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Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
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Catherine let out a long, put upon breath. “Mother,” she said in a rational, ‘let’s make sense of this’ voice, “the man is obnoxious. He’s uncouth, uncivilized and vulgar. I took exception to the things he was saying about me and I fear I let my temper get the best of me.”
“By shoving the poor man down in the dirt,” her mother snapped.
“In the dirt!” her father moaned, shaking his head.
The Tzarina turned to her husband, the love of her life, the bane of her existence, and her WINDBELIEVER
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Page 33
companion of fifty-two years. “Thomas, must you repeat everything I say?”
The Tzar blushed. “No,” he answered. He looked away from his wife’s annoyed face. “I don’t suppose so.”
Laughter snagged at Catherine’s lip, but her mother’s grating tone wiped the humor from the young woman’s face.
“We won’t tell the poor man how you pushed him. We won’t tell him how you kicked him in the ....”
“Ass, Dearling,” her husband supplied. “She kicked him in the ass.”
Charlotte Steffenovitch’s eyes narrowed with warning at her husband’s bland expression.
“That will do, Thomas.”
“Yes, Love,” the Tzar mumbled. He glanced at his daughter and winked.
“This is not amusing!” the Tzarina declared, looking pointedly from father to daughter. “He could have been seriously hurt!”
“He got a conk on the noggin’ and a raging headache, Lottie,” her husband reminded her.
“Nothing more. The physician says he’s perfectly fine except for the headache.”
“Which he deserved for insulting me,” Catherine told her mother.
The Tzarina threw up her hands. “I give up!” she hissed. “The two of you seem to think this is a game!” She spun around and pointed a long, narrow finger at her husband. “This man is the heir to the kingdom of Serenia, Thomas! He is the most powerful man in seven kingdoms. Your people need him. His presence here is of vital importance to us. Will you have him insulted and abused by this slip of a girl?”
“Mother …,” Catherine began in an exasperated tone, but her mother turned on her in such a way the young woman took a step back.
“We need him, Marie Catherine!” her mother shouted, eyes flaring. “He is our future. Your future!”
“The hell he is!” Catherine hissed right back. “You will never force me into marrying that son-of-a ....”
“Who said anything about you marrying him?” her father demanded, coming out of his chair in a bound. “Who told you that?”
Catherine swung her own angry glare to her father. “He told me!” she snapped. “Just before he informed me he would rather marry a sludge pig than marry me!”
“He said that?” her mother gasped.
The young woman’s lip thrust out in a pout. “Something to that effect.”
“He knows?” her father groaned, sitting down again.
“Obviously he does,” her mother sighed. A frown marred her loveliness. “Wasn’t he supposed to know?”
The Tzar shook his head. “No.” He glanced at his wife. “Not yet, anyway.”
“It’s true?” Catherine gasped.
“Now, Catherine …,” her father began only to have his daughter fix him with a livid stare.
“You were going to try to force me to marry this bastard? How could you?”
“Force is not the right word,” her mother reasoned.
Catherine’s head jerked toward her mother. “Then what would you call it, Mother?”
“It was to be only a suggestion, Marie Catherine,” her father answered. “An alliance between the two kingdoms, the two houses.”
A violent trembling took over Catherine’s body as she walked to her father’s chair and stared down at him. “Father,” she said, her voice quivering, “I would rather die a fat old spinster than WINDBELIEVER
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Page 34
be shackled to that vicious, pompous, ugly excuse for a man. If you try to pair me with him, I will ...,” she looked about her, finally lifted her head and
Catherine let out a long, put upon breath. “Mother,” she said in a rational, ‘let’s make sense of this’ voice, “the man is obnoxious. He’s uncouth, uncivilized and vulgar. I took exception to the things he was saying about me and I fear I let my temper get the best of me.”
“By shoving the poor man down in the dirt,” her mother snapped.
“In the dirt!” her father moaned, shaking his head.
The Tzarina turned to her husband, the love of her life, the bane of her existence, and her WINDBELIEVER
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Page 33
companion of fifty-two years. “Thomas, must you repeat everything I say?”
The Tzar blushed. “No,” he answered. He looked away from his wife’s annoyed face. “I don’t suppose so.”
Laughter snagged at Catherine’s lip, but her mother’s grating tone wiped the humor from the young woman’s face.
“We won’t tell the poor man how you pushed him. We won’t tell him how you kicked him in the ....”
“Ass, Dearling,” her husband supplied. “She kicked him in the ass.”
Charlotte Steffenovitch’s eyes narrowed with warning at her husband’s bland expression.
“That will do, Thomas.”
“Yes, Love,” the Tzar mumbled. He glanced at his daughter and winked.
“This is not amusing!” the Tzarina declared, looking pointedly from father to daughter. “He could have been seriously hurt!”
“He got a conk on the noggin’ and a raging headache, Lottie,” her husband reminded her.
“Nothing more. The physician says he’s perfectly fine except for the headache.”
“Which he deserved for insulting me,” Catherine told her mother.
The Tzarina threw up her hands. “I give up!” she hissed. “The two of you seem to think this is a game!” She spun around and pointed a long, narrow finger at her husband. “This man is the heir to the kingdom of Serenia, Thomas! He is the most powerful man in seven kingdoms. Your people need him. His presence here is of vital importance to us. Will you have him insulted and abused by this slip of a girl?”
“Mother …,” Catherine began in an exasperated tone, but her mother turned on her in such a way the young woman took a step back.
“We need him, Marie Catherine!” her mother shouted, eyes flaring. “He is our future. Your future!”
“The hell he is!” Catherine hissed right back. “You will never force me into marrying that son-of-a ....”
“Who said anything about you marrying him?” her father demanded, coming out of his chair in a bound. “Who told you that?”
Catherine swung her own angry glare to her father. “He told me!” she snapped. “Just before he informed me he would rather marry a sludge pig than marry me!”
“He said that?” her mother gasped.
The young woman’s lip thrust out in a pout. “Something to that effect.”
“He knows?” her father groaned, sitting down again.
“Obviously he does,” her mother sighed. A frown marred her loveliness. “Wasn’t he supposed to know?”
The Tzar shook his head. “No.” He glanced at his wife. “Not yet, anyway.”
“It’s true?” Catherine gasped.
“Now, Catherine …,” her father began only to have his daughter fix him with a livid stare.
“You were going to try to force me to marry this bastard? How could you?”
“Force is not the right word,” her mother reasoned.
Catherine’s head jerked toward her mother. “Then what would you call it, Mother?”
“It was to be only a suggestion, Marie Catherine,” her father answered. “An alliance between the two kingdoms, the two houses.”
A violent trembling took over Catherine’s body as she walked to her father’s chair and stared down at him. “Father,” she said, her voice quivering, “I would rather die a fat old spinster than WINDBELIEVER
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Page 34
be shackled to that vicious, pompous, ugly excuse for a man. If you try to pair me with him, I will ...,” she looked about her, finally lifted her head and
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