Love Me Again (15 page)

Robert's heart was pounding; in anger, in helplessness, in embarrassment, he could not say. “Yes, my lord.”

There was a new hardness to Robert's eyes that his superior didn't like. Clearing his throat, Castlereagh suggested gently, “Perhaps it is time to send Lady Basingstoke home.”

“No!” Robert clipped out, then stiffened again. “No, my lord. I will take care of my own.”

Castlereagh studied the guarded man before him, speculating quickly on what might be the best course. Too many things were going awry; he was losing control of the negotiations, and Parliament was becoming more and more unfavorably inclined toward him. He hated losing control. In truth, it was not an option, not with the fate of Europe hanging in the balance. And now he was being forced to ignore the directives of Parliament in order to force events the way he was sworn to follow and knew ultimately was in the best interest of all the powers. He couldn't waste time on petty family squabbles. On the other hand, von Vischering was a favorite cousin of Emperor Francis, and at this delicate stage in negotiations he couldn't afford to give the emperor a reason to resent him by interfering in the archduke's business. Perhaps it was best that Christina remain in Vienna, at least for the present.

With a sigh, he finally stood up. “Very well, Robert. It would be a shame for her to miss out on the Carrousel, after all her efforts on behalf of the committee. We will wait till then and see, shall we?”

Robert glanced up sharply, relief barely discernible on his grim face. “Yes, my lord.” Then with a bow he withdrew, his stride long and sure.

Castlereagh pondered on that closed door for many minutes before he returned to his desk and the endless mountain of work waiting there. Already he wondered if he had made the wrong decision.

The Emperor Francis looked down on Varek, shaking his head in amazement. Had it been him laying there, black and blue from head to toe, he would have been blubbering like a baby. But then, he had always been the first to admit to his many weaknesses, and his inability to bear pain with heroic stoicism was definitely one of them.

His empress, Maria, faced pain every day of her life now. Tuberculosis had claimed her youthful beauty and day by day he was forced to watch as her body grew frailer, her gentle beauty a bit more faded. It was she who had to live every day with the wracking coughs, arising every morning to the slow, painful eventuality of her own mortality, but it was he who broke down and cried whenever he was in her presence. And now the obligation of acting hostess to the Congress was pulling her down even more. As expected, she endured it all: the lengthy dinners, the tiring balls, the hectic galas, with her usual dignity and graciousness. The people of Austria loved their empress and were sincere in their grief at her affliction. But no one grieved their empress's illness as much as her husband.

Now his favorite cousin lay before him, in obvious pain, but grinning up at him like a battered lunatic. Francis knew well the scoundrel was mocking his aversion to pain. The mere fact that he even deigned to show up at Varek's sickbed was ample testament of his great affection for this awesome cousin, even if at times they hardly spoke for years on end. If ever he had fantasized about being another man it would have been Varek von Vischering.

Recrossing his legs, Francis cleared his throat, trying not to notice the swollen stitches above Varek's eye. “Franz is no closer to locating the villain behind the attack, but we both know what is going on here. This can't continue, Varek.”

Varek's grin died slowly as he nodded. “I was a fool to leave Tina Marie in Austenburg. I thought it might soothe the people's fear; however, Roget is gaining too much popularity with the nobles. Who would have thought that cold fish would win such loyalty?” Varek turned a worried frown on the emperor. “I need to get my daughter out of there as soon as possible. When all this comes down they might hurt her out of revenge.”

“Don't worry; I'll send my personal guard for her. Roget could hardly refuse me without bringing a battle to his very doorstep. He'll give her up. Albeit reluctantly, and it won't stop him from trying to get her back, even as he plots your next accident. Lord, Varek, you should have gotten rid of the bastard years ago.”

“I know, but the von Vischerings have always had a rather blind loyalty to our chancellors and never had we reason to doubt that loyalty. Also years ago I could have hardly cared less what happened to the duchy that was threatening the life of the woman I loved. Being forced to set her aside was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, or ever will again. After she ran, I was actually grateful that Roget was there to take care of the affairs of the duchy.”

