Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8 (16 page)

“Who are you, anyway?” she raged on. “A spy for the Bolsheviks, no doubt.”

“Just relax,” he softly told her, brushing her hair back from her face. “You’ve nothing to fear from me.”

She jerked her head back, away from his touch. “Leave me alone, damn you!”

Their eyes met, held, and despite her instant hatred for him, for he was the one, she was sure, who had carried her from Jade’s room, there was an undeniable awareness between them.

She did not have to ask.

She knew.

He was her phantom lover.

Suddenly, impulsively, Cord Brandt leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, his hand on the back of her neck to hold her. She struggled against him, then succumbed despite herself, but rage quickly returned and with one mighty jerk she was able to twist her mouth from his.

And despite the fires he so easily kindled, the passion aroused within, Marilee loathed him.

He was her abductor.

He was her enemy.

But most of all she hated him for the mocking look in his smoldering blue eyes—the look that said he knew she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

She turned away, determined not to let him see into her soul. Instead, she would concentrate on the other fire burning in her now—no one was going to lie and call her father a traitor.

She would escape, somehow, some way.

Then she was going to find her father.

Chapter Sixteen

Marilee regarded him warily. He untied her, then gave her a cup of water and a few crackers.

She did not want the crackers but sipped the water, for the chloroform had left her throat feeling dry.

They sat staring at each other.

Marilee hoped her eyes mirrored her loathing and fury, but she could not be sure of the message reflected in his. Arrogance or pity? She could not be sure. He was devastatingly handsome, but he also emanated mystery, and yes, danger, for she was all too aware of the predicament she was in.

It was he who finally broke the spell of silence. “Are you not eating because you aren’t hungry, or are you just pouting?”

She lifted her chin in a gesture of defiance, wanting him to think her much braver than she felt. “I’m just particular about who I eat with.”

He laughed. “Well, dear lady, the ransom your father pays will merely be for a sack of bones because we’re going to be constant companions.”

She felt a tremor of both fright and anticipation, and silently chided herself for the latter.

Suddenly she felt compelled to ask stiffly “It was you, wasn’t it? In the cellar of the castle.”

His eyes twinkled even brighter with delighted mischief. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”

He did. And she knew he did. “You kissed me in the cellar the night before last.”

“Did I?” He shrugged, pretending indifference.

She nodded. “You kissed me a little while ago, and I knew for sure.” It was her turn to flash a mocking smile. “You knew who I was then, but what I’d like to know is who you thought I was that night in the cellar.”

He remained quite composed. “I don’t know. I happened to be there, and so did you.” He chuckled. But then, with sudden seriousness, he murmured, “It was nice both times, Marilee.”

She sat up stiffly and threw the tin cup away. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it, because it’s not going to happen again.”

“Unless you want it to.”

‘‘I won’t.”

“You can’t deny you enjoyed it. Even in the dark, not knowing who it was.”

“So what? I can like your kisses without liking you, but so help me, God”—she paused, wanting the full impact of her oath to sink in—“you touch me again, and I’ll claw your eyes out.”

He laughed softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The cloak of silence descended once more, but not for long.

Marilee lashed out abruptly, “You’re all bastards to lie about my father, and he’ll kill you when he finds out what you’ve done.”

“Nothing has happened to you and nothing will, as long as you’re with me. And believe me, I intend to keep you with me, Marilee.”

She was struck by the compassion of his tone and his expression—but not enough to let her guard down. “Who are you?” she demanded. “And why are all of you lying about my father?”

He ignored her last question, speaking without emotion. “My name is Cord Brandt. I was born in Germany. I stand against imperialism. I support the ideals of the Bolsheviks. That’s all you need to know…for now.

“But,” he added sharply, getting up from the table to walk over and sit down on the floor in front of her, “I know you don’t believe me, although I swear you can trust me when I say no harm will come to you.”

He reached out to brush back a tendril of chestnut-colored hair that had fallen on her forehead. She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me. Ever again.” Then she dared to implore, “But if you care at all about my welfare, you’ll let me go, now. Before that bastard Rudolf comes back.”

She was puzzled again by his amused demeanor as he laughingly tugged at her bathrobe and said, “What? Let you go? Dressed like this? And where would you go, little spitfire? No, no!” He wagged a teasing finger in front of her nose. “Whether you realize it or not, you need me—in lots of ways,” he added with a wink.

“Need you?” she scoffed. “I don’t need you for anything. I can take care of myself. Just let me go, and I’ll prove it.”

He started to caress her cheek, leaned slightly closer as though to kiss her once more, but then he saw the way her fingers were arched, ready to fulfill her vow.

He moved away but could not resist saying, “You need kissing, Marilee, among other things. I don’t think I’ve ever sensed such hunger in a woman.” He leaned back against the opposite post, and they were so close their knees were touching. She jerked her legs to the side, but he pretended not to notice. “When I heard Rudolf had orders to court you, I knew, even though we’d never met, that he wasn’t the man for you.”

She shot him a venomous look. “Oh, really? Well, just what do you know about me, Mr. Brandt?”

“Let’s see…” He feigned an expression of deep concentration. “Your father is Drakar Mikhailonov, lifelong friend and confidant of Nicholas. Your mother, Dani Coltrane Mikhailonov, died giving birth to you. You were raised by your grandmother, Kitty Coltrane, who really wasn’t your grandmother but was actually your grandfather’s only legal wife. When she died, you were sent to an exclusive finishing school here in Switzerland, and that’s where you met Rudolf’s sister, Elenore, and then Rudolf.

“And,” he went on, enjoying her wide-eyed look of astonishment, “I was told you were quite beautiful, which you are, and vastly intelligent and perceptive, which is also true, but nobody”—he shook his head slowly from side to side, eyes twinkling mischievously—“could have told me how good it felt to hold you in my arms and kiss you.”

