Whitefire (31 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
Strong arms encircled her more tightly as she felt the rippling muscles beneath the broad expanse of his back. Her tone was low and throaty as she called his name over and over, bringing her lips to meet his, searing and scorching his very being with her nearness.
Banyen released her for a mere moment, looking deeply into her eyes. A low moan of passion escaped his mouth as he tore at her, his lips searching and hungry for her sweetness. His hold became tighter and tighter; Katerina clung to him, reveling in the feel of him, cherishing this moment of time, remembering it, burning it into her very soul. She knew without a doubt that this Mongol would love her and cherish her for all eternity.
She stirred slightly, moving her head from the hollow in his neck, and reached up a slender finger to trace the outline of his oblique eye, her own eyes moist and full of love. Gently she traced the deep-ridged scar before she brought her lips to meet his, her long, slender body straining toward him.
Katerina knew in that one sweet kiss that she could never belong to anyone save Banyen. Without doubt, without reservation, she gave herself to him.
Spent, they lay in each other's arms. Quiet, rapturous words were whispered, words that only lovers use.
Banyen lay studying her beneath hooded, slanted eyes. She was beautiful, more beautiful than he could ever have imagined.
Katerina moaned, delighting in his touch, feeling him against her, aware of the comforting weight of him. He twined his fingers through her hair and lifted it off her neck and shoulders as she suddenly realized the stroking she felt were kisses, warm and moist across her shoulders and the nape of her neck. A barely audible groan escaped his lips as he brought his head to the curve of her throat.
Drawing in her breath, Katerina turned, encircling him in her arms, offering her mouth. She felt his powerful hands in her hair, his lips burning hers. She drew his head gently into the cradle of her hands and lowered it to her breasts, her body arched beneath him. She needed him, wanted him, as she was sure no woman had ever wanted a man.
When he pulled away from her, she clung to him, forcing him back with her passion-filled lips, gentling away his reserve and hers with bold, intuitive caresses of her tongue.
Banyen's mouth was on her throat, her breasts, drawing moans from somewhere deep within her soul. Her senses soared, making her lightheaded with passion, bringing her to the borders of lust, as she answered his caresses with her endearing embraces, responding to his kisses with animal passion she had never dreamed she possessed. She sought for and found the most rapturous caress, reveling in the pleasure she gave him.
Banyen rejoiced to find his passion matched by hers, delighting in her moans of exquisite joy as her body welcomed his.
White flames of passion raced through her veins as she sought to extinguish the scorching fire engulfing her.
“Have me, have me now!” she urged.
Banyen moved his head slightly to stare down into her eyes. Her words were softer than the muted sounds of the sparks in the fire, echoing in the fullness of his heart, filling him with fierce protectiveness toward her that left him gasping for breath. He had never heard the words spoken before. An ever-surging tide of ecstasy swept over him as he once again crushed her to him, mouthing the words aloud that she wanted to hear, needed to hear. She was his, now and forever more.
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As the heavy snow continued to fall, word came by falcon from the village of Kisinev that Ivan's madness had worsened. The word spreading throughout Russia told of Ivan wandering through the palace howling so loudly his cries were audible to people outside.
Several weeks later, a second message arrived that read:
Czar Ivan forsakes Christianity, seeking comfort in the prophesies of witches and magicians who were brought to Moscow from the far north where paganism still flourishes.
The last message received in the fortress read:
The peoples of Russia say each day Czar Ivan commands his servants to carry him, sitting in a chair, to his treasury. While his attendants stand and watch, he plucks jewels from their coffers and puts them against his skin. Ivan fancies the jewels change color, proving that he was “poisoned with disease.”
Katerina turned to Mikhailo. “I understand the Czar still has moments of rational thinking. If he were completely insane, the boyars would have taken over his rule.”
“You're right, Katerina, the man is mad, but still strong enough to rule. We all know his days are numbered,” Mikhailo said dourly.
