The Seeds of Power Read online

  ‘You give me permission?’

  ‘It is my house, Mr MacLain.’

  ‘And I am your prisoner. Very well, Your Excellency, I will retire. Will you come and turn the key on me?’

  As usual, her eyes were cool. ‘Who knows,’ she remarked. ‘You will have to wait and see.’

  *

  The room was swaying as he left it, not even saying goodnight to the Prince or Georgei. He knew he had behaved very badly. The resentment still bubbled inside him, the uncertainty as to the right course to take, the misery when he thought of all those Englishmen and Scotsmen sitting out there shivering in the snow, while he . . . he fell across his bed and was asleep in seconds, and awoke, it seemed only a few seconds later, as his door gently closed.

  ‘Do you always sleep with your boots on?’ Dagmar asked.

  He tried to get up, and slipped down to kneel beside the bed, which was swaying to and fro. The candle had burned down, and he couldn’t properly make her out. ‘And fully dressed,’ Dagmar pointed out.

  She knelt beside him, close enough for him, even in the gloom, to take in her face and realise that she had loosed her hair, which tumbled about her shoulders. She wore an undressing robe, at the moment tightly tied about her waist. ‘Is the party over?’ he asked.

  ‘It ended an hour ago.’

  ‘I must apologise...’

  ‘For what? Listen, get on to the bed and I will take off your boots.’

  He struggled to his feet, and fell again, but this time partly across the bed. Dagmar knelt beside him, and half pushed, half dragged him on to the mattress, until only his feet were dangling over the edge. Then she turned her back on him, and straddling his leg, seized the boot in both hands. He gazed at the curve of her back. She was wearing nothing under the robe. She had come here to have sex with him. Dagmar Bolugayevska?

  His right boot was off, and now she transferred her attention to his left. When that came off she was breathing heavily, and turned towards him, shrugging away the robe as she did so. He tried to sit up. ‘Dagmar...!’

  She held her finger to her lips. ‘Not a word!’ She knelt beside him again, unbuttoned his jacket and then his shirt. When he turned his head his nose touched her left nipple. She had forbidden him to speak, but had said nothing about touching. He opened his mouth and sucked the nipple between his lips. ‘Do not bite,’ she said severely, pulling the coat and shirt from his shoulders.

  Then she pushed him flat, going with him so that he did not have to release her, while his hands slid round her back to find and hold her buttocks. Then she pulled away and he had to let her go. ‘What a lot of clothes you men do wear,’ she commented. But then he was as naked as she, and she was lying down on top of him.

  *

  Winter sunlight was flooding the room. He looked down at the tawny hair, scattered across her face as she slept. My God! he thought. What happens now? Definitely prison, even if he did not first have to fight a duel with Georgei.

  He needed to use the pot, and very gently eased his arm out from beneath her. She rolled on to her back. He slid out of the bed, and the room started going round and round. He knelt, reaching beneath the bed, and found the pot. When he raised his head, she had rolled on her side again, and her eyes were open, gazing at him. ‘I did not mean to disturb you,’ he said.

  ‘You should have awakened me. I would have liked to see you pee.’

  He drove both hands into his hair.

  ‘Does something ail you?’ she asked.

  ‘Our situation.’

  ‘That we are sharing a bed? We have shared nothing else.’

  ‘Eh?’

  She smiled, and sat up. ‘You were not capable.’

  ‘My God!’ He simply could not remember.

  ‘I do not know whether you are still too weak from your wound, or whether you simply did not find me attractive enough. Or whether, perhaps, you were simply too drunk. I hope it was the last. You are shivering. Why do you not come back to bed?’

  He stood up. ‘I am capable now.’

  ‘That I can see. Well, then, I am greatly relieved.’ She raised the covers, to allow him to look at her body. Now it was light enough to see her properly, to appreciate the voluptuous beauty that she was offering. ‘Get in.’

  He obeyed her. He might feel that he had recovered his sexual powers, but his brain was still spinning, and not merely from alcohol. He lay on his back and the sheet and blankets dropped on top of him. ‘Will you tell me why?’ he asked.

