Iris Johansen - The Beloved Scoundrel

Beloved Scoundrel

Iris Johansen

BANTAM BOOKS New York Toronto London Sydney Auckland

A Bantam Book /February 1994

All rights reserved.Copyright 1994 by Iris Johansen.

Cover art copyright 1994 by Wah.

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ISBN 0-553-29945-X

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OPM 19 18 17 16 15 1413 12 11

Chapter 1

February 16, 1809

Talenka, Montavia

The Balkans

The Window to Heaven wasshattered. Only moonlight and cold wind streamed through the huge circularcavity where splendor and beauty had once reigned.

Marianna dug her fingers intothe door to keep herself upright as she stared at the devastation. The journeyhad taken too long. She had failed Mama. The pattern was smashed; the Jedalarwas gone. Then she forgot everything else as the deep sense of loss over theact of sheer desecration hit home. She knew the Jedalar should be moreimportant to her but, dear heaven, all that wonder and beauty gone forever.

Why was she so stunned? Theyhad destroyed everything else in her life. Perhaps it was even fitting thatthis last beautiful remnant had died.

"Marianna." Alextugged at her arm. "I think I hear them!"

She went rigid, listening. Sheheard nothing, just the wind whistling among the shelled and deserted houses ofthe town. She looked away from the shimmering splinters of glass scatteredacross the floor of the church, her gaze searching the ruins that had once beenthe town of Talenka. She still heard nothing, but Alex had always possessedsharper hearing than she. "Are you sure?"

"No, but I think"He tilted his head. "Yes!"

She should never have comeback. She should have taken the road to the south. Her mother would haveforgiven her. They had not taken quite everything from her. She still had Alex,and by God, she would not let him die.

She slammed the heavybrass-studded door and dragged Alex behind her as she tore down the long aisletoward the altar, stumbling over a broken iron candelabra and several fat whitecandles scattered on the marble floor. The soldiers had wreaked their usualhavoc here, she thought grimly. Everything of value had either been stolen ordestroyed. The gold crucifix that had once adorned the wall beneath the Windowto Heaven had vanished; the statue of Mary and the Child to the left of thealtar had been toppled from the pedestal.

"Horses," Alexwhispered.

She heard them now too. Thesharp clip-clop of hooves on the cobble-stoned street outside.

"They won't findus," she whispered back. "They didn't see us come in, and those pigscan have no traffic with either churches or prayers." She pulled thelittle boy behind a column beside the altar and crouched down beside him. "Butwe will stay here awhile and wait for them to go away."

Alex shivered and drew closerto her. "What if they do come?"

"They won't." Sheslid an arm around his shoulders. He was thinner than he had been last week,she realized in concern, and he had been coughing all day. The scraps of foodshe had managed to salvage from the deserted farmhouses outside the town hadbarely been enough to keep them alive.

"What if they do?"Alex repeated.

Heavens, he was persistent."I said they" She stopped. She didn't know the duke's soldierswouldn't come, she thought wearily. She could not be sure of anything oranyone. She doubted if those monsters would come to worship, but they mightcome to loot and burn again. "If they come, we will hide here in theshadows and be very quiet until they leave. Can you do that?"

He nodded, his weight heavieragainst her. "I'm cold, Marianna."

"I know. As soon as wehear them leave, we'll look for shelter for the night."

"Can we light afire?"

She shook her head. "Butmaybe we can find a blanket for you."

"And for you." Hesmiled at heronly a faint smile, but it was enough to light his face with thecherubic radiance that had led her mother to use him as a model in her lastwork. It was the first time she had seen him smile since the night they had

Mama

She quickly blocked thethought. She must not think of that night or anything that happened since. Shehad found it weakened her, and she must stay strong for Alex.

"A blanket for metoo." She wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but Alex had reached theadvanced age of four and regarded himself as too old for such a display ofaffection. "Just as soon as they leave the village."

But they weren't leaving. Theywere coming closer. She could hear the horses just outside the church and men'svoices laughing and talking.

Her heart pounded as she drewAlex closer.

Let them go away, she prayedfrantically. Mother of God, let them not come into the church.

Footsteps on the stone stairs.

The muscles of her stomachtightened painfully.

"Marianna?"

"Shhh." Her handclamped over Alex's mouth.

The door creaked as it swungopen. So much for prayers. Now she must do as her mother had taught her andrely only on herself.

Mama.

A tide of grief overwhelmedher. Tears stung her eyes until she could barely see the man standing in thedoorway.

She blinked. She had not criedsince it had happened, and she would not cry now. Tears were for the weak, andshe must be strong.

She watched the man start downthe aisle. He was tall, very tall, his stride long and purposeful, his darkcloak billowing behind him like the wings of a vulture. He was not in theduke's livery, but that didn't mean he wasn't the enemy. No one followed him,she noticed in relief. He had left those other pigs outside. She had a betterchance of besting one man.

He stumbled in the darknessand muttered a curse.

She heard Alex's gasp beneathher hand. There had been many curses that night, curses and laughter andscreams. She had held Alex to her breast so he would not see, but she had notbeen able to keep him from hearing. Her hand kneaded his thin shoulders insilent comfort.

The man stumbled again andthen stopped, stooped, and picked up something from the floor. A few minuteslater a tiny flame of light pierced the darkness as he lit the stub of a brokencandle he had retrieved.

She shrank farther back intothe shadows, her gaze raking the enemy to search out weakness.

Dark hair tied back in aqueue, a long face, a glimmer of green eyes.

He lifted the candle high, hiseyes searching the darkness until he found the gaping hole that had once beenthe Window to Heaven. His hand tightened on the candle; his face contorted inan expression of demonic fury. "Damnation!" His booted foot kickedout at the shards of glass on the marble floor. "Dammit to hell!"

He'd cursed in English. Hemust be English, like Papa, but she had never seen Papa in a fury like this.

Alex whimpered.

The man stiffened. "Who'sthere?"

He was turning toward them!She tried to think quickly through the sick terror tightening her chest. If hesaw them, they would be helpless prey. Their only weapon was surprise.