Unconquered (35 page)

“I thank you, Your Highness,” she replied, refusing to lower her glance although the rose in her cheeks deepened. He was pleased to see her blush.

They talked of personal matters, finding confidences easy to exchange. At last the prince said, “I have never coveted another man’s possession yet I envy your husband one thing.”

“What is that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

His deep-blue eyes seemed to devour her, mesmerizing her with a warmth that engulfed her whole body. “I envy him you,” Prince Mirza said, and then before she could recover from her surprise he caught her right hand up and pressed a kiss on its back. “Farewell, Lady Dunham.” She watched in amazement as he disappeared across the crowded ballroom, his white silk trousers, Persian coat, and turban a vivid contrast to the other gentlemen’s black evening attire.

It was then that she decided the time had come for her to return to
Dream Witch
. After all, she had an appointment here tomorrow and she wanted some rest. It was after eleven as the coach lumbered through the quiet streets of St. Petersburg, back to the boat basin. The Russian night was not at all dark. Miranda found twilight at such a late hour rather unnerving. Then, too, there was the memory of Prince Mirza Eddin Khan. She had never felt so attracted to a stranger before, and it distressed her. Why did this Eastern prince with his mysterious eyes fascinate her so?

The London fops who had sought her out had all been firmly rebuffed. Miranda had shocked all of polite society by being openly and passionately in love with her husband and quite unimpressed by other men. The London bucks had retaliated by nicknaming her the Frost Queen. To Mr. Brummel’s delight, Miranda considered that a great compliment.

The next morning, after a restless sleep, Miranda went up on deck to enjoy the sun. To her surprise, a small closed coach with the British ambassador’s crest on its side was drawing up before
Dream Witch
. On the box sat a handsome young man in Russian peasant’s garb. Catching sight of her, he called, “Are you Lady Dunham?”

“Yes, I am,” she answered.

“The ambassador’s compliments, m’lady. He must change his appointment with you. If you could come now, please.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Miranda. “I must get my shawl and reticule and then I shall be with you.” She quickly ran below to her cabin to fetch the required items, stopping in the main salon on her way out to tell Captain Snow of her departure.

“Good,” replied Ephraim Snow. “I hope you find out everything today.”

Miranda hurried down the gangway to the waiting carriage, where the driver stood holding the coach door open. He helped her inside, slammed the door behind her, and leaped up onto the box. He whipped the horses up and the vehicle lurched away. She was not alone in the coach. Opposite her sat an extremely elegant gentleman in a white and gold uniform.

“I am Lady Dunham,” she said politely in her best French. “May I ask who you are, sir?”

“I am Prince Alexei Cherkessky,” was the reply.

“Do you also have an appointment with the ambassador, Prince Cherkessky?”

“No, my dear, I do not,” he said.

Miranda found to her shock that he was staring boldly at her. His gaze was quite unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and she did not like it. There seemed to be no life in his eyes. “If you do not have an appointment with the ambassador, then why are you in his coach?” she demanded.

“This is not the ambassador’s coach, my dear, it is mine,” he said evenly.

Miranda was suddenly aware that she was in terrible danger. “Prince Cherkessky, I must demand that you return me to my yacht at once!” she said in a firm tone that belied her thundering pulse and trembling knees.

The prince laughed. “Brava, my dear! Your spirit is quite commendable. You are indeed everything I had hoped for, and I have not been mistaken in my judgment of you.”

“What is it you want of me, sir, and why have you resorted to subterfuge in order to get me into your carriage?”

Prince Cherkessky moved across the coach to seat himself next to her. “Actually I want nothing
personally
of you, my dear. You need have no fear of me. I don’t intend to rape or murder you. I do, however, want you. I have long sought an exquisite woman with your silver-gilt hair.” He took her chin in a firm grasp and looked intensely at her. “Your eyes are like emeralds, yet there is the tiniest hint of a blue flame in them. Perfect!”

Miranda yanked her head away. “You babble, sir!” she said sharply. “Why have you lured me into your coach? I demand an answer!”

