The Beloved Scoundrel

  He shook his head. “I surmise he wishes to arrive after darkness falls. It is easier to hide deception at night.”

  “He will attack?”

  “Of course, if he thinks it possible to succeed.” He smiled gently at her. “Do not frown. It is my duty to make sure he does not think that possible.” He turned to Niko, who stood a few feet from them and said, “It is time, my friend. The foothills.”

  Niko nodded and hurried away.

  “The foothills?” Marianna asked.

  “Nebrov will not bring his entire force when he comes to camp. It is too open here, and he has respect for Kazan’s army. I believe it probable he will leave a sizable force in the hills and have them sweep down to surprise us.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Nothing is sure, but he has few options on this terrain. If I am right, Niko will hide his men in the hills and rid us of that threat.”

  “You seem very certain of victory.”

  “Kazan’s borders have always been challenged by one army or another, and we know these mountains. We have learned to hide and hit. Run and hit again. Most forces are too rigid and sluggish to respond to such attacks.”

  “Nebrov also lives in these mountains.”

  “But his army showed no great power to adapt when he tried to conquer Montavia. He relied on sheer numbers and arms to overwhelm the enemy. It is my belief he lacks imagination.”

  She shivered. “I hope you’re right.”

  “You are frightened.” Gregor shook his head. “Have you so little trust in me? I will guard you.”

  “I know you will. It’s just that—” She fell silent, trying to find words to explain the fear that paralyzed her whenever she thought about the coming encounter. “I know you must think me a coward. It’s because of him. He makes me feel helpless.”

  “You are not a coward, and you are not helpless unless you let yourself be.” He changed the subject.

  “It is good he has delayed his arrival until tonight. He will linger in the foothills to deploy his troops, and that will give Jordan more time to free Alex.” His face clouded. “God knows he will need it. Finding a way to enter that stronghold alone will not be easy.”

  “Alone!” Her gaze flew to his face. “He’s going to go into the castle alone? He told me there would be an attack.” He had not really said that, she realized. He had merely not denied it when she had made the assumption.

  “There is no time to lay siege.”

  “Alone,” she whispered.

  “Sometimes one man is safer than a battalion. They will not be expecting it. He will meet with Janus and learn where they’re keeping Alex. Then he’ll scale the wall and try to free the boy before they know he is there.”

  “He didn’t tell me. Mother of God, and he said my meeting with Nebrov was more dangerous.” She clenched her hands into fists at her sides to keep them from shaking. “Is he mad? He’s not a bird that can fly in and out of a castle without being noticed.”

  “It is the only way.”

  “How can you say that? What if this Janus is wrong about his information?”

  “Alex will still be safe. Jordan will make very sure that he’s not exposed to any danger. Nebrov’s men would not dare hurt his hostage.”

  “And what about Jordan?” she asked fiercely. “Will they hesitate to kill him? You know they won’t. If they catch him, they’ll murder him without a thought.”

  “He’s not so easy to catch. His time here in Kazan was not all spent in palaces. He has proven himself in many battles against our enemies.”

  “Hitting and running, you said. Where is he going to run to at Pekbar? They’ll capture him and—” She stopped, her throat dry with terror. “You should never have let him do this.”

  “He had to do it,” Gregor said simply. “I could not have stopped him. He held himself at fault for the boy’s capture.”

  And she had reinforced that guilt. She had spit bitterness and spite at him and had not even bid him good-bye when they had parted. “Go after him. Help him.”

  Gregor shook his head. “This is the way he wants it. We must continue with the plan. Besides, it’s too late. I would not get there in time.”

  He meant that by the time he reached Pekbar, either Alex would be free or Jordan dead.

  The terror gripped her, making her chest tight until she could scarcely breathe. “This was a mistake. Aren’t you supposed to take care of him? You should have told him to find another way.”

  “If it is a mistake, then there is nothing to be done about it. If you wish to help Jordan, try to make sure Nebrov does not suspect he has reason to hurry back to Pekbar. His horses will be tired from the journey here, and he will not push them on the return without reason.”

