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Authors: Countess In Buckskin

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“Nor I, Helena. Nor I.”
“To think that he would sail away like that, without a word to you.”
“It is not the first time I misjudged a man,” Tatiana admitted with only the faintest trace of bitterness. She could blame no one but herself for her folly, after all. “But it shall be the last.”
“How so?”
Tossing aside the bits of green, she lifted her chin. “I’m going to marry Mikhail.”
“What do you say?”
“I’m going to marry Mikhail.”
“But...but...”
“I will hear no buts. I’ve made up my mind.”
“Tatiana! He’s only a clerk!”
“He is the second son of an admiral of the Imperial Fleet,” she returned. “And what was Alexander when you married him, Princess?”
“All right, all right. I concede the point. What matters more is that Mikhail’s but a lovesick boy! He has not the nerve to brush your hand with his lips, let alone untie your chemise and kiss you where a woman aches to be kissed.”
“I shall instruct him in the matter.”
“No, no, it will not do.” Dismayed, Helena took her by the shoulders. “You need a man, my friend. A man with the strength to match yours.”
“They seem to be in short supply.”
The princess opened her mouth, then shut it. She had no answer to that one. Softening her rigid stance, Tatiana admitted what had kept her awake these many nights.
“What I need is a father for my babe.”
Sympathy poured into Helena’s eyes. “Oh, my friend. You would not be the first woman to bear a child outside the bounds—”
“No!” Tatiana wrapped her arms around her middle. “My babe shall not be born a bastard,” she said fiercely. “If I have nothing else to give my child, I shall give it a birthright without shame. No, I have decided to marry Mikhail, and so I shall inform him.”
Once more, the princess gaped at her. “You’ve decided? You shall inform him? Tatiana, do you mean to tell me that the poor boy knows nothing of this plan of yours?”
“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first, and to solicit Alexander’s assistance in drawing up the marriage contracts. Then I shall tell Mikhail all.”
Perhaps not all, Tatiana amended silently. She’d tell him of the babe, and of the bleak future that awaited them in Russia if her father’s experiment did not make the tsar relent. She’d also tell him of the wealth he stood to gain if, indeed, some or all of her estates were returned to her.
But she would not, could not, tell him of those shameful, wonderful hours in Josiah’s arms.
The anger and hurt that had been building within Tatiana since Robert Ridley’s visit spilled hot and furious through her veins. She turned away from Helena, loath to let even her friend see evidence of her searing pain.
Damn the American! Damn him to a thousand hells! She’d thought...she’d believed...
She blinked back prickly tears. Pah! What did her stupid thoughts matter now? All that mattered was the babe that grew within her each day. She’d felt it move for the first time just yesterday, and the tiny flutter inside her womb had changed all.
No longer would Tatiana wait for someone else to decide her fate. No longer would she place her hope and her foolish,
foolish
heart at risk! She must think not of herself, but of the babe, and plan her future accordingly.
Mikhail was like dough in her hands. He worshiped her. Hung on her every word. Tatiana would see that he didn’t stray from her side, as had Aleksei. Nor would he ride off into the mists, she vowed savagely.
Pulling in a deep, steadying breath, she turned back to her friend. “You must see that this is the best course, Helena. My child shall have a father, and Mikhail will gain much if your uncle returns even the least of my lands.”
“Tatiana, should you not wait? We’ll hear something from my uncle within a few weeks, I’m sure. You know not how he’ll react to the news of your return from the dead, or of what you do here.”
“That’s the reason for my decision! I do not know what the tsar will do! What if he orders my return to Russia? Marriage to another. Someone who refuses to give my child a birthright? No, I dare not wait. Please, my friend, stand by me in this.”
“Of course, I will.” Resolutely the princess banished all trace of doubt from her eyes. “Come, let us find Alexander and set him to work on the marriage contracts. Then you shall inform Mikhail Pulkin that he is to be your husband, and we shall plan a great feast to celebrate the event, yes?”
At first, Alexander adamantly refused to be party to such a hasty marriage. He yielded to Tatiana’s insistence only after much argument and entreaty. His wife’s determined face did much to secure his reluctant support. His pen scratched across sheet after sheet of foolscap while Tatiana dictated the conditions which would best protect Mikhail and her child if their union proceeded.
Contracts in hand, she then sought out her intended groom in his dusty office on the first floor of the warehouse. Mikhail could only gawk in stunned astonishment at the woman who marched in, firmly closed the door and offered marriage to him. Tatiana didn’t spare him the truth of her desperate circumstances or that she carried another’s child.
