Satin Ice

  Valentin was seated at a rosewood table and hurriedly got to his feet, pushing back his brocade- cushioned chair. "Lord, Silver, I didn't think you'd be up for hours yet. Nicholas said he found you wandering around the halls in the middle of the night."

  "I've slept long enough." She cast an uneasy glance at the servant, Rogoff, who had seemingly turned to the same motionless stone as the two men she had passed in the hall. "Is there something wrong with him?"

  Valentin's eyes twinkled. "No, he's just being properly subservient. You'll get used to it."

  "I doubt it. It seems very foolish to me." She glanced at the half-empty plate on the table before Valentin and announced, "I'm hungry."

  "I expected as much." He gestured to the long sideboard against the wall on which there were several covered silver platters. "I took the liberty of ordering a mixed selection of English and Russian breakfast dishes from which you may choose."

  "Good." She crossed the room and took a china plate from the sideboard. "And while I'm choosing, could you tell Rogoff to go be subservient somewhere else?"

  Valentin chuckled before motioning for Rogoff to leave. "I believe you've hurt his feelings, Silver," he commented after the servant had majestically marched from the room.

  "I'll hurt more than his feelings if he continues to bellow my name whenever I enter a room." She lifted one of the covers. "What's this black mush?"

  "Caviar. Fish eggs."

  She shrugged and spooned a little on her plate before moving to the next platter. "Where did Nicholas go?"

  "He and Mikhail are paying a visit to court."

  She looked at him inquiringly.

  "The tsar's summer palace. He's hoping to contact Count Peskov there."

  "Who's Count Peskov?"

  "Your Mr. Monteith's patron for his circus. Ivan Peskov is a favorite of the tsar, and Nicky is trying to determine whether the count will be a problem to us when we take Etaine away from her father."

  "I see." Silver frowned as she automatically made her way down the sideboard, heaping eggs and ham on her plate. "Would it matter if he did object?"

  "Not if you don't mind seeing Nicky sent away from St. Petersburg to a place in the north that is less than pleasant," Valentin said dryly. "The tsar already finds him a little too reckless with his tongue on occasion. Our benevolent Tsar Alexander may believe in emancipation for the masses, but he keeps his boyars firmly under his thumb."

  "How can Nicholas tolerate such oppression?"

  "It's usually fairly easy to avoid his majesty when the guests at his balls number anywhere from two to five thousand."

  "At one party?" Silver sat down opposite Valentin at the table. "How can he feed them all?"

  Valentin's amused gaze rested on Silver's plate. "Thank God his guests don't all eat like you, or the treasury would be seriously depleted."

  Silver smiled. "It would serve him right. Having five thousand guests at one time is a senseless extravagance. Our government would never tolerate it."

  "Our?" Valentin lifted a brow. "I presume you're referring to the United States. Didn't it occur to you that when you married Nicky, Russia became your country too?"

  Her eyes widened at the thought. "It didn't. Arizona isn't a state yet, but I've always thought of myself as an American. I don't think I could ever belong anywhere but in America."

  "Perhaps you'd better try." He added deliberately, "Your Highness."

  She gazed at him uncertainly. "I don't know about all this, Valentin. It confuses me. Palaces and footmen who freeze into statues and tsars . . ." She shrugged. "Does Nicholas like being a prince?"

  "I don't believe he thinks about it one way or the other. He was born into the position just as you were born—" He hesitated before finishing. "A Delaney."

  Her lips twisted. "You mean a half-breed bastard. There's no real meeting ground between Nicholas and me."

  "Evidently he found one. After all, he did marry you."

  She looked down at her plate. "That doesn't mean anything. He couldn't help—" She broke off and picked up her fork. "It was sort of a marriage of convenience."

  "Hmm." Valentin leaned back in his chair and gazed at her speculatively. "I admit I've been wondering about that. I'm accustomed to Nicky's impulsiveness, but I was a little surprised to come back to the Rose that night and find you two joined in connubial bliss." He made a face. "And I could get nothing from Nicholas but an icy stare when I had the audacity to question him. I don't suppose you'd care to tell—"

  "No," she cut him off bluntly. She changed the subject. "These fish eggs aren't bad."

