Forever in Your Embrace (45 page)

“I see.” Mikhail pursed his lips as he pondered the prince’s answer. “And did Anna not hear of my considerations toward the colonel?”

“What considerations are those, Your Majesty?” The dark brows came together as Aleksei feigned bemusement. “Have we erred in some way and offended Our Supreme Highness?”

“It could be,” Mikhail retorted angrily. The other man apparently thought he could be fooled by a guise of innocence, but he wasn’t that gullible. “ ’Twould seem that I erred in sending Countess Synnovea here to be my cousin’s ward. I should have given more consideration to the fact that the girl was raised unfettered by most of the strictures of other
boyarinas.
In view of her upbringing, ’tis understandable that she felt compelled to rebel when you arranged such a betrothal for her. That matter is of no consequence now. You’ll discreetly inform Prince Dimitrievich that Countess Synnovea is unable to marry him for the simple reason that I have decreed otherwise. I must warn you that if you spread one word of this affair involving the colonel beyond Vladimir, who hopefully is wise enough to keep silent, I shall personally be in attendance when your tongue is detached from the place where it now resides. Do you have any questions?”

“None, Your Most Gracious Worship. I shall be completely reticent concerning this matter.” Extremely anxious to placate the tsar, Aleksei bowed several times to lend emphasis to his ingratiating show of respect.

“Good! Then we understand each other.”

“Most affirmatively, Your Majesty.”

“Then I shall say good night and farewell, Prince Taraslov. I hope you’ll never again be so foolish as to address your venom upon someone to whom I have given favor, nor hire thieves to see such mischief done. I’ve yet to judge you on the truth of this affair, but I’m patient enough to see justice carefully preserved until I am otherwise persuaded. For your sake, I hope you’re innocent of deliberately consorting with thieves, because if you’re not, I’ll see that you receive a harsher sentence than any of your cohorts.”

With that, the tsar stalked out of the carriage house, leaving Aleksei unusually pale and haggard-looking.

S
ynnovea arrived at the Palace of Facets much earlier than the time designated for her appointment with His Majesty Mikhail Romanov, the Tsar of all the Russias. It was exactly twoscore hours after His Royal Highness had first bidden the countess to come and see him, and though her apprehensions hadn’t been alleviated by even the slightest degree, she was nevertheless the very essence of serene beauty as she waited outside his private offices. Not only did she appear composed and sweetly demure in a mauve
sarafan
and beribboned
kokoshniki,
but she gave every indication that she was content with her summons. But then, she had little choice after making a decision to set the record straight about what she had done.

It was here that Synnovea became a compassionate witness to the carefully executed entrance of Colonel Rycroft. His movements were slow and painfully stiff, but only the slightest grimace could be noted by the one who watched him move away from the doorway. The antechamber was narrow enough that he couldn’t miss seeing her. At first, his only indication at having done so was a brief upward flick of a tawny brow. Then his scowl deepened and his jaw tightened beneath tensely flexing muscles. Disinclined to take a chair, he stood ramrod-straight while he stared stoically toward the entrance to the tsar’s chambers. Synnovea had never seen such a tenacious stance, but the message he conveyed was clear. He was loath to even acknowledge her proximity.

Some moments later, Major Nekrasov came out to escort the colonel into the tsar’s presence, and in the stark solitude following Tyrone’s passage, Synnovea was reminded of the contempt she had heard in his voice shortly before the first stroke of the whip. He had thrust her away in distaste and given his hearty approval for Ladislaus to take her for his own, confirming Natasha’s warnings that he would come to hate her for her coyly contrived entrapment. The knowledge of his vehement rejection now evoked within her a gloomy regret for which she could find no assuagement. So bleak were her hopes to reconcile herself to him that it wouldn’t have surprised Synnovea at all to hear the objections which the Englishman was presently voicing in response to the tsar’s suggestions.

