Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8 (5 page)

BOOK: Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8
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Feeling terribly awkward and self-conscious, she quickly pulled away from his embrace. His kiss had not moved her at all!

“I really have to get back to the guests, Rudolf,” she nervously babbled, “and then I have to change, because I’m going riding this afternoon., I promise to meet you later, and we’ll talk, about Zurich…about everything…” And she turned and ran, back toward the tents and the people and the champagne and caviar, feeling like a little girl once more, and not feeling very good about herself at all.

His amused laughter rang out behind her. “You can’t run from me forever, my darling. I know you love me, and you know it, too, and soon you’re going to have to face the truth.”

Marilee slowed to a walk, struggling for composure.

The
truth
,
she grimly reflected, was that she doubted if she’d ever know when to open that special bottle of wine Kit had compared to realizing true love.

Her
wine, she feared, would turn to vinegar before she ever knew such splendor…

Chapter Six

Jade was wearing a floor-length gown of emerald satin for the reception dinner. Her hair was fashioned in a chignon, dozens of tiny diamonds shimmering, the net holding them so wispy as not to be noticeable. The sleeves were capulet, the neckline squared and crusted with sequins. Her jewelry was her favorite opal-and-emerald earbobs, with matching choker.

She reached for her elbow-length gloves of white silk just as Colt came out of his dressing alcove, dashingly handsome in a formal black tuxedo with ruffled shirt and bold red satin tie.

“My God,” she said without exaggeration, “if I weren’t already married to you, I’d pursue you like the most wanton of Jezebels!” She rose from the dressing table to eagerly receive his embrace.

“You always were the most ravishing woman I ever knew,” he murmured huskily, mouth brushing hers.

He’d had a bottle of cognac, their preferred aperitif, sent up earlier and poured them each a glass. “To us, our children, our grandchildren, and the future.”

Their eyes met over the rims of their glasses, and suddenly, in that strange way that lovers have, when their souls are somehow laid naked before each other, Colt lowered his drink and whispered, “You aren’t going to stop worrying, are you?”

Jade shook her head, shuddering from head to toe, and he set aside his glass, did the same with hers, then wrapped his arms around her.

“Travis will be fine. He’s a trained soldier, an officer, and he’ll serve proudly and bravely.”

“I know.” She managed to sound confident, but inside she felt stark, cold dread. Then, struggling to reach out for any solace, she forced a smile and said, “At least you won’t be on the front. You’ll be in Paris, and the embassy should be reasonably safe, and…” Her voice trailed off as she saw his expression, new fear rising.

He turned away, unable to face her.

“Colt, what is it?”

“I’m not going to Paris,” he wretchedly confessed, forcing himself to face her, wincing as he saw the emerald eyes he adored now inflamed by terror. “I’m being sent to Russia.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, and her gasp was barely audible. “Oh, God, no…”

He gathered her against him once more. “Jade, Jade, my darling, you’ve got to understand. Our government is worried that the July uprising of the Bolsheviks was only a forerunner of their ultimately overthrowing the Provisional Government, and if they succeed, in all probability they’ll make peace with Germany.”

In a rare burst of rage, Jade cried, “I don’t give a goddamn about the war, or patriotism, or any of that. All I know is my son’s going to the front, and you’re going into the middle of a bloody revolution, and it’s not fair!”

He grabbed her by her shoulders. “Listen to me, Jade Coltrane. Get hold of yourself. One of the reasons I’ve always loved you is because of your spirit, and you aren’t going to wilt on me now. I need to know you’re strong. And so does Travis.”

Jade closed her eyes, but only momentarily. He was right. They had been through so many trials and tribulations in their life together, and she was not going to bend now, not when strength was needed the most. “I’m sorry.” She mustered a brave little smile, lower lip trembling only slightly.

He grinned, holding her gently once more. “God, I shudder to think what the outcome would’ve been if you’d gone all to pieces way back when! Let’s not talk about it anymore. I’ll come back, and so will Travis, and we’ll all grow old together. Now hold your head high, and remember I love you.” He cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her lips. “And later tonight, I’ll show you how much.”

