Love Me Again

by Wendy Burge

  Varek stared at Sergei with narrowed eyes, his whole body thrumming with frustration. She had tried to kill herself? God! Just the thought of it made him break out in a cold sweat. His attention shifted to the fire and he became mesmerized by the flickering flames as his tortured mind imagined her walking out into a storm, defenseless, frightened, needing him, and he wasn’t there to protect her.

  So, Robert, that pompous ass, had saved her life? Made her life worth living, had made it bearable for her to meet each deadened day? Had given her the son he never could.

  “You realize you can’t kill him, your highness,” Sergei’s prodding voice broke into his morbid musings.

  “Mayhap he’ll kill me,” Varek goaded back, mocking the earnest messenger with a cool smile.

  “That would even be worse, because Christina then would never be able to forgive her husband, a man who has been nothing but kind and gentle to her.”

  Rage shot through Varek’s mind with stunning pain. He roared as he surged to his feet, throwing the glass into the fire. The flames exploded out briefly with the ferocity burning in Varek’s ice-blue eyes.

  “Get out! Just get the hell out of here, Massallon! I have heard enough about the saintly Robert for me to want to kill him a thousand times over. So if you are here to talk me into crying off, to hell with you!”

  Sergei looked up the length of the powerful body before him. He could feel the enraged tension quivering before him. Never had he seen Varek drunk, not even after all Christina’s miscarriages, for he had always put his deeper emotions aside in order to be the strength that Christina could lean on. But this man who stood swaying before him, disheveled, with bloodshot and swollen eyes was a man he had never seen in all the years they had shared together. Never had he seen such pain in Varek and he wondered what Christina had said to him earlier.

  This Varek scared the hell out of him. In a few hours he would be facing off with blades drawn and he could scarcely stand. It would be suicide.

  Sergei stiffened as this thought struck him. Warily, he stood and stepped forward. “Vare—“

  “Get the hell out of here” Varek cut him off as he threw off Sergei’s outstretched hand. “Go on, mine enemy, go back to the saintly Robert. I don’t want you here. I don’t need any of you!”

  Sergei closed his eyes. Devil a bit, was he being forced to take sides again? How could he stand by tomorrow and not interfere. If it came to a question of Varek’s life or Robert’s … God, why had they ever come to Vienna?

  Finally admitting defeat, Sergei walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the latch and glanced back over his shoulder, murmuring, “I just thought you should know. And please, for Christina’s sake, put the brandy away.”

  Varek watched as his old friend walked away, and he wanted nothing more than to bellow out his rage, his betrayal, and all his pain to the heavens above until God finally took pity on him and let him in.

  But, when had God ever taken pity on him?

  Varek dropped back into the armchair and looked up at the large portrait above the mantel. A youthful, laughing Christina smiled down on him. During the sitting of this portrait she had just found out she was pregnant with their first child. Despite the weight of royal disfavor bearing down upon them because of their unmarried state, her abundant joy had never faltered during those halcyon days.

  “And don’t I deserve any of your loyalty for saving your life? Is he so much more worthy of your gratitude, lark?” Of course, she didn’t answer him. She never did.

  Lifting the bottle, that he had placed on the floor by his chair, Varek drained the last of the brandy in one long swallow, then let the bottle slip from his numbed fingers. Staring into the fire he wondered with a deadened sense of finality how he could feel so empty inside and not be dead.

  Chapter Seven

  The mist was just beginning to rise and dissipate when Varek rode into the appointed glade. He was noticeably alone, the lack of seconds by his side stirring curiosity in the assembled men standing about the clearing. As he dismounted, Varek casually greeted most of the men who were mutual acquaintances, a little surprised that there were so few witnesses to such a juicy tidbit of sport. The duel must have been kept quiet. He wondered why considering it wasn’t every day that a royal personage fought a man in order to reclaim his wife.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he took note of Robert standing stiffly beside Sergei. The two men were exchanging what appeared to be some rather heated words, before Robert sliced a hand down cutting off the argument. Sergei gave a curt nod and strode across the clearing toward Varek. It was obvious to all that Sergei was not happy with his office this morning.

