by Sue London
Casimir signaled to Wladek, and the young Polishman changed to a waltz. Casimir bowed to his wife and took her into the dance with a flourish. Hans bowed to Krystyna and she hesitantly took his hand. Having her in his arms again it was difficult not to pull her close. As they settled into the gliding rhythm she finally looked up into his eyes. Her expression was tinged with a sweet sadness, perfectly mirroring his feelings. It was bittersweet to hold her thus, to spend this special holiday time together. Spending this Christmas together only hinted at what they would never have.
He leaned close to her ear to speak to her over the sound of the fiddle. "Are you having a good time, fraulein?"
She bit her lip and nodded.
“Are you still angry at me?”
She looked confused and shook her head.
“But you won’t speak to me?”
“You asked me not to.” She turned her face away as she replied and he thought he detected the same sorrow that he himself was feeling.
"My apologies, I was upset and beg you forgive me.”
“Of course.”
She was still flushed from her earlier exertions. “Perhaps a turn on the patio to cool yourself?"
"Yes, that would be most refreshing."
She called out to her brother in Polish as Hans led her from the room and Casimir waved a negligent hand in response.
"Your brother doesn't seem very protective."
Her expression was finally one he was familiar with, a mildly disapproving frown. "Why should he be?"
"If one of our sisters had been so headstrong and reckless as you have proved, and our father was no longer with us, my brother Albrecht would have locked her in the cellar until her wedding day."
"We're barely stepping outside the room."
"It's more his attitude than this particular moment."
"Well, I am the eldest."
There it was again, that air of superiority that she wore as naturally as a queen dons her robe of station. How would her fiancé react to it? There were many men who could not stand a proud wife. They required submission, a woman who surrendered to them in all things. As much as Hans wanted to ask about this fiancé, he didn't want to. Didn't wish to think about the man.
On their second perambulation around the patio Hans asked, "When will you return home?"
"You said you would take me the day after Christmas."
That hadn't been precisely what he had said, only that he would take her no earlier. As it stood he felt no desire to hasten her marriage to another man. "Aren't there a number of feasts that we should observe?"
"I didn't realize you had become so attached to London," she said drily.
"I've barely seen enough of it to decide one way or the other."
She shrugged. "Casimir can't take me, but perhaps Wladek can. Then he can visit his wife."
The idea that she could leave the day after the morrow, even without his help, was too much to bear. "Krystyna--"
She looked up and he cupped her cheek before kissing her.
Chapter Nineteen
Krystyna had been surprised by the choked sound of Hans' voice, then even more so by his kiss. She hadn't ever been kissed, not really. The gentle press and glide of lips was oddly thrilling. His hand moved to the nape of her neck and he held her closer still. Her body moved to his of its own accord, as natural as seeking his warmth. Then the kiss deepened from thrilling to dangerous. Any moment the last threads of her heart might lose their anchor and drift away. Was it possible to live without any heart left to speak of? She rather thought not. Best not to risk it.
Countering every command of her body, she pushed away. She couldn't even look at him, see what he might be thinking. He held fast to her hand.
"Krystyna."
She shook her head no, not sure what she was denying.
"Marry me, Krystyna, be my wife."
She stopped. Slowly, she raised her gaze to his. He appeared sincere. Of course he did. Hans was the most sincere person she had ever known. Noble, brave Hans. She could hear her own breath grow harsh as she wrestled between what her heart wanted and more practical matters.
She couldn't marry Hans. She could never keep her past in highway robbery from him and she could never tell him. It hadn't given her a qualm in plans to marry Gregor. She would not only have happily kept the information of her robberies from him, but put in action some plans to recoup at least a portion of her dowry. Even the thought of trying to take something from Hans, of keeping something from Hans, made her feel ill.
"I can't," she whispered.
"Your brother says he has broken the engagement."
"I can't," she said more forcefully. She tugged her hand free and ran, seeking solace in the one place that had always consoled her. The stables.
* * *
Hans watched Krystyna run towards the back gardens. He was stunned, partially because of her refusal, but mostly because of his proposal. He hadn't planned to ask her to marry him. Had, in fact, counseled himself on numerous occasions that it was the very last thing he should do. Her brother was a traitor to the Prussia. His parents would never approve of the match, even if they were unaware of Casimir's perfidy. But God's blood, this didn't feel like a choice. It felt right. Inevitable. He just needed her to see that.
He heard the clop of hooves in the alleyway leading to the street. Certainly she hadn't saddled a horse so quickly? And to where would she even be riding? It couldn't be her. He hastened to the alley to check.
Her horse shied when Hans rounded the hedge into the alleyway, then turned in a tight circle.
"Gods, woman, what are you doing? You don't have a bit or a saddle on that animal." He stepped forward to grab the reins on the halter but the horse danced back, partially rearing.
"Hans, stand back, you're spooking him."
The horse turned that tight little circle again, and Hans realized she was guiding it.
"What are you thinking riding out like this?"
"Hans--"
"Without a saddle or proper equipment?"
