Forever in Your Embrace Read Free

greatly exaggerated as Ali yielded to her unmeasured distrust of the man. “ ’Tis a simple fact that I’ve not laid me poor eyes on a real saint in some years now, though there be some what seek ta convince folks o’ their piety. Wolves in sheep’s clothin’, I’ll warrant, but that’s neither here nor there, seein’ as how ye’re so fine and saintly yerself.”
    The veins in Ivan’s temples became darkly distended as his beady eyes pierced the servant. His stare was so menacing that he seemed on the verge of concocting some strange incantation to make the maidservant vanish into thin air. If he meant to frighten Ali, then in that quest he failed miserably. The fact that Ali had come to Russia with Count Zenkov’s bride some twenty-odd years ago and, since that time, had been treated with kindly deference, which a lord might bestow upon a favored servant, had instilled within the old woman an unshakable confidence in herself and in those whom she loyally served.
    “You dare question my authority?” Ivan demanded sharply. “I am of the church!”
    “O’ the church?” Ali repeated in an inquisitive tone. “There be churches far an’ wide, sir. Which be the one what sanctioned ye?”
    His thin lips twisted in a repugnant sneer. “You wouldn’t know the order, old woman. It was founded a great distance from here.”
    It wasn’t the first time that Ivan Voronsky had skirted around his affiliations and ordination, but his evasive answers only heightened Ali’s curiosity. “An’ the direction, sir? Which way would it be? Up or down?”
    For a moment Ivan seemed ready to explode. “Were I to hold out some hope that you’d have knowledge of the province from whence I came, old woman, I might deem an answer worthy of being uttered, but I see no reason to discuss such matters with an old dullard of a servant.”
    Ali squawked and flapped her thin arms in high-flying indignation as she twitched on the seat. Indeed, she seemed ready to catapult herself with claws bared upon the man.
    Synnovea laid a lightly restraining hand upon her servant’s arm to forestall such a possibility. Nevertheless, the two combatants glared at each other as if tempted to duel to the death, leaving her bereft of any hope that a truce could be established between them. On the outside chance that their ire could be diminished by some slight degree, Synnovea turned a plaintive appeal to the pinch-faced man. “When our tempers have been sorely tested by the horrible conditions that we’ve had to endure these past days, ’tis understandable that we are wont to quarrel among ourselves, but I plead with you both to desist of this bickering. ’Twill only extend the ordeal.”
    Had Ivan been of a gentler, more kindly or manly bent, he might have given pause to Synnovea’s plea, for her softly cajoling expression was most engaging. He may have admired the translucent radiance of the large, thickly fringed eyes that slanted slightly upward beneath delicately winged brows. Those mesmerizing orbs were a curious blend of shades: variegated shards of jade flaring outward from pupils and darkening to a warm, clear brown. As a man, he might also have appreciated the fair skin presently glowing with a moist, reddish sheen or even savored her delicate features. Most assuredly, had he been cast from the same mold as others of his gender, he might have been held much in awe by her stunning beauty, but Ivan Voronsky was not like most men. He was more of a mind to think that feminine pulchritude was a finely devised tool of a darker realm, primarily invented for the purpose of diverting extraordinary men like himself from a path toward exalted greatness.
    “You err if you think your benefactress won’t hear of this, Countess. You’ve allowed your maid to insult me, and I shall be most specific in telling Princess Anna of your toleration for your hireling’s impertinence.”
    Synnovea made her own conjectures as to Ivan’s origins as his hissing