her. „And I have one other advantage not available to you.
There are any number of women on this boat who will allow
me the relief you deny me, and I have no intention of allowing
you to receive a similiar satisfaction from any other man. If
you burn, you must appeal to me for relief.“ He gazed at her a
moment longer, his expression a mixture of desire, anger, and
pain. Then he was gone and she heard the door lock behind
him.
The room was suddenly larger, less threatening, yet…
empty. Silver drew a deep, quivering breath, her taut muscles
wilting like wildflowers at the fir^st frost. She was shaking,
she realized, surprised and indignant at her body’s betrayal.
There was no reason for her to respond in this fashion.
Nicholas was only a man, and she had been the victor in this
encounter. This sudden weakness must be due to the strain of
the evening. After she had rested she would be better able to
face the challenge Nicholas offered.
Challenge. It had been he, not she, who had issued the
challenge. It had been ridiculous of him to claim anything else.
She had wanted only to punish him for doing this to her. No
one should be allowed to victimize another human being, and
he had victimized both Etaine and herself. It made no
difference that he knew nothing about the child. Nicholas
Savron’s arrogance was intolerable and she had punished him.
Why did it leave her feeling so lackluster and drained?
She would think no more of him, she decided. She would
sleep and gain strength for the struggles to come. She sat up,
drew back the filmy bed curtain, and blew out the flame in the
oil lamp on the bedside table. Darkness. Sudden,
overpowering darkness that smothered and took her breath.
She was excruciatingly aware of the closeness of the room, of
the locked door holding her captive. She found herself panting,
her heart pounding wildly, she was smothering with the sense
of her own helplessness.
Etaine. Was this how Etaine felt when she was attacked by
that horrible breathlessness? Dear God, how could the child
bear it so patiently? Etaine was a prisoner in so many ways, a
prisoner of her illness, a prisoner of the cage, a prisoner of her
monster of a father. In her place Silver would have gone mad
or broken herself fighting against the bars of her helplessness
trying to escape. Yet how much longer could Etaine withstand
the kind of treatment she was receiving? She must be freed,
and to do that Silver must free herself.
She suddenly leaned forward, her hand fumbling in the
darkness until the lamp was once again lit. That was better. At
least the light banished the smothering sensation. She lay
down again, drawing the muslin sheet up to her throat and
turning on her side to gaze at the oil lamp on the nightstand a
few feet away. Seen through the sheer batiste of the bed
curtain, the flickering flame appeared like a golden chimera,
she thought absently. Would Nicholas return tonight? Probably
not. He had told her he would seek out another woman, so she
doubted she would see him before morning.
She was glad, relieved, she told herself. This time alone
would allow her to think of Etaine and recover her strength of
purpose.
Silver was asleep.
Her golden cheek was cradled on the softness of the white
muslin of the pillow, her dark lashes forming feathery shadows
on the beautiful line of her high cheekbones. She slept deeply,
like a child exhausted from a day at play.
Nicholas stood in the doorway, his hand clenched on the
china doorknob, his gaze on the sleeping woman in bed.
Dammit, it wasn’t fair for her to look so innocently vulnerable.
This was the woman who had stabbed Mikhail with her
dagger, who had taunted him with her body, who had
confessed to frequenting whorehouses. Why was there no sign
of dissipation or corruption on her face?
He softly closed the door and crossed the room to stand
beside the bed. The clean line of her cheek possessed an air of
purity in the mellow pool of light radiating from the oil lamp
on the nightstand. As he watched, her rose-pink lips parted and
she sighed, her cheek moving restlessly on the pillow as if
fierce wariness still held her in thrall. How deeply must that
wariness be embedded to erect barriers even while she slept.
God, no child should feel such a strong need to protect herself,
he thought with a strange tightness constricting his chest.
Child. He had not thought of her as a child before this. In
spite of her youth, she had seemed as totally adult and
womanly as any Eve or Delilah. While she was awake he had
seen only the strength and the fire of her. Hell and damnation,
that was all he wanted to see. He didn’t want to think of her as
a child growing up torn between Indian and white and yet
wanted by neither. He didn’t want to remember how painful it
was being uprooted from the land you loved and sent to live
among strangers. All he wanted was to lie down beside her in
this bed and lose himself in her body. It was passion not
tenderness he wanted from Silver. Yet he couldn’t deny it was
tenderness he was feeling for her now. Aching poignant
tenderness that was almost unbearable in its intensity.
Unexplain-able, frustrating tenderness. His hand impulsively
reached out to touch the flowing richness of her hair.
Then he stopped, his hand dropping to his side. His wish
not to wake her was as unexplainable as the gentleness
coursing through his veins. He had come here tonight to begin
the first foray in the battle to which she had challenged him. In
the past hours he had indulged himself with two bottles of
wine and the cloying attention of several voluptuous women.
The wine had only made him morose and the women had no
effect upon him whatever. It was Silver Delaney he wanted
and Silver Delaney he would have.
But he knew now he would not have Silver Delaney
tonight.
He turned down the wick of the crystal-prismed oil lamp,
blew out the small lingering flame, and moved toward the door
in darkness. His Cossack training told him he was a fool to let
an enemy rest and gain strength, and his body told him he was
worse than a fool not to appease the lust besetting it. He
smiled crookedly as his hand clpsed on the knob of the door.
Oh, well, it was said that the angels had a special blessing for
fools and madmen, and God knew, he had need of all the help
he could get from that elite circle. He would search out an
empty stateroom and lie chastely in its bed, planning his
campaign against the dubious virtue of Silver Delaney.
The thought of chastity in connection with himself caused
his smile to become a chuckle of genuine amusement as he
quietly slipped out of the stateroom and locked the door
behind him.
4
„Awaken, sweet damsel.“ A knock had sounded on the door
and the deep masculine voice that immediately followed was
definitely not that of Nicholas Savron. „I’ve brought you a
breakfast fit for the gods. Well, perhaps not the gods, they
were noted for very peculiar tastes at times, but certainly fit
for anyone who inhabits this mortal plane.“
Silver sat up hurriedly, pushing an unruly strand of hair
behind her ear and automatically pulling the sheet and velvet
spread up to her throat. She was just in time, for the door was
unlocked and a handsome young man strode into the stateroom
carrying a tray, kicking the door shut behind him with one
elegantly shod foot. „I hope you’re hungry. Mikhail insisted