“Is it...?” He swallowed convulsively. “Did the American...?”
“It matters not who fathered my babe,” she replied stonily. “Once we are wed, you shall be my husband and father to my child.”
Stuttering, stammering, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like a water buoy in a stormy sea, Mikhail accepted the countess’s offer.
 
 
Their marriage took place the following week.
Sweating profusely in his black frock coat and tight white neckcloth, Mikhail stood beside his bride before the chapel’s tall altar screen. Brightly painted icons of the Holy Virgin and a galaxy of saints filled the niches in the wooden screen. Sunlight glittered on the gold and jewels that decorated the icon shields.
In the Russian way, no musical instruments were allowed within the church. Instead, a burly shepherd with the voice of an angel chanted a single melodic line, while a choir of some ten other men added the approved variations. The scent of light, fragrant sandalwood and precious balm of Gilead drifted on the still, hot air.
Baron Rotchev performed the ceremony, which would have to be sanctioned by a priest at the first oppoirtunity. Given the scarcity of priests at the farthest corners of the Russian Empire, such civil ceremonies had long been recognized as legal and binding on both parties.
Tatiana made her vows in a voice ringing with sincerity. “I swear by all that is holy to cleave unto my husband and honor him most faithfully.”
She would! She
would!
Mikhail wet his lips. “I...I, too.”
His boyish face flushed at the ripple of laughter that greeted his squeaky pledge. From behind the glinting screen of his spectacles, his eyes sought Tatiana’s.
She smiled encouragement at him. He swallowed, then took her hand in a damp grip.
“In the presence of God and these witnesses, I swear to cleave unto my wife and treat her with all honor and respect. May God grant us the blessing of many children, and...and soon.”
Tatiana’s throat closed.
He was young and most clumsy, but kind beyond words. After his initial stupefaction at her proposal, he’d sworn over and over again that he would cherish her babe as his own. That was all she had asked of him.
Now he was her husband.
Resolutely Tatiana banished forever the image of a crooked grin and broad, buckskin-clad shoulders.
Not five nights later, those same shoulders came crashing through her bedroom door.
Chapter Fifteen
 
 
J
osh rode up to the gates of Fort Ross in a fever of impatience. Signaling his companions to wait, he reined in his exhausted mount a few yards from the gate and pulled off his hat to allow ease of identification.
“Hey, up there!” he shouted to the sentries in the corner blockhouse. “Open the gate!”
A dim silhouette leaned over the cannon barrel and peered down at the late arrivals. “Who comes?”
“Josiah Jones. I was here a few months ago, during the feast of Saint Somebody.”
A deep chortle drifted through the stillness of the night. “Yes, yes. I remember. You are the American with the so big feet who dances the
hayivka.”
“That’s me,” Josh confirmed dryly. “I have Captain Sutter and some of his men with me.”
“Wait, I shall open the gates.”
The small group dismounted, stretching and using their hats to pound the travel dust from their legs. As he waited with the others, Josh felt the anticipation that had been simmering in his veins this past week come to a fast, bubbling boil. He gripped his mount’s reins in a tight fist and wondered if he’d gone moon loco.
It was late, past midnight. His small party could have stopped earlier at the farm just south of the Russian River, but he’d pressed them to ride on through the darkness. And now Josh stood before the gates of Fort Ross, in a hot shiver at the thought of the dark-haired, violet-eyed woman just a few yards away.
The massive gates creaked open enough for the four travelers to slip inside, then closed again. Josh’s gaze went immediately to the manager’s house nestled against the west wall. He’d expected to find the windows dark and shuttered. Still, disappointment ricocheted through him like a misfired mine ball.
Sutter, too, observed the closed shutters on the house he’d visited so many times before. “I see the baron and his family are abed. I don’t vish to disturb them. We vill hold our business until morning.”
Josh nodded. “I’ll rouse Mikhail Pulkin in the men’s quarters and have him point us to some empty bunks. Thanks for letting us in,” he said to the guard as the travelers started for the stables.
“You are most welcome. But if you seek Mikhail Pulkin, you will not find him in the men’s quarters. He and his wife now occupy the former manager’s quarters, there, above the storehouse.”
Josh swung around. “His wife?”
Obviously the young clerk had been busy since his drunken bacchanal a few months ago.
