head with the handle of a pitchfork. Jem collapsed on the floor like a sack of grain.
Anya let out a shout of horror and sank to her knees next to the fallen boy. To her utter relief, he was still breathing, although he was definitely unconscious.
“You bastard!” she hissed, fury overriding her fright momentarily. “How could you? He’s no more than a child!”
Vasili gave an unrepentant shrug. “I told you to come alone.”
Anya’s heart began to pound. She got to her feet, watching him warily.
“What? No greeting for your long-lost fiancé?” Vasili sneered. “You’ve led me a merry chase these past months, Princess. Fleeing from me in Paris, then hiding here in London. I have been most inconvenienced.”
Anya set her chin. “I don’t care. Where’s Elizaveta?”
“Back at my ship. Do you have the letters from your brother?”
Anya tried to recall everything Sebastien had taught her about lying. “The ones that prove you’re a traitor? Yes, I have them,” in a just and perfect world.
His eyes gleamed with triumph. “I knew you were lying. Give them to me.”
“They’re somewhere you’ll never find them.”
Vasili’s face hardened into a mask of fury. “You little bitch. This isn’t a game.” He took a threatening step toward her, and she shrank back in anticipation of a blow.
“You can have them when you release Elizaveta,” she said quickly.
Vasili’s lip curled. “Always giving orders, Princess. But in this case, I’m neither your servant, nor your subject. I’m your master.”
“You are not.”
“I soon will be.”
He took another step, closing the distance between them. “Whatever you’ve done with them, you’ll still not testify against me if you’re my wife. I meant what I said in Paris. We shall be wed.”
Anya fought a wave of nausea. Sebastien had shown her how beautiful the act of making love could be. He was the kind of man she wanted to marry. Vasili was the complete opposite. If he attempted to consummate the marriage, it would be a grotesque violation fueled by violence and greed. She would not be subjected to such defilement. Even death would be preferable.
He made a sudden lunge forward, catching her off guard. He hoisted her off her feet. Anya struggled furiously, trying to incapacitate him, but her efforts were ineffective. He was almost twice her size and weight. He half-dragged, half-carried her to the back door of the stables. She tried to bite his forearm, but the thickness of his jacket prevented it.
“Oliver!” she shouted desperately. “Help!”
Vasili gave her a vicious shake. A carriage was waiting behind the stables, the door standing open, and with a savage jerk, he threw her up into it. She landed awkwardly across the single seat.
“Back to the ship!” he called to the waiting driver. “Go!”
He leaped into the carriage and closed the door with a slam. Anya tried to get up, but she was hampered by her skirts and Oliver’s oversize jacket. Her heart pounded in terror as Vasili loomed over her. She fell back, kicking and punching wildly in the darkness, and experienced a fierce stab of pleasure when her heel connected with some soft part of his anatomy. He uttered a foul curse.
Then she saw his fist in her peripheral vision. And everything went black.
Chapter 34.
Seb glared at the door to the ballroom. Petrov still hadn’t made an appearance, and where the hell was Anya? Why was she taking so long? An uneasy, prickling feeling assailed him, and he went in search of her, ignoring the beckoning smiles of the women as he passed and the jovial greetings of the men.
“Mellors, where is she?”
The servant needed no further clarification. “I believe the princess is meeting a gentleman in the scullery, sir.”
Seb’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “She’s what?”
“Not a Russian gentleman,” Mellors said swiftly, as if that were any kind of reassurance. “I believe he is a friend.”
Seb didn’t wait to hear more. He pounded down the servant’s stairs and past the open kitchen door. Mrs. Mac-Dougall and Lagrasse were bickering about something. The scullery was empty, but a sheet of paper on the counter caught his eye. He snatched it up and cursed when he saw the indecipherable scribbles of the Russian alphabet.
Fear and fury thundered in his ears as he took the steps out to the mews two at a time. A shout from the stables caught his good ear, and he raced inside to find Jem Barnes on the floor with a thin, sandy-haired stranger crouched over him.
Seb hauled the man to his feet and slammed him