"Hans--"
"You're not even dressed for the weather."
She chided him with a barrage of incomprehensible Polish.
"And riding astride with your skirts rucked up? Where could you even be going?" His harangue subsided as he ran out of evident complaints.
Her horse quieted under her hand. "I thought to ride about the square and clear my head, but I suppose doing it with a rucked-up skirt would be quite unseemly." She kicked off her slippers and faster than he would have thought possible was standing on the horse's back. "Try not to spook him again."
With a flick of her reins she set the horse in motion, trotting up the alleyway while she stood on its back as serenely as most women entered a ballroom. It was enthralling and terrifying all at once. What manner of woman was this? Where had she ever learned to stand on a trotting horse? A trot was jarring enough with a good seat and the use of stirrups.
Hans picked up the slippers she had discarded and followed her out to the street. As she had said, she was riding around the small green before her brother's house. She was mounted astride again, rather than standing. After one turn around the green she stopped a few feet from where he awaited her.
"Krystyna--"
She held a hand up for him to stop. "I can't marry you, but you at least deserve to know why. I-- I feel I owe you that."
"Your brother told me about your father's belief in your family's heritage. But certainly the Von Rosen name isn't beneath consideration?"
"Casimir told you? When?"
"This morning."
She nodded, as though considering. "Did he tell you the source of our wealth?"
"No, does it signify?"
She slid to the ground in a fluid motion. The cold ground.
"Krystyna, your slippers."
She held her hand up to ward him off again. "I don't chill as easily as you think."
He would tease her about flirting with him at the inn if she
didn't look so deadly serious now.
After a deep breath she said, "Hans, I never questioned my father. I loved him. Adored him."
"Casimir said that you were close."
"It means that I never questioned anything we did, never saw the flaws in it, until now."
"What changed?"
"Where I've always had certainty, Casimir is filled with questions and doubt. We have been arguing for days and it has made me reconsider some things. But even more importantly," she paused, her lips pursing and eyes filling with tears. "Even more importantly, I don't think you will think well of me and what I've done."
Hans felt a terrible dread. Was Krystyna also a spy working against Prussia? His lips were numb as he asked, "What have you done?"
"Carriage robberies."
Hans blinked. "Beg pardon?"
"Robberies."
"You're saying that your family's wealth, whatever there is of it, is based on robbing carriages?"
"Yes."
"So you've carried on with this since your father's death?"
"No, there was no need and it seemed dangerous to draw further attention to ourselves."
"You're a former highwayman, then. Highwaywoman. What is the correct term?"
"I've no idea."
"Let's say highwaywoman. You would just ride up to the carriage and point your gun at them?"
"No, I was tasked with stopping the horses. A carriage is plum for the picking if the horses won't run."
"Plum for the picking? Really?"
"May I have my slippers now? My feet are quite cold."
"How can a mighty highwaywoman be challenged by something as simple as the cold?" But he handed her slippers over to her.
"You're behaving strangely."
Hans recognized his numb and oddly chaotic feelings being the same as when facing almost certain death. "Your brother betrayed Prussia, you're a highwaywoman, and I find I still want to marry you. It's possible I'm going mad."
"My brother betrayed Prussia?"
"He forgot to mention it?"
She paused, then ventured. "And you say you still want to marry me?"
Did he? This unusual woman who had the bearing of a queen but history of a rogue? "Inadvisably, yes."
She smiled at him and his heart throbbed almost painfully.
"You realize," he said, "that if the children turn out like either one of us that they will have us terrified on a daily basis."
"But what adventures they will have," she said softly.
With Krystyna he had found something more thrilling than running into cannon fire, yet more peaceful than a hearthside coze. He kissed her and she stepped into his embrace. She snuggled under his jacket and her hands were like ice, even through the linen of his shirt.
"I thought you didn't get chilled easily."
She sighed and laid her head on his chest. "I'm always chilled when I'm not in your arms."
"Is that a yes to my proposal?"
She looked up at him again and he couldn't read her expression. For a moment, he almost begged her not to respond because he couldn't bear to hear her say no. Then she smiled again. "Yes, Hans. Yes."
Chapter Twenty
Krystyna couldn't believe that he had asked her, couldn't believe that she had said yes. She was to be a Von Rosen! Certainly her father would be proud of that? Even if she discarded the plans he had made for her. It was frightening, too, to consider joining such an august family. She didn't know how he could accept her past, and if her crimes were to become known... Well, they would deal with that when it became necessary. She hadn't thought of them as crimes before, but it was undoubtedly what the peers of the Von Rosens would consider them.
"Shall we tell my brother?"
"If he's had much more of that egg brandy we may need to tell him again in the morning."
Hans accompanied her in returning the horse to the stable and then escorted her back into the house. As she entered the parlor on his arm she realized that this was what the rest of her life would be like. Arriving everywhere on the arm of Hans Von Rosen. Being a Von Rosen. Her brother's house, which had seemed quite well appointed to her when she arrived, would most likely be among the poorer of the homes they would frequent. Where would they live? Could she take her mother with her? Hopefully Hans would agree to have her mother live with them. And wouldn't mama be invaluable when they had children?
