which his simple linen tunic did nothing to disguise. She glanced down and then looked away - in disgust?
"I'm sorry," he apologized feebly, wondering what he was apologizing for. When he wasn't aroused, he had felt the need to apologize for that, too.
She put her hand up to silence him.
Her voice was soft. "There's a plot to kill you as soon as our marriage is consummated."
It was amazing how fast his poor libido went slack again.
"We aren't sure who," she said. "Sergei overheard the plotters and told Father Lukas, and he warned me, and I've been wracking my brain trying to think of what we can do about it."
The obvious answer, he saw at once, was never to consummate this marriage. He offered the suggestion.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, excellent plan. Then the Widow gets her way, and everybody is convinced you really do belong in women's garb."
"All right, then, we hop on the bed and do the deed and then I go out and have them stand in line for the privilege of killing me. It will end the suspense."
"All the way up here from the wedding," she said - ignoring him as if he hadn't spoken - "I've been thinking, and I finally reached a conclusion."
He thought she meant she had reached a solution to the problem. But it was nothing so helpful.
"My father has condoned this. The druzhina would not do this unless they believed they were doing his will. And that means I don't dare ask for his help in getting you away."
"Getting me away?" asked Ivan.
"If you and I don't consummate this marriage, you can't stay here. Don't you see? If they've decided to kill you after we're married, but before we know I'm with child, it means they've decided to defy the witch's curse. They have just as much reason to get you out of the way if you don't become my husband. I have to get you back to your own world."
"Oh, now you decide it's time."
Her eyes burned through him. "I didn't choose you. I've done my best to help you. I know you've done your best as well, but it wasn't enough, was it? We've both failed, and now my people are going to pay the price of our failure. There's no reason for you to go down with the rest of us. You didn't know what you were setting in motion when you woke me. You thought you were saving a woman trapped by a bear. You don't deserve to die for it, even if you aren't the stuff that kings are made of."
Ivan had never felt more worthless in his life. But he was going home.
Sergei was glad he had rushed straight to Ivan's room after the wedding and tucked the parchments under his robe. Thank heaven that Ivan had finally started rolling them up to store them. He was leaving the room when Father Lukas arrived with King Matfei. "Ivan won't be needing this room now, so you're welcome to use it until a new church can be built."
"You're very kind," said Father Lukas. "Sergei, there you are. Where is that book of Gospels? It's the only treasure left to me."
Sergei felt a pang of guilt over the lie that was causing the priest such grief. But compared to the rage Father Lukas would feel if he knew the truth - that Sergei had written all over the parchments and that he and Ivan had both lied - it seemed preferable to go to hell for these sins later.
Whom would Sergei ever be able to confess these sins to? There was no hope for him, none at all. And now Ivan would be killed and...
"Sergei? Are you deaf?"
"Father Lukas, the book of Gospels is on the table. I have to go outside."
"No, come in with me and help me arrange the room for the two of us to share."
"Father, it's already arranged for two."
King Matfei became irritated. "Sergei, your master told you to - "
Sergei almost obeyed; but the idea of keeping the manuscripts tucked inside his robe while trying to serve Father Lukas was intolerable. Something would happen to reveal the secret. He could not do it. Besides, Father Lukas was not his master.
"Your Majesty," said Sergei, "I did not know that I, who was born a free man, had become a slave."
The king's face flushed with embarrassment, "I did not mean that you were his..."
"My master is Jesus Christ our Lord," said Sergei. "And in the