The Temple of Indra’s Jewel: (18 page)

I gave my most indignant look, letting him know that I was aware he had just called me a silly woman.

“I know my own schloss,” he replied before laughing at the look on my face. “You’re fearful because it’s night.”

I gave him another look to let him know he was patronizing me. I was grumpy, but in my defence I was saddle sore, stone cold and mosquito bit.

“It is…” He paused, as if thinking of the perfect way to describe it. “
Wunderbar
.”

Two eager hounds chose that moment to jump out at us.

“Dagmar! Dux! Fuß! Sitz!” Viktor turned to me. “Don’t be frightened. It’s just the hounds coming to greet us.”

“
Braver
Hund!
” he cooed as they lapped at his hands, greedily soaking up his affection.

He lifted me down from the horse and clasped his hand around mine, and we went up to the front door. I half-expected a hunchback named Igor, but as the heavily carved door swung open we were greeted by an old man Viktor patted on the back.

“
Willkommen
zu
Hause
Graf,
” the old man said.

We stepped into a large marble foyer, and it took only seconds before Viktor sent Aldo, the old man, for food. My stomach took that opportunity to let out a large growl.

“I concur,” he said, chuckling.

I smiled and did a slow twirl, taking everything in. Schloss Lichtenstein was elegant and beautiful. There was a huge,
handsome Carl Spitzweg painting of the Bookworm hanging over a Biedermeier desk. I was a librarian, and that particular painting was a favourite of mine. Anything depicting books or a library made me comfortable. I started to comment on it and then bit my tongue, realizing that Carl Spitzweg might not be that famous yet.

“Magnificent, is it not?” said Viktor in a rapture of understatement. Our footsteps echoed as I followed him inside. He squeezed my hand—which secretly made me nervous—and pulled me through the castle.

Servants scattered about as we climbed the stairs.

“The schloss is haunted,” he whispered in my ear. My body tingled at the closeness of his mouth.

I was sure we were both half-delirious from the long journey.

“Oh, really—by whom?” I played along.

“The Kobald.” He smiled teasingly as I struggled to keep up with his long legs.
House
sprites.
I remembered helping a student write a paper on Germanic mythology and folklore. “Watch out, they love to play tricks on pretty young frauleins,” he said, gently pinching my side.

I giggled and jumped at his playful touch but looked warily over my shoulder. Those legends usually stemmed from some sort of truth.

The Kobold mirrored creatures such as goblins from other parts of Europe. I looked around but didn’t see any carved effigies.

The rest of the schloss fulfilled the promise of the entrance, with tall, beautifully carved ceilings, wonderfully inlaid floors, small crystal chandeliers and long, elegant windows that I imagined in the morning would look out onto a garden filled with bright flowers.

We increased our pace, as if there were a sudden urgency to our mission. My dress was dirty and wet from the gruelling two days of living outdoors. Viktor rang for the servants, and I was quickly brought a sophisticated white housecoat with ruffled pockets and sleeves.

Exhausted, I barely moved as one of the ladies helped me to unlace and then left me to change and settle in while she went to check on the food. I wriggled out of my silk gown, stiff with sweat from the ride, and into a warm nightie made of fine muslin. Sniffing under my arms, I frowned and then looked eagerly around for a basin of water. I doubted anyone would smell me over their own stench, but I wanted to feel clean.

The staff had thoughtfully lit a fire when we arrived, and even though the room was the size of a small house, it became an oasis of warmth. I kicked my shoes to the side and climbed up on the luxurious goose down quilts and puffy pillows.

“Heaven,” I declared aloud.

The bed was soft and I felt good, until I spotted the mirror that reflected my massive mane of knotty blonde curls. The curls were tight, almost ringlets. My own hair was normally long and dark; I didn’t know the first thing about brushing out curly tangles. I could now understand why flat irons were so popular.

I heard the rain pelting against the window, and I began to feel drowsy, lying there on the large fluffy pillow. Staring up at the ceiling, exhausted from the trip, intending only to rest for a moment, I fell into oblivion.

I opened my eyes to a large hand stroking my face, brushing back my hair.

“
Sie
sind
so
schön
,” he whispered in his native tongue.

With a lurch, I took a deep breath. I reminded myself he spoke to Sapphira, but regardless, intoxication overwhelmed my senses. I peeked an eye open. “What does that mean?”

He smiled, probably wondering if I understood the word
beautiful.

His finger trickled down my neck, lightly brushing my earlobe, and he switched to French. His words were romantic and poetic.

“Comme
un
beau
cheval
blanc
j’étais
fauché.”

He pinned my arm above my head, and a thrill rushed down my spine.

