord?”
“Servant, of course. I see no reason to waste her talents, whatever they may be. That can be ascertained later. For now, get her aboard ship with as little commotion as possible. One of my clothes trunks ought to serve nicely. She’s tiny enough to fit. And you’ll have to see about some clothes for her after all, at least enough for the voyage.”
Vladimir nodded readily, the position the wench would fill, after what he had previously thought, making the situation much more acceptable. “Anything else, my prince?”
“Yes, she’s not to be harmed,” Dimitri replied, his tone now carrying a distinct note of warning. “Not even a tiny bruise, Vladimir, so do be careful with her.”
And how was he to manage that, when he was to stuff her into a trunk? Vladimir wondered, as Dimitri walked away. Disgruntlement settled in as his opinion changed yet again. Servant, indeed! The Prince was just annoyed with the wench at the moment. His fascination was still strong.
Chapter Nine
“In here.” Vladimir held the cabin door open for the two footmen carrying the Prince’s trunk. “Careful! For God’s sake, don’t drop it. Very good. You may go.”
Vladimir walked over to the trunk and stared at the lock. He held the key in his pocket, but he didn’t reach for it. There was really no reason to release the woman yet. They wouldn’t sail for another hour. And just to be on the safe side, it wouldn’t hurt her to remain where she was until it was too late for any possible escape.
He heard a distinct banging from within, no doubt her feet kicking at the sides. He smiled, not in the least sympathetic to her plight. She wouldn’t be at all comfortable, which was no more than she deserved for her temerity. Wanting to put him in prison, indeed! For what? No real harm had been done to her.
Katherine was of a different opinion. She now had one more grievance to add to the others against these barbaric Russians. To truss her up and stick her in a trunk just to get her out of the house was intolerable. But what should she expect after she had been so thoughtless as to warn the Prince what she intended to do. How could she have been so stupid?
No, you can’t blame yourself, Katherine. It was simply impossible to think clearly in his presence, with those velvety eyes staring at you.
She had no doubt that he was responsible for this last insult. She had warned him not to send Kirov to her again, and yet it was that brute who had entered the room not long after the Prince left, before she was even completely dressed. That he was not alone should have given her warning. The big fellow with him, not one of yesterday’s guards, but dressed in the black-and-gold livery of a footman, had circled round behind her, and before she knew it she was attacked, gagged again, her wrists wrapped up behind her back, and even her ankles bound together.
Then the footman, who hadn’t said a single word (neither man had, for that matter), had picked her up as if she weighed not an ounce and carried her downstairs. But instead of leaving the house as she had supposed they would be doing, they had taken her into a room on the second floor, and before she had even got a glimpse of it, she was laid down in a trunk, her knees tucked up, and the lid slammed shut.
She was cramped beyond belief. Bent at the waist, with her head just touching one end of the trunk, she was lying on her hands, which had long since lost all feeling, and she could just barely kick her feet at the other end if she inched her knees up to her chest first. But a lot of good kicking did her. They obviously weren’t going to let her out until they were good and ready.
She had no idea where she might be now. She had sensed a carriage ride from the jolts and bumps that jarred her, and she knew the trunk had been carried again after that, but where it was set down and left she couldn’t guess, unable to hear much of anything beyond her own painful breathing. And it was getting harder and harder to breathe, the air hot and thick with only the barest crack showing around the rim of the lid.
She imagined that if she was kept in here much longer she could well suffocate. But if she dwelled on that possibility she would panic, and it seemed only sensible to remain calm so that the air would last longer. Yet as the minutes passed into hours, she had to consider the fact that this might be the Russians’ solution to the problem she had raised. If they thought she would make good on her threat, how could they afford to let her go? They couldn’t, and this trunk might well be meant as her coffin. But could Prince Dimitri really do that to her after…after—no, she wouldn’t, couldn’t believe it. But Vladimir certainly would. She hadn’t mistaken his antipathy toward her.
Down in the galley, the fellow high in Katherine’s thoughts was bending over to reach for a plump piroshki, the small pies with meat filling his wife made to perfection. Marusia stopped him just inches from his target with a light slap on his wrist.
“You know those are for the Prince and Princess,” she grumbled. “If you want for yourself, husband, you’ll have to ask me to make you some.”
Beside Vladimir, the ship’s cook laughed. “You’ll have to make do with my fare tonight, like everyone else.” And then in a softer whisper, “What’s the matter? Is she mad at you? If so, you’re lucky she only thinks to deny you her cooking.”
