Love Became Theirs (16 page)

Slowly Peter released the man's coat.

Mr. Trafford pulled the door shut and the carriage rumbled away.

"Count Rostoy," said the Earl. "Thank goodness she's safe."

"Is she safe?" demanded Peter. "Doesn't it occur to you that if he rescued her in Paris he had time enough to return her to us? It was many hours ago."

"Peter, for pity's sake, what are you saying? She went to him as a friend. He'll protect her."

"Then why hadn't he brought her home when we left? Or sent us a message to say she was safe?"

The Earl paled.

"You don't think – ? But he seems such a decent fellow, and he wouldn't risk a scandal, surely?"

"He wouldn't care. He isn't planning to be in Paris long. He's not a decent fellow, Giles. He plays the buffoon, but he's actually one of the most dangerous men in Europe."

Peter vaulted onto his horse.

"Come on," he called to the others. "We haven't a moment to lose."

At first there was nothing to alarm Rona. When she asked Alexei why he wasn't taking her straight back to the Thierres' house he replied,

"That man who kidnapped you – "

"My father – "

"Yes, your father. He may return there and try to seize you again. It's better if I take you to my home and send them a message."

It made sense. She preferred to be in a place that her father did not know about.

She knew that Alexei and Emilia lived in a large, expensive hotel, but instead of heading there he took her into streets she had never heard of.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To a place where you will be safe," he replied.

The house, when they reached it, was small and shabby. Rona was puzzled, but not yet worried.

"You can rest here," Alexei said, leading her inside, "while I send a message to your friends. Why don't you lie down. You've had a bad shock. The maid will bring you some tea."

He gave her into the hands of a middle-aged maid, who showed her upstairs to a small bedroom. It was shabby but neat and clean, and a few minutes later the maid brought tea, as Alexei had promised.

It was when she had drunk the tea that Rona began to sense something wrong. Almost at once her head began to swim. The room seemed to advance and retreat around her and darkness crept over her senses. Her last conscious thought was that she had walked out of one trap into another.

When she woke she was alone. Through the window she could see that the light had faded, meaning that some hours had passed since she had been brought here and drugged.

But why? She thought frantically.

She knew why her father had kidnapped her, but why had Alexei done this? She had regarded him as a friend.

She got to her feet, feeling light headed but apart from that, well enough, and made her way to the door. As she had half expected, it was locked.

But almost as soon as she had sat down again there was a noise outside, the door opened, and Emilia came in.

"What does all this mean?" Rona asked. "Why have you brought me here?"

The beautiful Russian shrugged.

"It's a little sooner than Alexei and I had intended, but no matter. You fell into our hands, and in our trade you can't overlook your opportunities."

"Your – trade? What is that?"

"Come, don't play ignorant with me. We're in the same trade. You virtually admitted it that day we met in the gown shop. 'I am no governess, however it may look.' Those were your words. You made the mistake of getting angry, and anger loosens the tongue."

Rona was on the verge of saying that she had been talking about her flight from her father, when something held her back. There was a mystery here, and this woman thought she already knew it. That meant she could be tempted into talking. Rona took a long, slow breath.

"How incautious of me," she said lightly. "Otherwise I don't believe you would have ever seen through me."

Emilia nodded.

"Not for a while, at any rate. You're good at your job, I'll give you that. Our Embassy in London sent a message to say that British Intelligence had put one of its best operatives on to us, but couldn't tell us who it was. We've been trapped here in Paris while we waited to get our hands on the other half, watching every step, always wondering who knew our secret."

"Well," said Rona with a smile, "now you know it was me."

It was like fencing in the dark, feint and parry, trying to see behind her enemy's eyes. But she was learning many things. And now, incredibly, she thought she understood the secret that Peter could never tell.

"I always felt there was something suspicious about you," said Emilia. "My husband disagreed."

Just in time Rona stopped herself saying "your husband?"

Of course. It was growing clearer by the minute.

