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  Satin Ice

  SATIN ICE

  A Bantam Book / November 1988

  All rights reserved. Copyright © 1988 by Iris Johansen.

  Cover art copyright © 1988 by Pino Daeni.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information address: Bantam Books.

  ISBN 0-553-21978-2

  Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10103.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  O 0 9876543 2 1

  1

  St. Petersburg, Russia

  July 10, 1874

  "Why isn't it dark?" Silver peered curiously out of the window of the carriage. "Surely it must be close to midnight. It was well after ten when the ship docked."

  "It's the time of the white nights." Valentin Marinov smiled indulgently as he looked at the eager expression on Silver's face. His gaze followed hers to the deserted streets of his native city, now bathed in pearly light that imbued even the cobblestones with iridescent beauty. "For a few weeks each year there is no darkness here in St. Petersburg," Valentin added by way of explanation.

  "How peculiar." Silver shot him a mischievous glance. "But just what I would have expected from a land that breeds men as contrary as you and Nicholas. America is far more reliable. When it's supposed to get dark, it gets dark."

  "Reliable, perhaps, but not nearly as interesting. Admit it, Silver. You've never seen a city as beautiful as St. Petersburg, have you?"

  "How can I tell? I've scarcely had a chance to see more than a few miles of your precious city." Yet the little she had seen had been both fascinating and intimidating, she thought. Everything was so ... different. Buildings sported towers of strange exotic shapes, stunning the eyes with their brilliance in shades of yellow, green, red, and turquoise. There seemed to be an abundance of wide avenues, broad squares, and verdant parks; misty-wreathed canals crisscrossed the city, adding to the mysterious charm of St. Petersburg.

  Yet its charm was exotic, quite outside anything she had experienced, and it suddenly made Silver feel very isolated, utterly alone. What was she doing here in this strange place so far from anything she knew or cared about? "It seems very ... large. Even larger than New Orleans or St. Louis."

  "They call it the Babylon of the snows," Valentin said softly. "No city on earth can compare with—" He stopped in amazement when he noticed how ramrod straight Silver was holding herself. He could almost feel the tension of her slim body across the carriage. He hadn't expected Silver to be subject to an attack of nerves. Another woman, perhaps, but not Silver, who was like no other woman he had ever met in the boldness of her ways and the independence of her spirit. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised at her being apprehensive, he thought with sudden compassion. After all, Silver was only nineteen and pregnant with Nicholas's child. She was usually so full of vitality and confidence that he sometimes forgot how young she was and how little she had seen of the world. But—blast it!—Nicholas should have been more sensitive to Silver and come with them instead of going off somewhere with Mikhail the minute the ship had docked.

  He frowned as he thought angrily about how his friend Nicholas was treating Silver. She was his wife, dammit. He should have recognized his duty and . . . Duty? He must be mad to even think of Nicholas in terms of feeling bound by duty, when he had never submitted to wearing that yoke in all the years Valentin had known him. Well, if Nicholas were negligent in fulfilling his husbandly responsibilities, then Valentin would simply have to try to give Silver what comfort he could. "St. Petersburg is just like any other city," he said with deliberate lightness. "Your New Orleans also has a certain charm."

  She laughed, her anxiety ebbing slightly. "You hated it. You told me so."

  He made a face. "Not the city, the weather. So hot, so muggy I couldn't draw a decent breath. It's much dryer and cooler here in the summer. It's even cooler on Crystal Island."

  "Crystal Island?"

  "Like quite a few noblemen who have residences on private islands close to the city, Nicholas has a palace on an island in the River Neva. It's called Crystal Island because Nicholas's father had the palace completely rebuilt when he brought home his bride. He had so many large windows put in that the glass seems to shimmer like crystal, especially when the house is viewed from a boat on the river. Didn't Nicholas tell you about it?" Then, as Valentin saw her shuttered expression, he silently cursed himself. Why should he assume that Nicholas would have confided that or any other information to Silver, when their relationship appeared to have become both guarded and complex. Silver had occupied a lone cabin on the long trip from New Orleans to Liverpool and also on the ship from England to St. Petersburg. It made no sense to him. If Nicholas had wanted Silver enough to wed her, then why didn't he occupy her bed? He was certain Nicholas's lust for her had not dwindled. If anything, his friend's desire had increased, as was evidenced by Nicholas's short temper of the past months. The child? But Silver was a scant two months along.

  "No, he didn't tell me anything about his home." Silver steadfastly gazed out the window at the grandiose buildings they were passing. "Perhaps he thought it might intimidate the poor little half-breed. We Apaches aren't accustomed to palaces, you know."

  "I doubt if he was worried about that," Valentin said dryly. "He knows you are bold enough to take over the entire city and tweak the nose of the tsar himself if it happens to please you. What's a niggling little palace to an Apache like you?"

  "Nothing." She lifted her chin proudly. "I care nothing for his palace or his fine title."

  "It's your title too," he reminded her mildly. "You're now Her Highness, Princess Silver Savron. And your child will also carry the title."