Chapter 20
T
he days that followed were happy days for Katerina. The men were honed as sharp as a razor's edge. They were indeed Cossacks to be proud of. Happiness radiated from her whole being. Just being in the same room with Banyen, meeting his warm gaze, was all she needed to complete her joy. Passion-filled nights were sweet at the end of a long, hard-working day. She cherished the warm, tousled look of the man next to her on awakening. There was no one in the whole world that was more exultant than she was unless it was Banyen, she told herself. He, too, took on a fine-honed look. His mocking arrogance was gone, in its place a fierce protectiveness to Katerina and all in general.
he days that followed were happy days for Katerina. The men were honed as sharp as a razor's edge. They were indeed Cossacks to be proud of. Happiness radiated from her whole being. Just being in the same room with Banyen, meeting his warm gaze, was all she needed to complete her joy. Passion-filled nights were sweet at the end of a long, hard-working day. She cherished the warm, tousled look of the man next to her on awakening. There was no one in the whole world that was more exultant than she was unless it was Banyen, she told herself. He, too, took on a fine-honed look. His mocking arrogance was gone, in its place a fierce protectiveness to Katerina and all in general.
Banyen watched his men, a smile on his face. He was proud of them. Totally untrained when they arrived at the fortress less than six months ago, now they were efficient soldiers he would be proud to fight with and serve with. He told himself he was a happy man. There was nothing he lacked. His eyes swiveled to where Katerina stood next to Mikhailo. His deep scrutiny made Katerina aware of him, and she looked up and smiled sweetly. How he loved her! Six months ago he would have laughed if someone had told him he would love a Cossack woman, a woman who wore men's clothes and looked like an angel. He blinked and turned from her silent gaze, his loins taking on an ache only she could quell. Was it only hours ago he had felt her next to him, her head cradled against his bare chest? It seemed like an eternity. He wished it were night so he could gather her close to him near the fire and make love to her. A love that she returned with every fiber in her body.
Another week and he would leave this vast fortress. The feeling saddened him, and a light film settled over the agate eyes. What would he do without her? How would he get through the days, and what was he going to tell the Khan? The truth, of course. She would wait for him, she promised. She said there were things they both had to do, and until their lives were straightened out they must make the best of it. A vision of her lying dead on some endless plain rose to haunt him. What she intended was for men, not women; not his woman. He understood and knew there was nothing he could do to stop her. She had to do what she had to do, just as he did. She said she understood, and he could do no less. Would he ever see her again once he left? What would life be like without her? His stomach lurched, and he forced himself into a false calmness. It would work out, it had to. Rarely did one find happiness such as his, and when one did, one treasured it.
A week. Seven days.
His thoughts suddenly turned to the princess and his intention of seeking her out and talking with her about Ivan. Somehow he had become lax, his thoughts only of Katerina. He would do it the first chance he got. He needed all the information he could get on Czar Ivan. The princess was the only one he knew who had left Moscow recently. Her information, whatever it was, would be the most recent. Katerina had told him of Halya's search and her love for Kostya. He was happy for the prisoner. Now he could understand what had kept him alive.
With two days to go till Banyen's departure, Katerina's eyes took on a haunted look, and her body trembled and tears burned at her eyes. What was she to do without him? She wanted to run, seek him out, throw herself into his arms and tell him the horses didn't matter, nothing mattered except being with him. She did nothing but look at him longingly and cry in his arms at what their parting would mean.
Over and over Banyen promised his return and a full, happy life, telling her he wanted a dozen female children, all to look like her.
On the eve of the departure of Banyen and his Mongols, Katerina instructed Hanna, the cook, to prepare a feast to be served in the arena. Mikhailo was to see to the tables and the music. She would be generous and allow the princess to attend and sit next to Kostya. They deserved this special occasion. Not once had either one of them complained of their separation, abiding by the bargain they had made.
As the hour of the feast approached, Katerina raced to the kitchen, imploring Hanna to help her with her dress. “It hangs here and there,” she cried frantically. “You know I am all thumbs with a needle, you must do it for me now. The meat can cook itself.”