“I plead your pardon, Your Majesty, but I must respectfully decline.” Tyrone tried to check his darkly brooding vexation, but it was impossible for him to even consider such a proposal. “I could never take the Countess Zenkovna as my wife after she used me for her own end. If, in the months and years to come, my life’s blood is required upon a field of battle, then I hope it will be spilled honorably as a soldier in your service, but your recommendation is too much to ask of me.”

“I fear you’ve mistaken my words, Colonel Rycroft.” Mikhail smiled benignly. “I don’t request your compliance with my proposition. While you’re here in this country, you’ll obey my every directive. It’s my express wish that you take Synnovea to wife with all possible haste. I promised her father before his death that I would see to the welfare of his daughter. I would be lax in the performance of that pledge if I allowed you to escape your personal participation in this affair without seeking some remuneration for what has been done.”

“Was not the scarring of my back enough punishment for my involvement?” Tyrone asked bluntly.

“The whipping was indeed dreadful, but it hardly corrects the problem. Synnovea has confessed her guilt in deliberately seeking you out to be her champion of sorts.” Mikhail glanced up briefly as a faintly audible snort came from the colonel. After musing briefly on the disdain visible in the man’s visage, he continued with unswerving dedication to his proposal. “Nevertheless, you were the one who accomplished her deflowering and are the only one who can properly amend the situation. After all, you’re no young whelp who can plead innocence. You’re old enough to accept the consequences of your actions and, may I presume, far more knowledgeable about this matter than the maid. ’Tis obvious she had good reason to believe you were willing to bed her or she would never have considered her defilement by you a viable option…which causes me to think that surreptitiously you had already begun courting the maid. Is that not true?”

Tyrone’s face darkened to a ruddy hue. “I saw her several times, but for the most part, Princess Anna denied my requests.”

“Did you take it upon yourself to see the girl in private?”

Most reluctantly, the colonel admitted that fact. “I did, Your Majesty.”

“And were you successful?”

“Aye.”

“Where did this tryst take place?”

“In her bedchamber at the Taraslovs’.”

“And did Synnovea invite you in?”

“No, Your Majesty. I climbed through a window after I had awakened her.”

Mikhail was aghast at the man’s audacity. “And if you had been caught and been forced to pay penance, would you have claimed that the girl had deliberately enticed you into her chambers?”

“No, Your Majesty. She had cautioned me to leave.”

“Well, there you have it!” Mikhail threw up a hand, indicating the matter settled.

Tyrone was not so willing to accept defeat. “Your Majesty, will you not kindly ponder my position?”

Mikhail was losing patience with the persistence of the man. “Was Synnovea not a virgin ere you took her into your bed?”

Tyrone’s lean cheeks flexed tensely with the effort of keeping his temper under tight rein. “She was a virgin, but—”

“Then there is no more to be said! I wouldn’t have another man mend your wrongs because you were duped by a young chit! Would you roar deception on a field of battle if you were tricked by a general whose face still bore the fuzz of his youth?”

“No, of course not, but—”

Mikhail slammed his open palm down upon the arm of his chair. “Either you’ll marry Synnovea or, by heaven, I’ll see you discharged without honor from your service here!”

In the face of such a threat, Tyrone could only yield to the monarch’s authority. He abruptly clicked his heels as he gave the tsar a crisp salute. “As you so deign, Your Majesty.”

Mikhail reached up and jerked on a silken cord, bringing Major Nekrasov quickly back into the chamber. “You may escort the Countess Zenkovna into my presence now.”

Tyrone dared to interrupt, bringing the major to a halt as he made another plea. “I beg a moment more of your time, Your Majesty.”

Mikhail was immediately skeptical of what the colonel would request. “Yes? What is it?”

“I shall abide by your order as long as I am here, Your Majesty, but once I leave, I’ll no longer be under your authority.” Tyrone paused as the tsar inclined his head in cautious agreement and then continued in a respectful tone. “If you should determine at that time that I have pleased you in the performance of my duties and have held myself away from Synnovea, which may be confirmed by her inability to produce an heir of mine, will you grant me an annulment from this marriage ere I return to England?”