  Her face was suddenly illuminated with a light as softly radiant as the white night beyond the windows of the carriage. Her hand moved down to rest on her flat abdomen that as yet bore no sign of the child. "Yes," she whispered. "I forgot. It will help guard my child, won't it, Valentin? A title will make him safer."

  "A title has its advantages," he said. "As long as it's accompanied by the Savron fortune. I find being a count opens certain social doors, but my lack of funds closes many others."

  "I don't care about society." Silver's gray eyes were blazing fiercely. "All I want is for my child to be safe and free from shame."

  "Nicholas will see that the child is protected, Silver," Valentin said quietly.

  "No, I will see to it." Her voice was shimmering with force. "I will not rely on any man to fight my battles."

  "Not even your husband?" Valentin asked softly.

  The fierceness in Silver's face faded and was replaced by uncertainty, then a fleeting expression of pain. "Not even my husband." She added haltingly, "You should know that our marriage isn't ... ordinary."

  "Quite extraordinary," he said. "But that doesn't change Nicholas's nature nor does it alter your own." He smiled. "I think I envy the child you're carrying, Silver. With you and Nicholas as parents, it will be the most carefully guarded and nurtured child in all of Russia."

  "In the entire world." A sudden smile lit up her lovely golden face. "Don't underestimate us." Her smile faded. "Does Nicholas really want the child, Valentin? Has he said anything to you?"

  He shook his head. "But of course he wants the child. Why s
houldn't he? Every man wants an heir."

  "Every man may want an offspring, but some men are particular about the mothers of their children," she said bitterly. "Princes usually don't choose illegitimate half-breeds like me to produce their heirs."

  "Then they should. It would make for much more interesting progeny." She failed to respond as he'd hoped she would, so he added softly, "My dear Silver, if Nicholas hadn't wanted to acknowledge your child, he only would have had to turn his back on you and walk away. Unfortunately, it's done all the time in our world. Instead, he chose to marry you."

  "But he didn't choose—" She broke off and tried to smile carelessly. "It doesn't really matter whether he wants the child or not. I merely wondered if he had spoken to you about it." Her gaze shifted quickly to the window again. "Is that the River Neva?"

  It was clear she wished to abandon the subject, but for an instant he was tempted to pursue it. In the past months he had become very fond of this child-woman who had come so explosively into their lives, and he had a most uncharacteristic wish to comfort and reassure. Then he decided to ignore the impulse and gave a half shrug. Comfort and reassurance was Nicholas's duty, though he seemed to be making a damn poor job of it. "Yes, that's the Neva. We'll hire a boat to take us across to the island. I think you'll enjoy the trip. The city is quite beautiful from the water." He glanced at her taut face and deliberately resumed his casual patter. "Though in the winter the journey is more exciting. In November the river freezes over and we have to cross by sleigh. I think you'll find that very interesting."

  "I may not be here in November."

  "You and Nicholas aren't thinking of traveling this winter? I'd wait until spring if I were you. The winter season is very gay here in St. Petersburg."

  "I didn't come here to enjoy myself." She leaned wearily back against the cushions of the carriage. "I came only to find Etaine and take her back to America."

  "Did you?" His smile was cryptic. "I'm sure your concern for your circus waif is genuine and your purpose admirable. However, you're now Nicholas's wife and will bear his child. I've found Nicholas seldom gives up what is his. I think you'll still be here when the snow falls."

  "You don't understand."

  "No, I don't." Valentin smiled coaxingly. "Would you care to enlighten me?"

  She gazed at him for a moment before slowly shaking her head.

  He sighed. "I didn't think so. Oh, well, I've understood very little of what's transpired between you two from the beginning. Perhaps in time one of you will indulge my curiosity."

  "Perhaps." Silver closed her eyes, shutting out the alien panorama, shutting out Valentin's good-humored curiosity, shutting out the night that was like no night she had ever known. She wished desperately she could shut away her thoughts as well. She con-sidered Valentin her friend, and she would have given him an answer if she had known what to say to him. How was she to make him understand what she didn't understand herself? Nicholas was as much of an enigma now as he had been the day she had forced him to marry her. On their three-month journey from St. Louis to St. Petersburg, he had been courteous, protective, even charming, but she had never been able to see beyond the mask he kept firmly in place.

  Was he harboring a terrible anger behind that mask?

  She had not thought so on the night of their marriage when Nicholas had put her to bed with such tenderness. He had been exquisitely gentle, but there had been an undercurrent of intense desire in his every action. He had wanted her at other times on the journey down the Mississippi on the Rose and on the journey across the sea. She knew he had wanted her, dammit. But if he had wanted her, why hadn't he taken her?

  Not that she wanted him to make love to her, she assured herself quickly. It was nothing to her if his lust had faded as she had known it would. A man quickly could grow tired of a woman's body, she knew. Hadn't her father taken her mother and forgotten her as soon as he had spilled his seed into her? Besides, it hadn't been Nicholas who had taken her, it was she who had chosen to give herself. She would someday walk away from him with no more regret than her father had felt when he'd left her mother.

  But not yet. She was not ready to walk away yet. It would do no harm to linger awhile with Nicholas. He gave her kindness even if he withheld passion. It was pleasant to be in his company and listen to his deep voice and see the expressions flitting across his face that was more beautiful than Lucifer's before the fall.

