Love Me Again (12 page)

If only he could believe her, Robert despaired. “Why aren't you sleeping?”

She shrugged.

“Do you still love him?” He hated himself for pressing her again, but he needed to know.

With a sigh of disgust, she said flatly, “What if I do, Robert? I won't leave you for him. And I will not climb into his bed. What else do you want from me?”

“Your love, perhaps?”

She was beginning to realize she was trying to reason with a man she didn't know anymore. This man was a stranger. Snippets of her conversation with Edward all those months ago insidiously swirled into her tired thoughts. He had been trying to warn her. She should have listened, for she had no idea how to deal with this perverse side of Robert. She wasn't sure she even wanted to try anymore. She just wanted to go home.

Feeling resentful of having to beg for his trust, Christina knelt beside him and took his hands. “Robert, how can you think that I don't love you? What have I done to give you these doubts?”

Robert stared down at her with narrowed eyes, mistrust evident in every tensed muscle in his body. His hands rested heavy in hers, not wanting to give her an inch. “I see how you look at him,” he accused.

How could she possibly reach the understanding of a man who was so intrinsically selfish? Had she been living with blinders on all these years; only seeing what she had wanted to see?

“Robert, most of my life I spent loving Varek. For over ten years we were man and wife and we loved each other passionately. You may not like hearing this, but your wishing it doesn't change the past. You say you love me, and I have no doubt of your love, but you have to realize that what I am today is because of Varek. But Varek is my past. You are my here and now; my future. Isn't that enough?”

Christina was watching the turbulent emotions shifting in Robert's features, saw the bleak doubt in his eyes and knew with a sense of defeat that she had made no impression on him at all. Everything was a competition to him, and he already felt he was losing to Varek.

With a sigh, she dropped his hands and rose to her feet. She wandered over to the window and looked out over the twilit park. Knowing it was useless to ask again, she nevertheless entreated in a listless voice, “May I return to Kerkmoor?”

“Is running the answer to all your problems, Christina?” His question wasn't hostile, just curious.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass and began to despair of her future with Robert. When they returned to England would it ever be the same as it had been? She could only pray that once she was back safe and secure at Kerkmoor, that Robert would return to his ambitions in London and leave her be. It was her only chance at regaining the happiness she had found at Kerkmoor.

Looking up, Christina saw that the moon was rising, a pale lambent glow in the distant sky. And Varek? Would he ever find his happiness somewhere? Would he one day turn all his magical love and devotion onto some other woman and forget her?

“I wish you to attend at the Hofburg tonight, madam.” Robert's demand was spoken gently, but unmistakably final.

Turning, she nodded and said wearily, “As you wish.”

“What I wish is for you to purge him from your heart. That is what I wish, Christina.”

They both knew that what he asked was impossible, so she didn't even bother to answer this absurdity. Instead, she turned her back on him again and looked out into the cold night.

Robert stared at her back, and bit off the recriminations he wanted to hurl at her. What did she want of him, a castrated bull in her bed?

A knock resounded in the room, startling them. Relieved with the interruption, Robert turned toward the door as the maid opened it. When Sergei strode in unannounced, as if he owned the place, Robert again bit off the surge of anger that infused him. Christina's devoted watchdog, another thorn in his side. He shot Christina a resentful glare, before moving toward the unwanted guest.

“What the deuce do you want?” he snapped as Sergei stepped over to the table and helped himself to a cold chicken leg.

Sergei glanced past Basingstoke and looked at Christina, and what he saw only made him tear into the leg a little more savagely. His slitted gaze slid sideways to meet Robert's, which he held until he finished the leg and tossed it back on the table. His voice was cold and clipped when he said, “Castlereagh has called a special meeting with his attachés. You are needed in the consul chamber.” Again, Sergei's gaze flicked over Christina. “Now.”

Robert actually looked relieved at the summons. “Fine.” With a slight bow toward his wife, he told her softly, “I will see you later, my dear. Shall I come back to escort you or will Massallon here offer his services?”