“You demand?” said the prince. “Demand? I think, my dear, you had best understand your new place in life very quickly. You do not have the right to demand anything. You now have no rights at all. You are now my property. From the moment you stepped into my coach you became my property, but you needn’t fear that I shall mistreat you. I am sending you to my slave-breeding farm in the Crimea where you will become the foremost mate of one of my two best stud slaves. I expect you to produce some beautiful children for me.”

More angry than frightened, Miranda burst out, “Are you mad?! I am Lady Miranda Dunham, wife of Jared Dunham and Mistress of Wyndsong Manor! Do you know who I am? Return me at once to my yacht! I shall make no mention of this, for surely you are drunk, sir.” She cried out with shock and pain as cruel fingers closed about her wrist.

Pinioning her with one arm, the prince clapped a sweet-scented cloth over her nose and mouth. Miranda struggled wildly, opening her mouth to scream. But she was unable to scream because her lungs were filled with the burning, sickening sweetness. The prince’s grip was unbreakable, and though she fought madly to escape the englufing blackness, it reached up with unrelenting fingers and pulled her down into its dark whirlpool.

The coach picked up speed as it left the main part of the city and entered the suburbs. Soon the prince’s carriage entered a forest and traveled a little-used road until it finally stopped before a small house. Sasha carried the unconscious woman into the house. The prince followed him, and stared with genuine pleasure at his victim, now motionless on the bed.

“St. Basil!” he swore. “She’s even lovelier than we could see
from a distance. Look at that coloring, Sasha! The rose in her cheeks, the faint violet shadows above her eyes.” He bent, gently drew the pins from Miranda’s hair, and pulled her pale-gold mane down, fingering its texture. “Feel it, Sasha! It is like thistledown.”

Sasha bent to take a handful of Miranda’s hair between his fingers, marveling at its softness. “She is a true aristocrat, master. What did she say when you told her her fate?”

Prince Cherkessky shrugged. “Some nonsense about being the wife of Jared Dunham. It matters not.”

Sasha looked troubled. “Beloved Highness,” he said, “I think I would believe her. Look at her! She is an angel, and your mistress is the Devil’s daughter herself. I think the Lady Gillian revenges herself on Lord Dunham for having married this beauty rather than her. Let us return the lady to her people. It can be done discreetly.”

“
No!
Dammit, Sasha. I have sought a woman like this for three years now, and she is more perfect than I dared to hope! I will not return her. I am denying even myself the pleasure of her body in order to breed her with Lucas as quickly as possible. Here now, help me undress her. I will need her clothes to take back with me.”

Together the two men stripped off Miranda’s fashionable green-and-white-striped muslin morning gown, her petticoat, vest, and lace-trimmed drawers. The prince removed her black slippers while Sasha rolled off her white silk stockings. For a moment they stared at their nude victim, and Sasha said softly, “How very beautiful she is. Look how fine her bone structure is, master. Though her legs are long they are perfectly proportioned.”

The prince reached out and cupped one of Miranda’s breasts, sighing, “Oh, how I deny myself, Sasha! You know that I always sample the merchandise for the farm, but I must not contaminate this particular slave’s womb with my dark seed.”

“You are a good master,” murmured Sasha, falling lightly on his knees, putting his arms about the prince and nuzzling at his distended groin. “Give me your permission, oh beloved Highness,” he begged. “Let Sasha please you. Was I not born and raised to do so? Have I not always been your one true love?”

Prince Alexei Cherkessky gently stroked the dark curly head.

“You have permission, my darling Sasha,” he murmured as he abandoned himself to the sweet pleasure his serf always gave him. Several minutes later, the sexual tension gone from his body, he was all business again. They dressed Miranda in the skirt, petticoats, blouse, and felt boots of a well-cared-for serf. Silently Sasha braided her long hair, tying the ends with bits of colored wool. Then they carried her back outside and settled her in the coach. The prince caught a glimpse of gold on Miranda’s hand, and swore lightly. “St. Basil! Her jewelry! I almost forgot.” He pulled the rings from her fingers, and the earrings from her ears. “Anything else?” he questioned Sasha.

“There was a cameo pin on her gown, but that’s all,” came the reply.