  She slid down the bed herself, turned on her side, and threw her left leg across his thighs. ‘Don’t move,’ she said, and propped her head on her hand, inches from his face. ‘Why what? Why we are here? We are going to fuck, shortly.’

  ‘To…’ He had never heard a woman use that word before, much less a countess. ‘Why?’

  She smiled. ‘Do you not know? Or want? My God, I have heard this about the English. If you are really not interested, then I shall leave and say no more of it. But...’ Her other hand slid down his stomach to hold him. ‘I would say you are very interested indeed.’

  He disobeyed her, rolling on to his side himself. Their noses touched. ‘Your Excellency…’

  ‘I think Dagmar is now definitely more appropriate.’

  ‘Dagmar. Are you not...? Well, it is not what ladies do.’

  ‘You mean English ladies? I am Russian. Half-Russian, anyway.’ She kissed his lips, lightly. ‘But it is not what Russian ladies do either, at least with their guests.’

  ‘Why me? I mean...’

  ‘You do not think you are sufficiently attractive? I was attracted to you from the moment I first saw you, a battered wreck. But you knew this.’

  ‘Well, I...I hoped it might be so. But you are six years older than I.’

  ‘I think that is a very good relationship,’ she said, apparently seriously. ‘As for the rest, I know you better than you know yourself, Mr MacLain. I have cleaned up your bottom more times than I can remember. I have washed your privies, more times than I can remember. I have heard your secret thoughts, when you were delirious. Should I not possess what I have nurtured?’

  ‘Your father...’

  ‘My father does not interfere with my life. He would not dare.’

  ‘Well, then, Georgei...’

  ‘Neither would Georgei dare.’

  ‘But...your prospects...’

  ‘You are my prospects,’ she told him.

  Before he could quite determine what she had meant, she had rolled on top of him, and he was inside her, and she was rising above him with great surges. ‘Hold me,’ she panted. ‘Hurt me. Make me come!’

  A few seconds later she had collapsed on his chest, her hair scattered across his face, her body still trembling. ‘I am going to marry you,’ she whispered in his ear.

  *

  Dagmar left him a few minutes later. He tried to think, but before he could do so he was surrounded by servants come to see to his bath and to dress him.

  However much he might have dreamed of it, he had never had the slightest intention of going to bed with the woman, much less marrying her.

  What was he going to do? He was compromised, utterly at her mercy. Except...he might know nothing about the opposite sex, but he did know that when they lost their virginity they bled...there was no trace of blood on his sheets. He couldn’t possibly marry a Russian, an enemy of his country. He’d probably be shot.

  *

  He went downstairs, and found the family already started on breakfast. ‘Ha ha, Mr MacLain. You found our champagne a little strong last night, I fancy,’ Prince Bolugayevski shouted.

  ‘I’m afraid that is so, sir. I hope I did not disgrace myself.’

  To his consternation, the Prince looked at his daughter.

  ‘I think you behaved yourself admirably,’ Dagmar said.

  Colin looked at Georgei, who was in his field uniform, and clearly about to rejoin his regiment. Georgei winked.

  ‘I will see you in my study, when you hav
e finished your meal,’ Alexander Bolugayevski said.

  They all know, Colin thought desperately. My God, they all know! He raised his head to look at Dagmar, and she blew him a kiss.

  *

  ‘Sit down,’ Bolugayevski invited, and Colin cautiously sank into the chair in front of the huge ebony desk. ‘Cigar?’

  He took one. ‘You understand,’ the Prince said, ‘that this business has been carried out very informally, and very incorrectly, I may add. But the circumstances are exceptional. There is a war on, you and Dagmar are of different nationalities, and...well...’ He smiled. ‘Where Dagmar is concerned, business is usually conducted informally—and more often than not incorrectly, as well. But I am delighted that she has accepted your proposal.’

  ‘Ah,’ Colin said. ‘Well, sir, you see...’

  Bolugayevski flicked some ash away. ‘Are you saying that you did not propose to my daughter?’

  ‘Well...’ Of course I did not, he wanted to shout. It was she proposed to me. But he had bedded her, again at her invitation. ‘Of course I did, sir,’ he temporised.

  ‘Because you love her.’