Before she could answer, Sergei assured him impassively, “I shall escort her.”

Robert paused, then sketched Christina another bow, not meeting her eyes. When he turned toward the door, she stepped forward saying firmly, “Robert, I would prefer your company, if it is not too much trouble.”

His head jerked around and he looked at her, a smile of relief spreading over his grim features. “No trouble at all, my dear. I shall be here no later than eight. Will that be enough time for you to prepare yourself?”

Returning his smile, she nodded. It faded as soon as he was gone. She looked sideways at Sergei and saw him frowning at her.

“You look like hell. You shouldn't be going at all.”

Sighing in agreement, Christina rubbed her tired eyes, thinking that the last thing she wanted to do was spend another interminable night making inane chatter with people who were much too interested in meddling in her life. To add to her troubles, Varek had been conspicuously absent from all the social entertainments the last few days.

After a moment of deep thought, she said quietly, “I told him about Eddie.”

Sergei inhaled in surprise. “Was that necessary?” The tone of his voice was an accusation.

Her eyes began to burn even more as she fought off the sting of tears. “I don't know. I didn't want to, but I thought it would make him realize how hopeless it all was, these dreams of his.”
My dreams, too,
she admitted sadly to herself. “It apparently worked for I haven't seen him since.” She looked at him, a question in her eyes.

Sergei shook his head, worry creasing his brow. “No, I haven't seen him either.”

Turning away, Christina gnawed her lip. “Would you check on him, Sergei? I'm frightened.” It took a force of will she barely had to hold back the tears. “You should have seen his face.” Her whisper was tortured, filled with self-loathing. “I hurt him, Sergei. I hurt him so much.”

The look she turned on him was so raw with pain that Sergei was at her side in the next instant, and wordlessly he gathered her close.

Christina laid her cheek on his chest, and sighed, “You will find him?”

“I will find him.”

Within hours, Sergei presented himself at Varek's residence. He was told in no uncertain terms that his highness was not at home to visitors. The door was then closed firmly in his face.

Sergei blinked at the closed portal. Never had Varek turned visitors away from his door. Even if he did not see them personally, callers were admitted to his salon and offered refreshments and hospitality.

Backing down the steps, Sergei looked up at the row of windows that were Varek's private rooms. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared up directly at Varek, who stood at a full-length window, one hand holding back the drape, the other holding a crystal glass. He looked like hell; dressed in nothing but breeches and wrinkled shirtsleeves. It appeared he hadn't shaved in days, for a dark shadow covered his lower face, giving him a sinister, haunted quality.

They made eye contact for the briefest moment before Varek turned away, the drape falling back into place.

Sergei continued to stare up at the window, seeing nothing but the look of utter defeat in his friend's hooded eyes. It had been a long time since he had felt this helpless, and looking about the plaza, he wasn't sure what he should do next.

With his head bowed, Sergei wandered off into the darkness.

As the Congress continued through the fall months, little if anything but endless quibbling was being accomplished between the ruling powers of Europe; and still Christina saw herself far from home and escape from a life in hell. Now it was rumored that no negotiations would be agreed upon through the Christmas holidays. Christina shuddered at the thought of spending her Christmas in Vienna, among hundreds of acquaintances she could care less about.

And always there was Varek. Now, with the approach of winter teasing the crisp Vienna days, more and more she found herself envisioning her former husband with the romantic beauty of a delicate winter morning glistening about him; it was unbearable at times. Winter had always been their favorite time of year. Whenever she closed her eyes she could picture him teasing her with fistfuls of pristine snow, the newly fallen flakes shining like sprinkles of diamonds in his golden hair, his white-as-snow grin slashing across the bronzed symmetry of his face. Every time she flirted with these tormenting flashes of her incredible past she felt more and more like the adulterer Robert secretly accused her of being.

