Love Me Again (19 page)

Her sarcastic retort was not missed by Robert. Stepping around the bed, he pushed past her to grab up his toiletries.

Biting down on her anger, she moved over to help him, straightening out the mess he had made of the articles already shoved into the bag. “Why are we constantly barking at each other, Robert? I don't want this animosity between us, and there really is no reason for it.”

He pushed her hands aside and moved the bag out of her reach. Frustrated, she stared at his back. Years ago she had allowed herself to trust this man enough to marry him. Now she was beginning to wish she had never met him. She didn't know this man, and she certainly would never have married him. Is this what the rest of their life together would be like?

Suddenly years and years of putting up with these tantrums stretched out before her and she grew cold. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Without another word she turned away and was walking out of the room when he asked, “Tell me you had nothing to do with my being sent away.”

She turned to face him and looked him straight in the eye. “I had nothing to do with your leaving. I was looking forward to sharing the Carrousel with you. Now I will be going alone.”

He scoffed, “You will hardly be alone.”

Her soft brown eyes met his sadly. “You know what I mean.”

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he had moved toward her and caught her up in his arms. He crushed her to him with an angry possessiveness as he breathed in her scent. His need of her, of what they had shared before this wretched assignment, was a constant source of agony to him. “God, Christina. What is happening to us? Tell me you love me. Only me. Tell me in a way that will let me believe you.”

How was she supposed to do that? Nothing she had tried in the past weeks had seemed to convince him. Did he want to be assured in bed? Her gaze flitted to the bed and she closed her eyes. God help her, she didn't want to. A fever of guilt flushed her cheeks as she leaned back to look up into the tortured light glittering in his eyes. Her heart seemed to freeze as she said quietly, “Whatever you need, Robert. You know I'll do anything for you.”

His lips crushed hers, his tongue surging almost ruthlessly into her mouth. Her arms felt deadened as she raised them and encircled his neck. With a sob, he picked her up and strode over to the bed. After laying her down on the cold counterpane he pushed the portmanteau to the floor, where it spilled out its contents. Christina watched numbly as he quickly stripped off his clothes, his eyes fierce and unflinching as he watched her. When he came down hard upon her, she flinched. It was minor and she thought undetectable, but he was too attuned to her slightest move. With a curse he surged up and sat back on his heels, his breath bellowing in his chest with harsh gasps.

His glare condemned her as he wordlessly searched her face for some clue as to what she was hiding from him. “Is it now such a trial to lie with me?” he finally asked with bitter sorrow. “Now that you have seen your own true love again?”

She closed her eyes to hide her anger. “Robert, I don't want to fight. I don't want to be flailed with your jealousy. Not tonight. Please.”

Robert moved to sit on the side of the bed, his shoulders slumped. “Never have you flinched from me, Christina.” His voice sounded choked, as if he was holding back tears.

Sitting up behind him, her arms encircled him and she laid her cheek against his back. “Please, Robert, come back to bed. I'll make it good for you.”

Twisting around, he stared darkly at her. “You don't understand, do you, Christina? I don't want you to ‘make it good for me.’ I can get that from any woman looking for a coin. I want your love to ease me. I want what you gave me so effortlessly at Kerkmoor.” He saw her look away. “But it can never be like that again, can it? Tell me what you want, Christina.” The words almost strangled him, his heart pounding as he waited in dread for her request to fall across him like an executioner's ax.

“I want to go back to England with you, Robert. When we get back to Kerkmoor where we belong, everything will be as it was.”

They both knew it was wishful dreaming, but blindly they clung to this last hope. With a sigh he laid back down. When she curled up beside him, her cheek resting on his chest, and her hand absently sifting through the hairs on his chest, he was almost content. Maybe she was right. All they needed was Kerkmoor. The bloody Congress couldn't last forever. And once the archduke was out of her sight, she would forget him. After all, she had before ... hadn't she?

Sometime in the late morning hours, Christina stirred and came to groggy awareness in Robert's bedroom. With a start she looked around the room, noticing the portmanteau and its scattered contents gone. He had left without a word. He hadn't even told her how long he would be in Paris.