Marilee surprised herself in that instant, for she was completely composed as she tartly informed him, “If you’re the sort of man who has to take women by force, then that doesn’t make you a
man
in my estimation.”

His blue eyes narrowed. The nerve in his jaw tensed ever so slightly. But then his smugness returned. “Oh, I never have to use force, my dear, as you may be privileged to find out if you’re fortunate enough to be in my company long enough.”

She snickered and could not resist goading, “Oh? Do you resort to begging and wheedling like Rudolf?”

“No,
dushka
.
I
am never the one who begs.”

How she loathed him in that moment. “Hold your breath till I do!” she hissed.

He gave her a confident grin, but it faded from his lips the moment he turned his back on her.

They heard the sound of a car approaching, and, quickly drawing a gun from his coat pocket, he darted to the window. Recognizing the Fiat, he sarcastically said to Marilee, “Your ex-fiancé has arrived with your things.”

“He was never my fiancé,” she retorted.

The door burst open with a loud bang, and Rudolf stormed into the barn.

Cord regarded him coolly. “Well, that was faster than I expected.”

“I was in a hurry to get back and find out what’s going on.” Rudolf rushed over to Marilee, wincing slightly against her blazing glare. “Are you all right?”

Nodding to Cord, she said, “He seduced me. We fell in love. We plan to be married. Will you come to the wedding?”

“Bitch!” he cried.

Cord had had enough of the cocky little bastard. He strode angrily across the space between them to clamp a rough hand on his shoulder. Slamming him against the wall, he warned, “Get something straight, Rudolf, and get it straight now! No more! You got that? You aren’t taking it out on her because everything got messed up. It’s the way it is, so back off and leave her alone. I’m not putting up with the harassment and the name-calling. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Despite the fact that Cord Brandt was a head taller and, at the moment, angry, Rudolf dared to challenge him. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

Cord grabbed him by both shoulders and flung him across the room. Bouncing off a far wall, he slid to the floor to stare up stupidly as Cord casually informed him, “I’m a better man than you, that’s who. Remember that if you want to live long.”

The door swung open again, and by the time Cord recognized Elenore, his gun was pointed and ready. “What is going on here?” she cried, wide-eyed, looking from him to Marilee, and finally, to where her brother was picking himself up off the floor.

Cord put his weapon away. “That’s a good way to get shot, Elenore. Don’t come sneaking around like that again.”

Marilee came to life, scrambling to her feet and rushing toward Elenore, but Cord grabbed her about the waist and spun her away, holding her tightly against him as she raged, “Let me go, damn you!” She struggled helplessly in his grasp, then beseeched Elenore, who was watching with narrowed eyes, “Go! Get help. They’re both working for the Bolsheviks, and they thought they kidnapped Aunt Jade but got me instead, and—”

“Shut up!” Elenore stunned her by suddenly screaming, then she whirled on Rudolf. “You idiot! I knew something like this would happen, that you couldn’t pull it off. Now look at what’s happened. We’ll all go to prison!”

Marilee reeled with the harsh realization that her best friend was actually a part of this madness. “Not you!” she gasped. “Oh, Elenore, not you, too!”

Cord felt her knees buckle and held her tight.

For the moment, Elenore ignored her as Rudolf shrieked, “How could you be so stupid to follow me here? You might have been followed yourself, you fool!”

“She wasn’t.” Hanisch stepped through the open doorway. “She was hiding in the car, under a pile of clothing, and you didn’t even notice.”

He added with a disgusted shake of his head, “You are really turning out to be a worthless clod, Rudolf.”

His face red with fury and humiliation, Rudolf headed for the door, bellowing as he went, “Okay. Fine. You all handle it. I’m through. I’m getting out. Damned if I’m risking my neck when all I get is insults.”

Hanisch made a move to block his path, but Cord ordered tersely, “Let him go. It’s best this way. We don’t need him anymore.”

“But he’s wanted at headquarters,” Hanisch quickly explained. “I told them of his incompetence. They want him there at once. I advise you to report.” He looked at Rudolf with a gloating smile.

“Gladly. I’d like to tell them a few things of my own.” Rudolf stalked angrily out of the barn.

Elenore walked to the doorway to watch him for a moment. “He’s throwing her things on the ground.”

“Go pick them up.” Cord ordered. He did not need her around to make things even more tense.

She hesitated, biting her lip thoughtfully as she pondered the situation.

“Elenore,” Marilee pleaded one more time, “you have to help me—”

“And I told you to shut up.” Elenore did not like the way Cord was holding her—more protective than restraining. “Let her go!” she commanded.

He held fast.

Marilee closed her eyes. Elenore, her dearest friend. One of
them
.
Sadly, she declared, “I just don’t believe it.”

Then, warm against her ear, she heard Cord Brandt whisper, “Believe it,
dushka
.”

Her cinnamon eyes flashed open, and she attempted to twist about to stare at him in wonder. Why would he say such a thing? Call her a Russian pet name—“little soul”, “darling”? It was the second time he had done so. But he was German!

But there was no time to ponder, for he gave her a sudden shake, tightening his grip as he tersely told Elenore, “I think it would be best if both you and your brother got out of here. You had no business coming.” He dismissed her with a curt nod and turned to ask Hanisch whether he had their orders.

“Oh, yes,” came the brusque reply. Hanisch also motioned for Elenore to go. “Hurry up, before he leaves. We’ll pick everything up.”

“No!” Elenore looked from him to Cord. “Not until we have a word in private.”

Nodding toward the door, Hanisch growled, “Do it. Anything to get her out of here. Rudolf, too, till he gets hold of himself.”