To Love a Horseguard (12 page)

  “Why can you not just leave me be?” Rose pleaded, her he
adache growing stronger by the moment.

“Why can you not just tell me the truth?” Dimitry countered.

  Rose let out an anguished sob. “I do not know why I am here, or I would tell you.”

  Dimitry slipped the reins over her horse’s head and led
it beside his own mount in the direction of the palace. “Until you tell me the information I seek, you will stay in my custody.”

  “I hate you,” Rose hissed.

  Dimitry gave her a smug sidelong glance. “Good, I shall not have to worry about you plying me with your charms in hopes of gaining any information.”

  Rose glowered at him and then proceeded to ignore his presence the rest of the ride home.

Smug, self-important idiot! Just who does he think he is? As if I, a well-bred lady, would throw myself at any man. Why I am engaged, and a lady does not take such a promise lightly.
A fuzzy picture of the tall man resurfaced in her memory, at a party where their engagement was being announced, of a young girl giggling and an older woman beaming at her. Try as she might, she could not put names to the faces flickering through her mind.

 
Chapter Thirteen

Rose picked at her breakfast alone in the dining room, giving in to her melancholy mood despite the bright morning sun streaming through the window. She was tired of trying to force her mind to recall the events it refused to reveal. The easiest solution was to avoid the prince for the time being. Perhaps, if she was lucky, her family would come for her soon.

Victor sauntered
into the room. “Good morning, Princess.”

She forced a bright smile to her lips. “Good morning.”

He pulled up a chair and poured himself a cup of tea. “I thought you might enjoy a shopping expedition today.”

“I have no coin to spend.”

“Dimitry said to put whatever you desire on his account.” He smiled and took a sip from his cup.

“I find that hard to believe.” Rose frowned and pushed her plate away.

Victor shrugged. “On my honor, come on, a day of shopping is what ladies enjoy most is it not? I will even offer my services as your personal errand boy, since I have nothing planned for the day.” His eyes twinkled.

She couldn't help but like the man, so she smiled at him. “I suppose so.”

“Wonderful.” He set down his cup and stood. “Your carriage awaits.”

Feeling cheered by his uplifting presence
, she hurried to fetch Dinah, don her wrap and then followed him to the carriage. They settled back for the short ride to the shopping district.

The streets were bustling with activity. Rose admired the
peasant women in their bright colored clothing as they hurried about their business. Perhaps she should buy one of the pretty skirts to take home with her to England. Wouldn't her grandmother be shocked if she were to dress in such a bold costume? She shook her head.
I have a grandmother.
An image of a regal looking silver-haired woman flashed through her mind and then was gone as quickly as it had come; another piece of the puzzle of her life that didn't quite fit.

The carriage rolled to a halt in front of a large shop. Victor hopped out, helped her dow
n and escorted her in. He spoke to the young female clerk for a moment in Russian. The girl replied, making calf eyes at him and then showed them to a small parlor in the back.

“I will beg my l
eave of you for a few moments, Princess. I have a couple of errands of my own to run.” Victor gestured to the clerk. “While I am gone, Natasha here will show you some of the gowns she has already made. I have asked her to fit and pack up any you choose.” He gave her a quick bow and strolled from the room.

The clerk hurried to pull an armload of gowns from a rack on the wall and laid them out one by one on a wide bench so Rose could have a look at them.

Dinah tapped her shoulder. “If you wouldn't mind, I would like to browse the shops on my own.”

Rose nodded. “Just be sure to be back here within the hour.” She turned her attention to the clerk as the maid hurried out. Clothing it seemed was the same in any language. Before long she was engrossed in the latest catalogs from England, France, and Russia.

The time flew by and before she knew it Victor was back. He gave her a tight smile and addressed the clerk in Russian. The woman glanced at her and then shook her head.

Were they ta
lking about her Rose wondered? “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, where is your maid?”

Rose glanced at the doorway. “She left to wander the shops on her own an hour ago and has not come back yet. Why?”

Without answering h
e signed an account slip for the clerk and gathered up the boxes of dresses and undergarments she purchased. “I thought we could have lunch in a little shop around the corner. Perhaps your maid will be back by the time we finish.”

Rose
had an inkling of an idea something wasn't right, but she followed him from the shop and waited while he stowed her purchases in the carriage. They walked together down the street and around the corner. After being shown to a table in the garden of the eating establishment, Victor ordered a light meal and some iced drinks.

She sipped her tart drink
and watched the people stroll about the streets on the other side of the low hedge that surrounded the garden. “What a lovely spot.”