The sad thing was that she didn't know if she was relieved or not. Time without Robert scowling at her, and with Varek behaving himself she suddenly felt free. It seemed too delicious to contemplate.

With a sigh, she fell back on the bed and dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep. She didn't even awaken late the next morning when a large package was delivered to their rooms.

But later that morning as she ripped the tissue off the mysterious package she gasped in wonder and dread. A shimmering silver and black creation was folded lovingly into the delicate tissue. She knew instantly what the gown meant. It was one of the costumes of the quartet of the ‘Queens of Love and Beauty’ who were to be honored at the Carrousel.

It all made sense now. No doubt Varek would be one of the twenty-four knights giving homage to their Queens of Love. Obviously Castlereagh had known what was coming and, wanting to circumvent a political crisis, he had sent Robert away.

It was just as well; as a British subject in service during the Congress, she did not have the choice of refusing. Castlereagh would never countenance it. God help her when Robert returned and heard all about this fiasco in gruesome detail.

Anger swept her the more she thought about it. Had Varek arranged this? Had he gone back on his promise?

Shoving the lid back on the box, Christina stormed into her room to bathe and dress, unfairly venting some of her irritation on her hapless maid. She was just going to have to pay the archduke a visit and give him a piece of her mind!

Then, with an abrupt turnabout, she ran back into the salon and grabbed up the box, taking it into her bedroom. With the shifting emotions of a typically hysterical woman, she fretted about the delicate material. She watched carefully as the maid hung up the gorgeous creation.

Then, sinking into the tub, she grabbed her head and moaned, certain that before this damn Congress was over she would surely lose her mind!

Varek was sitting down to lunch when Christina stormed into his residence. The smile froze on his face as he stood slowly. Concern etched his features as he came hurriedly toward her.

Side-stepping his arms, she turned to glare at him. “I will not have it, Varek!”

Confused, he stared at her. “What?”

“Your interference with the Carrousel,” she spat out.

“I beg your pardon?”

Growing angrier by the minute at his obtuseness, she had to count to ten before she answered with precise intonation, “Yes, you should be begging my pardon! It was you who pushed for me to be on the dais.”

Shaking his head, he squinted at her, even more confused than before. “What?”

Stamping her foot, she shouted, “Stop that! You sound like Tina.”

Rubbing his face, he returned to his chair and poured himself a strong cup of coffee. “I have no idea what you are ranting about, Christina.”

His bewildered expression gave her pause. Wetting dry lips, she asked slowly, “Didn't you arrange to have me sit as one of the Queens of Love?”

Fighting a smile at her discomposure, he shook his head. “No, love, I didn't. I gave you my word I would not seek you out for the rest of this month.”

Embarrassed to the tips of her toes, she just wanted to hurry out of his sight. Avoiding his eyes, she backed up toward the door. “I'm sorry I interrupted your supper, Varek.”

Not wanting her to get away, he surged to his feet again and followed her retreating form. “Would you like to accompany Tina and me to the menagerie?”

“Umm ... no. Thank you.” Desperately she felt behind her for the door, all the while keeping her eye on him. She was afraid to let him get too close. She felt like too much of a fool at the moment. A conceited fool, at that!

He stopped pursuing her across the room. It seemed to have the opposite effect of what he wanted. “Well, then.” He stared uncertainly at her.

“Yes, well then,” she murmured, as lost for words as he. Suddenly she murmured, “You cannot possibly be recovered from your injuries enough to participate.” She searched his face and noticed that the scar above his eye was healing nicely. It would hardly be noticeable with time.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I am fine, lark. Trust me.”

Looking down, she whispered, “I do.” Then she flashed him a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. “You are not all that young anymore, you know, and doubtless your tilting against those young blades will land you flat on your stubborn arse.”

“I always did treasure your confidence in my abilities,” he teased back with a rueful grin of his own.

Their gazes met again and silence settled between them. When the tension became too much, she mumbled a swift farewell and bolted from the room.