  "I'm glad something Russian meets with your approval."

  She suddenly favored him with a brilliant smile and reached across the table to cover his hand with her own. "I'm very fond of at least three things Russian. You, Mikhail . . ." She took another bite. "And caviar."

  "And I'm excluded? What a blow to my self-esteem." Nicholas stood in the doorway, a faint smile on his face. "Good day, Silver." He came leisurely toward her. "I see you're in good appetite."

  Silver withdrew her hand from Valentin's and after a quick glance at Nicholas was glad of the opportunity to lower her eyes to her plate. "Hello, Nicholas."

  Nicholas's dark blue coat and matching trousers clung with sleek elegance to his tall muscular body, and he was everything that was both fashionable and assured. The brilliant sunlight streaming through the windows of the breakfast room seemed to become a part of him, tangling in the gold of his hair and caressing the deep bronze of his skin as if it loved him. She realized with a pang that Nicholas truly belonged in this great palace as she never would. She began eating her eggs. "What did you find out at court?"

  "Nothing very promising. Peskov is quite protective of his new toy. It seems that the circus is the rage of everyone at court and it's become the thing to visit Peskov's estate at least once a week to see a performance." Nicholas's lips thinned. "Peskov is obviously lapping up the attention and wants no interference."

  "Too bad." Silver frowned as she cut into the thick slice of ham on her plate. "When do we get Etaine?"

  "Soon. I want to try something else first."

  Valentin's gaze flew to Nicholas's face. "Natalya?'

  Nicholas nodded. "I saw her briefly this afternoon She had already heard that I'd brought home a bride."

  Valentin grimaced. "How the devil did she find out so soon? We just arrived."

  "You've forgotten how omniscient my dear mother can be." Nicholas's lips twisted. "She wants to meet Silver."

  Valentin glanced swiftly at Silver. "Is that wise?"

  "She has more power at court than Peskov. She might be persuaded to intercede if he makes a complaint when we take the child."

  "What are the chances?"

  Nicholas shrugged. "Probably not good."

  Silver put down her fork. "Your mother wouldn't help you if you asked her?"

  "My mother and I aren't on the best of terms."

  Silver looked intently at Nicholas. He clearly didn't want to ask his mother this favor. Yet he was going to do it because of his promise about Etaine. "Will it help if I go to see her?"

  "It may." His gaze met hers. "But you have to understand that my mother is ..." He paused. "It won't be pleasant for you."

  "I'm not afraid of her. If there's a chance that it will make our task easier, then I'll go to see her. What can she do to me?" She tossed her napkin on the table and rose to her feet. "I'm ready. Let's go."

  Nicholas chuckled, the expression in his eyes suddenly warm. "We don't have to go this minute. My mother suggested that I bring you to the palace. There's a ball tonight."

  "I'd rather get it over with."

  Nicholas made a face. "Lord knows, so would I. But my sweet maman has other ideas. Besides, there's something else you have to do this afternoon."

  "What is that?"

  "I had another reason for going to town today. I brought a doctor back to examine you."

  "Why? I feel fine."


  "You haven't been examined by a physician since you conceived the child. I just want to assure myself that you're in good health."

  "I'm as strong as a mountain pony."

  He smiled with beguiling sweetness. "Humor me."

  She felt suddenly breathless and she lowered her lids so he wouldn't see the glow of warmth produced in her by his smile. "All right."

  "I had him shown to your chamber when we arrived. Dr. Rellings is English and very popular with the ladies of the court. I thought you'd prefer him to a Russian physician."

  "I do. Though I've noticed everyone I've met here and at the docks spoke English."

  "We have a great many English families in St. Petersburg,'' Valentin said. "Though the official language at the court is French, you'll find almost anyone you come in contact with speaks a little English."

  "French?" Silver echoed warily. "I hope your mother understands English. Rising Star tried to teach me French, but I wasn't a very good pupil."

  Nicholas's smile faded. "My mother can make herself very clearly understood whether she speaks the language or not." He turned away abruptly. "Escort Silver to her chamber and introduce her to Dr. Rellings, will you, Valentin? I want to see about sending someone to Madame Lemenov's to fetch a suitable gown for her."