Deftly Hanna pinned, tucked, and sewed, and an hour later she had the bronze-colored gown fitted on Katerina's slim body. She shook her old head and wished she were fifty years younger. The girl was beautiful, and would turn more than one head. The old cook pursed her mouth and told Katerina she was more lovely than the princess would ever be.
Katerina laughed delightedly as she poked her head into her wardrobe and withdrew the soft silken slippers that matched the gown. Was it only a year since she last wore the garments and shoes that rested in the depths of the cupboard? Momentarily tears glistened in her eyes as she remembered the formal evening meals in the great dining hall, where her father and grandfather dressed in traditional Cossack uniforms. What would Banyen think? He had never seen her in a gown before. Would he like her? She surveyed herself in the long mirror, turning slowly to see how the gown swirled around her feet. She knew she looked well, the low cut of the bodice showing off her tawny shoulders and the swell of her full, round breasts. The long, full sleeves, gathered together at mid-arm, fell in soft graceful folds at her wrists, accentuating her long, slender hands.
“My hair, what should I do with my hair?” Katerina squealed. “I can't let it just . . . hang. Hanna,” she pleaded, “do something.”
Hanna sighed and worked industriously with the long-handled brush, swirling and pinning until she had the effect she wanted. Wispy fringes of the coppery hair framed Katerina's face becomingly, while the wealth of her hair was set into deep curls, one cluster draped over her bare shoulder.
“Pinch your cheeks for color,” Hanna gurgled, “and you will stir every man into a frenzy.” Katerina hugged the old cook, making her laugh as she struggled from the girl's tight grip. Her iron-gray hair, pulled back into a tight knot, freed itself from its pins and tumbled down to her waist. Her bright gaze was merry as her round body shook with happiness for Katerina. She had never seen her so happy or so beautiful.
“Wait, wait, tell me, what are you serving for our feast?” Katerina called excitedly.
Hanna pretended forgetfulness. “Black bread and jam. Silly girl, I'm preparing just what you told me to prepare. Roast lamb and duck, three vegetables from the winter cellar, and fresh popovers with honey and jam. Boiled potatoes in butter with herbs and spices, seasoned the way you like it, and a soupâbarley with carrots and cabbage. Rice pudding with raisins for a sweet. Wine and vodka till the jugs are empty. Does it meet with your approval?” She laughed.
“But of course. Did you cook enough? Will there be enough for the men to eat as much as they want? Training is over, and this is a day I want them to remember.”
“They can eat until the moon is high and still there will be food left for another feast. There is no cause for worry. Mikhailo tells me the men are bathing and dressing in their best, which was laundered by me days ago.”
“Do I need a jewel?” Katerina shrugged. “What if I did, I have none,” she said, her eyes dancing. “I can barely contain myself, Hanna.”
“I noticed,” the old woman said tartly. “Rest now, so that you are not tired when the feast begins. A little sleep,” she coaxed, “like when you were a child.”
“Very well.” Katerina acquiesced for the old woman's benefit, but she knew she would never be able to sleep. All she could think of was Banyen and the look in his eyes when he saw her in the bronze gown.
The raucous shouts and the sounds of merrymaking ceased when Katerina and Halya made their entrance. For the first time in her life Katerina felt beautiful, and the men's looks of approval proved it to her. Her eyes immediately sought out Banyen's, and she felt a warm glow spread through her as his dark blue eyes softened and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She wanted to run to him and throw herself into his arms, but instead she seated herself next to Mikhailo and Halya.
“Katerina,” Halya whispered, “what is the matter with Kostya? He looks ill to me. Is something wrong, is there something you aren't telling me? Even from here I can see the flush on his face, and it isn't because I'm in the same room. He looks ill to me,” she said fearfully.
Katerina stared across the room and felt frightened at Kostya's reddened complexion. “Perhaps a small fever, he could have become chilled. I'll have Mikhailo see to it,” she said. She beckoned Mikhailo and whispered in his ear, cautioning him to be discreet when he spoke with Kostya.