  “Good morning, your highness. Are your seconds behind you?”

  Varek’s brow rose in haughty amusement. “No. Is there a problem with that?”

  Sergei hesitated, then shaking his head, he pointed out wryly, “No, but then you never were one to do anything by the book.” Giving him a bow, he intoned solemnly, though the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable. “I am, of course, at your service, your highness.” When Varek shot him a steely glare, he dryly added under his breath, “And no you may not rip out my tongue.”

  “Pity,” Varek murmured as he stripped off his gloves, fighting the unwilling smile that tempted his lips. Looking about him, he nonchalantly inquired, “You are acting as Basingstoke’s second at her behest, I take it?”

  “Actually, no. I am here at her request to tend to you.”

  Varek’s head whipped around, and he stared blankly at his old friend. “To attend me?” he repeated, confused.

  Sergei rocked back on his heels, his hands locked behind his back. “Yes, you see, Basingstoke had already chosen his seconds before I even knew of the duel.”

  Varek’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you made yourself scarce.”

  Sergei gave him a smug grin. “Precisely.”

  Varek glanced away, unaccountably touched by Sergei’s sense of loyalty. Clearing his throat, he pointed out coolly, “Well, I have no need of you as you will soon discover.” With these cryptic words, he sauntered over to Robert, coolly studying his rival’s demeanor as he closed the distance between them.

  Sensing the tension in the men about him, Robert slowly turned to face his adversary. He was already in shirtsleeves, his coat, waistcoat and cravat discarded. His stocky body was stiffly poised, and he seemed mentally prepared for the coming ordeal. If he was experiencing any nervousness, it didn’t show, except that he was perhaps a bit paler than usual. Curtly, Varek nodded his head. “Basingstoke.”

  “Your highness,” Robert returned the curt greeting through stiff lips. As usual the archduke looked arrogantly confident. “Could you find no gentleman willing to act your second, your highness?”

  Varek smiled slowly, all the while watching Robert with the hooded stare of a cobra. “I need no seconds to act for me, my lord. I always finish what I begin.”

  Robert’s lips seemed to tighten even more as he glared at the infuriating man. “Very well. Shall we proceed? As blades were your choice, I assume you are supplying them?” Robert’s annoyed voice sounded unnaturally loud in the clearing. He cast a frowning glance toward his seconds, wondering why they weren’t over here taking care of these details. Instead the man stood across the dueling field, simply watching them. Instantly, the two young men were at his side, bowing to the archduke.

  Robert wasn’t surprised to see Christina’s watchdog standing at the archduke’s back. He wondered wildly if she had asked Sergei to act as second to this man who was making their lives such a hell. Wanting this ordeal to be over, he turned back to his nemesis.

  When Varek hadn’t spoken, one of Basingstoke’s seconds stepped forward and again politely inquired about the blades. This time the question was directed to Sergei. As mystified as everyone else, Sergei could do no more than turn to Varek with a raised brow.

  However, the archduke was pointedly ignoring the trivial exchange, and was gazing out into the distan
ce, his expression one of boredom. Idly, he was pulling his gloves through his hand, his stance relaxed and casual. When he finally spoke, his deep voice was loud enough to be heard by every man present.

  “Lord Basingstoke, I owe you an apology. My manner was inappropriate last evening and my words to …” here he faltered slightly as he sliced a look of pure loathing at his opponent. Even the thought of addressing her as another man’s wife was gall to him, “to Lady Basingstoke was unforgivable. I concede this duel and hope that you will except my apologies.” There was no hint of contrition in the words just spoken, only imperious command.

  Robert’s surprised gaze darted about the clearing, flustered for the moment. This was the last thing he had ever expected from this man. Then it flashed through his mind that Christina must have had some hand in this unexpected occurrence. What had she promised the bastard, he seethed inwardly? Was she trying to make a mockery of him?

  Varek studied the stunned man through narrowed eyes, the animosity in that arctic blue glare almost begging him to refuse the apology.