Muttering an oath and slapping his napkin against his leg, Varek walked back to his chair. However, he had lost his appetite and stood staring grimly down at the now cold fare.

Of course, he knew she was to be his Queen of Love at the Carrousel, though he had nothing to do with the arrangement. He wouldn't have agreed to joining in the festivities otherwise, for despite what he had said, he shuddered at the thought of meeting a lance head-on. But the thought of claiming Christina as his love for a day had been tempting in the extreme. What was a little pain compared to that?

Rubbing his stomach, he wondered whom he had to thank for this bit of manipulation. No doubt Francis's beautiful empress, bless her heart.

Tomorrow, in front of all Europe, Christina would be his again.

The brisk November morning was sharply brilliant with a crispness that hurt the eye and seared the lungs. Already the streets had been cordoned off and the Vienna police were out in full force, controlling the crowds that last night had begun to congregate in large numbers around the Imperial Riding School where the long-awaited Carrousel was to be held. The vast building would hold approximately twelve hundred people, but tickets to the event were being forged and sold at exorbitant prices. Baron Hager had his hands full today and the pageant wouldn't even begin until later that evening.

Christina stared glumly at the extravagant garment spread out on her bed, the morning sunbeams sparkling and dancing across the hundreds of precious stones set in the heavy silver embroidery stiffening the thick silk of the bodice. Beside her, Laure Metternich consoled her. “It is truly magnificent. The ladies have excelled beyond expectations with the design.”

Christina shook her head with a dejected air as she bit her lip. “Their little game is going to cost me dearly, Laure. When Robert returns and hears what happened this night I will be the one to pay.”

Laure walked away from the bed and went to stare out the window. “I hardly recognize him anymore as the charming man you introduced me to last month,” she murmured with a deferential sideways glance at her friend.

Christina's lips twisted bitterly. “Lud, Laure, I don't know him anymore myself and I'm married to the man.”

Laure turned to face her. “You could always divorce him, you know.”

Christina stared hard at her. “And lose Eddie? Never.”

“Do you love him?”

Christina picked idly at the sparkling threads along the hem. “Who?”

Laure shrugged. “Varek. Robert. Either? Both?”

Either, both. God, what a mess her life had become. Varek? Yes, definitely, completely, madly. Robert? There was a time she would have responded, without a second thought, that she loved her husband. But had she been confusing gratitude for love? Robert had brought her to his home, and at Kerkmoor she had found shelter and security. And a precious miracle, her son.

Turning away from the bed, Christina wandered over to her dressing table and sank slowly down on the bench. “I'm afraid I don't know anything anymore, Laure. I'm too frightened to think. It seems that now no matter what I say or do to Robert I cause him ire. All I want to do is go home to Eddie, and I am refused even that simple request.” With a sigh she cupped her chin in her hands and stared back at her face in the mirror. “God Laure, what am I going to do? What can I do?”

She felt Laure's cool hands on her shoulders before she lifted her eyes and stared at her friend's sympathetic gaze reflected in the mirror. Her friend's hands soothed the stressed muscles in her neck, and with a sigh Christina leaned back against the comfort Laure offered.

Laure's quiet voice soothed her, just as her gentle touch did. “My dear, does it sound contemptuous of ourselves to say that it is our lot in life to suffer the pangs of our husbands’ vanities? We are wed at an early age, seldom with any say in the matter. We are expected to bed and give succor to them, to love them and forgive them. Then we are expected to bring into this life their heirs, whom we raise and teach, only to send them out into the world for the cycle to renew itself. We are asked to endure all hardships and then are given no appreciation for our sacrifices because the very men who create them ascertain them as no true trial.”

“I almost envy those brazen creatures who selfishly grasp what they want from life and then are not afraid to mock the very men who have raised them high, throwing their weaknesses back into their faces. In the end, it all comes down to survival, and how one comports oneself during that long and twisting journey of life. And if, after it is all over, if a woman is able to look herself in the eye and feel justified with the choices she has made, then she can only count herself a better woman for it.”