The Cruel Count (Bantam Series No. 28) (20 page)

“I was infatuated! ‘Besotted’ I think is the word the Aide-de-camp used when he spoke of her to you. It was true, she bewitched me, and I did not realise that once again I was being manipulated.”

“How did you ... find out?” Vesta asked.

“Oh, there were plenty of people to tell me what was happening!” the Prince replied and his voice was raw. “I brought Ziileyha back to Katona, and within a few months the Prime Minister was protesting on behalf of the Cabinet, there were cartoons, bitter references to her in the newspapers, and even threats against her life. But I would not listen.”

“I can understand ... that,” Vesta murmured.

“It was the first time I had ever acted on my own initiative,” the Prince went on. “I refused to be bullied or threatened into giving up someone I felt really cared for me.”

Vesta could sympathise with what he had felt. She could see how when for the first time he had been allowed to decide something for himself, opposition would have only strengthened his determination not to give in.

“Then at last,” the Prince went on, “the situation became too explosive for me to ignore and I had to consider the feelings of the people. So when the Prime Minister made a final plea to me to marry, I agreed.” There was a little pause and then he said:

“I told him that the only English woman I could consider to take as my wife was you.”

“Me!” Vesta ejaculated in surprise. “But how had you ever heard of me?”

“I had seen you!” the Prince answered.

“Seen me?” she echoed.

“I came to England last year as a guest of the Prince Regent,” he answered. “His Royal Highness gave a big reception the night I was staying with him. As we were moving down to supper I saw you standing against one of the windows.”

His voice softened as he said:

“I thought you were the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life!”

Vesta’s eyes were wide as he continued:

“I turned to the Duchess of Devonshire whom I was taking into supper and asked: ‘Who is that lovely girl?’

“ ‘That is Lady Vesta Cressington-Font,’ Her Grace replied. ‘I will present her to Your Royal Highness after supper.’

“But after supper we could not find you.”

“I remember that party,” Vesta exclaimed. “I left early because it was so hot.”

“I returned to Paris early next morning,” the Prince went on. “But I never forgot how beautiful you were, and when the Prime Minister kept insisting it was in the tradition of our Royal House for me to take an English wife, I told him to go to England and ask for your hand.”

“He did not tell me that you had seen me,” Vesta said.

“I did not tell him either,” the Prince answered. “I somehow did not want to speak of it. Your beauty had remained in my mind like an—emotional experience.”

“But when I did arrive you ... tried to send me... away.”

“From the moment the Prime Minister left for England,” the Prince answered, “Ziileyha and her friends told me that I was a fool to consider an English wife. They said the British were cold, frigid, unbending. They said the women could not feel passion. They were extremely eloquent in affirming that you would never understand the people nor make any effort to be sympathetic or compassionate towards them.”

“And you ... believed ... them?”

“I told you I was weak,” the Prince replied. “I believed them.”

“So that was why you ... tried to send me ... away?”

“I had no idea that the Prime Minister would have arranged a marriage by proxy,” the Prince said.

“It never occurred to me that ... it was not your Wish.”

“It would have been a shock to the Revolutionaries when they learnt it. They were determined to prevent the marriage, which is why they started the riots in Djilas.”

“Why should they have done that?”

“They thought that if the Revolution succeeded I would be forced to flee the country. That would have given the Turkish Government, with whom Ziileyha was closely in league, an excuse to march into Katona ostensibly to restore peace. I would then have been given the choice of abdicating or returning as a puppet under their jurisdiction.”

“And did Madame Ziileyha want that?” Vesta asked wonderingly.

“She was afraid that, if I married, her power over me might cease,” he answered. “It was almost too late when at the eleventh hour I realised what I had done and that the whole State was in jeopardy.”

“When you did realise it, what did you do?”

“I rallied the Army. I had Ziileyha and all her associates escorted under armed guard to the border and exiled for life.”

The Prince’s voice was hard.

“She will ... never ... return?”

“Never! And I hope in time to eradicate the harm she has done. It was only when the Revolution was practically over that I learnt she had sent a band of assassins to Jeno with instructions to kill the Prime Minister who had always been her enemy, and to be rid of you.”

“Would they have ... shot me?”

“They might have put you back on the ship had it still been in harbour; but if they found you, as I did, alone, you would undoubtedly have died.”

“So you saved me!”

“I dispatched all the soldiers I could spare to overtake the murdering band on the Djilas road,” the Prince said. “But I had miscalculated the day of your arrival. I suddenly realised that as the welcoming party had been cancelled, there was every possibility of you, the Prime Minister and your attendants being stranded at Jeno without any protection. So I rode at breakneck speed over the mountain track on the other side of the valley to the one we took and as you know found you alone.”

“You ... still did not wish ... me to ... stay.”

“You were beautiful, even more beautiful than I had remembered. But the poison had gone deep: I told myself that if I had to marry it would be best to choose a Katonian or perhaps a Greek.”

“And so you tried to force me to ... return.”

“I felt certain that you would agree to do so at the first sign of any difficulty,” the Prince said. “How could I have imagined for one moment that you would be so incredibly brave?”

“When did you change your mind about me?”