  It was on the tip of Robert’s tongue to do exactly that—thrust the insulting apology back into the officious bastard’s face when a movement on the edge of the clearing caught his and every other man’s attention. He was not surprised when he saw Christina, astride a petit sorrel mare and accompanied by one of the grooms from the apartments, ride into the glade.

  Varek saw at a glance that Christina looked exhausted. Her eyes appeared bruised, she was deathly pale and her attire was so disheveled, he wondered if she had slept in it. Still he couldn’t help the surge of anger he felt at her for this added interference, and deliberately he turned his back to her. Instead, he directed his aching bitterness on the source of all his anguish—Christina’s saintly husband.

  However, the ‘saintly’ Robert was staring at Christina with similar feelings, and Varek’s wrath rose even higher. What right did this pissant have to be angry at Christina?

  Then a terrible thought punched him in the gut. Was the bastard making Christina pay for his presence in Vienna and their meeting again? Was he abusing her? Just the thought made him itch to pull his dagger from his boot and drive it straight through the bastard’s heart.

  “Well?” he drawled, drawing Basingstoke’s inimical attentions back on him and well away from Christina. All the while he was praying the man would deny him the apology he now regretted with every fiber of his being. Refuse it, you prick, Varek prayed as he glared at his enemy.

  Suddenly, Sergei was at their sides, his frowning attention directed upon Robert with a force that could not be ignored. Robert glared at Sergei for a long moment. Whatever silently passed between the two men was unknown, but Varek damned Sergei’s interference when Robert looked away first. Varek knew in that instant he would be denied the pleasure of killing him this day.

  In the hours just passed, he had thought long and hard on what Christina and Sergei had both told him. The decision that he had finally made had chilled his soul with anger and self-pity. What he wanted at the basest level of his being was for this man to be dead and irrevocably out of Christina’s life. A divorce was now out of the question for he knew Christina would never be able to leave a child of hers behind which is what would be demanded of her if she left her husband. And no matter how desperately he wanted Christina he would never demand such a sacrifice of her.

  So where did that leave him? Absolutely nowhere. But, somewhere, down in the deepest shadows of his bruised heart, he still couldn’t make himself give up on them completely. He just couldn’t. Somehow there had to be a way. But, unfortunately, killing her child’s father was not one of them.

  His voice ripe with ungracious spite, Robert said, “I accept your apology, your highness.” Then in a voice only Varek and Sergei could hear, he added in a vicious undertone, “This time. But we both know that it won’t end here, don’t we?”

  Varek smiled grimly, “I am counting on it.”

  Varek started to turn away, but Robert’s hand shot out and grasped his forearm. Varek stopped and stood quietly while he stared down in disgust at the gloved hand detaining him.

  “What did she say to you? What did she promise you if you begged off?” Robert demanded in an undertone.

  Varek stared at the hand on his arm so long and pointedly that Robert finally released him, embarrassed at the disgusted look in the archduke’s eyes as he deliberately dusted off his sleeve. Finally, Varek looked up and sliced Robert a look of pure loathing. Stepping closer, Varek leaned in and without breaking eye contact with the worm, he explained in a voice coldly harsh, “I have never begged for anything in life, except perhaps my wife’s kisses. And if you think so little of her honor and integrity, then let her go, for I assure you I value them above my own life.” With a final glance of disgust, Varek turned his back on the angry man and walked away.

  The murmur of muted voices seemed to still as Varek walked directly over to where Christina still sat her horse. The face he turned up to her was impassive enough, but the stark pain in his eyes was a cruel testament of all he had suffered last night at her hands.

  “Is this what you wanted, Christina?” His voice was a low murmur, for her ears alone, his hand curled possessively around her ankle

  Christina stared down at the hard visage of her love and she wanted to shout out, No, this not what I want! Instead, she gave him the weakest excuse for a smile that she could summon. Her voice was raspy when she gave him the only answer she was allowed. “Thank you, Varek.”

  He stared up at her with a brooding intensity that made her shiver with unease. Never had she seen him this way. After a moment, he shook his head slowly and stepped back away from her horse. “Don’t thank me too soon, Christina, for I haven’t given up on us yet.”

