Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

Ah, Alexander Pavlovich, why are you so blind to the seething resentment?

With a shake of his head, Herrick passed the soldiers standing guard at the edge of the settlement and joined Gregor, who’d waited patiently at the side of the main road.

Bringing his horse to a halt, Herrick watched his companion easily vault back into his saddle, wryly considering the advantages of youth. At the moment his entire body ached and his tired eyes felt as if they had been rubbed raw with sand.

What had happened to the time he could endure a day of battle and then ride the entire night to engage in the next campaign?

“Did they have any information?” Gregor demanded, his bulky body attired in a plain black coat and breeches that matched Herrick’s modest style.

Herrick hoped to avoid any unnecessary attention among the peasants.

“They confirmed the rumors of an inn being attacked by a group of ruffians and a woman being taken against her will,” Herrick said, keeping his searing fear caged beneath his stoic composure.

He could not think clearly if he allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment.

“Do they know where they took her?”

“The Commander claimed that he has been keeping watch on the road and that all carriages have been halted to ensure that the villains did not pass.”

“So they must still be at the cottage.”

“Yes.”

Gregor studied him intently, sensing Herrick’s hesitation.

“You do not seem convinced.”

Herrick smiled wryly. There were disadvantages to hiring a soldier with intelligence rather than one content to mindlessly follow orders.

“The Commander also mentioned that one carriage passed late last night at a dangerous pace and nearly ran down the guard when he attempted to halt the driver.” His fingers tightened on the reins, his horse shifting with unease beneath him. The thought that he could be so close to rescuing Leonida only to have Sir Charles slip past him was enough to make him howl with frustration. “He said the guard was certain there was only one male passenger, but it is impossible to know for certain.”

“That is troubling.” Gregor glanced toward the nearby soldiers, his brow furrowed. “What do you wish to do?”

“For the moment we have no choice but to continue on to the cottage and pray that Miss Karkoff was not in that carriage.”

Gregor’s lips twisted as he returned his attention to Herrick.

“I suggest we continue on rather quickly. I do not like the stares we are receiving.”

Herrick grimaced as he urged his horse into a slow trot, glancing over his shoulder at the gray buildings and silent fields.

“It is a pity,” he muttered. “The settlements were a sound notion in the beginning. How better to increase the size of the military while allowing the men to be with their family and provide their own food?” He shook his head. “But under Akartcheyeff’s rule it has created more problems than it has solved.”

Gregor gave a philosophical shrug of his shoulders. “Soldiers do not make dependable farmers. Not when they are forced to practice their drills for hours each day or to drop their plows when the Commander calls them to duty.”

“No, and the brutal treatment by most of the commanders has not improved the situation.” Herrick felt the age-old regret tug at his heart. “Akartcheyeff will never learn that it is respect, not fear, that inspires true loyalty.”

Gregor’s face hardened. He had endured three years of Akartcheyeff’s cruel temper.

“He was trained under Emperor Paul. Perhaps it is not so strange he would prefer a regimental authority to what he would consider coddling.”

“Treating a man with dignity is not coddling,” Herrick grated.

Gregor shot him a wry glance. “I am not the one you must convince.”

Herrick slowed his pace as the fields lining the road were replaced with a mixture of hawthorn and birch trees with the occasional cedar. The trees dangerously obscured his view.

“I have done what I can and I dare not press too hard,” he admitted. “My fear is that the Czar’s habit of charging from one extreme to another will convince him to replace the General with a man such as Prince Alexander Golitsyn.”