  "But I have all those gowns you got for me in New Orleans," Silver protested.

  He glanced over his shoulder. "And you look quite charming in them, but tonight you need something special."

  "Armor," Valentin suggested softly.

  Nicholas nodded curtly. "Armor." He strode swiftly from the room.

  Valentin got up. "Shall we go?"

  Silver nodded absently as she moved toward the door. "You said that Nicholas's father renovated the palace for his wife. Why doesn't she live here?"

  "She prefers life at court." Valentin's expression was grave as he fell in step with her. "You have to realize something about Natalya, Silver. She's eaten up by ambition. From the moment she married Nicholas's father, every thought, every action, has had only one aim—to make everyone who mattered to her forget that she was born the daughter of a serf. She's spent thirty years erasing that memory and building her influence at court."

  Silver gave him a curious glance. "Are you warning me?"

  "Yes," he said soberly. "I think I am."

  "Thank you, but you needn't worry. I'm not afraid of her."

  "I know, but perhaps you should be."

  She gazed at him thoughtfully. "Nicholas has no love for her. Why is that?"

  "His father was killed in a duel over her honor. Not that she had retained much honor by the time the duel occurred. Natalya was rumored to be sleeping not only with the gentleman in question but with half the noblemen at court."

  Shock rippled through Silver and with it came the beginning of understanding. Nicholas had told her he had little trust in women, and it was no wonder, when his own mother behaved no better than a strumpet. "I can see why he didn't want to ask a favor of her."

  "No, you can't." Valentin didn't look at her. "His father's death was only the beginning. Natalya has done some rather unspeakable things to Nicholas."

  "What?"

  He shook his head. "I've told you enough. Nicholas doesn't care to have his past discussed. Just be on your guard with Natalya."

  "I will." A silence fell between them as they started to ascend the stairs. There was no reason for the uneasiness she was feeling. Silver told herself. What could the woman do to her? She was young and strong and Natalya Savron would soon be an old woman.

  No, there was nothing to fear from a meeting with Nicholas's mother.

  The woman who rushed up to Nicholas as soon as they entered the ballroom was definitely not his mother.

  "Nicholas, how splendid to see you again." The small red-haired woman moved closer, brushing her satin-covered bosom against Nicholas's sleeve and smiling with unmistakable intimacy. "I've missed you."

  No, this woman had no maternal feelings for Nicholas, Silver thought crossly. Though she was no longer in her first youth, her attitude toward Nicholas was both lustful and possessive.

  Nicholas bowed politely. "Katya. May I present my wife, Silver? Silver, the Countress Katya Raz- skolsky, an old friend."

  The countess gave Silver a fleeting glance and then turned back to Nicholas. "Natalya told me you had married. I was happy to hear it. Marriage can be a great convenience." Her gloved hand reached up to caress his cheek. "Do call on me soon." Then she was gone, lost in the crowd.

  "An old friend?" Silver muttered. "Very old. She has crow's-feet around her eyes."

  "How unkind of you to notice." Nicholas looked around the room. Suddenly he stiffened. "There's my mother."

  Natalya Savron's beauty shone as radiantly as that of her son, Nicholas. Her golden hair was a few shades lighter, her eyes a velvet brown instead of Nicholas's darker ebony. A low-necked sapphire gown clung to a figure that was still firm and voluptuous and, from where Silver and Nicholas stood in the doorway of the ballroom, Natalya looked not a day over thirty. She was talking to a dark-haired young man who was gazing at her with besotted devotion.

  "She's very beautiful," Silver whispered to Nicholas. She knew the words were pitifully inadequate. Natalya Savron had more than beauty; she exerted the same sensual magnetism that Nicholas possessed.

  "Yes." Nicholas's voice was totally expressionless. He took Silver's elbow and began to propel her through the crowd toward his mother. "But so are you. That gown is most becoming."