French really was the language of love. I caught
innocent
and
pure
and
I
want
to
possess
every
inch
of
you
. I shook it off. He was aggressive but not like Nick.

There appeared to be a slight delay between the words ringing in my ears and then registering with my brain. I realized about 10 seconds after he spoke that I was capable of experiencing blinding rage and sexual arousal in tandem.

I pushed at his chest. “Did you just say I remind you of a horse?” I squirmed against his grip, but he didn’t flinch or look away.

The situation struck me as delicate. I was in his lands, in his castle and at his mercy. Annoyed by the limits of nineteenth-century linguistics, I tried to phrase my thoughts without swearing.

“I belong to no one, Viktor, and … I wish you to … unhand me.”

“I’ve upset you.” He looked at me with disappointed eyes, and I quickly sat up. “I apologize. I know I shouldn’t be…” His voice was low, and husky, and before I could think of anything to say, he pulled me on top of him, gliding his hands up my back.

“No, wait.” I attempted to create space between us while I could. “We should stop.” I raised my voice but I could hear my own hesitation. This was crazy. I was being manhandled and yet it was exciting me.

He stopped and met my gaze. “You are so unlike any other.” Then once again he pressed his lips to my neck, moving slowly back to my mouth. Thoughts of Cullen crept in, and I was confused as to who I was kissing; it was almost as if they were one and the same. Then it dawned on me, Klen was Cullen; Viktor had said he was jealous of Klen—that I’d shouted for him when I was being attacked by that gypsy. I must have called him Cullen when he rescued me. Those eyes…

He continued to trail his fingers along my skin and I felt warmth building between my legs, bringing me back into the moment. I couldn’t take it anymore. My resolve vanished, and I kissed him back with the same ferocity he’d shown me, twisting my fingertips into his thick hair. I helped to strip him of his pants and smiled while he pushed the hem of my nightie up, crushing his mouth to mine as his fingers slid along my skin. He groaned in uncontrolled pleasure as he entered, muscles tensing as he gripped my shoulders. He was gentle, resting and then kissing me, thrusting again only at my urging. And urge I did. I ran my nails softly down the slope of his back. The large muscles of his thighs shuddered momentarily against my own, but he held off, disinclined to thrust as swiftly as he clearly wanted to. I shifted my hips forward against him, to bring him deeper, relishing the slow and easy feeling. Goading him, I pushed back. He squeezed his eyes closed and his breath became ragged and shallow.

“Ich kann nicht,” he said in muffled German. His backside clenched suddenly, becoming hard as steel beneath my hands. I moaned, welcoming my own intense feelings and tugged him against me, feeling him shudder. Seconds ticked by in silence.

“Prinzessin, I shouldn’t have. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling to reassure him I was not about to dissolve into hysterics. “I’m more than all right.”

He encircled me in his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest. I pulled the throw over us, enveloping us in a nest of cozy goodness. We relaxed, silent for a bit as the fire slowed, listening to the intermittent snap and crackle of the burning logs and the faint sounds of the castle as it creaked and stirred. I sighed with happiness, ignoring the realities of my situation if only for a moment. Nothing could ruin this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“V
iktor,
was
ist
das
?”

I pried open an eye to see the sun peeking through the clouds. Raindrops sprinkled the window.

Viktor, his jet-black hair tussled, shot upright in bed at the sound of the woman’s high-pitched voice. Jumping up, he snatched at the quilt and furiously wrapped it at his waist, causing the woman to cover her mouth and a take a step behind the man who accompanied her.

“
Mutter
, what are you doing bursting in here without knocking?”

For a moment everyone just stopped and gaped, listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops against the window pane, until the silence became too heavy to bear.

His mother, the Baroness, was very beautiful but intimidating. Her skin was fair and still smooth, and her cheeks were flushed with anger, which made her look full of life.

She wailed so loudly I thought the vein in her head would pop.

“The servants were correct. Who is this?” She glared at him.

All the colour drained from his face.

“How could you do this to us? First the embarrassing display at your engagement party and now this. I thought you were in love?”

Her words caught me off guard.

“Calm yourself, Mutter.”

“I, calm myself? Are you trying to hurt me or just soil our good name?”

I sat up straight against the headboard, clutching the sheet to my bosom, feeling slightly betrayed. Viktor told me he didn’t know the Bourbon Princess; why would his mother claim he loved her?

“Mutter, Vater; this is a little awkward, but may I introduce you to Her Serene Highness, the Princess Sapphira Alexandrie de Monaco.”

His parents looked completely shocked. “Wilhelm, it’s her!”

“Welcome to Schloss Lichtenstein, Prinzessin,” his father said, his mouth covered by a dark and bushy moustache. “We apologize for the intrusion.” I couldn’t help but think all he needed was a monocle and a stein of beer and he would be the perfect caricature of the quaint old German man.