Krystyna heard Hans clear his throat, bringing her back to the present moment. The other three in the parlor continued to make merry and her fiancé used a voice she assumed he had honed to carry over the noise of battle. "We have news."
The revelers paused. "Good news, I hope?" Casimir asked.
"The best of news." Hans looked down into her eyes. "I have asked Krystyna to be my bride and she has accepted."
George shrieked and pulled Krystyna into a fierce hug while Casimir hugged Hans.
"This is the best of news!" Casimir said. "Expected, but still the best. Come, we must have vodka."
The night continued with toast after toast to the couple, marriage in general, peace in Europe, and everything else the party could think of. Krystyna found herself quite lightheaded by the time they agreed it would be best to turn in and continue the celebrations with Christmas morning.
Wladek stopped her before she ascended the stairs, kissing her on the cheek. "I'm very happy for you, cousin."
She hugged him. "Thank you, cousin. I'm sure that Hans would be happy to bring Judzia--"
He held up a hand. "Please, stop trying to meddle."
"But I know she would like to see you."
"As you've said. I will see my wife soon enough."
"She misses you."
"And I miss her. Go, your Prussian is waiting for you."
Krystyna saw that Hans stood a discreet distance away, waiting to escort her upstairs. "So he is," she said, with what she knew was a pleased smile. "So he is."
* * *
Now that their engagement had been announced, Hans found that he was impatient for marriage. Leaving Krystyna at her bedroom door with a chaste kiss was unbearable. It felt as though a possessive beast had been awakened within him, making him pace and snarl in the cage of his guest room. It was the first time he had ever wished for less honor, less control. His need to claim his fiancée was primal. Elemental.
Unable to settle his mind or body, he took a candle and descended to the parlor again to look upon the Tannenbaum. Sitting on the floor staring up at the tree, he thought of Ilsa and the stories she had told. Stories of the Christ child and the meaning of Christmas. Embellished, he had later learned, and designed to keep him and Henry obedient, but sweet stories nonetheless.
One day he and Krystyna would have children to tell stories to under the Tannenbaum. He fell asleep on the floor by the tree, thinking about those future Christmases.
* * *
Krystyna awoke early and made her way quietly to the kitchens. George was already up and had the kettle on for tea.
"Did you sleep well?" her sister in law asked in the hushed tones that the wee hours seemed to require.
"Yes, very well. Thank you."
"Do you want to see something?" George crooked her finger for Krystyna to follow her. The English girl pointed into the parlor where Krystyna saw her fiancé curled up in front of the tree, using his arm as a pillow. Her sister in law whispered, "I'm sure he'd like for you to be the first thing he sees Christmas morning."
As George returned to the kitchen, Krystyna knelt in front of Hans. His hair was mussed from sleep and she gently smoothed the strands back into place. She rarely had a chance to study him this openly. He was so handsome, so impossibly dear. He stirred and she stopped her wandering fingers.
When his eyes opened she said, "Happy Christmas."
The smile he gave her in return stole her breath. "Happy Christmas," he replied.
"I'm beginning to think you've slept on all the best floors in Europe."
"And some of the worst." He sat up and to
uched her cheek. "But this is definitely my best Christmas morning."
"Waking up on a cold, hard floor in England? I'm beginning to think the Von Rosen children were more deprived than I realized."
He grinned. "You underestimate your own charms. And you think it's cold, do you?" He pulled her into his arms. "I'd best warm you, then."
His kiss was sweet and warm. Krystyna lost herself to it until she heard someone distinctly clearing their throat.
Her brother's voice was sardonic. "We should save that until after the wedding, don't you think?"
Hans stood and assisted her to her feet. "Good morning, Herr Rokiczana. Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas," Casimir replied. He walked into the room and shoved a piece of paper into Hans' chest. "Here's your present." Taking Krystyna's hands he said, "Really, siostra, I expect better of you."
"Don't let him torment you," George said from the doorway. "He was incorrigible even when he thought I was married."
"I am always incorrigible. But I was also honorable, let us not forget."
"What is this?" Hans asked, frowning down at the paper.
"It's called a special license. If we're going to church on a Monday, it might as well be a wedding."
Krystyna gasped. "You expect us to get married today?"
"You are not pleased?"
"It's very sudden."
Hans kissed her hand. "Christmas is a lovely day for an anniversary."
"But Mama isn't here."
"Which means she can't meddle," Casimir said.
"She doesn't meddle!"
"The only person who believes more fervently than you in the plans our father made is our mother. No, I'd rather that you be safely wed while you're still here, thank you."
"But Hans is a Von Rosen! She would never question my marrying him."
"Let's not put it to the test."
"Casmir, what aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing. But I can't send you home escorted only by your fiancé, and I can't go to Silesia. So wed you must be."
"Wladek could take me. Or George could go with us. Would you do that for me, George? Mama wants very much to meet you, anyway."