  She was lying to herself, she realized with self-disgust. His company was not pleasant. When she was in his presence she alternated between feeling a strange bittersweet pain and a fever of lust. If he had grown tired of her, she could not say the same about her desire for him. It was unfair for one partner to grow weary and the other to still burn, she thought fiercely. But then, when had life ever been anything but unfair? She would get over this passion soon. She would become tired of Nicholas and leave him to his rich world of palaces and tsars. She would find Etaine and take her away from the cruel bastard who had fathered her and they would go back to America, where there were no titles or beautiful princes or days that had no end.

  "Silver, wake up."

  Valentin's voice brought her to the awareness that the carriage had stopped. Her eyes flew open. "I wasn't asleep. Is this where we hire the boat?"

  He nodded. "We're at the quay." He opened the door of the carriage and stepped down onto the cobblestone street. "Stay here. I want to find boatmen with the voices of nightingales. Your first boatride on the Neva should be an experience you'll always remember."

  The carriage door slammed behind Valentin and she gazed after him in bewilderment as he walked briskly toward a group of men dressed in brightly colored tunics and tough homespun trousers who were lounging lazily on the quay. Singing boatmen? Well, why not? It would be no more strange than anything else in this bizarre world of Nicholas's.

  She leaned back against the cushions again, trying to stifle her impatience while Valentin searched for his nightingales.

  "Do you wish me to wake the cooks?" Mikhail shut the tall brass-studded door. "You have had nothing to eat tonight."

  Nicholas shook his head as he gave his hat and gloves to the waiting servant before waving him away. "Go to bed. I'm not hungry."

  Mikhail frowned. "You should eat."

  "Go to bed," Nicholas repeated. "I have no need of you to mother me."

  "No, but you have a great need for a little sense," the big Cossack said bluntly. "It is almost morning and you have not eaten since noon yesterday. This is foolishness."

  "Mikhail, blast you, will you—" Nicholas broke off as he saw Mikhail's jaw set in determination. "I promise that I'll eat a breakfast fit for a Hitman. Will that satisfy you, my friend?"

  "No."

  Nicholas turned away. "It will have to be enough. I want to be sure Silver is well settled and then go to my own rest. Food will wait until later." He started up the sweeping grand staircase. "I'll see you in the morning, Mikhail."

  "You should not have left her tonight."

  Nicholas paused on the steps and turned to look at him. "It was necessary."

  The light of the candles in the crystal chandelier above them glinted in Mikhail's flaming red hair as he shook his head. "She felt very much alone. She would not let you see it, but she had need of you tonight."

  "I couldn't be in two places at once. I had to make a choice."

  "You could have waited until tomorrow before going to see Skorsky."

  "Mikhail, dammit, I told you—" Nicholas slowly shook his head in wonder. "What has Silver done to you?"

  "Not what she has done to you." A faint smile touched Mikhail's lips. "But when one sees a wild bird soaring through the storm, it is only natural to wish it to reach a safe nesting place."

  Nicholas smiled wryly. "I take it you consider me the storm and not the refuge?"

  "I do not know. You have not been safe for a woman before, but Silver is not as other women."

  Nicholas's hand tightened on the marble banister. "
But she's still vulnerable and can be hurt, even broken unless we protect her."

  Mikhail's eyes narrowed. "You found out something from Skorsky?"

  "The circus is here, just outside St. Petersburg. They've been here for over three weeks. Skorsky says Monteith has set up his tents on the estate of Count Anton Peskov. The count has extended his patronage to Monteith and his troupe."

  "Is that a problem?"

  "Perhaps. I don't know yet. Peskov has considerable influence at court. If he chooses to protest our removal of the child, Etaine, from Monteith's so- called 'protection,' it could be awkward. I'm afraid it's not just a matter of riding in and taking Etaine any longer." He smiled crookedly. "We have to try diplomacy first."

  "And if that does not work?"

  Nicholas's dark eyes glinted with recklessness. "Why, then we ride in and take her, of course."

  Mikhail's deep laughter boomed out. "Ah, that is good."

  "But, my bloodthirsty friend, first we see if we can accomplish our ends without involving the tsar. I have no desire to be exiled to Siberia at this time." Nicholas paused. "And we both know Silver isn't going to be pleased at the delay. I can't be with her every moment of the day. Will you stay by her side?"

  The Cossack appeared suddenly uneasy. "I cannot promise you that I can prevent her from doing as she wills. She is a strong woman."

  "I know that. I ask only that you try to keep her and the child safe. Will you do this?"

  Mikhail nodded. "You show great concern about this Monteith. He is a dangerous man?"

  "I met him only once, but I think he could be ... anything." He turned and again started up the stairs. "Keep Silver away from him if you can. God knows it won't be easy."

  Nicholas heard a sound from Mikhail that fell somewhere between a grunt and a sigh of resignation. It was followed by the click of Mikhail's boots on the polished parquet floor and then the slam of the door leading to the quarters the Cossack had chosen for himself near the stable.