Victor nodded, his gaze focused somewhere past her. He seemed preoccupied with something in the street or alleyway beyond. Before she could ask him what he was looking at, he jumped from his chair, leaped over the hedge and
ran down the street. She stood to watch his progress as he slowed and then crept up to the alley. He stood for a few minutes as if listening to something, and stepped back into the doorway of a nearby shop.

Intrigued, Rose watched as Dinah
emerged from the alley, looked both ways and headed back toward the dress shop. Victor stepped out from the shadows and disappeared into the alley. A few moments later he was back, sheathing his pistol and heading down the street with a purposeful stride. Was something wrong? Had the maid been in some kind of danger?

A servant distracted her as
she stepped to the table and placed the meal they had ordered in front of her. When she looked up again, Victor was making his way to their table with the maid in tow.

“Is everything
all right?” Rose asked, glancing back and forth between the two.

Victor gave her a stiff
look. “There is nothing amiss, Princess.”

The maid shrugged and looked out into the street.

Despite their claims Rose had the distinct feeling something was going on. Why had Victor drawn his pistol in the alley? If the maid had been in some kind of danger why didn't she appear upset?

Victor picked up his fork. “Did you get everything you needed at the dressmakers?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He nodded. “Good, we should get back to Dimitry’s. I have some pressing business matters to attend to.”

Rose glanced at the maid who fidgeted with the strings on her cloak. Hadn't Victor said earlier he had nothing planned for the day? Perhaps he was just bored with shopping. They rushed through the light repast and returned to the carriage. The ride home was silent with both Victor and the maid staring out the carriage windows, intent on their own thoughts.

Chapter
Fourteen

  Dimitry set down the paper he was reading as Victor sauntered in and closed the study door. “I am busy Victor.” Dimitry waved him away, annoyed when Victor ignored him and poured himself a drink from the decanter on the corner of the desk. He turned his attention back to his paperwork as Victor sat on the corner of the desk.

“You were right.”

“I am usually right,” Dimitry mumbled, looking over the blueprints for the old theater. “Do you think if we wall in each separate viewing box in the old theater it would suit as a make shift orphanage?”

“An orphanage, w
hat are you talking about?”

Dimitry looked up from the plans. “I am talking about t
urning the old theater into an orphanage. The princess pointed out it was a waste to build a new building when the old one was still functional so I thought maybe it would work as a place to house all the city’s orphans.”

Victor stared at him as if he had grown two heads. “What does the new tsar think of the idea?”

“I have not asked him yet,” Dimitry replied, and began to make notations for changes in the margin of the document. It was quiet for a moment.

Victor cleared his throat. “Are you going to ask me what you were right about?”

“Does it matter?” Dimitry snickered.

“I think you were right about the princess being a spy.”

Dimitry set his quill on the desk. “Why have you changed your mind?”

Victor
gave him a grim look. “I took the princess shopping today and saw Sergi.”

“What, where?” He focused his attention on his cousin, the plans forgotten.

“He was in an alley in the shopping district.”

“What was he doing there and where is he now?”

His cousin dropped his gaze to the desk. “He was talking to the princess’ maid. I could not hear all they were saying, but it was clear he is going to meet her somewhere. I was going to arrest him, but he slipped away before I had the chance.”

“Damn! Did you question the maid?”

“No, I thought it best if she did not know I overheard some of the conversation.”

Dimitry ran a hand through his hair. “Good thinking. If we are careful we should be able to set a trap. Where and when is this meeting?”

“I do not know.”

“Maybe the princess can supply some answers.” Dimitry shoved back his chair and stalked from the room.

When he entered the library, he found the princess with her nose pressed against the glass of the window watching the rain pour down outside. He stood on th
e threshold and studied her as she sighed, turned from the window and crossed to fireplace. She looked up at the portrait of his mother and father.

He crossed the room
. “That is a portrait of my mother and father.”

  A tiny gasped escaped her
, so engrossed in the portrait she had not heard his soft tread on the carpet. She spun around and bumped into him. Dimitry wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her. Their eyes met and she froze, her lips forming a small pink “O” of surprise.

