Page 47 of The Storybook Hero
Emma and Nicholas took up their places without the least bit of protest. The book was immediately opened to the marked page, and a discussion arose as to who would read first. Octavia interrupted just long enough to pile in several of the extra blankets as well as the rest of their belongings, and then leaving them to settle the matter themselves, she shut the door and climbed up beside Alex.
“You are quite sure you want to miss the description of the castle dungeons?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Very well. But tie the flaps of your hat a bit tighter. The temperature is dropping fast.” With that, he gave a flick of the reins and the two horses plodded off.
Much to her relief, he steered the conversation back to literature rather than forcing any scrutiny of her personal views. His sly sense of humor had not completely deserted him,however, for he inquired whether she had ever read Cleland’sMemoirs of a Woman of Pleasure.
Once again she felt a blush steal to her cheeks. “Certainly not.”
“Ah, but I think you would appreciate Fanny Hill.” With that he began an entertaining description of the plot, which elicited a reluctant smile or two from Octavia despite her resolve to be cool.
“I see I shall have to expand my horizons in books,” she said as he finished. “It sounds like a most interesting work.”
“Yes, why not take a chance in venturing beyond what you are familiar with. It can be … exhilarating.”
“It can also be dangerous.”
He regarded her with a veiled expression. “You do not appear to be intimidated by the threat of danger, Miss Hadley.”
“How can you say so? You don’t know me very well.”
“Well enough.” Before she could reply, he pulled the sled to the side of the road. “And now, judging by the color of your cheeks, I think it is time you went inside for a while. If the story is too much to bear, you could simply toss the book out the window.”
“You may think that I don’t fear danger—but nor do I seek out my imminent demise.” Secretly relieved that he took the redness of her face as reaction to the cold, she kept her tone as dry as his.
He laughed. “Then perhaps you might insist on a break for other lessons. A long mathematical equation would silence them for a few hours.”
“I shall survive.” She shook out her skirts and began to climb down. “But I shall expect you to come inside yourself in a short while, and let me handle the reins.”
As soon as the door closed, Alex coaxed the horses into a leisurely trot. His smile remained as he thought about herreactions to his bawdy account of Fanny Hill’s adventures. He couldn’t resist sparking a flash of fire in her lovely green eyes with his teasings?—
A sudden movement caused his head to jerk up, then a low oath escaped his lips.
Four horsemen had materialized from out of the thick pine forest fringing the road and drew abreast to block the way.
Alex started to reach for the pistol in his pocket, but quickly thought better of it. The odds were simply too great, for each of the men ahead already had a weapon pointed straight at his chest.
“What is it you want?” he called loudly, as he drew the sled to a halt, hoping to give Octavia and the children some warning of the trouble brewing outside. “If you seek money, you have made a poor choice of victims. I have little to offer.”
The riders approached. One of them, a wiry Cossack with a drooping mustache nearly as greasy as his thick sheepskin coat, edged ahead. “We want Count Scherbatov,” he growled. The pistol in his hand didn’t waver. “Any trouble and your carcass will soon be feeding the ravens.”
Alex stared at him blankly for a moment, then gave a rough guffaw. “A Count? Oh, aye, he’s in the back, along with Tsar Alexander and Prince Golitsyn.”
The other man looked slightly taken aback and shifted in his saddle. “Take a look,” he ordered curtly, motioning to the two on his left.
Alex sought desperately to think of some way of escape, but the leader was no slowtop. The fellow had stationed the fourth man at the head of the horses, while keeping a close eye on him. There was nothing to do at the moment but sit by helplessly and pray that an opportunity would present itself.
“Who is inside?” demanded the leader as the two men circled around to the door.
“My family,” he said sullenly. Perhaps he could bluff his way out of this.
The door was yanked open and one of the swarthy men leaned inside.
Octavia shrunk back against the squabs and made a show of pulling Emma closer. “Leave my daughter alone, you ruffians!” she cried shrilly. “Alexei, make them go away!”
As if on cue, Emma let go with a piercing wail and buried her face in Octavia’s shoulder. Another loud sob followed, and another.