“Da,”
the sentry replied amiably. “Who would have thought it, that the Countess Karanova would wed our own acting chief clerk.”
Josh went still. Completely, rigidly still. Every muscle in his body seemed to take on a layer of ice.
Oblivious to his listener’s reaction to his news, the guard scratched his beard. “They were wed four...no, five nights ago.”
Josh had no idea how long he might have stood there, as unmoving as a granite outcropping, if the Russian hadn’t sent him a knowing, man-to-man grin.
“You are surprised, no? So were we all, until it became clear why they married so quickly.” His shoulders lifted in a philosophical shrug. “Ah, well, it is good for a woman who carries a child to have a husband, even this so young clerk.”
Josh’s frozen immobility melted in a hot rush. A thousand emotions poured through him. Disbelief. Fury. Jealousy. And overriding all, a searing, single-minded possessiveness that ripped away every layer of civilization and exposed the savage male beneath. Flinging his mount’s reins at the astonished sentry, he spun on one heel and charged across the compound.
The warehouse door slammed back on its hinges. Josh crossed the unlit vestibule in two swift strides and took the narrow wooden stairs to the upper story three at a time. His fist crashed against the door at the top of the stairs.
 
The thunderous pounding jerked Tatiana from a sound sleep. She lurched upright in the bed, clutching the feather-filled counterpane to her chest. On the other side of the great bed, her husband fumbled on the bedside table for his spectacles.
More great, hammering blows slammed against the wooden panel.
“Who is there?” Mikhail called in Russian.
“Open the damned door!”
Tatiana’s jaw dropped. The bellow carried the fury of an enraged bull. She recognized the one who shouted it instantly.
She sat motionless with shock while Mikhail threw aside the coverlet. His nightshirt flapping about his calves, he hurried toward the door. Tatiana found her voice just in time.
“Wait!”
He jumped at her shrill screech and spun around. Spectacles askew, nightcap tilted to one side of his head, he goggled at her.
“Do not open that door!” she cried frantically. “Do not!”
Her order proved unnecessary. The sound of a resounding thud filled the room. Before her horrified eyes, the wooden latch splintered, the door flew open, and Josiah shouldered his way into the room.
He stopped just inside, his chest heaving and murder in his face. Mikhail took an involuntary step back, his whole body jerking.
Josiah ignored him. His lips curled in a feral smile as he spotted Tatiana in the depths of the huge bed.
“How...how dare you enter uninvited like this?” she sputtered.
He started toward her, his eyes hard and glinting. “Oh, I dare. I dare a hell of a lot more than just entering uninvited.”
Instinctively Tatiana shrank back against the ornately carved headboard. Never had she seen him like this. Never had he looked so dangerous.
“Wh...what do you want?” she stammered, clutching the counterpane higher on her chest.
“You,” he snarled.
At his reply, Tatiana’s world seemed to tilt crazily and three things happened all at once.
Josiah yanked the coverlet from her grasp.
She shrieked a protest.
And Mikhail launched himself across the room.
With the agility of a mountain cat, the American spun to meet the attack. Effortlessly he caught the clerk by the throat and raised him to his toes.
“Stop!” Tatiana flung herself out of bed and pounded on his shoulders with both fists. “Stop, Josiah! Do not hurt him!”
In response, he gave the choking clerk a furious shake. Without stopping to think, Tatiana ducked under his arm and dove for his knife. Cursing, the American flung his captive halfway across the room and caught her wrist.
“I warned you once about pulling a knife on me, lady. If that blade clears leather, you’ll regret it.”
For an instant they stood motionless, eyes locked, breath coming hot and fast. Then his gaze dropped to her breasts. Full and ripe under her thin linen nightdress, they gave mute testimony to her body’s changes.
“So it’s true. You’re carrying a child.”
It was a flat statement, not a question. She had no idea how he’d learned about the babe, nor did she care.
“Yes, it is true.”
“Is it mine?”
Her head went back. For the space of a single heartbeat, Tatiana considered lying. She wanted to throw her months of worry in his face. Tell him that she’d slept with half the garrison, any one of whom could have fathered her babe. Shout that she’d married Mikhail because he, at least, was man enough to stay and sleep beside her.
“It is mine,” she spit. “That is all that matters.”
A thundering silence descended, broken seconds later by Mikhail’s thin, high voice.
“If you don’t unhand my wife, I will blow away your head.”