  Silver glanced down at the exquisite rose silk gown she was wearing. For the first time she began to understand why Valentin had used the word armor. Nicholas had produced not only this lovely gown but a young housemaid, who had curled and combed Silver's hair into a high chignon that she had assured her was the current fashion at court. And now Nicholas's hand on her arm was blatantly protective. All to prepare her to meet this beautiful woman who had shifted her gaze from the young man murmuring eagerly in her ear to watch them walk across the ballroom toward her.

  Natalya Savron smiled brilliantly. There was no warmth, no emotion in her gleaming smile, and Silver suddenly shivered as a memory of her childhood returned to her. Old Snaggle-Tooth.

  "Nicholas." Natalya languidly held out a gloved hand in greeting. "I was hoping you would decide to come." She gestured to the young man next to her. "You know Count Denis Stepvan."

  Nicholas touched his mother's hand perfunctorily and nodded to the man next to her. "Stepvan. My wife, Silver."

  The young count murmured a greeting, his gaze openly admiring as it lingered on Silver.

  "Oh, yes, Silver ..." Natalya's voice held the tart sweetness of elderberry wine. Her gaze rested on Silver's face for a long moment before shifting back to Nicholas. "Why don't you and Count Stepvan sample the punch bowl, chéri. I wish to become better acquainted with your little bride."

  "I'm not thirsty." Nicholas's grip tightened on Silver's elbow.

  "Nicholas, must I plead with you?" Natalya turned to the young count. "He is such a wicked boy. Take him away, won't you Denis?"

  The count seemed intimidated by the prospect of trying to take Nicholas anywhere he didn't wish to go. "I'm sure your son is happy to oblige you."

  "Oh, no, he isn't," Nicholas said flatly.

  "Go away, Nicholas," Silver said, not looking away from his mother. "And don't come back. I'll find you when your mother and I have had our talk."

  Nicholas frowned. "Dammit, Silver, I'm not—"

  "Go. Nothing will be accomplished by you hovering."

  He hesitated uncertainly before inclining his head. "As you like, my love. If you decide you require my 'hovering' presence, you need only to call."

  Silver watched Nicholas and Count Stepvan start across the ballroom and then turned to Natalya Savron. "Now we're alone. Begin."

  A flicker of surprise touched the other woman's face. "You handled Nicholas very badly, you know. A man must be guided subtly in the way you wish him to go."

/>   "With lies and deceit?" Silver shook her head. "That's not my way." She squarely met Natalya's gaze. "Though I think it may be yours. However, you will not use them on me."

  "Will I not?" Natalya smiled faintly. "You seem very sure."

  "I have known a woman like you before. There was an old hag in our village who was very good at torturing captives. She was called Snaggle-Tooth. She would smile"—Silver paused, remembering—"as you smile. Sweetly. The man tied to the stake would think she meant only kindness toward him. Then she would insert the first burning splinter beneath his fingernail."

  Natalya's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you comparing me to a savage? I'm hardly an old hag, my dear Silver." Her smile was a mere baring of gleaming teeth. "Nor am I a dirty Apache squaw."

  "How did you know that I'm Apache?"

  "Naturally I was interested in the woman Nicholas had chosen, so I sent someone down to the docks to make a few inquiries." A sudden harshness edged Natalya's voice. "You made no effort to hide anything about yourself from the captain and the crew of the ship on which you arrived here. You evidently spoke of your mongrel heritage quite openly. I would have thought you'd seize the opportunity to try to disguise your unsavory origin."

  "I'm not ashamed of what I am." Silver raised her chin. "Is this why you wanted to see me? Did you wish to tell me I must cringe and hide because I'm a half-breed?"

  "I will not permit—"

  "Do you think I care what you will or will not permit?" Silver's eyes were blazing.

  Natalya drew a deep breath. "I've spent many years making sure no one remembers that I was not born of the nobility . Do you think I will let you flaunt your birth and remind everyone that our blood is tainted? I cannot believe Nicholas would be so stupid as to marry you."

  Silver flinched. "Perhaps he doesn't care if I'm a half-breed."

  Natalya's eyes narrowed on Silver's face. "Oh, he cares. Have him tell you how he was treated at court as a child. He's felt the sting of contempt just as I have. Now that he's seen fit to take you as a wife, he'll feel it even more."