Joanna Maitland – His Cavalry Lady (страница 5)

Dominic shook his head, shattering his wandering thoughts. He had no need of the Aikenhead Honours here in Boulogne, on such a straightforward assignment. And he must stop thinking about that girl. She was trying to haunt him and he would not allow it. He had work to do. He still had preparations to make before his first meeting with the Russian Emperor on the morrow. Everything must be exactly right.

He walked smartly back into the Lion d’Or, mounting the stairs two at a time. He must not let his frustrations rule him. She was only a merchant’s daughter after all, no matter how courageous she was. Too high to be a mistress; too low to be a wife. He would soon forget her. Besides, he could barely remember what she looked like. And she had refused to speak to him. She had a low, melodious voice, he was sure, for he had heard her use it to reassure the terrified horses. But, for him, nothing beyond that scream of ‘Non!’ even after he had rescued her from the burning stable.

Not even a word of thanks. Just wide-eyed fear. And flight.

As from the devil himself.

Chapter Two

Alex stood on the dockside in Boulogne and gazed at the sea for the first time in her life. She had tried so hard to imagine what it would be like. She had thought about bigger versions of the many lakes she had seen. She had even tried picturing the steppes covered with water instead of earth. But she had not foreseen the movement. Yes, that seawater was definitely moving. The ships in the harbour were going up and down.

Her stomach lurched in sympathy and she felt a sudden foreboding. She had been overjoyed when she was bidden to join Tsar Alexander on his trip to England. But she sensed she was not going to enjoy this part of the journey one little bit.

In order to divert her mind from the horrors of the heaving sea, Alex at last allowed herself to remember that extraordinary encounter in the blazing stable. Until now she had not dared to think about the man. He had saved her life and she should be grateful to him. She was grateful to him. But when he had addressed her as mademoiselle, she had had no choice but to flee. Without even a word of thanks. He knew her secret and, all unwittingly, he would have betrayed it. She had had no choice.

She could still remember the feel of his half-naked body, lying on top of hers, and rolling them both around to stop the flames from taking hold. He had felt immensely strong. She was small, but she was no lightweight. Yet he had flung her across his shoulder as if she weighed nothing at all. If only she had dared to ask the landlord for his name. She could perhaps have sent him a note—an anonymous note—of thanks. Perhaps even now, she could—

No! She could not! To risk everything just to thank a smoke-blackened French servant? She did not even have the first idea what he really looked like. To seek him out, she would have to betray herself. It would be utter madness. She must force herself to forget the man, the stable and everything that had happened there.

She tried to focus on her mission instead, sternly reminding herself she must speak only French. She was under instructions from the Emperor himself not to disclose that her Scottish mother and her Scottish nurse had given her a perfect command of English. Her task was to listen, and report what she heard, no matter how unimportant it might seem. In other words, she was to spy for the Emperor. To serve Mother Russia.

A Royal Navy barge was coming in to dock. At first, it seemed tiny, and flimsy, against the vastness of the water, but eventually it moored alongside the jetty. Even tied up with ropes, it was still moving up and down. Alex felt ill just looking at it. In a desperate attempt to master her mutinous body and prevent the image of her rescuer from returning to haunt her again, she turned her back on the harbour and began talking to a group of French fishermen about their trade and their catch.

With luck, by the time she had to go on board, she would be back in control.

* * *

Dominic was leaning idly on the rail as the barge made its way into Boulogne harbour and prepared to tie up. He had satisfied himself that everything was in readiness for the Emperor on board the Impregnable. Once he set foot on French soil again, his duty would begin in earnest. He would not have a moment to himself. There would be weeks of banquets, and balls, and speeches and all the endless ceremonial deemed essential for visiting royalty.

It would be exhausting, but he would have to remain vigilant throughout it all, just in case there was some little snippet of intelligence to be gleaned from a drunken officer or an overheard conversation. He would so much rather have been still at Aikenhead Park, even though his mother had been urging him to remarry, as she invariably did when he first arrived home. Though her eyes were always full of love for her firstborn son, she never managed to conceal a faint hint of exasperation with him. To be fair, she had cause. One failed marriage, one long-dead wife and no heir. Not a very good track record for a duke, especially a duke who had a habit of risking his neck on secret Government assignments. Yet in spite of his mother’s hints, the Park always provided Dominic with a peaceful refuge, where he could refresh both mind and body.

That was what he needed in a wife. He could see that now. He had made such a wretched business of it, the first time, allowing himself to be seduced by the façade of Eugenia’s beauty, wit and vivacity. As a companion, she had been aloof and chilly. As a bedmate, she had had the ability to freeze a man’s ardour at ten paces. He would not make that mistake again. His new wife must be a woman of calm and serenity, who would make his home both welcoming and relaxing. A woman whose soft, mellifluous voice would stroke away the cares of the outside world. A woman—

A sudden shiver ran down his spine. From somewhere on the harbour side, he could hear a woman’s voice, speaking educated French in just the low, musical tone that he had been imagining. Just like the voice of that girl in the stable. Was she really there? Or was his mind playing tricks?

He scanned the quayside impatiently. He needed to see where she was, to see her face properly at last. The moment the ropes had been secured, he strode down the gangplank. He had to find the owner of that rich and wonderful voice. It was her. It must be.

‘Je vous félicite,’ said the voice. ‘Et je vous remercie, aussi.’

The voice seemed to be coming from among a large group of French fishermen, standing just a few yards from the barge. A Russian officer in uniform was with them, his back towards Dominic. Was the elusive girl there, too, hidden by the Frenchmen’s burly backs?

The officer turned away from the group of fishermen. ‘Au revoir,’ he said, raising his hand in farewell and starting across the quay towards the barge.

Dominic’s stomach clenched in horror. Before he could stop himself, he uttered a savage curse. He was losing his wits! He had been weaving his missish dreams around a voice that belonged to a man!

A tall, dark man in civilian clothes had stepped off the military barge. He looked rather pale, as if he, too, did not enjoy the sea. But he also looked important. He certainly had an air.

Alex saluted him. ‘Captain Alexei Ivanovich Alexandrov, at your service, sir,’ she said smartly, in French.

For a second, the older man looked shocked, but then he returned Alex’s salute with a tiny bow. ‘Calder, appointed as liaison between his Majesty’s Government and your Emperor,’ he replied, in impeccable French. ‘My task is to ensure that his Imperial Majesty’s stay in England is as pleasant and enjoyable as possible. And if anyone in the Emperor’s suite should need assistance, please ensure he asks me. It is precisely why I am here.’

Goodness. He seemed a rather exalted personage to be performing such a relatively menial role. For the moment, however, Alex merely thanked him, as courtesy demanded.

‘Will you please to come out to the Impregnable, Captain?’ Calder indicated a warship at anchor in the bay. ‘You will wish to see where your Emperor is to be housed during the voyage.’ With that, he made his way back on to the barge.

Alex hesitated. Her companion looked remarkably at ease on that flimsy plank of wood, even though it had dipped a little with every step he took. Courage! she told herself. Forward! She stepped on to the plank and marched along it, resolutely ignoring the swaying under her feet. She was an officer of proven courage. What was a little water to her?

Safely on the deck of Impregnable at last, Alex allowed Calder to lead the way down a steep ladder and into a large, light cabin at the stern of the ship. It had been laid out with sumptuous furnishings: gilded furniture, paintings, plate, delicate glassware, and every other comfort that a high-ranking traveller might desire.

The ship moved suddenly, just as Alex turned to close the cabin door behind her. She reached for the latch, missed, and stumbled into a small table alongside.