Major Nekrasov’s head snapped around, and he glanced between the two men, feeling horrendously distraught by the fact that Synnovea would be marrying another. Knowing he would have gladly endangered his own life in his quest to have her as his wife, he couldn’t even begin to understand the colonel’s request.

Mikhail was abruptly taken aback by the Englishman’s petition, but he could find no viable way to refuse. If the dissolution wasn’t granted here within the boundaries of Russia, the colonel would likely seek it in England. Mikhail would not tolerate a Russian countess being subjected to that kind of humiliation in a foreign land. “If all will be as you say near the time of your departure, and you still wish such a separation, then I shall grant your petition. But I must remind you that you still have three years to serve under my authority.”

“Three years, three months, and two days, sire.”

“That is an extremely long time to withhold yourself from so enchanting a woman, Colonel. Can you even consider being successful in that endeavor?”

Tyrone faced the question frankly in his own mind. He had no firm assurance that he’d be able to ignore Synnovea as his wife during the full extent of that time or even that he’d be able to curb his desires for her once the pain of her deceit subsided to a more tolerable level, but he had to leave open an option wherein their marriage could be dissolved should he find no further reason to continue with her. At the moment, with so much anger roiling within him, he was hell-bent to go his own way without her, but there was always the possibility that his mood in time would soften toward her. As the tsar had unerringly pointed out, Synnovea was as enchanting as she was beautiful, and when it had obviously been his foolish desire to trust her, he couldn’t promise with unswerving finality that he’d never fall victim to her siren’s song again. Then, too, his heart might never recover from the wounds she had inflicted upon him.

“My failure or success will be revealed prior to my departure, Your Majesty. You may take full account of the condition of our marriage at such a time. Until then, I’ll make no guarantees, for I cannot in truth deny my zeal to have her before she played me for a fool.”

“I will hope by that time that your heart will be softened by forgiveness, Colonel.” Mikhail sighed. “I cannot imagine such a beautiful woman being ignored by her husband. I once considered taking Synnovea for a bride myself, but I didn’t think she’d be able to abide the stricture of a
terem.
I’d be appalled to see her hurt by your rejection of her.”

“You may save her both the pain and the humiliation of our annulment by allowing us to go our separate ways now,” Tyrone suggested, peering at the tsar from beneath his brows.

“Never!” Mikhail flung himself from his chair in a fitful rage. “By heaven, Colonel, you’ll not maneuver your way out of this marriage! Indeed, I’ll see you wed before the week is out!”

Tyrone was wise enough to know when he had been defeated and immediate obeisance was advisable. Clasping a hand to his chest, he bowed stiffly before the Russian tsar though the agony of his movement nearly splintered his control. “As you deem fit, sire.”

Mikhail gave a crisp nod to Major Nekrasov, who made an about-face to carry out his order. As Nikolai entered the antechamber, he managed a wan smile as he approached the woman he both admired and cherished.

“Tsar Mikhail will see you now, Lady Synnovea.”

A hesitant smile touched her lips as she rose to her feet. “I thought I heard shouting. Is His Majesty very angry?”

“Surely not with you, dearest Synnovea,” Nikolai assured her.

“Did he say why he wanted to see me?” she asked uneasily.

“I wasn’t permitted to stay in the room while he spoke with Colonel Rycroft. You’ll have to ask His Majesty.”

“I never thought I’d anger so many people by what I did….” Her words trailed off when she realized that Nikolai was regarding her quizzically.

“And what may that have been, my lady?”

Synnovea lowered her eyes hurriedly to avoid meeting his gaze any longer than she had to. “ ’Twas nothing I’m proud of, Nikolai, and if you wouldn’t mind, I’d rather not speak of the matter, for the memory of my deeds pains me sorely.” Recalling that she had not t
hank
ed him for what he had accomplished by coming to the colonel’s rescue, she laid a trembling hand upon his and looked up at him. “I shall be eternally grateful for your help in rescuing Colonel Rycroft, Nikolai. I never dreamt that you’d actually bring Tsar Mikhail with you. However did you manage such a feat?”