  Mesmerized, he stared
at her mouth. His hand lifted of its own accord and he brushed his fingers across her injured face. She took a small breath, but didn't flinch. With all his willpower he fought to back away, but his feet seemed rooted to the floor. She was the enemy, but all he could think about was touching her, tasting her… Her lips trembled. A sigh of sweet breath escaped as he traced her full lips with his thumb. He could hold back no longer. With a groan he slid his hand around the nape of her neck and drew her mouth to his own. Her eyelids fluttered in anticipation. Their lips touched and he was lost in the feel of her silky skin, the floral scent of her and the taste of her full sweet lips. Her body betrayed her own passion as she sagged against him and her arms found their way around his neck. He kissed her tentatively at first, running his tongue seductively across her mouth. She was like an intoxicating drink and he needed more. Pressing his lips harder against hers he demanded entry into her sweet mouth. She moaned, parting her lips and granting him admittance. Their tongues touched sending shock waves throughout his whole body. He sunk his hands into her rich tresses and tilted her head back. Releasing her lips, he trailed delicate little kisses along her jaw and down the sensitive side of her neck.

“Please,” she moaned.

He stiffened.
What am I doing? I came here to confront not seduce her!
With a groan he pulled his lips from her neck and shoved her away from him. Her eyes flew open, her gaze startled and bewildered. “I just came to get a book,” Dimitry explained. He snatched the first book he saw off the nearest shelf and retreated back to his study.

Victor was still seated in front of the desk
. “That was quick. What did she have to say?”

“Nothing of importance,” Dimitry mumbled, dropping the
book onto his desk. He poured himself a brandy to steady his galloping nerves.

Victor picked up the book, glanced at the cover and gave Dimitry an odd look.

Dimitry sat down. “What?” 

“Since when did you become interested in roses?”

He snorted. What is the man talking about? “Roses?”

Victor held up the book. The title read,
‘A Guide to Growing Roses’.

He snatched the book from Victor’s hand and dropped it into the top
drawer of the desk. “I must have picked up the wrong book by mistake.”

Victor leaned back in his chair and pondered him. “Is there something you would care to share with me, dear cousin?”

Dimitry pretended to scan the documents on his desk. “No. Should there be?”

“You look like the fox caught raiding the chicken coop.”

Dimitry groaned with the realization Victor saw through his ruse. “I kissed her.”

“Kissed who?” Victor asked with a grin.

“You know damn well who.” Dimitry scowled at him. Why did his cousin always seem to delight in his uncomfortable situations?

“And?” Victor raised an eyebrow.

“And nothing, for starters she is already engaged. Second she is a spy, and third I will probably have the whole damn British navy on my doorstep, not to mention the French in a matter of days.”

“Then you do not have much time. It will not matter if you use
a little seduction to get the information we seek. Maybe after a few kisses and romantic promises she will confess to being a spy.”

Dimitry glared at his cousin. “I am not going to seduce her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?” Victor cast him a smug smile.

Dimitry took a gulp of his drink stalling while he tried to
think of a reasonable sounding answer. Why had he kissed her? It had been a long time since he had lain with a woman. The princess was certainly attractive. Had she bewitched him with her lovely eyes and melodic sounding voice?

Victor snorted. “You are in love with her.”

Dimitry's tongue refused to form the words to deny it, even as he shook his head.

“Do you realize how dangerous that could be? She could just be trying to seduce you into letting down your guard so Sergi can kill you.”

“I thought you did not believe she was a spy?” Dimitry retorted.

Victor shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line, worry creasing his brow. “I changed my mind.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rose wandered down the aisle of the tidy stable tired of being cooped up in the palace. The sounds and smell helped soothe her strained nerves. She stopped to pat a tall bay horse who stretched his head out from behind a stall door. The horse snuffled her hair and then blew against her cheek.

“Hey pretty boy,” she crooned, “I am afraid I do not have an apple for you.”

“There must be a bucket of them around here somewhere.”

Rose turned. Dimitry stood
in the doorway casually dressed in tan-colored breeches, matching field boots and a white shirt. Even out of uniform she had to admit he was handsome. When he walked toward her she swung her gaze back to the horse and stroked its soft face. “I was not trying to escape, in case that is what you are thinking.” She sighed at the bitter edge to her voice. “I just seem to be drawn to horses. They are familiar to me I suppose.”

Dimitry stopped beside her and patted the horse’s neck. “They do not judge a person.”

She dropped her hand. “Look, I am not a Cossack rebel. I do not know who I am. I just want to go home.”

He studied her for a moment, his eyes unemotional. “I thought perhaps you would enjoy a picnic in the park.”

Rose eyed him. “Why, so you can interrogate me some more?”

He smiled. “Even the head of the tsar’s army needs a break
sometimes. I thought it might please you to get out of here and have a nice afternoon in the park. If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to ask a single question.”

When she tilted her head in consideration
he gave her a charming smile and pressed his hand to his heart. “On my honor.”

Against her better judgment she nodded. He offered her his arm and they strolled from the stables. Outside the doors, Rose was delighted to disc
over a small curricle drawn by two perfectly matched gray horses.