  And he would run those horses until they dropped dead in their tracks if he knew what was transpiring at Pekbar. “It still may not be enough time.”

  Gregor’s eyes narrowed. “You are as pale as the moon. Why are you so upset? If Jordan dies, you will be free of him. Isn’t that what you want? Of course, we will have to find another way to rescue Alex. That will not be simple, but you know we will do it.”

  She turned on her heel and went into her tent. She didn’t want to face even Gregor’s kindly inquisition when she felt this naked and vulnerable. Her limbs were shaking, and her stomach was churning with panic.

  Jordan could die.

  She had not let herself consider the threat to anyone but Alex. She had been so filled with guilt and anger that she had been unable to—

  Guilt?

  She closed her eyes as the realization struck. She had blamed Jordan because she had not been able to shoulder her own guilt. She had already admitted to herself that she had not been forced to go to Dalwynd. She had gone because she had been helpless to resist the power that had pulled her toward Jordan from their first meeting. She could have fought him, made an attempt to find where Gregor had taken Alex. She had done neither. If she had not given in to temptation, she would have been with Alex to protect him from harm.

  If Jordan was guilty, then she shared his guilt as she had shared his lust.

  No, for her it had been more than lust. Desire alone would never have led her to take such a step; it had only been the mask to keep her from looking deeper. What she had felt was far more than lust.

  And she had not even told him good-bye. She had let him go without a word.

  Please, God, don’t let him die.

  • • •

  Steady,” Gregor murmured in her ear. “He cannot hurt you. I will be with you every minute.”

  Marianna drew a deep breath as she watched the column of torchbearing riders approach. Soldiers had also carried torches that night Nebrov had come to the cottage. The light had illuminated Nebrov’s face, and her mother had recognized him and sent Marianna running to the forest with Alex.

  Now he was coming again.

  “You need say nothing,” Gregor told her. “I will speak for you.”

  Nebrov was close enough now for her to see his face. He did not look like a monster. His features were delicate, his dark eyes large and almost soulful. His silky brown pointed beard made his triangular face appear longer and his thin lips fuller.

  “Good evening, Damek.” He reined in his horse before them and slipped gracefully from the saddle. He was a small man, only a few inches taller than she, and meticulously dressed, from his shining black boots to the fur trim on his elegant gray cloak. His gaze went to Marianna. “This is the girl?”

  “I’m sure you’ve had descriptions of her.” Gregor gestured to the tent. “Shall we go inside? It is a cold evening, and I would not want you to become chilled. Unless you have doubts about your safety?”

  Nebrov took off his doeskin gloves and tucked them in his belt. “Why should I have doubts when I’ve given instructions that the boy dies if any harm comes to me?” He strode into the tent ahead of them, then turned to stare again at Marianna. “Actually she’s far more comely than I had h
eard. Draken must have enjoyed her. It’s always pleasant when one’s objectives provide alternate satisfactions.” He paused.

  “The mother was quite handsome, too, but I was too angry to fully enjoy her. This one appears far more meek and pliable.”

  A welcome anger poured through Marianna, melting the ice of fear that had held her silent. “We will not talk about my mother.”

  Nebrov raised his brows. “Perhaps she has more spirit than I thought. Tell me, what tricks did His Grace teach you? Would I enjoy them?”

  “You are here for the Jedalar,” Gregor reminded him. “Where is the boy?”

  “Did you think I’d bring him here? I left him in a safe place in the foothills with instructions not to be brought to your camp until our negotiations have borne fruit.” He smiled at Marianna, revealing tiny crooked teeth. “I was delighted to learn that Draken had persuaded you to create a new Jedalar. It will save me time. Where is it?”

  “Where is Alex?”

  “I told you that—” He broke off, then went to the entrance of the tent. “Costain,” he called out, “go get the boy.”

  Shocked, Marianna quickly looked at Gregor. Had they been wrong? Had Nebrov brought Alex to trade?