  ‘Oh, indeed. Yes. Absolutely.’ How the devil was he going to get out of this mess? But there was one sure-fire way at least to delay it, and let everyone have second thoughts. ‘But the fact is, sir, well, as you pointed out at breakfast, I was very drunk.’

  ‘In vino veritas, Mr MacLain.’

  ‘Oh, quite. And I do love your daughter, and wish to marry her.’ What an accomplished liar he was becoming. ‘But the fact is, when I proposed, I was drunk. I had not taken into consideration all the factors involved.’

  ‘What factors?’

  ‘Well, sir, I am only twenty.’

  ‘And Dagmar is twenty-six. I assure you, that does not concern her in the slightest.’

  ‘It’s not that, sir. I am a subaltern in the Eleventh Hussars. It is against military law, British military law at any rate, for any officer under the age of thirty to marry without his commanding officer’s permission.’

  ‘I am sure that can be obtained.’

  ‘And then, sir, I could not possibly marry, at my age, without the permission of my parents.’

  ‘I would say that too can be arranged.’

  ‘I am not sure about that, sir, in the present circumstances. Our two countries are at war. I may be eternally grateful to you and your family for saving my life, and for nursing me back to health, and treating me as a guest rather than a prisoner, but that not how it will be seen in England. Or, indeed, at Balaclava. Why, I could even be accused of treason if I were to marry a Russian lady. In the present circumstances.’

  ‘I think, Mr MacLain, that if you ever have to give up soldiering, you should enter the legal profession. I think you would do very well. You do not wish to marry Dagmar, is that it?’

  ‘Oh, good lord, no, sir. I do wish to marry Dagmar. But don’t you see it would be much more practical when the war is ended.’

  ‘Which may not be for some years.’

  ‘Well, sir...’

  ‘I do not think we can wait that long. Has it occurred to you that Dagmar may be pregnant? She is certainly compromised.’

  Colin gulped. The Prince’s attitude bore no relation to anything he might have expected from an English father. ‘In any event, she has made up her mind,’ Bolugayevski said. ‘And Dagmar always gets her way. We will go ahead with the wedding. Not here. Dagmar and I are leaving Sevastopol tomorrow morning. You will accompany us.’

  ‘Leaving? Just like that? But you are besieged.’

  ‘Not really. The way to the east is still open; your people just do not have sufficient men to close it. It will not be a comfortable journey, I’m afraid, but we have done it before.’

  ‘But...your duties here...’

  ‘I have no duties here any longer. The harbour is blocked. My ships can neither get in or get out. So I have decided to hand over my affairs to my chief clerk, at least until this business is resolved. I also have pressing business summoning me home. The messenger arrived yesterday, but I did not let his news interfere with our party. However, that is behind us now, and I must make haste. So: you will be married on Bolugayen and have a honeymoon, and in due course we will write to your commanding officer and to your parents, presenting them with a fait accompli, and I have no doubt at all that they will accept the situation.’

  ‘But my career...’

  ‘I will give you a career. A very good one.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Colin said urgently. ‘I am a soldier, because I wish to be a soldier. It is all I wish to do. I am also a soldier who has taken an oath of allegiance to the Queen, God Bless Her. You are trying to make me into a deserter, in time of war. My God, sir, I could be shot.’

  Bolugayevski waved his hand. ‘These are a young man’s ideals. They are admirable, but they will not last. In a few years you will look back upon them and smile at yourself. As for being shot, well, the British will have to get hold of you, first. I do not think we will see them on Bolugayen. It is many, many miles from the sea.’

  Colin stood up. ‘Sir, I have tried to be reasonable. Now I must tell you that, much as I love your daughter, much as you may feel I have wronged her, I refuse to marry her without the permission of Lord Cardigan, and without the permission of my parents, and until this war is ended.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Bolugayevski said.