She managed to shrug and say casually,

"By 'your husband', of course, you mean Alexei. That was always fairly obvious. You weren't as clever as you thought."

Emilia's face darkened. "Don't make the mistake of sneering at me."

"Good heavens, why not? You haven't been very clever from start to finish. Only a fool would have been taken in by that brother and sister act."

Emilia regarded her.

"So you knew Alexei was married all the time you were making eyes at him?"

"In this business we all have our own methods," Rona said with a smile that was calculated to infuriate the other woman.

By the sudden hardening of Emilia's face she guessed she had succeeded.

"Peter was taken in," Emilia snapped.

Rona's shrug was a masterpiece of indifference. Part of her was afraid, but another part was full of a thrilling excitement. Now the pieces were falling into place one by one, and she knew almost everything.

"What does Peter matter?" she asked. "I wasn't taken in by it."

"I'm not sure how much Peter does matter," Emilia said, considering. "Alexei has always thought that he was the operative who was after us."

"Oh no," said Rona quickly. "Not him. Me. Your instincts are better than Alexei's."

"Unless, of course, you're both working for British Intelligence."

Rona's heart was beating urgently, but she managed to appear calm as she shook her head.

"Really," she said. "To suggest that I need his help is practically an insult. Two of us would be quite needless."

Emilia nodded. "Yes, while we have you, there's no need to search further."

"So, that just leaves the problem of 'the other half'," Rona said, taking up the phrase Emilia had used before, although she had no idea what it meant. "I imagine you've taken care of that by now."

"Oh yes, but only since this morning. We're ready to leave for Russia as soon as it gets dark."

"And me?"

"Why, you'll come with us, of course. There are people in St. Petersburg who will be eager to talk to you."

"But suppose I don't wish to talk to them?"

"You will – in the end. They will persuade you."

Rona refused to reply to this, but fear was curling inside her. They could take her away to Russia, where she would come to a miserable end, and nobody would ever know.

How would the Earl and Peter know where to look for her? If they ever guessed the truth, it would be too late.

But he would be safe. She would cling to that thought. She would die, if necessary, clinging to the thought of his safety.

"I'll get you something to eat," said Emilia.

"No thank you. I'm not falling for that again."

"But I think you should have something."

Emilia vanished, locking the door.

Alone, Rona began to study the room more closely. There was one window through which she could see a garden with trees.

As she had expected, the window was locked, but the wood was old and rotten. Taking a deep breath, she aimed a punch at the frame and the wood splintered, taking the lock with it. Now she could push open the window and see out further.

As evening drew on the light was fading, but she could just make out dark shapes under the trees. Evidently the sound of the window breaking had alerted them for they were looking up.

Rona bit back a cry of joy as she recognised Peter's face. Behind him there were several other figures.

Swiftly Peter put a finger to his lips. Then he began to climb the tree nearest the wall until he was opposite the window. Rona pushed open the other side to give him the biggest possible way in, but it was still going to be tight.

Neither did the tree come quite close enough to be useful. Peter inched along the branch as far as he could, but when he reached out, his hand still came a few inches short of the wall. The most he could manage was to stretch out his leg until his foot fitted onto the window sill.

Rona leaned out to him.

"Hurry," she said. "They must have heard the noise. Take my hand."

With one hand she steadied herself against the wall while the other hand reached out to him. He grasped it.

"Now," he said and launched himself forward.

At the same moment Rona threw herself back, pushing against the wall with her other hand, so that their combined momentum hurled him through the window.

They landed on the floor together, breathing hard but triumphant.

"They must have heard us," she said.

"Have they hurt you?" he demanded, taking hold of her and looking anxiously into her face.

"No, just a drugged cup of tea which I've slept off. But they plan to move out tonight, taking me with them. They think I'm working for British Intelligence, but it's you, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I'll never forgive myself for letting you run into danger, but I never thought of anything like this. Why does Emilia think it's you?"

"Some trivial remark which she misunderstood. Listen, someone's coming."