Dimitry handed her up into the buggy and climbed in bes
ide her. He pointed to a large picnic basket on the bench beside her. “See, I really did have a picnic planned.”

Rose bit her lip to smother a giggle. A young groom seated on th
e back of the curricle cracked his whip and the horses started forward. Rose clapped a hand on her head to hold her delicate gypsy hat in place as they rolled out of the palace gates with a dozen guards in tow.

They covered the few mile
s to the park in smart fashion and Rose leaned out of the buggy as they entered the green oasis. A large pink marble fountain dominated the center of the park. The curricle pulled up just inside the gates and Dimitry jumped down. After he helped her alight, he reached back and picked up the picnic basket. He thrust it at a young soldier and then offered her his arm. They strolled through the park, the soldier keeping pace a few yards behind them. As they passed the fountain, a group of young peasants in colorful costumes converged on it.

She paused to watch them. Laughing, they pushed a couple into
the fountain and then chanted in Russian. “What are they doing?”

Dimitry chuckled. “The fountain is supposed to bring a young recently married couple good luck and fertility if they are doused with the water.”

“Does it?”

He grinned. “I really do not know, shall I ask them?”

Rose nodded, and he called out to them in Russian. The crow
d quieted and the young man in the fountain waded from the water. He gave them a polite bow. Dimitry spoke to him for a few minutes, the young man smiled and pointed to a couple in the wedding party. The woman was swollen with child.

Dimitry flipped the young man a coin and smiled at Rose. “It appears to work judging by that couple over there who dipped in the same fountain the day they were married nine months ago.”

Rose’s face heated and he laughed at her embarrassment. “Come on, there is a nice spot for a picnic on the other side of the park.” He took her hand and they continued their stroll.

Rose tried to concentrate on the sights and so
unds of the park, but the Dimitry’s nearness distracted her. She studied him out of the corner of her eye as he walked. His strides were slow, filled with easy confidence and grace. He looked different today somehow, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps his job as the head of the tsar’s army was a difficult one that caused him to be gruff and irritable. His face, usually tight and unreadable, was relaxed and less weary looking. He pointed out a bright colored bird in a bush and smiled when he caught her looking at him.

When she smiled back he squeezed her hand.
“There, this is nice is it not? I have not asked you a single question as I promised.”

Rose frowned
. “Oh, but you have,” she teased. “You just asked me a question.”

He chuckled
and led the way along a smaller path up a small, steep incline.

  When they crested the top, she gasped. The whole park could be seen from their vantage point as well as most of St. Petersburg. There were a number of colored, shiny domed palaces like Dimitry’s, and one huge version of the smaller ones which she gu
essed was the home of the tsar. “St. Petersburg is a beautiful city.”

Dimitry nodded as he stood beside
her and looked out over the view. “The tsar wants to make it the biggest and most beautiful city in the world. Someday, people will come from all over the world to see it.”

Rose
nodded and Dimitry motioned for the puffing guard to set the picnic basket down. The young man did as he was instructed before he retreated to a shady spot under a tree nearby. Dimitry reached into the basket, pulled out a patterned blanket and spread it on the grass. When she sat, he dropped down beside her and rummaged in the basket. With a grin he produced a bottle of wine and two crystal goblets. He poured a glass of rich red wine and passed it to her. Rose sipped it and admired the view. The sun was warm with little breeze to cool the air. Rose took a deep breath. The air was fresh, with just a little hint of spring crispness. Another bright colored bird flew overhead and she watched as it landed in a nearby flowering bush rubbing the base of her skull where a headache was beginning to form.

“Does your head still hurt?”

Rose nodded without taking her eyes off the bird who was now singing a pretty song to another one in the bush.

“Here.” He slid behind her, set down his wine glass and brushed the hair from her neck.

She jumped as his cool fingers slid up and down her neck gently massaging it. “You should not do such a thing,” she pointed out half-heartedly, letting herself enjoy his administrations.

He continued to work the muscles at the base of her skull. “No one is around.”

“One of your men is right over there.”

“So? He is sleeping.”

Rose glanced at the young man. With his hat pulled low over his face and his arms crossed, he did appear to be sleeping. The gentle pressure of Dimitry’s fingers loosened her tight muscles and the headache began to subside. She was so relaxed she sighed, closed her eyes and didn’t protest when he stopped rubbing her neck and pulled her against his chest. He reached around and refilled her wine glass.  Perhaps it was the warm weather, the wine or Dimitry’s massage, but she was content resting in the circle of his arms.