  Colin sat down without intending to. ‘Now you listen to me, young man,’ the Prince said. ‘As you keep reminding me, you are a prisoner of war. You should have died from that wound. My son saved your life, and I saw to it that you recovered. I kept you here, when I could have sent you to a prison camp, where, in your weakened condition, you would have died. Your life is mine, several times over. My daughter wishes to marry you. You think she is a lecherous whore, who is growing desperate as she cannot find a husband.’ He gave a brief smile. ‘I will not deny that Dagmar is a creature of the flesh. But that is no fault, as she will devote her flesh entirely to you. But there is a great deal more to it than that. I will not discuss it with you here; we will be in Bolugayen in a few weeks. But then you will learn that your marriage to my daughter is of great importance to my family. I have said, I will make it all right with your family and your superiors. That is important too. And I am offering you a life of great luxury, great power, and the arms of a beautiful woman. You do not strike me as being a fool, Mr MacLain, but I will tell you this: whether you are a fool or not, you are coming to Bolugayen to marry Dagmar.’

  *

  Colin paused in the corridor to regain his temper. He had felt like strangling the Prince. But his good sense had kept him controlled. He could understand the Russians’ point of view, however bizarre it might be. They felt that, as they had saved his life, he belonged to them. But just to be kidnapped, as if he were indeed a serf...my God, he thought: they are treating me exactly as Georgei treated Jennie Cromb! Save that Jennie had not apparently required kidnapping, at least in the first instance.

  He stamped along the corridors and found himself in the great withdrawing room. ‘Where is the Countess Dagmar?’ he demanded of the footman he found there.

  ‘I believe the Countess is in her apartment, sir, preparing for tomorrow’s departure.’

  Colin mounted the stairs, and encountered one of the maids at the top.

  ‘Sir?’ the girl inquired.

  ‘I am looking for the Countess Dagmar,’ Colin said.

  ‘I am here, Mr MacLain.’ Dagmar stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her.

  ‘I would like to speak with you, in private.’

  ‘Of course.’ She waved her hand, and the three maids in the room with her filed out. ‘Would you like me to close the door?’ Dagmar asked.

  ‘I think it would be a very good idea.’

  She closed it. ‘Would you like me to lock it?’

  ‘If you dare,’ he said. ‘Then you will be unable to summon help.’

  ‘Am I going t
o need help?’ She turned the key, then crossed the room and sat down in one of the chairs. ‘You are very attractive when you are angry. But then, you are very attractive at all times. You have seen Father?’

  ‘Yes, I have seen your father.’ He drew up the other chair to sit beside her. He was determined to be reasonable, terribly aware of the weakness of his position. ‘I wish you to know that I have every intention of honouring my obligation towards you.’

  ‘I never doubted it for a moment.’

  ‘But I wish you to understand that I cannot possibly do so while our two countries are at war, and until I have received permission to marry from my commanding officer and from my parents. Your father does not seem able to appreciate this.’

  ‘I am afraid I do not appreciate it either,’ Dagmar said. ‘You come here, allow your life to be saved by my family, by me, have your way with me, and then tell me that you cannot marry me for perhaps several years? I had supposed you were a gentleman.’

  ‘Well,’ he retorted, beginning to lose his temper, ‘I never made the mistake of supposing you were a lady.’

  Pink spots flared in her cheeks. ‘Nonetheless, you will marry me, Mr MacLain.’

  He stood up. ‘And suppose I told you that I shall never consummate the marriage?’

  ‘You have already consummated the marriage, Mr MacLain.’

  ‘That I will never speak to you?’

  ‘That is your business, I am sure.’

  ‘That I will continue to consider myself a prisoner of war, and will use every endeavour to escape as soon as I can?’

  She smiled. ‘If you can escape from Bolugayen, Mr MacLain, you will be a man amongst men.’

  ‘Dagmar,’ he said. ‘You must realise that this is absurd. We are living in the middle of the Nineteenth Century. You cannot just decide to marry someone and have it done whether he wishes it or not.’

  ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Then you do not, after all, wish to marry me.’

  His temper bubbled over. ‘All right, since you will have it, I do not wish to marry you. I was drunk and you took advantage of that. I am aware of what I did, and I am prepared to behave like a gentleman. But I will not be kidnapped like some serf. I will marry you when it becomes possible. Then I suggest that we obtain a divorce, just as rapidly as possible. Will that not satisfy you for the loss of your virginity? Supposing I did take your virginity.’