Had she heard him right? “But I don’t know you.”
He shrugged. “You can stay here, then. I don’t suppose the Bolsheviks will offer you a better deal, but perhaps the German Army will show mercy. Doubtful, but it’s your choice. You want a ticket out of here. I want someone to wash my clothes and cook my food and warm my bed. Seems to me like it’s a match.”
Nadia took a step back. He wanted her to marry him? To sleep with him? She didn’t mind the idea of cooking and washing in exchange for passage—she didn’t know how to cook or clean, but she was willing to learn—but the rest? He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t particularly refined either. Nadia Ilyinichna Linskaya, married to a lowly enlisted man? Her father would turn in his grave, if he were buried. But that was the problem: Papa was dead, and that left her with nothing. Which was worse: marrying a stranger or falling into the hands of the Cheka? There was another option: she could set off on foot. But with no money and few skills, she doubted she’d get far.
If the Bolsheviks caught her, she could expect death. If she set out on her own, the result would likely be the same. Zeman offered an alternative, but he didn’t offer her a chance to be a wife. He offered her a chance to be a slave. And yet, if the choice was between death and slavery, was slavery so bad? Her father and her mother had been willing to leave Russia to save her life, to preserve a future for their family line. She owed it to them to honor their wishes and live, even if it involved a distasteful marriage.
Corporal Zeman narrowed his eyes at something behind her. “What are you looking at, Sedlák? She wants out of the Ukraine, and Kral doesn’t have room for anyone but family. I’m giving her a way out.”
Nadia turned and recognized the man who’d found Konstantin for her. Apparently, that day hadn’t been the only time something had prevented Filip Sedlák from shaving, because his cheeks were again covered in stubble.
Zeman continued. “You’re just jealous because I thought of it first. I remember that day. We all agreed she’s pleasant on the eyes.”
“I remember commenting that she rode a fine horse. I don’t recall saying anything about the physical appearance of our grand duchess.”
Grand duchess? She’d told them quite clearly she was not a grand duchess. Yet the playful tone suggested Filip wasn’t serious, nor did it sound as if he were mocking her.
Zeman rolled his eyes. “For a sharpshooter, you have extremely poor vision. Or extremely poor taste.”
Filip stared down Zeman and motioned toward the officer. “Kral wants you. A problem with one of the engines.”
Zeman frowned, then took Nadia by the shoulders. His grasp was firm and possessive, and it reminded her of the man who’d attacked her. “Think it over. I doubt you’ll get a better offer. If I were you, I’d not let me out of your sight.” He left then, weaving his way among the crowd.
Nadia watched him go. He would be better than the men who’d killed her parents. But she could never love someone who would race into marriage with so little forethought and so much greed. Marrying him would get her out of the Ukraine, but then she’d be his wife until one of them died. It would save her life and doom it, all with one ceremony.
“He’s not always as bad as he seems,” Filip said. “He’s a skilled mechanic. We have 6,000 miles ahead of us, so he’ll be in high demand.”
In so much demand that he’d never bed his wife? No, that was too much to hope for. “So you suggest I marry him?” She turned to face Filip. He wasn’t any handsomer than Corporal Zeman, but something about him made him seem less intimidating, like a falcon instead of a vulture.
“No.” Filip hesitated, then spoke softly. “If you need a husband to escape, you could marry me instead.”
“And why should I choose you instead of him?” He didn’t make her as nervous as Zeman did, but that was hardly grounds for marriage.
“Well, I won’t make you my slave. I’ll expect you to pull your own weight, but if you need out, we can marry, and when we get to Vladivostok or Paris or wherever it is you want to go, we can get an annulment. You’ll have your escape, and then you’ll have your life.”
A temporary marriage. “Would we be able to get an annulment?”
“I imagine so. Are you Christian?”
“Yes.” Her Tatar ancestors had converted centuries ago.
“Orthodox, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Catholic. If we never consummate the marriage, then I imagine the annulment will be a simple matter.”
He wouldn’t expect her to—how had Zeman put it?—warm his bed? She wasn’t experienced when it came to marital relations, and the attack last night had left her wary in the extreme. Filip Sedlák suddenly sounded like a far better choice than Jakub Zeman.
“Why would you help me?”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes looked past her, not focused on the here and now. “Because Corporal Zeman reminds me of my sister’s husband, and he’s brought her very little happiness. No woman deserves a marriage like that.”