“Do you have medicines here in this fortress?” Halya demanded harshly, her lips trembling, her eyes fearful.
“Of course we have medicines here in the fortress. Mikhailo is as good as any physician. He can even pull teeth with little pain to the patient,” Katerina said confidently. “You must not show your alarm to the others. I'm sure it's nothing more than a small temperature that will abate by morning. Kostya has been working hard, and I'm sure the reason is that with his strenuous work he could put you from his thoughts. It's his way of making the days go faster. Nothing is going to happen to him, I give you my word.”
The princess nodded, but the look of worry did not leave her face. She nibbled at her food and refused to take her eyes from Kostya.
Mikhailo returned to the table and bent over to whisper in Katerina's ear. “The man is ill. Not only does he have a raging fever, but chills also rack his body. He refuses to leave until the meal is over. He agreed to bed down in the kitchen, where it is warm. I told him I would tend him and that it was best he remove himself from the others so he does not infect them with his illness. A day or two and he'll be on the mend,” he said, a ring of confidence in his voice.
“The best time for you to take him to the kitchen will be when Stepan begins playing his fiddle. By then the men will have much vodka in them and they won't notice his departure. Tell Kostya that later the princess will come to sit by his side.”
Halya nodded her thanks when Katerina explained what Mikhailo had said.
Katerina pushed thoughts of Kostya and his illness from her mind. Nothing could spoil this last evening with Banyen. God alone knew when she would see him again. Impatiently she waited for the meal to be over with so she could sit next to Banyen when Stepan began to play. Her eyes sought out Banyen's, and she smiled, her whole face alight with happiness at just knowing he was in the same room. Don't let anything spoil this night, she prayed silently.
As soon as Hanna and several of the elderly Cossacks who lived in the fortress cleared the table, Stepan, resplendent in his full Cossack uniform, walked to the center of the arena and brought his fiddle to his chin and began to play a rousing Cossack song. The men stomped and stamped their feet, their hands clapping wildly. Out of the corner of her eye Katerina watched Mikhailo and Kostya leave the room. A sigh of relief escaped her as she noticed that no one paid any attention to the two men's departure, everyone busy singing and dancing in accompaniment with the music.
Banyen excused himself to his men, who paid him no heed, and worked his way among the laughing, shouting men, who were demanding that Stepan play louder. He stood looking down at Katerina, who smiled into his eyes. He seated himself in Mikhailo's chair and immediately searched for Katerina's hand beneath the tablecloth. He leaned over slightly and spoke softly. “This night is ours. In all of Russia there is none more beautiful than you.”
Katerina forced her voice to remain calm, but there was nothing she could do to still the trembling in her body. “You'll be gone from here and from me by sun-up tomorrow. I don't know when I'll see you again.” Impulsively she tightened her grip on his hand and stared into his eyes. “Don't go, Banyen. Please don't go.”
Banyen's heart pounded in his chest. “I have to go to Sibir, you know that. There is nothing on this earth that could keep me from returning to you. I'll come back to you, you have my promise. I couldn't live without you,” he said tenderly.
Tears misted in Katerina's eyes. She had heard those same words once before, a long time ago. Yuri spoke them to her when he left Volin, and now he was dead. Dead by her hand. A deep shudder ripped through her body at the thought, and Banyen felt saddened. How he loved her. What else could he say to her? How could he prove to her that he would return? It always came down to words. Words he did not know how to string together. Surely she understood his feelings. Didn't actions speak louder than words? “I love you, for now, for forever more,” he said huskily.
Katerina's amber eyes glistened with tears. “I know, I understand; it's just that I'm acting like a female. You are my life,” she whispered.
“If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'll drag you by the hair from this arena and then what will the men think?” he teased.
Katerina shrugged. “Who cares? I only care about you. Tonight I don't even care about the Cosars, just you.”
“We must talk of other things or I'll carry you from here. Tell me, what is wrong with Kostya? He looked sick to me when we entered the arena this evening. Where did your man take him?”
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