Contrition and embarrassment tinged this condemnation of himself. He still had such strained feelings about the duchy that it was hard to settle its affairs with any equanimity. He never had been able to flush out the faction that had threatened Christina's life, but the majority of his people were good and loyal to him, and it was for them alone that he was in Vienna looking out for their interests.

“I have been a miserable leader to my people, and I have no excuses for my failures. It has only been recently that I've even begun to realize how ambitious the bastard really is. I can only hope that with the horror of the past years of losing so much to Napoleon's greed that
all
the people understand that they can no longer survive as an independent state. I can almost thank Napoleon for impressing upon them how vulnerable they truly are.”

“It will be difficult with Roget continually stirring them up.”

Varek sighed. “I know. I've been hitting my head against a wall for years and I'm just damned tired of it all, Francis. I just want quit of the whole mess.”

I just want to grow old with Christina.
Austenburg and its blindness was no longer a concern of his, and, hopefully, he would soon be shed of its responsibilities. He even wanted to be stripped of his titles; however, that wish was one indulgence Francis was not willing to concede to.

All he wanted now was Christina and his daughter safe and in his arms. And her son.

He wondered for the hundredth time if her little son looked like her. He smiled as he imagined a rambunctious toddler with Christina's midnight curls and laughing, brown eyes.

Snapping his wayward thoughts back to the present, he concentrated on the very real threat of Roget. Single-handedly, preying on the insecurities of his people, Roget had forged their fanatical zeal with his own greediness. Varek still couldn't quite understand what Roget hoped to gain from such treachery. He practically ruled Austenburg as it was. There was no doubt that Roget now judged the archduke's life to be of no consequence, and the only possible reason had to pivot around the Austenburg heir, the continuation of their illustrious independence.

“How much do you think Roget knows of what you are planning?” Francis asked, worried.

“I have shown such disinterest in the fate of Austenburg that I am hoping he doesn't suspect a thing, a leopard never changing his spots and all that rot. Austria absorbing Austenburg is not going to be easy, cousin. It's going to costly. You may not want the headache. But I know they will do better under your rule than the uncertain future of the German states.”

Francis shrugged as he gave Varek a winsome smile. “When did I ever deny you anything, cousin?”

Varek returned his smile warmly. “If I survive this fiasco, I'll owe you my life, and you know how I dislike being in debt to anyone; even to one I love as much as you.”

“Will you truly? You mean to tell me that after all these long years I will finally be able to feel superior to you? Lord knows, being emperor was never enough.”

Varek shook his head in amused affection at this gentle man who for too many years had shouldered the conscience of holding back Napoleon from his borders. And now with the problems of the reunification of Europe consuming his days and nights, his beautiful wife ailing and in pain, he still had the kindness and mercy to extend his hand to Varek when he most needed it. It made him feel humble, indeed.

“When will you be able to send your men after Tina Marie?” He almost choked on the request, hating to create more problems for Francis, but his daughter was half of everything to him. The other half, Christina, was safe under his eye here in Vienna.

Francis stood up briskly, eager to be on his way. “Consider it done, cousin.” And with a jaunty bow, the emperor was gone as abruptly as he had appeared.

There was a new hardness to Christina's eyes when she bustled into his room later that day. Varek watched in silence as she impersonally saw to his needs, straightening his bedclothes, ringing for the maid to clear away the dishes, opening the window to allow a brisk breeze to air the room. He didn't like what he saw.

“Did he hurt you?”

She stiffened, then swung about to glare at him. “I beg your pardon?”

She didn't appear to be hurt, but she was certainly in a simmering rage. He knew her moods so well, every endearing and exasperating one of them. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” she clipped out.

Varek nodded, wisely holding his tongue.

“What I want is for you to let me leave Vienna, Varek,” she imperiously demanded.

“No.”

