Hope shifted to anguished fear as Brianna laid a hand against her lower stomach. She knew nothing of carrying a child. It was not something discussed in polite society, and certainly nothing her mother would share with her.

But she was intelligent enough to realize that such a tiny life would be a fragile thing that could be easily harmed.

“I will freeze to death,” she breathed, not bothering to hide her terror.

“There is the hope you will be found by a priest, or even that Edmond will arrive, before such a tragedy befalls you.”

“Please…you cannot…” Brianna bit off her pleading words as Viktor’s eyes narrowed with disgust. It seemed entirely possible the heartless brute would simply toss her out of the moving carriage if she annoyed him.

She had thought she was so clever in convincing him that his companions were destined to betray him. She just assumed that if he returned to St. Petersburg, he would take her with him.

Fool, indeed.

“You are wise not to beg,” he said, a grimness underlying his voice as he pulled the pistol from his pocket and once again pointed it at her heart. “I cannot bear a weepy woman.”

Pressing herself even deeper into the corner of the carriage, Brianna tugged the blanket tighter and attempted to compose her frantic thoughts.

Somehow, someway, she intended to survive.

No matter what it might take.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE SMALL COPSE OF TREES had seemed a perfect location to await Boris’s return. Not only was it close enough to the road to allow Edmond to keep a watch on the sparse travelers that dared the heavy snowfall and frigid temperatures, but it provided some protection from the brutal wind.

But very minimal, Edmond conceded, as he shivered beneath his greatcoat.

Vanya had, of course, attempted to make him take her carriage and outriders, even going so far as to warn him that Brianna would not be best pleased to be rescued on the back of his horse without so much as a blanket to ward off the frigid air.

Edmond, however, had been indifferent to the older woman’s pleas and inevitable scolds. Once he had Brianna in his arms, he would worry about discovering a carriage and enough blankets to cover the Baltic Sea. Until then, all that mattered was catching up to Viktor Kazakov as swiftly as possible.

He muttered a curse as his horse shifted beneath him, the restless creature’s breath turning to a mist as it hit the frozen air. Just through the trees, he could make out the vague silhouette of Boris, who had arrived just before Edmond had gone in pursuit of Kazakov and insisted on joining him. At the moment, his companion was interrogating the young peasant who was stationed outside the posting inn to assist with those carriages that became lodged in the snow.

It had been only a few minutes since Boris had left to question the servant, but his gut was twisted with sharp dread. With every beat of his heart, Brianna was slipping farther away from him. The smallest delay made him want to howl in frustration.

Unfortunately, the information he had received from the various individuals who had spotted Viktor Kazakov’s flight from Vanya’s house had only been able to lead him southward out of St. Petersburg. As much as he longed to charge like a madman through the snow and ice, he possessed enough of his shattered wits to realize he might cost Brianna her very life if his frantic haste made him lose her trail.

That he would not risk.

In an effort to distract his seething anguish, Edmond turned his attention back to the road that was barely visible through the heavy fall of snow. Nearly sixty years ago, the Empress Catherine had traveled this road on her coronation journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow. It was said that her sleigh was large enough to possess a bedroom and library, and that she tossed over a half a million silver coins to the crowds that lined the road.

The German Princess had understood the Russian people better than her grandson, Edmond ruefully acknowledged. The lavish procession and grand gestures of generosity had been a brilliant means to win the hearts of the peasants. Just as important, the spectacular displays she insisted upon were a subtle warning to the neighboring countries that Russia was a power to be respected, if not outright feared.

Alexander Pavlovich might bemoan the extravagant waste of the Imperial coffers, but he would never claim the love or loyalty that Catherine had so easily inspired.

A pity really. There were few rulers in the world that truly cared as deeply for his people as the current Czar. His sincerity, however, could not entirely compensate for his relentless doubt. Nor did it prevent his enemies from taking advantage of his weak rule.

Prepared for a wrench of guilt at the thought of Alexander Pavlovich and the knowledge he had abandoned his duty when he had left Herrick to deal with the traitors, Edmond felt nothing more than a vague hope that the older gentleman managed to bring an end to the conspirators.

After years of dedicating himself to the Czar and the Romanov rule, he realized that his loyalty now belonged utterly and completely to a tiny slip of a girl with emerald eyes and autumn hair.

Not a loyalty given to fill the aching void of his parents’ death. Not a loyalty to try and give some meaning to his empty existence.

No, this was a warm, ceaseless devotion that had snuck up on him without warning. One that had nothing to do with the shadows that haunted him and everything to do with Miss Brianna Quinn.

His heart twisted with a savage pain as the image of her pale beautiful features seared through his mind. Thank God that Boris chose that moment to turn and weave his way back through the trees.

“Well?” Edmond impatiently demanded, not waiting until Boris brought his horse to a halt beside him.

Tags: Rosemary Rogers Russian Connection Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net