Vladimir glared at the jovial fellow until he moved away to stir his own pots, but he did wonder. When he had told Marusia earlier what had been decided on for the English maid, she had frowned mightily and snapped that no woman should be treated like that. When he had pointed out that the trunk was Dimitri’s suggestion, she said something must be wrong with the Prince for him to be so callous toward a woman, but it was at him that she had frowned.
“Is he still sleeping?” Marusia asked now.
“Yes, so there’s no need to hurry his dinner.”
“Don?
??t worry about his food. It will be ready when he is.” Her pale blue eyes narrowed, letting him know she was irritated about the wench for some reason. “What did you do with little English?”
Vladimir gathered his resentment about him and snapped, “Put her in the cabin with the extra clothes trunks. I suppose I will have to string a hammock for her.”
“What was her reaction?”
“I thought it best to wait until we are far from London before letting her out.”
“Well?”
“I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“Then you made holes in the trunk? You know how seaworthy Dimitri’s trunks are.”
Vladimir blanched. Holes hadn’t occurred to him—how could they? He had never locked anyone in a trunk before.
Marusia gasped, correctly interpreting his expression. “Are you crazy? Go, and pray it’s not too late! Go!”
He was gone before she finished shouting at him, running out of the galley. The Prince’s words came back to him, pounding in his head. She wasn’t to be harmed, not even a tiny bruise. And if there would be hell to pay for a tiny bruise, what madness would ensue if his petty vengeance had killed the woman? It didn’t bear thinking about.
Marusia was close behind him, and the two of them running with such mad haste through the ship did not go unnoticed. By the time they raced passed Dimitri’s cabin, they had collected five curious servants and several members of the crew. Dimitri, having awakened only minutes before, sent Maksim, his valet, to see what the commotion was about.
The man had only to step outside to see everyone crowding into the cabin a few doors down the corridor. “They’ve gone in the storeroom, Highness.” The Prince traveled with so many personal possessions, even bedding and dishes, that an extra cabin was required just to accommodate his belongings. No doubt some trunk had fallen over. “I’ll only be a moment.”
“Wait.” Dimitri stopped him, realizing Katherine had probably been put in the storeroom and was now causing a disturbance. “It would be the Englishwoman. Bring her here to me.”
Maksim nodded, not even thinking to ask what Englishwoman. He was not privy to all of the Prince’s affairs, as Vladimir was, but had to wait and hear of them from Marusia, who couldn’t keep a secret. He wouldn’t dream of questioning Dimitri directly. No one questioned the Prince.
Inside the storeroom, Vladimir was too upset even to notice he had an audience as he unlocked the trunk and threw the lid open. Her eyes were closed. There was no movement, not even a cringe from the sudden flood of light. Vladimir felt panic rising up to choke him. But then her chest expanded as it filled with air, and then again and again she took deep gasping breaths to fill her lungs.
Vladimir actually loved her in that moment for not being dead. It was a short-lived feeling. As her eyes opened and locked with his, he watched murderous fury gather in those turquoise orbs. He was again overcome with the desire simply to leave her there, but Marusia jabbed him in the ribs to remind him he couldn’t do so.
He grunted and bent to lift Katherine out of the trunk, setting her on her feet. She immediately crumpled, falling forward against him.
“You see what your thoughtlessness has done, husband? The poor thing probably has no feeling in her feet.” Marusia threw the lid of the trunk down for lack of a chair. “Well, set her down and help me get these ropes off.”
It wasn’t just Katherine’s feet that were numb, but her entire legs. She discovered this when her knees knocked together as she was plopped down on the top of the trunk, and she felt nothing. Her hands too had long since lost feeling. And she wasn’t ignorant of what would happen when the feeling began to return. It wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Vladimir untied her wrists while Marusia worked diligently at her feet. Her shoes had been left behind, one of the things she hadn’t gotten around to putting on when Vladimir had entered the room. There had been no time to arrange her hair either, and it hung loose and tangled down her back and shoulders. But most embarrassing was her dress, which was partly unbuttoned in the front, the lacy bodice of her white chemise stark against the black of the dress. And as she noticed the crowd in the doorway, staring at her curiously, bright color swept up her cheeks. No one had ever seen her in such a state of dishabille, and yet more than a half-dozen people were in this tiny room with her.
Who were all these people? For that matter, where in God’s name was she? And then she felt the swaying motion and knew. She had felt it in the trunk, but had prayed she was mistaken. She heard a babble of Russian being spoken by the door (she could recognize the language easily now) and knew she was on a Russian ship.