  “Please, Varek—”

  “Don’t even try,” he cut her off, his frown condemning her. “I’m still reeling from our last conversation, so don’t even try to reason with me right now. At this moment I can almost hate you, Christina. Almost.” With this vicious promise echoing in her heart, Varek turned his back on her and strode over to his mount. Without another word to anyone, he lithely sprang into the saddle and spinning his mount about, he left the clearing at a flat gallop.

  Christina didn’t dare watch him leave, for she was afraid that she would be tempted to put heel to her own horse and follow him blindly. Instead, she looked over at Robert and saw that he was busy with donning his outer garments. She watched him for a long moment, and when she decided he was deliberately ignoring her, she felt relief. She was eager to slip away and make her own way back to the apartment. As she turned her horse about, she changed her mind and decided to go to Laure’s home instead. At least there she would be able to rest undisturbed.

  Seeing a horse pull up alongside her, she smiled and turned to greet Sergei.

  He, however, only offered her his own version of a fierce frown as he studied her closely. “God’s blood, you look terrible. When was the last time you slept?” he demanded irritably.

  Sighing, she relaxed into the lulling rhythm of her horse’s gait and shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

  “Little fool.”

  With a chiding moue, she glanced sideways at him. “You are not my nursemaid, Sergei.”

  His lips twisted wryly. “I beg to differ with you, but that is all I am anymore.” Though his voice was teasing, the shadowed look in his eyes gave Christina pause. Frowning, she looked at him, a pang of guilty conscience warning her that something wasn’t right. “Am I such a trial to you, my friend?”

  Sergei’s head jerked around and he stared at her in surprise. “Of course not! I was only teasing you. This only goes to show how exhausted you truly are if you are so sensitive to my senseless chatter.” Then he quickly started to regale her with antidotes of his latest conquest, a buxom fraulein from the kaufeehause down the street from his apartment. “She might not be much to look at, but she makes the best bloody cup of coffee in Vienna.” Soon he had h
er laughing, and she gratefully clutched at his artful dissembling, refusing to worry about anything on such a beautiful day.

  ∞∞∞

  Several nights later, the tension between Christina and Robert only increased as she made inane excuses why she couldn’t attend the ball at the Hofburg that night.

  “What are you planning, Christina, to remain in hiding for the rest of the Congress?” He watched in frustration as she pushed away her untouched plate. Standing, she began to wander listlessly about the room. She was starting to look so thin lately; pale shadows tingeing the delicate skin beneath her eyes was growing more pronounced. Every time there was a knock on their door she would jump, the need to flee too apparent in her rigid posture. Maybe he should just kill the bastard and be done with it?

  “I really do not feel very well, Robert,” she reiterated with calm patience. “I haven’t been sleeping well and I suppose it is catching up with me, that is all. It cannot be such a horrendous breach of duty if I forgo this one night; after all there will be another ball next week. And the week after that, and the next …” her voice trailed off as if in boredom.

  If only he could believe her, Robert despaired. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  She shrugged.

  “Do you still love him?” He hated himself for pressing her again.

  With a sigh of impatience, she said flatly, “What if I do, Robert? What of it? I won’t leave you for him. And I will not climb into his bed. So what else do you want from me?”

  “Your love, perchance?”

  Or, more likely, my undying obedience, she though cynically.

  She was beginning to realize she was trying to reason with a man she didn’t know. While she could sympathize with all that he had been put through with Varek hounding them, still, he was an adult, a man who should be able to act more like a husband then a sulky child denied his dessert. He should trust her, and not let Varek stir up this animosity between them. Snippets of her conversation with Edward all those months ago insidiously swirled into her tired thoughts. He had been trying to warn her. She should have listened for she had no idea how to deal with this perverse side of Robert. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to try anymore. It was just so unfair, after all, she had never derided him, or thought less of him for all the mistresses he had sported with. Why could he not afford her the same consideration? It was frustrating in the extreme and now all she wanted was to go home and put all this behind them.