“Get some water from the well, Sasha,” commanded the prince. “If we are going to keep your passenger quiet it is time we administered the first dose of tincture of opium. She is beginning to stir.” The prince mixed the water and the brownish tincture in a small silver cup. Then the two men climbed into the coach, and while Sasha helped the barely conscious Miranda to a half-sitting position the prince carefully forced the liquid down her throat. She gulped the cold liquid eagerly, soothing her throat. Her brain was fuzzy, and before she could piece things together she was sinking back into the comforting darkness.

Down the narrow forest road came an elegant phaeton. “Good!” said the prince. “Boris Ivanovich is right on time. Now listen to me, Sasha. I want you to drive straight through to the Crimea without any layovers. Do whatever you have to do to relieve yourself, eat while the horses are being changed. I want her on the farm within two weeks. Rest her up a few days after you arrive, and then breed her. Remember, the longer it takes, the longer we will be separated, my dearest Sasha.”

“Must I stay until she delivers a child? Can I not come back while she is pregnant as long as I’m back for her confinement.”

“No,” said the prince firmly. “I do not want to take any chances with her. She is much too valuable a slave, Sasha. Keep her in the house wth you, for I don’t want her in the quarters with the other women. She is not like them, and those damned peasant sows could hurt her. Give her whatever she wants—within reason—to keep her happy.”

Sasha gazed lovingly at his prince, then catching his master’s
hands up he covered them with kisses. “We have never before been separated, my beloved master. Each day away from you shall be an eternity.”

“You are the only one I can trust to do this for me, dearest Sasha,” said the prince.

Sasha kissed the prince’s hands once more and then climbed out and carried Miranda into the other coach. It began moving as soon as he had closed the door.

Prince Alexei Cherkessky drove himself back to his palace in the city, where Gillian was waiting for him.

“Where have you been?” she pouted. As usual she was wearing a sheer silk gown that left nothing to the imagination.

In answer he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his cruel mouth forcing hers open. Quickly inflamed, she responded ardently, pressing her voluptuous body against him, taking pleasure from the pain the gold buttons of his uniform inflicted on her soft flesh, from the pain his hands inflicted as they crushed her buttocks. He pushed her onto a settee and, kneeling before her, sought the sweetness between her open legs, his knowledgeable tongue wreaking havoc, biting at her little love button until she screamed with delight. Then as swiftly as he had begun his attack he stopped, standing up and straightening his tunic.

For a moment she lay panting with disbelief, then she swore at him, “You bastard! Don’t leave me hanging!”

He laughed cruelly. “Tonight,
douceka
. I’m saving myself for tonight. I have a special treat for you, one you’ve never experienced, and will never, I promise you, experience again. You can finish yourself now. Go ahead. I like watching you when you do it to yourself.”

“Rotten bastard!” she snarled, but her fingers were already busily working her aching flesh. It was never the same as with a real man, but she had to do something or explode with the longing.

Prince Cherkessky lit a thin black cheroot, and sat back to watch his mistress as she writhed before him. She was probably the most insatiable female he’d ever met. She would do anything he wanted, and always with gusto. He would miss that, but she was too dangerous to keep around any longer. He knew she hoped to blackmail him into marriage, but he had no intention of making a highbred English whore who spied for Napoleon
against her own country the next Princess Cherkessky. That honor was being reserved for a young cousin of the Tzar’s, Princess Tatiania Romanova, and unknown to everyone in St. Petersburg society except his future in-laws, the engagement would be announced next month on Tatiania’s seventeenth birthday, the wedding to take place the following month.

Of course, he had to tie up some loose ends. Sasha was one, but he was safely on his way to the farm. Eventually, thought the prince, I will write him about Tatiania, but I cannot allow him to come back until she has given me several children. Sasha may be the only person I truly care for, but he cannot give me children to insure the continuation of my family.

A moan from Gillian penetrated his thoughts, and he focused his glance on her again, watching her face with interest as she climaxed. “Very nice, my dear!” he said. “Now I shall reward you by telling you where I have been today. I arranged for your former rival to travel south with Sasha. They are already well on their way.”

“Alexei!” Gillian flung herself into his arms. “Oh, I do adore you!”

He smiled thinly. “I am pleased to make you so happy so easily,” the prince said. “Go and bathe yourself in preparation for our evening together, my dear.”