Viktor blushed and turned to his parents “I know this is still very alarming, but I’ll speak with you downstairs shortly.”

Grinning, his parents swung around and sashayed out the door.

“What was that?” I said.

“I apologize.” He kissed my hand. “Please, forgive me. Allow me five minutes, and then we’ll go for a ride and I’ll explain.”

He quickly pulled on his trousers and coat and stepped into the corridor, closing the door softly. Behind him, I heard a flurry of steps and frantic whispering coming from some of the servants. The rain had ceased, and a rainbow was visible through the window. I hoped it was a good sign.

An hour later Viktor returned to collect me, and we mounted his horse. I watched, fascinated, as the highland scenery rushed past, a trail of limestone, dense beech forest, moss and juniper bushes. All the birds and woodland creatures scattered as they heard us winding down the Swabian Alb on horseback. It was warm for fall, and I felt beads of sweat form on my hairline as my long blonde curls fell in waves over my shoulder. Viktor had said nothing as of yet. I had peppered him with enquiries as we rode, but he dismissed me in his moody way. As we rode, the mist became thicker, lingering heavy in the air, like the unspoken questions twirling in my brain.

The edge of Constance Lake appeared, and Viktor stopped the horse and helped me down. I paced back and forth a couple of times and finally sat down in the grass, propping myself up on my elbow while he fiddled with the reigns.

The schloss sat, timeless, looking down on us—picture perfect. As beautiful as it was, I was happy to be away from there for the moment. Tension hung in the air as I waited for his explanation.

“All right, time to spill,” I said, moving to the rock overlooking the crag. “What was that about an engagement party, and why did your parents suddenly change their tune?”

Viktor looked up. “I don’t understand. Spill? Tune?”

“Never mind. Why did your parents act that way?”

“When I saw them last, I was given a threat. Marry Maria or else. As I told you, it would make an excellent alliance. They wanted me to settle into my responsibilities. I planned to court you instead.”

I smiled to myself. This wasn’t bad.

“Then the summons arrived, and I knew it was important. I arrived home to a party, an engagement party—mine.”

The horse whinnied and blew at us, shuddering its skin. Viktor patted the horse before freeing him from the harness to graze.

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t either. I thought Principessa Maria was in Venice and didn’t understand how such an announcement could be made without her family present.” He was quiet for a moment, and then his hand touched mine lightly.

“So what happened?” I asked.

“Vater said he understood my reservations over the prospect of marrying a foreigner, so he spoke to my uncle, King William, and arranged a meeting with Karl Von Weizsäcker, who served as Prime Minister to the King. They decided I would marry his eldest daughter, Marianne.”

My mouth hung open.

“Yes, I was stunned too, completely taken by surprise,” he said.

I fidgeted with my dress, trying to appear calm as he sat down beside me. He was supposed to marry Sapphira. What if my interference had changed things somehow?

“It was around midnight when Vater made his announcement. There had been much to drink, and at his news, the guests, heated by
bier,
schnapps
and dancing, clapped and cheered at the prospect of our union.”

I gasped.

“Wait, Sapphira. I’m not done. They never dreamed I would protest, especially in good company, but I did. I broke from Marianne’s grip, apologized to her and everyone and announced I could not because…”

“Because?”

“Because I was engaged to someone else.”

He turned toward me and looked into my eyes.

“Someone else.”
Who
else
could
there
be
? “The Bourbon Princess,” I blurted out.

He smiled. “No. I told them about Monaco and my time at the palace with you.”

“With me?” I stood suddenly, surprising myself. Viktor jumped to his feet as well, grabbing my hand.

“Yes, they had of course heard of you; everyone in Baden-Württemberg knows of your family.” There was a new light in his eyes as he spoke. “Then I did something that I hope you’ll forgive.”

“What?” I pulled my hand away.

“I lied and told them I had already asked for your hand in marriage.”

“You what?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I planned to speak with your mother and Nico about it, but then I was called away. I don’t know how we’ll fix this, but I felt trapped and it was the only way I knew to get out of marrying that plain mouse of a girl.”

“Oh, great, always happy to be someone’s scapegoat.”

“What? I didn’t call you a goat. I do not always understand these Monegasque phrases. I was in love with you—am still in love with you. That’s why they were excited to meet you. I told them I was expected next month at the castle and they would meet you then. They never expected to find you, a royal Prinzessin, here, especially in such a compromising position. So naturally they thought I found some village girl to bed before settling down.”

“Naturally.”

“And they were disgusted I had disgraced you under their roof and allowed the servants to gossip.”

“How did you expect to pull this off?” I enquired.