She stepped over to the bed and winced at the angry festering about the stitches above his eye. Seeing his ravaged face mitigated much of her exasperation, but bravely she held on to her sense of purpose. “How is the swelling in your stomach?” Restlessly she twitched the already smooth sheet into place.

He shrugged with negligible care while watching her warily. “I should be up and about tomorrow.”

She stared down at him aghast. “No, you will not! The doctors said you must remain in bed at least a week, preferably two.” She poured a glass of water and offered it to him. He ignored it.

“Christina...”

“I don't wish to talk with you if you are going to persist in this plan of yours.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What plan?”

She slammed the glass back down. “To cause me anguish.”

Sitting up, ignoring the pain slashing through his gut, he roared, “Your anguish! Is that what you think I'm trying to do?”

She tried not to flinch as she faced the savage heat of his pale eyes boring into her. “What else could it be, Varek? You are angry with me because I ran from you. I know how dear you hold on to what you deem as yours, but I am not yours anymore. By a decree that you signed, and forced me to sign, I no longer belong to you. By church and law, I am now Robert's. You have to give up this insane obsession.”

He relaxed back against the pillows, a smile playing painfully about his bruised lips. “Is that what you are, lark, my obsession?”

Challenging him back with a hard glare, she nodded.

“Well, you are right. Ever since I first saw you, plump and pretty as a pigeon, you have been my one obsession. So, why should anything be any different now?”

Wilting under his tender regard, she sat dejectedly on the edge of his bed. “Because everything is different, Varek, and no matter how much you want it otherwise, it can't be changed. I have a son, blast you!” Again, she sprang to her feet.

His face wiped of all expression, Varek watched as she paced the room. Most of his free time was spent in brooding over a solution for them. Which was useless, because no matter how he twisted their lives about in his mind, it ultimately came down to one irrefutable fact: Christina would never leave her son. So there was no solution. Even if Robert would let her go, he would not give up his son, and Christina, no matter how much she might love him, would never leave her son behind. No solution.

Except for Robert's death, came the insidious thought that was always swirling just beneath his nobler intentions. Too bad he didn't have less of a conscience, he thought in disgust.

Yet, even with all this against them, Varek stubbornly refused to give up. He had no doubt that there could be only one ending to this abysmal mess, Christina
would
be his again one day. And this feat would somehow be accomplished with her love intact. In the meantime, while he puzzled his way through this maze of problems, she was wasting away, and he could only blame himself. She looked tired, thinner and hounded. What she needed was a rest, a chance to recuperate her strength.

“I'll make a pact with you,” he said with sudden good humor.

She stilled her pacing and glared cautiously at him. “Another pact? No thank you, I remember your last attempt at a pact.”

“You are still sore about that because you lost. You give me a kiss at a time and place of my choosing and I promise I will not bother you through this month.”

Her mouth pursed with annoyance. “How gracious. No, I want you gone.”

Smiling, he shook his head. Lord, she was a stubborn minx.

She slid a sideways glower at him. “This month is almost over. A full thirty days.”

Irritated, he again noticed the dark circles under eyes, and reluctantly he nodded.

“Why can I not just kiss you now?” she peevishly asked.

Varek just stared at her in amusement. “You touch my lips and I just might faint from the pain. No, at a time and place of my choosing. I think that is more than fair, considering my concession to your demand.”

Worrying her lip, she studied the man lazing before her, his bruised chest drawing her hesitant attention. He was so dratted beautiful. To go near him, even in his sorry condition, was courting disaster. She swallowed her heart, when his biceps bulged as he shifted about. Turning away she paced slowly around the bed. She should insist on here and now. If she agreed to his demand and let him claim his kiss when he was hail and hearty again she might not survive it, for she knew from experience that it would be devastating, consuming, and euphoric. He wouldn't just be stealing a kiss from her lips, he would be reclaiming her soul.

And he knew it.

Yet thirty days of respite sounded like heaven. And anything could happen in thirty days. She might be back at Kerkmoor by then.