Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (22 page)

Walking back inside and through another set of double doors, Cara found the largest bed she had ever seen. Posts ran to the high ceiling and held aloft the dark canopy. Fabric draped and swirled at each corner and could be pulled to give the occupants complete privacy.

Arms encircled her, warm breath tickled her ear. “We could have a lot of fun shut away in there.”

She ran an eye over the enormous mattress. “You’d have to find me first.”

“Oh, I would always hunt you down.”

He turned her in his arms, one hand cupping the base of her head as he brushed her lips in a leisurely kiss. She sighed against him as his tongue stroked over hers. Heat spread through her limbs as she gave herself up to him. He broke away and rested his forehead against hers. “What would you like to do this afternoon?”

Excitement and curiosity flared in her chest; a strange new city lay beyond the hotel steps, calling her name. “I want to explore. If we are only here for a few days I need to see everything.”

He laughed and then kissed her forehead. “Then why don’t you change into something suitable for walking? We can spend the afternoon exploring the city. When we return, they will send a maid up to help you bathe and change for tonight.” He gave her a wicked grin. “If I helped, you wouldn’t make it out of the bath.”

he maid placed the diamond encrusted comb in Cara’s hair, bobbed a polite curtsey, and retreated out the dressing room door. Cara brushed a hand over the grey silk chiffon gown, a fingertip lingering on one of the silver embellished stars scattered over the fabric. A small diamante twinkled in the centre of each star. Unconventional in design, the gown clung to her form and swept into a train at the back. She picked up a long velvet cape with a grey ermine edging, to keep out the evening chill.

Nate waited for her in the main room of their suite. A black evening coat with tails embraced his broad shoulders. Pants of the palest dove grey, paired with a waistcoat of the same tone as Cara’s dress complete with silver embroidery. With his strong jaw and deep blue eyes, he looked devilishly handsome in his formal clothes and ready to step amongst the elite of the Russian court.

A carriage with mechanical horses awaited them outside the hotel. The metal equines were made entirely of steel with no other coloured metal used in their construction. They looked ethereal; their pale bodies glowing under the moonlight as they silently awaited their commands. Cara felt like Cinderella taking an enchanted ride to the ball with a wicked prince by her side. A shiver of anticipation ran through her body.

They only had a short ride to the Winter Palace. All too soon, they pulled under the middle of the triple arches and joined the queue of other carriages lining up in the cavernous courtyard to discharge their passengers. Nate kept his arm looped around her waist as though fearing she would disappear amongst the crowd, darting after a wisp of wherever her curiosity called.

They made their way through the gilded fairy-tale palace toward the Nicolas Hall. Cara paused at the entrance and gave a silent gasp, the opulence of the room staggering and stealing her breath. Chandeliers of monstrous size hung from the ceiling, each with three tiers terminating in strands of thousands of tiny crystals which formed a soft dome. The ceiling alone was a work of art, gilded frescoes of nymphs and angels cavorted across the white expanse. The room was double height; balconies on the second level gave people a view down into the ballroom. Ten thousand people could fit in the hall for the soiree and the press of people overwhelmed.

Still better than an underground tunnel. No obvious rats here.

Everywhere Cara turned a fortune in diamonds and precious gems glittered. The women did not just wear gems as jewellery; their gowns were adorned with priceless jewels sewn into the fabric, clothing them in dazzling armour. The Russian aristocracy wore their wealth in a lavish display as though the world outside the Palace did not exist.

In her exploration of the city earlier, Cara saw starving urchins with grubby faces, skeletal hands extended, begging for scraps of food. She made Nate empty his pockets, giving all their coins to the hungry children. A shudder ran down her spine at the stark contrast between the two faces of St. Petersburg.

Nate’s grip tightened round her waist as he followed her intent gaze. “You can’t steal their jewellery to feed the city’s children.”

She watched a four inch wide diamond collar glide past. “Well, I could actually. But I doubt we need trouble on two continents right now.”

Nate kissed her bare shoulder. “We’ll feed more children tomorrow, I promise.”

His eyes scanned the assembled nobles, sorting through hundreds of faces and uniforms before he located his target. He laced his fingers with Cara’s to lead her safely through the crowd. He approached a tall, broad man in his mid-forties with blond hair only faintly touched by grey, slicked back from his temples, and a square handsome face. Deep lines around his eyes showed he laughed often throughout his life. His black formal wear was relieved by the scarlet velvet waistcoat. He broke into a smile on seeing Nate and grasped his arm.

“Nate, you look remarkably well for a man languishing in the Tower of London awaiting execution,” he said in English with only the lightest touch of an accent.

Nate returned the handshake. “I couldn’t possibly stay there; terribly damp and I promised my wife I would show her beautiful St. Petersburg.”

“Wife? You kept that quiet.” Clear grey eyes swept over Cara.

Nate laid his hand on the naked small of her back. “Cara, this is an old friend and comrade, Count Nikolai Dushov.”