Her stomach lurching, Tatiana looked beyond Josiah to her husband. Mikhail stood with both hands wrapped around the butt of the pistol he kept in a feltlined box on the dresser.
The American didn’t turn. Didn’t even glance over his shoulder at the clerk. His gold-flecked eyes held only Tatiana’s.
“This woman is not your wife,” he stated flatly.
“She’s mine.”
Tatiana’s jaw went slack. Mikhail goggled at them both.
Josiah’s lips curled back in a smile. “I paid the headman of the Hupa tribe the equivalent of six woodpecker scalps and a white deerskin for her. She came with me willingly. By the laws of this land, that makes her mine.”
“Count...Countess!” Mikhail stuttered. “Is this true?”
“Yes, yes, it is true. But...”
Still holding her eyes with his, Josh ruthlessly cut off her protest “You came with me willingly, and you bedded with me willingly. Now you carry my child. I’m claiming you both, here and now.”
The pistol wavered in Mikhail’s hands. His pale eyes sought Tatiana’s.
“Mikhail,” she began desperately. “I...”
She fumbled for the words to explain what could not be explained. Her distress stiffened the youth’s spine. With a loud click, he pulled the hammer back to full cock.
“Take your hands off my wife.”
This time, Josh didn’t dare ignore the threat. He turned, keeping his body between the muzzle and Tatiana. His glance flicked from the pistol to Mikhail’s white, determined face.
Although it went against every raw urge within him, Josh admitted the painful truth.
“Listen to me, you young fool. The only reason I didn’t snap your neck a few moments ago was because you stepped in to care for my woman when I wasn’t here to do it myself. For that, I...”
Tatiana gave a sound that rose to somewhere between an outraged screech and a squawk. She yanked her wrist free, her eyes glittering with fury.
“Do not dare to speak thus of me! I am not your woman. I am nothing to you.”
“The hell you’re not. I told you I’d come back.”
“You said you would come back within six weeks! Three months have passed, and more!”
“I told you in my letter that I’d been delayed.”
“Letter! I had no letter!”
Josh’s anger rose at her revelation. “Damn that puling first secretary!”
“First secretary! Who is this, this first secretary? No, do not tell me! I do not care to know!” Throwing back her head, she unleashed her fury. “Nor do I care why it was that you traveled south, when you told me your way went north? Or why I must learn from a stranger that you sailed away from California? I care only,” she ranted, “why did you not drown on your so
stupid
journey?”
The unmistakable hurt beneath her rage pierced Josh’s own anger as nothing else could have. He had a lot to answer for, he knew. More than she realized. Right now, though, his need to claim her overrode all else.
“I couldn’t drown, Tatiana Grigoria,” he replied with a heroic effort at calm. “I had a promise to keep to you.”
Her hands went to her hips. “Shall I tell you what you may do with your promises, Josiah Jones? You may skin them, and fry them, and stuff them down your throat. And then you may...”
She spit out a Russian phrase he was glad he didn’t understand.
With no other recourse at hand, Josh did what he’d intended to do from the moment he saw the walls of Fort Ross rising in the moonlight. Reaching out, he tumbled her into his arms.
“Hear me out, Tatiana. Please.”
She squirmed indignantly and dug her nails into his forearms, but she didn’t push away. The realization shot through Josh with the same potent kick as the press of her full breasts against his chest. Aching, he speared a hand through the hair at the back of her head and held her still.
“I carried the feel and the scent of you with me every hour I was away.”
“I care not!”
“I’ve dreamed of you like this.”
“I care not, I tell you!”
“Your hair loose. Your mouth ripe. Your body hard against mine.”
“Pah! You do not dream of me. You dream of your beautiful Katerina.”
“Maybe once I did,” he admitted more slowly.
“But now I can’t seem to bring her to mind.”
Her indignant wiggles stilled. Startled, she searched his face. “What do you say?”
“I’m saying that I want you, Tatiana. Only you.”
While the low, gruff words sent a thrill darting straight to her belly, Tatiana had finally learned the lesson of her weak heart.
“Animals want,” she snapped. “Peasants want. Crude, oafish woodsmen want.”
“All right.” His jaw worked. “Maybe it’s something more than want.”
“Oh, so? And what, precisely, is this something?”
He gave a small shake of his head, as though this sentiment he professed to feel for her afforded him little gratification.
“It’s like a fire, deep in the gut. A need to touch you. To know you’re safe. To hear your voice, even when it’s screeching at me like a scalded cat.”

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