  Gregor gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

  A trick. He meant Nebrov had been prepared for the demand and was attempting to deceive them.

  “Costain?” Gregor repeated. His expression hardened, and his scarred face was truly terrifying in the lamplight. “You should have invited him to join us. I have been eager to meet with him again.”

  “Marcus told me of your wound,” Nebrov said. “You must have great stamina. He thought he’d killed you.”

  “He tried diligently.”

  Nebrov dismissed the subject as of no importance. “Well? I’ve sent for the boy. Are you going to continue to whine, or will you show me the Jedalar?”

  “I’ll get it.” Marianna went to the table on the other side of the tent and drew from beneath it a glass panel depicting scarlet roses climbing a gray stone wall.

  “Give it to me!” Nebrov had followed her and snatched it from her hands. He held it up to the lamp, his eager gaze raking the flowers, square stones, and labyrinth of thorny vines and leaves. “It could be …”

  He had not been surprised at the smallness of the Jedalar, she realized with a sudden chill. He had expected it. Everyone else assumed the Jedalar was the entire Window to Heaven, but Nebrov had been aware the map required only one panel. It was clear he knew more than Jordan had known. But how much more?

  “Or it could be of no importance at all.” Nebrov fixed his attention on her. “You could be trying to hoax me. Would you be that unkind?”

  With effort she kept her voice steady. “And risk my brother’s life?”

  “The reports I’ve received say that you’re a devoted sister, but Draken could be using you. Costain told me he had seduced you, and women have been known to choose a lover over family duty.” He pursed his lips, thinking about it. “Draken would not willingly give up the Jedalar. He is a trifle soft on occasion, but he is not a fool.”

  “We are here,” Gregor said impassively. “He feels an obligation toward the boy. However, we do not promise not to take the Jedalar back from you after Alex is freed.”

  “That would be a very complicated affair,” he said. “No, my guess is that Draken thinks that I will accept the Jedalar, give you the boy, and go my way. That will make the girl grateful, and she will be willing to cooperate and put Jedalar and Zavkov together.”

  “Zavkov?” Gregor asked.

  Nebrov raised his brows. “Draken didn’t tell you?” His glance shifted to Marianna. “But I’m sure you told Draken everything, didn’t you? He’s reputed to be adept at getting what he wants from women. Yes, he must have known. What’s a key without a lock?” His eyes narrowed on her pale face. “Ah, that frightens you. You did think to fool me.”

  “How did you know about the Zavkov?”

  “It was a long, involved procedure. I have informants in Kazan, but I heard only rumors there about the Jedalar and a room in the tunnel filled with gold and jeweled objects, so I journeyed to Moscow. I found one of Czar Paul’s advisers who had dealt with the supervisors who built the tunnel.” He grimaced. “It was not an easy task. Like your grandparents, he had been targeted to die because he knew too much. He paid off his executioner and fled to the country to hide. Even after all this time he was most reluctant to speak, but I persuaded him before his unfortunate demise.” He paused. “He told me the Jedalar was designed to be only half the answer.”

  Gregor glanced thoughtfully at Marianna. “Indeed.”

  “So you can see that, even if this panel is the right one, it is not enough. I must have someone who can put the puzzle together.” He smiled at Marianna. “And it is only reasonable that the person who created the Jedalar would know how to accomplish that feat.”

  She moistened her lips. “And what if I can’t do that?”

  “It would be unfortunate … for you.”

  “It’s not wise to issue threats in an enemy’s camp,” Gregor observed.

  “Not unless one feels safe to do so. I feel infinitely safe.” He looked at Marianna. “So if this is not the correct panel, you’d best give it to me at once.”

  “Why do you feel safe?” Gregor asked. “Is it because Costain’s mission was not to get the boy but to give word to your men in the hills to attack?”

  Wariness appeared in Nebrov’s expression. “Do you accuse me of breaking a truce?”

