Forever in Your Embrace Read Free Page A

whisper filled the confines of the coach. “Tell her what you will, sir,” she invited stiltedly, refusing to be intimidated. “And should I be of such a mind, I might also caution His Majesty about those who yet hold out some hope of a Polish pretender or another false Dmitri gracing the throne. I’m sure such a hero as the Patriarch Filaret Nikitich would find your sympathies misplaced, considering his recent release from a Polish prison.”
    Ivan’s small, dark eyes shot sparks as he recognized the havoc she could create in his life. “Misplaced sympathies? Why, Countess, I’ve never heard of anything so absurd. However did you manage to concoct such a ludicrous notion?”
    “Was I mistaken?” Surprised by her own trembling disquiet, Synnovea struggled to convey an aplomb that was, at best, strained. “Forgive me, sir, but with all of your chatter about the possibility of a direct descendant of the late Tsar Ivan Vasilievich being alive, I couldn’t help but recall two previous occasions when the Poles tried to place a man upon the throne by claiming he was the late Tsar Ivan’s own son come back to life. How many times must a false Dmitri be revived to vie for the tsardom when everyone knows his father killed him in a fit of temper?”
    Ivan detested being challenged by a woman, particularly one who had acquired just enough knowledge of history and the events of the world to be dangerous. It was even more galling to be forced to assuage her suspicions. “You do me a grave disservice, Countess. What I spoke of was no more than speculations derived from reports that I had heard some months ago. Believe me, my lady, I hold Tsar Mikhail in the highest esteem. Why, I wouldn’t be here if the Princess Anna didn’t trust me implicitly.” He managed a stiff smile for Synnovea’s benefit. “Despite your doubts, Countess, I hope to prove myself a worthy escort, certainly one of higher merit than His Majesty’s guards. They are, after all, no more than common men incapable of entertaining any aspirations beyond their own selfish desires.”
    “And what of you, sir?” Synnovea inquired with a touch of skepticism. In her mind the cleric fell far short of the gentlemanly standards to which the officer who led the entourage adhered. Throughout his career, Captain Nekrasov had been praised for his unswerving valor and gallant manners. Tsar Mikhail couldn’t have sent a more dedicated soldier to serve as her protector. “Have you truly vaulted well beyond that moat which poses a hindrance to mortal man and founded your feet upon the lofty elements of sainthood? Forgive me, sir, but I remember as a child being cautioned by a kindly priest not to think of myself as some magisterial gift to mankind, but, with humbleness of mind, to consider my frail form to be temporal and with a fervent zeal to look toward a higher source for the wisdom and perfection which I am obviously lacking.”
    “What have we here? A learned scholar?” Ivan chortled, failing badly in his attempt at humor. If anything, his tone communicated an underlying hint of malice. He was a man who had set himself to the task of influencing the misguided and had little patience with anyone who overlooked his potential or questioned his importance or ideas. “Imagine such wisdom ascribed to so fair a maid. What is to become of those ancient scribes who, for their enlightenment, have cleaved to the weighty tomes of bygone eras?”
    Synnovea sensed the man was chiding her for voicing a logic he considered worthless. Apparently he had his own schemes for the universe, and far be it that any should try to dissuade him from his purpose. Yet she was not above trying. “When a person has a fault deeply rooted within his reasoning, if he continues to nurture that defect, though he may study the works of a thousand philosophers, he shall remain no wiser than before.”
    Ivan’s thin lips twitched with growing irritation as he accepted her reasoning as a personal