Her arms sprang free of the rope, and she brought them around in front of her with a moan, carefully flexing her shoulders and elbows. Behind her, Vladimir reached for the gag, but she felt his fingers hesitate in her hair. Very perceptive of him. He must know she was not going to accept this last misdeed silently. She had such a tongue-lashing ready for him that his ears would blister before she was done. But still he hesitated, and she couldn’t make her fingers move yet to yank the gag away herself.
A torrent of Russian came from behind her, and the group by the door quickly departed. The gag fell away, but Katherine’s mouth was too dry for her to do anything but croak the word water. Marusia left to get some, while Vladimir came around and began to massage Katherine’s feet. She would have liked nothing better than to send him sprawling with a solid kick, but she couldn’t move her legs yet at all.
“I owe you an apology,” Vladimir said without glancing up at her. His voice was gruff, as if he had to force the words out. “I should have made holes in the trunk for ventilation, but I’m afraid it just didn’t occur to me.”
Katherine was incredulous. What about his putting her in the trunk in the first place? Where was his contrition for that?
“That was not—your only—mistake, you—you—”
She gave up. It simply hurt too much to talk with her parched throat and her tongue feeling like some swollen, rotten intrusion in her mouth. And feeling was returning to her legs, the discomfort increasing by the second. She had to grit her teeth to keep from moaning. Good Lord, she had suffered numb limbs before from lying too long in one position, but nothing of this magnitude.
The water arrived, and Marusia held the cup to Katherine’s lips. She drank greedily, without the slightest thought to decorum. At least one part of her had found instant relief. But the rest of her was screaming in protest, a thousand needles attacking her legs and hands until she thought she couldn’t bear it, only to have it get worse and worse. She moaned despite her resolve not to.
“Stomp your feet, little angliiskii. It will help.” The words were spoken kindly by the older woman, but Katherine was hurting too much to appreciate her sympathy. “I—I—oh, blast and hang you, Kirov! They don’t draw and quarter felons anymore, but I’ll see the custom revived for you!”
Vladimir simply ignored her, continuing to rub her ankles and feet briskly, but Marusia chuckled as she did the same to Katherine’s hands. “At least her spirit was not smothered in that trunk.”
“More’s the pity,” Vladimir grunted.
Katherine was further angered by their rudeness in speaking to each other in Russian. “I know five languages. Yours is not one of them. If you don’t use French, which I understand, then I won’t bother to tell you why the Queen’s navy is going to pursue this ship all the way to Russia if necessary.”
“What nonsense,” Vladimir scoffed. “Next you will tell us you have the ear of your English queen.”
“Not only that,” Katherine retorted, “but her friendship as well, ever since I served a year at court as one of her ladies. But even if that were not so, the Earl of Strafford’s influence alone would suffice.”
“Your employer?”
“Don’t humor her, Marusia,” Vladimir warned. “An English earl would not concern himself with the whereabouts of one of his servants. She does not belong to her master as we belong
to ours.”
Katherine noted the contempt with which he said this, as if he were proud to be owned. But the fact that he obviously didn’t believe anything else she had said rubbed her raw.
“Your first and most grievous mistake was in assuming I am a servant. I didn’t correct you because I didn’t want my true identity known. But you’ve gone too far with this kidnapping business. The Earl is my father, not my employer. I am Katherine St. John, Lady Katherine St. John.”
The husband and wife exchanged a glance. Katherine didn’t see Marusia’s expression. It seemed to say to her husband: “You see? Now you can understand the commanding arrogance, the haughty disdain.” But Vladimir’s expression showed not a whit of concern for what Katherine had revealed.
“Whoever you are, you waste your anger on me,” he told Katherine with utter calm. “I did not act on my own this time. I followed orders, specific orders, even to the suggested use of the trunk. The oversight of not properly ventilating the trunk was mine, however. You were not to be harmed. And perhaps I should have released you sooner—”
“Perhaps?” Katherine exploded, wanting to hit him over the head with something.
She would have gone on, but a wave of debilitating pain spread down her legs at that moment, scattering her thoughts and making her double over with a loud groan. She yanked her hands away from Marusia and dug her fingers into her thighs, but to no effect. Full life was returning to her legs with a vengeance.
For the last five minutes Maksim had stood in the doorway, listening to the exchange between the three people in fascinated silence, but he finally recalled his duty. “If she is the Englishwoman, the Prince wants to see her immediately.”
Vladimir glanced over his shoulder, his earlier dread returning. “She is in no condition—”