When We Meet Again (39 page)

"This is damned inconsiderate of the man." Alexei grit his teeth. "He should have been here by now."

"It is extremely bad form to be late for one's own killing," Roman said mildly. "I assume you still intend to kill him?"

"I have not decided yet. Killing him might well cause no end of problems for Miss Effington once we are gone." Alexei smiled grimly. "But I will make certain he does not threaten her again." A carriage pulled up a short distance away. Graham once again jerked the swords upright. Alexei rolled his gaze toward the sky.

The carriage door opened, and a footman helped three cloaked, hooded figures descend.

"That is a bit overly dramatic," Roman said.

Alexei shrugged. "Penwick is an idiot. The man has probably never dueled before." The figures came toward them briskly, one a few steps in front of the others. Odd, Alexei had thought Penwick was about his height and not as slight as he appeared now. Obviously, it was a trick of the early-morning light coupled with the cloak that made him appear otherwise. The closest figure stopped and brushed back the hood. Long, golden hair tumbled forward. Alexei clenched his jaw. "Pamela."

"Good morning, Your Highness," Pamela said brightly. "Excellent day for a duel, don't you think?"

"What are you doing here?" he snapped. "And where is that coward, Penwick."

"I told him not to come." She smiled pleasantly. "I am taking his place."

"You what?" He stared. "You cannot do that!"

"Oh, but I can. According to the British Code of Duels, rules and conduct, current edition, fourth page, third paragraph, the challenged may choose a champion to substitute for him." A smug note sounded in her voice. "I am the champion."

He glared at her. "I have never heard of such a thing."

"Of course not." She shrugged "It's an English rule."

"Nor have I ever heard of the British code of whatever." He narrowed his eyes. "You are making it up."

"Regardless," she said loftily. "I am here, and Penwick is not."

"But you are a woman. Even in England, I doubt women are allowed to duel."

"I am indeed a woman and thank you for noticing." She shook her head.

"It's an odd thing about that. I read the entire code—"

"The code you made up," he snapped.

"—and it doesn't say anything about women not being allowed to duel. Perhaps it's understood or a simple mistake; regardless, there is nothing specifically forbidding women participating in duels, and, therefore, I am here." She cast him a brilliant smile. "And I am prepared." Alexei looked at Roman, who shrugged helplessly.

Pamela stepped to Graham, studied the swords he offered, then wrinkled her nose in distaste. "These won't do at all. Neither is to my liking." She glanced at Alexei. "Do you mind if I use my own?" He scoffed. "You have your own sword?"

"Indeed I do." She stepped to the closest hooded figure, her second apparently and, no doubt, Lady Overton.

"Did you know about this?" Alexei said under his breath to Roman.

"No." Roman stared forbiddingly at the as-yet-unrevealed second. "I certainly would not have permitted it."

"That is something at any rate," Alexei muttered. "Although even with the well-behaved Lady Overton I doubt you would have had much to say about it."

Pamela pulled off her cloak and Alexei gasped.

"You have on breeches!" He stared in disbelief. "Breeches!"

"I've never worn them before, and they are extremely comfortable. I quite like them." She smoothed the fabric over her hip. "Besides, you don't expect me to duel in a dress, do you?"

"I do not expect you to duel at all!"

Pamela ignored him. "That would be most unfair, dueling in a dress, unless, of course, you would be willing to wear a dress as well?"

"Don't be absurd." He snorted in disdain. "I have no intention of ever wearing women's clothing again."

"Again?" She raised a brow.

"It was an unavoidable disguise," he muttered.

She chuckled. "I imagine you were quite fetching."

"Quite," he snapped.

Pamela choked back a laugh and turned toward the other woman, who pulled a sword from beneath her cloak, then shook her hood free.

Alexei groaned.

"Good day to you, cousin." Valentina grinned.

"Thank God," Roman said, and stared at the third figure, who still lingered a few feet behind the others.

"This is your idea no doubt," Alexei said sharply.

"Not entirely, but I did have a certain hand in it and consider it a good deed as well. And"—a note of pride rang in Valentina's voice—"they are my breeches. Do you like them?"

"No!" Although in truth he found them quite fetching. They molded to Pamela's skin in a most becoming, completely improper, and altogether erotic manner. It would indeed be fairer if he donned a dress. Pamela in those breeches was extraordinarily distracting.

He blew a frustrated breath. "Where is Dimitri?"

"We tied him to a chair and left him at the house." Valentina shrugged in a blithe manner.

"I am here, Your Highness." The third figure pushed the hood from his head and stepped forward. Dimitri cast a disgusted look at the women. "They made me wear this."

"Made you?" Alexei's voice rose. "Made you?"

Dimitri nodded at Valentina. "I told you she was a witch." Valentina laughed.

"And you are a man. A soldier. A warrior." Alexei glared at his friend.

"Indeed I am, Your Highness." Dimitri coolly met Alexei's gaze. "And I owe my allegiance first and foremost to you. You commanded me to watch the princess day and night—" Pamela made an odd sort of choking sound.

"—and I have done so. You did not, however, command me to prevent her from taking actions that"—he squared his shoulders—"may well be in your best interest."

"How is this"—Alexei gestured wildly at the women—"in my best interest?"

"Oh, I do think I shall keep him," Valentina murmured.

"Do give it up, Alexei," Pamela said, with a resigned sigh. "You've lost this argument, and we have better things to do."

She took her sword from Valentina, a rather delicate-looking thing. Italian, he thought, and possibly quite effective.

"You call that a sword?" Alexei scoffed, and accepted his own somewhat more substantial blade. Pamela flexed it and assumed the en garde position. Properly, he noted. "Are you quite ready?"