They shared one last glass of cognac to brace for the arduous evening, then Colt said he wanted to go downstairs.

Jade glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s only six thirty. Kit set seven as the cocktail hour.”

“Yes, I know, but I sent a courier into Valencia with a message for young Hapsburg that I’d like to have a private meeting with him.”

Jade was pleased. “I think it’s time we found out his intentions.”

He laughed. “Oh, I think his intentions are quite clear, and Marilee would probably do well to marry him.”

“She’s so worried about Drakar. At least when you get to Russia you’ll stand a better chance of finding out what happened to him.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll try. I thought at first that, as close as he was to Nicholas, it was likely he was on the Imperial train with him in Pskov when the decision was made to abdicate, but from what I’ve been able to find out from the embassy, he wasn’t on the train when it arrived in Mogilev.”

“Maybe he was never on that train.”

“You don’t honestly believe that.”

Soberly, Jade shook her head. “No. Drakar would’ve been with him at such a time.”

“Frankly, since Drakar was nowhere around when Nicholas was arrested, I think he and some other trusted advisers just slipped away to plan a counterrevolution. If he were dead, or a prisoner himself, we’d have heard. And if he’s working underground, he won’t dare contact anyone,” Colt pointed out. “But I promise I’ll do everything I can while I’m there to try and find him.”

 

 

Rudolf had arrived early and been shown to Kurt’s private smoking salon, situated on the ground floor of the castle in a quiet, almost isolated wing. He walked about, admiring the room. The walls were covered in leather, and there were many paintings of the famed Tanner Hispanos and prize bulls. The carpet was thick, red wool, and the furniture was of caramel-covered leather, with luxurious sheepskin throws for added comfort. There was a huge stone fireplace that took up one wall, and a mirrored bar opposite.

Very nice, he concluded with a sneer, but when he and Marilee got married, they would live just as luxuriously. Not only did she have the Coltrane inheritance, but her father had set up a tidy trust. He knew because he had made it his business to find out.

Rudolf had experienced both wealth and poverty and found he much preferred the former, despite his pretense of adhering to the Bolshevik doctrine.

After Rudolf’s father had died when he and his sister, Elenore, were still children, their mother, Amalia, had married a distant cousin of Francis Joseph and delighted in claiming kinship to the revered House of Hapsburg-Lorraine. No matter that there was no blood relation. The necessary doors to acceptance and high society were opened, and by the time Rudolf and Elenore reached puberty, they were accepted in court.

It was not until his stepfather died that Rudolf and his family found themselves in dire straits.

Amalia never knew her husband, Fritz, was so deeply in debt until he died of a heart attack three years ago. The ghouls had descended to claim everything owed them.

Consequently, the family saw no choice but to go to Zurich and seek refuge with Rudolf and Elenore’s paternal grandmother, Ilsa Gutten.

Ilsa, however, was actually not wealthy. When she died shortly after they moved in with her, about all she left was her drafty old castle, small by European standards, and some valuable objets d’art that Amalia promptly sold.

Amalia had almost fanatical goals for her children. Elenore would go to an exclusive finishing school to be groomed to attract a wealthy husband, and Rudolf would be a piano virtuoso. Amalia had been glad for the excuse to leave Austria, lest her son be made to join the fighting and perhaps injure his precious hands.

Yes, Rudolf mused bitterly now, his mother was a driving force, and her nagging and harping, even worse when she was drinking, drove him and Elenore away from her. That was when they had begun frequenting an out-of-the way coffeehouse, where they’d met other young Austrian refugees who were also bored and disillusioned with life. And gradually, more to be accepted by their new friends than anything else, they had become involved with the Bolshevik supporters.

