Semen bent to do so, looking up after a moment, shaking his head. “Nothing, Princess.”
“Well, it didn’t hurt to be sure.”
Rodion and Semen exchanged a glance at that. But Rodion, tight-lipped as he carried the woman out of the woodhouse, was feeling all the impotence and rage that only someone under the yoke of serfdom could feel. Didn’t hurt? The Englishwoman would think differently.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Oh my God!”
Katherine leaped off the slab she had been lying on the moment she realized what it was. The effort brought a loud moan to her lips. She crouched, out of breath, glaring furiously at the thing. It was one thing to wake up in an unfamiliar place, but quite another to find yourself roasting over coals.
“A stove! They put you on a bloody stove, Katherine! They’re crazy. They’re every one of them crazy!”
“Zdravstvui, Gospozha.”
“Like hell it’s a good morning!” Katherine rounded on the woman who had come up soundlessly behind her. Seeing her back up with a start, she switched to Russian. “Were you planning on serving me for dinner?”
The woman broke into a toothy smile when Katherine’s meaning became clear. “The stove isn’t lit,” she assured her. “It makes a nice warm bed in winter for the children and the older ones. That is why it is so big, you see. But in summer it is too hot and the baking is done outside.”
Katherine gave one more fulminating look at the stove. It was huge, about five feet long and four feet wide, indeed large enough to accommodate several people as a bed. But if it wasn’t lit, why did she feel as if she had just been burned?
“You shouldn’t be moving about yet, miss,” the woman said more seriously now, drawing Katherine’s attention back to her.
“I shouldn’t?”
“Unless you feel able, of course.”
“Of course.”
Katherine’s reply was testy for lack of explanation, but it was accompanied by a shrug, which was the worst thing she could have done. Her eyes flared wide, then squeezed shut as the breath whished out of her. Unfortunately she tensed against the fire whipping down her back, and that just made it worse. She moaned pitiably, unable to resist, uncaring who heard her.
“That—bloody—bitch!” she hissed through her teeth, bent over further now in her pain. “She actually…unbelievable! How could she dare?”
“If you mean the Prince’s aunt, she governs here in his absence, so—”
“What blasted excuse is that?” Katherine snapped.
“Everyone knows what you did, miss. The mistake was yours. We learned long ago what attitude to adopt when in her presence. She is of the old order, you see, those who demand total subservience. Show a little fear and the utmost respect, and she is more than benevolent. No one is caned here anymore—you, of course, being the exception. You just have to know how to handle her.”
Katherine would have liked to handle her all right, with a torch and a whip. But she didn’t say so. She was doing her best to try and will the pain away. If she didn’t move a single muscle, it wasn’t quite so agonizing.
“How bad is it?” she asked hesitantly.
She wasn’t wearing her own clothes, so someone had undressed her, and she had to assume it was this woman. The dress that had been put on her was of coarse cotton, cool, but scratchy in the extreme. It had probably been donated by that female despot who called herself a princess. It certainly didn’t belong to this woman, as she was rather on the plump side, and the dress, while uncomfortable, at least fit Katherine.
“Do you bruise easily?”
“Yes,” Katherine replied.
“Then it is not so bad, I think. Many welts and bruises, but at least no broken skin or ribs.”
“You’re sure?”
“About the ribs, no. You could better judge. They wouldn’t call a doctor, even when your fever was so high.”
“I had a fever?”
“For a day and a half. It is why you were brought here. Fevers I know about.”