“I knew that you had more character than any woman I had ever met when you had ridden along the cliff path of the barren rocks, and courageously pretended the sea had made you feel sick.”

His voice was gentle as he went on:

“I saw you being so diplomatic and charming to the dirty Inn-Keeper’s wife. I ate the meal which you prepared for me after cleaning the pan in which you had to cook. Then I came downstairs and found you asleep in front of the fire.”

Vesta remembering her dream knew that that was the moment when she had fallen in love with him.

“I sat looking at you,” the Prince said very quietly, “and I realised you were not only beautiful, but everything any man could ask of any woman, everything a man would have dreamt of and longed for.”

The note in his voice made her tremble and she would have put out her hands to him had he not continued:

“Then after you were prepared to die at my hand with a courage I did not know existed, you slept in my arms. I knew then how deeply I wanted you and how much I already loved you.”

He glanced at her face. Then he turned round abruptly to stand once again with his back to her.

“I realised at the same time,” he said, “how little I deserved you. When we talked the next day at the cascade, I told you that I was a paper Prince, a man who was weak and despicable.”

His voice was harsh as he continued:

“I am also a coward, Vesta, because I dared not tell you the truth. I wanted your love so desperately, so frantically, that I could not risk losing you before I was even sure if you had begun to care for me.”

There was silence before he said:

“I expect you to despise me, I expect you to feel contempt for a man who could make such a mess of everything. But would you—could you—stay with me? I swear that now I cannot face life without you!”

There was an agony in the Prince’s voice which Vesta had never heard before.

She was very still, then rose to her feet clasping her hands together and moved towards him until she stood at his side.

She drew in her breath! She had to find the right words! This was the moment, she knew, when she must not only comfort and sustain him, she must also inspire him.

“I do not know whom you are talking about,” she said gently. “Miklos—the man I love—is brave, so brave that he was prepared not only to die without showing a flicker of fear, but prepared to ... kill me. He is also in the words of the Hungarian song ‘gallant and passionate’ and to me he has always been gentle, tender and noble in everything he has ... done.”

She slipped her hand into the Prince’s as she spoke and his fingers tightened on hers until they were bloodless.

“I believe,” Vesta went on, “that because he is so wonderful, there is nothing he could not do ... in fact if he wished it he could conquer the whole world.”

The Prince turned towards her.

“Are you sure of what you are saying?” he asked and his voice was unsteady. “Do you really mean that? Really in your heart?”

“I love you,” Vesta said softly, “and I think what your people want more than anything else is happiness. Could we not show them how to be ... happy?”

“Oh God!”

The words seemed to burst from the Prince, and now he drew Vesta into his arms and held her crushed close against him.

He did not kiss her but only stared over her head and said in a voice she hardly recognised:

“You believe in me! I swear that I will never fail you!”

There was so much emotion in his tone that Vesta felt the tears come into her eyes. Then when she raised her head to look up at him, she saw there were tears on his cheeks.

Putting up her hand to wipe them away with the tips of her fingers, she said very softly:

“There is only one thing I ... regret.”

“What is that?” the Prince asked.

“The cave where we were going to be ... alone,” she whispered, “I did so want to look after ... you.”

His arms tightened.

“After we are married,” he said, “there will be a Banquet so tonight we must stay in the Palace. But tomorrow I am taking you away on our honeymoon, not to a cave, my dearest Heart, but somewhere very quiet where we shall be together.”

His eyes were dark with desire.

“I have a villa by the sea. We shall be guarded because I will never risk your precious life again, but we shall not see those who guard us. I want to teach you, my adorable perfect sweetheart, about love now that my Sleeping Beauty is awake.”

He bent his head and his mouth was very near to hers as he said:

“Have you forgotten that I have to fan that little fire within you into an all-consuming blaze?”

Vesta’s lips were almost touching his as she replied: “It is already ... burning, darling Miklos.”

Then his mouth made her captive, and at his kiss, fierce, passionate, demanding, something wild and incredibly glorious leapt within her.

She felt the ecstasy he evoked in her carrying them both towards the mountain peaks and beyond into a sunlit sky.

“I love you ... I love you...”

It was said in their hearts, it pulsated in the trembling of their bodies, it was the voice of their souls.

“I love ... you...”

There came a knock at the door. It was a signal to remind them that the people of Katona were waiting for their Prince and Princess.

Barbara Cartland, the celebrated romantic author, historian, playwright, lecturer, political speaker and television personality, has now written over 150 books. Miss Cartland has had a number of historical books published and several biographical ones, including that of her brother, Major Ronald Cartland, who was the first Member of Parliament to be killed in the War. This book had a Foreword by Sir Winston Churchill.

In private life, Barbara Cartland, who is a Dame of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, has fought for better conditions and salaries for Midwives and nurses. As President of the Royal College of Midwives (Hertfordshire Branch), she has been invested with the first Badge of Office ever given in Great Britain, which was subscribed to by the Midwives themselves. She has also championed the cause for old people and founded the first Romany Gypsy Camp in the world.

Barbara Cartland is deeply interested in Vitamin Therapy and is President of the British National Association for Health.