She held out her hand, and the count executed a small courtly bow and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Delighted. Although I am curious how a rogue like Nate managed to capture such a beauty.”

Cara bit her tongue, wondering how Nate would explain the marriage contract he bought from her father.

Nate didn’t miss a beat. “I did what you would expect, Nikolai, I stole my precious gem.”

“And he’ll pay for it later,” Cara murmured.

The count laughed, his eyes dancing. “I think we have similar taste in women, no?”

Nate inclined his head, his gaze scanning the aristocrats. “Speaking of our women, where is the luscious Natalie?”

From several feet away a brunette with red velvet draped over sensuous curves looked up as though hearing her name mentioned. She extracted her hand from a fawning general and went to Nikolai’s arm like a falcon returning from her hunt.

“Nate,” she murmured, reaching up to kiss his cheek before turning curious brown eyes to Cara.

Nate gave the woman one of his rare, wide smiles, causing a pang of jealously to cut through Cara. “Natalie, as gorgeous as ever, I see. May I present to you, Cara, my wife.”

Natalie’s eyes widened before she leaned forward and kissed Cara on both cheeks. Lavender and warmth washed over Cara from the older woman’s embrace.

Natalie had large tapered eyes in a pixie shaped face with masses of dark curls falling around her ears. The deep red gown was the perfect foil for her alabaster skin. Her eyes were the darkest brown with amber flecks. “Knowing Nate, there will be a tale surrounding the two of you. I shall drag you away, so you can tell me all the luscious details without them overhearing.”

“We will be in deep trouble, my friend, if these two put their heads together,” Nate said, running his thumb over Cara’s spine and making her shiver.

“Oh? Do you not think you’re in enough trouble already, do you require more?” Cara asked, mischief dancing in her eyes.

“I have my hands full as it is.” He gave her a wink, and then turned his attention to Nikolai. “Can you believe I have been accused of trafficking with Russia?”

Nikolai gave a deep rumbling laugh. “Almost as though someone suspects you have friends here.”

“I was curious.” Cara interjected. “That Nate was more surprised about his accuser than the accusation.”

“How perceptive of you,” the count murmured, intelligence sparkling in the depths of his eyes.

She returned Nikolai’s smile, then stroked her hand down Nate’s arm. “I’ll leave you two to ponder the details. I need to go freshen up.”

“I’ll show you to the private saloon,” Natalie offered. “We can discuss our own plots and techniques to manage our husbands.” She gave her husband a deep, sensual smile before linking her arm with Cara.

The two women made their away across the crowded ballroom, the chandeliers throwing a kaleidoscope of colours over the walls. Steel mechanical waiters, waist high with trays on top of their heads glided amongst the nobles. Natalie pointed out various people as they passed, and murmured scandalous rumours in Cara’s ear.

“The more I hear, the more I realise one court is much like another, alive with dangerous undercurrents, nobles ever eager to pull each other under the surface.” She observed to her new friend.

Natalie nodded. “The trick is in knowing where to tread. We have skills that we can ply to our husbands’ advantage. Whether it is listening sympathetically to abused wives with open ears, or allowing a foreign diplomat to stare at our décolleté while we ask innocent questions.”

They entered the quieter salon and Cara stood in front of the counter running beneath the mirror. She placed her palms down on the cool rose marble and drew a deep breath, centring herself. The Russian court was as fraught with fatal rips as the British ton. The main difference being she didn’t speak Russian, not that many of the Russian nobles did, either. Cara had to rely on her other senses and Natalie’s comments to navigate a course. French dominated as the court language with German and a smattering of English also spoken, but she struggled with the swirling languages, her brain slow to translate back and forth. Nate adapted like a fish to water, switching to whatever language hit his ears as he slapped old comrades on the back and downed vodka. Another layer she never knew now pulled back and revealed.

Natalie stood next to her and placed her hands on the counter. Cara flicked her gaze down, then back again. She was missing her pinkie finger. It was an old injury, the skin pale silver over the joint. She didn’t realise she was staring until Natalie spoke.

“Let us do a trade. I will tell you the story of my missing finger if you tell me about your stripes.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

She gave Cara a warm smile. “Come.” She took her hand and led her to a sofa in a private corner. “Nate and Nikolai need time to plot, and it will do no harm for them to miss us.”

Cara sat with a heavy sigh, and took a deep breath. “When I was fourteen-years old, my father traded me to the man who held his gambling chits. The lord concerned thought the lash would make me compliant. He was wrong.” She nudged Natalie with her elbow. “Your turn.”

“I was fifteen. My father arranged for me to marry a cruel and heartless man. I refused.” She held up the hand with the missing digit. “He thought this would make me obey. He took my finger because he didn’t want to mark my face. Who saved you?”

“No one.” Cara shook her head. “I had to save myself. You?”

The smile turned sensual. “Nikolai.” She breathed his name in such a way that chills brushed over Cara’s skin. “He found me in the palace corridor, clutching a blood soaked handkerchief to my hand. He married me the same day to protect me from my father.”