It had given Rudolf a particular thrill, never to be forgotten, to have met the great man himself—Lenin. And there had been many occasions when Rudolf had been tempted to leap to the defense of his mentor’s doctrines when in the company of others, but the particular group he and Elenore affiliated themselves with adhered to absolute secrecy. That way, they could be used in many ways, for no one considered they would ever turn their backs on Austria in support of the enemy, Russia.

When certain leaders learned that Elenore had become friends with the daughter of one of the Czar’s closest confidants, Rudolf had been ordered to court her in hopes of learning more about Drakar Mikhailonov’s activities. At first he had been reluctant, but when he met her, realized just how beautiful she was, he no longer considered his assignment a chore! And he had managed to keep hidden his enthusiasm over discovering how wealthy she was.
That
would certainly not go over so well with socialist-minded comrades, but no matter.

Rudolf turned at the sound of the door opening, then graciously held out his hand to Colt Coltrane.

“Did I keep you waiting long?”

“No, no,” Rudolf assured him. “I was early. I’ve been enjoying just looking around. It’s a beautiful salon.”

A white-coated butler brought a tray with snifters and a decanter of brandy, then left.

They sat down, and Colt poured them each a drink. “When we met earlier today,” he began, “there was so much going on we didn’t have time to talk. That’s why I asked you to come early so we’d have some time together before dinner.”

Rudolf nodded. “I’m glad you did, sir.”

Colt opened a fruitwood box, offered Rudolf a cigar, which he took. Then he sat back, crossed his legs, and regarded Rudolf thoughtfully for a moment before asking candidly, “Tell me, why did you and your family leave Austria? It would seem a young man like you would be fighting for his country.”

Rudolf assumed a sad expression. “It would seem so, wouldn’t it? But the truth is, family obligations have taken precedence over patriotism. My stepfather died of a heart attack three years ago, at the same time my paternal grandmother became ill in Zurich. My mother wanted to go care for her, which she did until her death, and we stayed because, frankly…” He set the brandy snifter down and raised his hands, spreading his fingers. “I’m bent on protecting these. Forgive me if I brag, but I’ve been called a piano prodigy by many in a position to know. I protect my hands, and I care for my mother and my sister. If there are those who would condemn me for that, so be it,” he finished with a shrug.

Politely, Colt said, “Well, it’s not for me to judge,” but inside he was thinking the young man somewhat of a coward, even though he acknowledged that Rudolf had the right to freedom of choice. “And I suppose you wouldn’t be here if you were politically inclined. Our countries are enemies, too, you know. Tell me, are you studying your music now?”

“Yes, but not as much as I’d like. I’m not privy to the same quality of conservatories we had in Austria. They were nonpareil to anywhere in Europe, in my opinion, except for Russia, of course.”

Colt nodded. “I’ve heard that, but Russia isn’t a very good place to be right now,” he sardonically pointed out, then could not help probing. “Doesn’t it ever bother you that Marilee is part Russian?”

Rudolf’s eyes widened, reflecting his surprise at such a question. “Of course not. If it did, the relationship certainly wouldn’t have progressed this far.”

It was the opening Colt had been waiting for. “And just how far is that, Rudolf?”

He did not hesitate to declare, “I love her, and I’ve asked her to marry me.”

Colt raised an eyebrow. It was his turn to be surprised. “And has she said yes?”

Rudolf sighed. “She says she’s not sure, but I know that’s just an excuse. She’s so worried about her father she can’t think about anything else right now. I’m trying to be patient, but frankly, I think he’s dead, and while I don’t mean to sound coldhearted, the fact is—life is for the living, and I wish she’d get on with hers—
and
ours—and set a wedding date.”

“You make it all sound so simple.”

“I wish it were. Maybe you can help me. That is, if you approve of me, sir.”

Colt could not find any reason, on first impression, to feel anything negative. Rudolf was obviously intelligent, of good breeding, ambitious, and, most of all, seemed genuinely fond of Marilee. “So far, you have my endorsement,” he said, then quickly pointed out, “but I don’t want to get involved in Marilee’s personal life to the point of persuading her to do something she’s unsure about.”

BOOK: Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8
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