As the weeks crept slowly by she almost resigned herself to her fate. Varek was again close by no matter where she went. It was as if he knew where she would be before she did: dinner at the Chancellery, tea at Lady Castlereagh's, or simply sitting down for a cup of coffee at one of the hundreds of
kaufeehauses
along the
ringstrasse.
It never failed that she would look up and there he was, propped against a wall watching her with the patience of a predator who was not yet hungry enough to put himself to the trouble of going in for the kill. This strategy was diabolical in the fact that he was guilty of everything and yet could be held accountable for nothing.

Every time she looked into his face though, she felt and shared his pain. Since that terrible night, he appeared even harder than before, if that was possible. A smile never seemed to entice his beautiful lips anymore, and his eyes were shuttered to any emotion except vigilant weariness. She had no idea what was going on in his mind, and she didn't want to know. All she was sure of was that if she was in hell, she wasn't alone.

So, with a dogged determination at odds with her usually reclusive nature, she jumped in with both hands and devoted as many hours as was asked of her by the committee of hostesses involved with the upcoming extravaganza, the Carrousel, a reenactment of a medieval tournament. Thankfully, it kept her busy and out of the way of Varek and Robert's brooding presences. There were even times when she was able to forget her problems, though far and few were those blessed moments. Varek was simply a force one could never take ... simply.

Even though she kept her days busy enough, the sun would inevitably set and she was forced to return to her apartment. If a wary peace had settled between herself and Robert, it was hard won, and she was resentful of the amount of time it took to reassure him each time they came across Varek, which was now every day, and most times within hours of each meeting.

It was at times like these she was most tempted to give them their rapiers and get out of their way.

Varek stepped out of his residence and into the cold evening, his thoughts on the meeting he'd had with his cousin Francis earlier. He was pleased with the concessions the emperor was granting him, in truth he was being far more generous then he could have ever hoped for. Now if he could convince the people of Austenburg of the benefits, he might yet be able to save the duchy from a bloody insurrection. If only the options had been available all those years ago.... Unfortunately it had taken the bloody monster, Napoleon, to sweep through their land, raining destruction in his path, for the people to realize how vulnerable they were to a changing world. Austenburg was too small to marshal an army of any size to protect its borders, and for the first time in over a hundred years, war was no longer some dimly held idea of a threat but brutal reality.

When a bodyguard, armed with a torch and a sidearm, appeared at his shoulder to escort him to the palace, Varek waved him away. He knew the short distance to the Hofburg like the back of his hand, and he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Reclusive by nature, he hated people dogging his heels, and even with Francis's recriminations ringing in his ears about protection, he cavalierly dismissed them.

A smile eased his lips as Varek looked up at the black velvet of the night. The evening was crisp and clear, with thousands of stars adorning the sky. He paused for a moment and marveled at the magnificent display spread out before him, a treat from the gods. It never failed to humble him, the vastness of this other dimension. His fingers itched to ply the dials on his telescope. It had been a present from Christina years ago on his birthday. She had teased him, saying that since he was always likening her eyes to the beauty of the stars, perhaps it was time he saw what a star truly looked like. When he had taken up the hobby of astronomy with such a dedicated passion, she had been amazed. Since that first telescope, he had collected the best science could produce from all over the world; but Christina's gift had never lost favor with him, it was still in a place of honor by the bed they had shared; the same bed he had never shared with another woman.

He had just turned onto Augustine Street and was but a stone's throw away from the imperial palace when they jumped him. Varek had no time to release the steel out of his cane as he was swept backward into a tiny side alley, three sets of brawny arms holding him practically immobile. In the scuffle he felt his walking stick ripped from his hand. As the stygian dampness of the fetid alley suffocated him, fists and clubs were employed with equal ruthlessness upon his entire body. Paralyzing pain shot to every part of him, almost taking him down, and in a flash he saw the ending of his life.

But he was not a man to take unprovoked abuse and then meekly offer up the other cheek. As his initial wave of surprised vulnerability left in a heated rush, the cold-blooded necessity of survival took over.