  Gregor laughed. “But of course. We expected nothing else. That was why we took precautions.”

  “Your precautions will do you little good,” Nebrov said contemptuously. “My forces outnumber you. It’s true I hoped for a surprise, but it is of little account. If you surrender now, I may permit you to live.”

  “How kind,” Gregor said. “But let us see what report Costain brings back from the hills before we take advantage of such benevolence.” He strode to the table and reached for a bottle of wine. “All this talk has given me a tremendous thirst. Marianna?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t offer you wine, Your Grace. It’s not our custom to pamper an enemy within our gates.” He beamed. “We prefer to slaughter them.”

  “You will not have time for your glass of wine. It is only a few miles to the hills, and they should be here soon. They were only waiting for word.”

  Gregor poured wine into a wooden goblet. “Then I will take it outside and wait for my tragic end.” He gestured to Marianna. “Would you care to join me? I’ve always dreaded the thought of dying alone.”

  “You are mocking me,” Nebrov snarled. “You will see that—”

  An outcry rose from outside the tent.

  Gregor tensed, the smile faded from his face.

  Nebrov nodded. “You see?” he asked softly. “It has started.”

  “Then I must confront it. Perhaps you should stay in the tent, Marianna. I have decided a solitary death is more meaningful.”

  She was already at his side. “You invited me to join you. I won’t stay here with this mongrel.”

  “Very well.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at Nebrov’s livid face. “Perhaps you’d better accompany us to protect her. She has value for you, and you wouldn’t want her to be killed by accident. You’ve already made too many blunders.” He made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Smashing windows, allowing your victims to die before revealing their secrets. It would be amusing, if it was not so sad.”

  Nebrov’s face flushed as he strode toward the entrance. “I shall take great pleasure in making sure it takes you a long time to die. You have great strength. I might even manage to stretch out your agony for an entire month.” Triumphantly, he stared at the edge of the camp where several soldiers blocked the view. “You will learn the price of—” He broke off in mid-sentence and then muttered a low curse.

  Marianna stiffened in sh
ock as her gaze followed Nebrov’s. The crowd had parted to permit a single rider to pass through, a rider leading a horse behind him. She heard the sigh of relief that issued from Gregor beside her.

  “Niko.” He stepped forward as the horseman came near. “I trust everything went well?”

  Niko nodded. “Four escaped. Eight prisoners. We have not counted the dead.”

  “Excellent. You have done—” His glance fell on the saddle of the horse Niko was leading. He stiffened. “What is this?”

  For the first time Marianna realized the horse was carrying a macabre burden. A soldier in Nebrov’s livery was slung across the saddle.

  Niko grinned. “A present.”

  Gregor strode forward, thrust his hand into the bloodstained hair, and lifted the dead man’s head. He swore beneath his breath. “Costain.”

  Niko’s grin widened. “He squealed like a pig when I stuck him.”

  Marianna swallowed to ease the sudden queasiness in her stomach.

  “You cheated me, Niko,” Gregor said grimly. “I did not ask for this present.”

  “I did not say it was a present for you,” Niko said. “It is a gift for the ravin. She offered a pouch of gold to the man in the troop who brought her Costain dead.” He frowned. “But I do not think he will be a sweet-smelling gift by the time we rendezvous with the ravin. We had better leave him here. Will you bear witness the kill was made?”

  “Oh yes,” Gregor said grimly. “I promise I will discuss this kill in great detail with the ravin.”

  Nebrov was staring in disbelief at Costain’s body. “The fool,” he said harshly. “By God, they’re all inept fools.”

  “I suggest you leave,” Gregor said. “I am in extreme bad temper at the moment. I might forget that you still hold the boy and give the ravin another gift.”

  Nebrov looked down at the panel he was still holding. “This is not the Jedalar, is it?”

  “No,” Marianna said. “It’s not the Jedalar.”

  “I’m surprised you admit it.”

  “Because I want you to know that you leave here with nothing of value. You will still have to negotiate with us for Alex.”