There were footsteps on the stair. They both got to their feet and Peter positioned himself behind the door. The next moment Emilia unlocked the door and marched in.

"What was – ?"

She had no time to say more. In what seemed to be one movement Peter seized her from behind, tossed her onto the bed, grabbed Rona's hand and pulled her through the door, which he locked behind them.

"Now, let's get you out of here," he said.

"I think not," came a voice from below.

Downstairs in the hall stood Count Alexei, smiling from behind his moustache, as always. But now there was something different about his smile. There was no humour, only bared teeth. And in his hand was a wicked looking pistol.

From the front door behind him came the sound of pounding and shouts. The locked door shook under the thundering fists.

"Come down," said Alexei. "Both of you."

"You have nowhere to go," Peter told him. "Listen to that noise. Do you think they'll let you go?"

Alexei's genial mask had fallen away leaving behind the man's true face, cold, deadly. His eyes, which had always seemed full of humour, were blank.

"What they allow me to do, and what I do are two different things," he said. "Come down. Her first." With the pistol he indicated Rona.

What happened next was too fast for her to follow. She felt Peter move, shielding her with his body and pushing her violently so that she fell to the floor. In the same moment the front door crashed in and the Earl, Henri and Marcel streamed into the hall, reaching out to grab Alexei.

But he was too fast for them. Raising his arm he fired high on the stairs.

There was a deafening explosion. Peter staggered,

clutching his shoulder, then fell and rolled to the bottom of the stairs.

Rona screamed.

"Oh God! Peter – Peter – !"

The next moment she was flying down the stairs to fall on her knees beside his still form.

"No," she wept. "No – please – no!"

His eyes were closed, his face deathly white.

"Peter," she whispered. "Peter, my love. Don't leave me. I love you so much."

Henri and Marcel hurled Alexei to the floor, disarmed him and tied his hands.

Still Peter did not move. Oblivious of all others, Rona raised his bleeding form in her arms and cradled it against her in a passion of grief.

It couldn't happen, she thought wildly. How could God be so cruel?

"Peter, Peter," she whispered in agony, rocking him back and forth.

She looked up, choking back her tears.

"He's still alive," she said. "For pity's sake, get a doctor. Oh Peter, Peter – please God, no!"

Unseen, the Earl turned away, hiding his face in his hands.

Rona was never able to sort out the details of what happened then. Not only the Thierre sons but Monsieur Thierre himself and two hefty servants were there. One went for a doctor and one for the Chief of Police, who was a good friend of Monsieur Thierre, and accepted his explanation about the Russians.

"They are spies, wanted both here and in England. Keep them safe and the appropriate authorities will be in touch with you. With any luck you should get a medal."

By the time Emilia and Alexei had been hauled away, the doctor was examining Peter's wound.

"High up on the shoulder," he said. "But it missed the lung, or he wouldn't be alive."

"Will he live?" asked the Earl tensely.

"I believe so, with proper care. But he can't stay here."

"My carriage is outside," said Monsieur Thierre. "I took the precaution of bringing it to take Rona home. Now we will take Peter."

"He must be kept warm," said the doctor.

Rona sped upstairs for blankets. The Earl took some from her and together they wrapped Peter in them. Despite the doctor's reassuring words, his face was a frightening colour. Rona kept her terrified eyes fixed on him, only closing them for a brief moment of prayer.

"Please," she begged, "Please – "

When she opened her eyes she thought the Earl was watching her, but he looked away so quickly that she could not be sure.

The carriage driver drove carefully, so as not to jolt the wounded man, yet Rona's nails ground into her palms at the slowness. Peter needed a warm bed and nursing.

"We're nearly there," said the Earl. "Don't worry, my dear. All will be well."

Madame Thierre was waiting for them at the house, all motherly concern. The doctor came in and got to work on Peter, replacing the hasty dressing that he had put on to staunch the blood with something more permanent. He administered some medicine which he said would help to prevent fever, and departed, promising to come again in the morning.