“I hadn’t really time to think. I planned to return to Monaco to propose, but first I needed a ring, which was the reason I called on
Großmutter
. Then the schloss was robbed by those gypsies, and I found you,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “That’s why I was so bothered when I thought you had run away with another.”

“So your parents believe we’re engaged?” I asked.

“Yes. And now they’ve seen us together, they’re pushing for an immediate wedding, before your family discovers I’ve compromised you. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind. After spending more time with you I’m positive you are the only one for me.”

Getting down on one knee, he lifted his face, gently pulling something from his pocket.

“Sapphira,
meine
libeling
, will you marry me?”

“Huh?” A strangled cry escaped my throat. The intricate diamond gleamed in the sun. He took my finger and slipped it on.

I turned my head away from him.

“Wait, we—” Sapphira and Viktor couldn’t be married yet—not with me here.

“Sapphira?” His voice pulled me from my reverie, reminding me our relationship was a lie. He thought I was another.

“
Schatz
, what is it?” His face grew angry, and I had the feeling of déjà vu. “You don’t want to marry me!”

“No. I do want to marry you.”

His face relaxed.

“But I have something to tell you, and it’s going to ruin the moment,” I admitted. “And you’re not going to believe me. It’s really… well, really unbelievable.”

“Tell me,” he said, standing up, his voice nervous with anticipation.

I stood staring, rotating my gaze between him and the ring, wondering how to come out with the truth.

“I’m not from here,” I blurted.

He laughed. “Not this again. I’ve been to your home in Monaco.” Relief momentarily flooded his face before being replaced by a frown. “That bump isn’t still affecting you, is it?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” I shook my head. “There’s a time portal. I fell through it. Well, I didn’t fall exactly; I was pushed off a cliff, and I fell into the ocean. When I woke, I was here—well, not here, but here, as in the nineteenth century in Monaco. I’m from the future. That’s why I was floating in the sea when you found me.” I was gasping, half-sobbing, becoming less coherent by the second. “I found the name Rochus in one of Sapphira’s journals and I went to find him. He’s—he’s a—” I stuttered, grasping for a term he would understand. “A sorcerer.”

“A sorcerer!” he repeated in shock.

“Yes, and he helped me return to my own time.” I felt a surge of hysteria swooping through my intestines, looping under my ribs like a roller coaster on fire. “But then I came back again.”

Why,
oh
why
did
I
come
back
again?
“Do you believe me?” I asked.

He blinked at me, unmoving.

“I said I’m a time traveller. I’m Sophia, not Sapphira, although I might have once lived as her.” My voice trailed off until I was mumbling. “Do you understand? Someone’s gonna kill me. The devil hid pockets of magic to tempt us. He put it in things like gems to beguile the greedy with questionable souls. The magical objects are cursed; if someone removes them, the curse activates! It spellbinds, and that poor soul becomes obsessed with its power, cursing them to remain on Earth. One of the pockets is in my amethyst, the Purple Delhi Sapphire. My jewel is magical!” I said, pointing to my bracelet. I was shouting now, and he nodded slowly.

I relaxed, shocked that he believed me.

“No,” he then said softly.

His face, inches from mine, resembled a statue: silent, cold and devoid of emotion.

“No!” I blazed. “No what? No, you don’t believe me?”

He just looked at me.

“Of course you don’t. Why would you believe me? I’m crazy, aren’t I? That’s what you think. I’m such a dope,” I said, smacking myself in the head. “I’m supposed to be trying to find my murderer.” I turned away and staggered, grasping for support. I flopped down on a log a little too hard, almost tipping it, and put my head in my hands.

“Sapphira,” he said, gently grabbing hold of me.

I looked up, surprised that he hadn’t left me here in the middle of the Swabian Alb. He remained, but his eyes bulged out of his head, and I realized he was creeped out by me. Or was he?

The strain of it all caught up with me. I tore myself out of his grasp and ran to the water’s edge. I dipped my hands and patted my face. I turned, panting, and stared at him for a moment.

An eerie calm emanated from him. He took my wrist and slid Gigi’s bracelet from it, studying it in the light.

“Let’s return to the schloss. I’m sure Mutter will be worried by now, and you need a rest before dinner.”

“What? That’s all you have to say?”

Where were the questions, the shouts of outrage, any sort of reaction whatsoever? I thought of Leslie, and doubts once again entered my head.
Why
hasn’t
he
given
me
my
bracelet
back?
Why
is
he
acting
like
I
just
told
him
to
pass
the
milk?
Was he the obsessed spirit after all?

He pocketed Gigi’s bracelet, smiling in the queerest way, and my blood ran cold. As I turned and walked toward the horse all I could think was,
What
have
I
done?