"I am not going to fight you," he said firmly.

She thrust her sword toward him. He parried it easily. "Why are you doing this for Penwick?"

"I am not doing it for Penwick." She thrust again, and again he parried. Not quite as easily this time. "I'm doing it for myself."

"What do you mean for yourself?" Again he batted away her blade. "He threatened you. He questioned your honor. Dammit all, Pamela, he stole your virtue!"

"You stole my heart!" She lunged, and he countered. "Why did you want me to believe you were going off to your certain death?"

"It was the best way to set you free." He parried her thrust once again, and the battle began in earnest. The sounds of swords clashing rang in the morning air. He had no intention of hurting her but, by God, if she insisted on continuing this absurd behavior, he would certainly teach her a lesson she would not soon forget. Still, she was far more skilled than he had imagined.

"She's been practicing all night," Valentina called.

"Not enough," he muttered, and expertly slashed the loose fabric of her sleeve. Her gaze narrowed, but her efforts did not falter. "The difference between you and George, Your Highness, is that he was an idiot who was not intelligent enough to know what he was losing."

"I know what I am losing." He lunged toward her.

She jumped back expertly. "You are a fool then."

"Perhaps. But I did it for you." The advantage was his. He thrust forward, and she retreated. "I have regrets, Pamela, you have no idea of my regrets. They eat at me. Every day, every night."

"You need me, and I love you." She met his sword with hers. "Don't allow me to be yet another regret."

"You cannot imagine what demons haunt me." He forced himself to remain calm, to focus on the work at hand. He did not want to harm her in any way. "I will not inflict that on you."

"I want to spend my life with you, Alexei." She punctuated her words with the thrust of her sword.

"Are you not listening to me? I have failed my country and my family and my people!" He slashed his sword across hers.

"Do not fail me then as well!" She was weakening, he could tell. Still, she would not give up.

"I warn you, life with me would not be pleasant." They circled one another.

"I do not want pleasant. I could have had pleasant. I want you!" She was quicker than he had thought, and the memory of just how agile she could be flashed through his mind, and he faltered. She took the advantage offered and slashed at his midsection, just enough to tear the linen of his shirt.

"Oh, that was not at all nice."

"It was not intended to be." She lunged toward him, and he trapped her sword with his. For a moment they stared at one another.

"It is time to end this." He ducked under her sword, stepped around her with blinding speed until he was at her back. She turned at once. He thrust his sword with great precision to catch the grip just above her hand and flick the sword from her grasp. It was a move he had long ago perfected. Her eyes widened, she stepped back, stumbled, and fell to the ground. He stood over her, aiming his sword at her midsection.

"Have you had enough then?" He smiled smugly down at her.

"No." She rolled quickly, caught his ankle with her foot, and he tumbled to the ground. Before he could recover she scrambled to her knees, grabbed his sword, and held it against his chest. "You're right, it is time to end this."

He looked at the sword and winced. "Do be careful with that. You could inflict a great deal of harm."

"Exactly." She stared at him and pressed the sword a fraction closer. "Do you love me?" He glanced pointedly at the blade, then back at her. "Do I have a choice?" She raised a brow. "Do you?"

He gazed into her sable eyes and knew he was lost. God help him. God help them both. He sighed in surrender. "Yes."

She caught her breath. "Really?"

He carefully took the sword from her hand, tossed it aside and got to his knees, his gaze never leaving hers. "Roman, my waistcoat please." A moment later Roman handed him the garment. He pulled her earbob from the waistcoat pocket and held it out to her. "I believe this belongs to you." She picked it up and looked at it, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Good Lord, that's mine. I thought I lost it years ago."

"You did," he said softly. "In my bed. In Venice." She sucked in a sharp breath. "And you kept it?"

He nodded. "As a talisman really. A memory caught in glass." He paused to gather his thoughts. "It should have been no different than any other enjoyable evening spent with a beautiful woman, but something remarkable happened that night in Venice. A night of magic. I do not know what or why, indeed I did not realize it at the time, but I met the woman who was half of my soul. Who captured my heart then and has held it ever since. Serenissima."

"It was one night. I am not..." She shook her head. "I am scarcely serene."

"And then I met another woman, when my life as I had always known it had ended." He brushed her hair away from her face and gazed into her eyes. "She is outspoken and annoying and obstinate and not the least bit serene. And she, too, is half of my soul."

"Alexei—" She bit back a sob. "I never forgot Venice either. I never forgot you. Not for a day, not for a moment."

"I never hoped to find you again. Never dared to dream..." Emotion glittered in her eyes. "From the first moment you possessed my heart."

"It is a mutual possession." He drew a steadying breath. "There remains Penwick to be dealt with, you know. And I see only one way to keep him quiet."

She groaned. "You are not still going to kill him?"

"No."

"We can leave England."

"No. This is your home. It is where you belong, and you have been gone far too long." He shrugged. "I shall simply have to marry you after all."

She stared in suspicion. "To keep Penwick quiet?"

"Of course." He smiled slowly. "And because I love you. I always have."

"I knew you did." She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him for a moment, then drew back. A serious light showed in her dark eyes. "You should know, I want to marry you, but as long as I have your love, I don't care about anything else. If you do not wish marriage, I will still spend the rest of my days with you as whatever you wish."

"That is an interesting offer." He pulled her closer. "I have nothing left to give you save the respectability and propriety you once wanted, and I will give you that."

"And your heart." Her voice was firm.

"And my heart although it has always been yours." He shook his head. "Marriage to me will not be easy."