Love Me Again

by Wendy Burge

  Feeling resentful of having to beg for his trust, Christina knelt beside him and took his hands. “Robert, how can you think that I don’t love you? What have I done to give you these doubts?”

  Robert stared down at her with narrowed eyes, mistrust evident in every tensed muscle in his body. His hands rested heavy in hers, not wanting to give her an inch. “I see how you look at him,” he accused.

  How could she possibly reach the understanding of a man who was so intrinsically selfish? Never would she have ascribed selfishness to this man. Had she been living with blinders on? Only seeing what she had wanted to?

  “Robert, most of my life has been spent loving Varek. For over ten years we were man and wife and we loved each other passionately. You may not like hearing this, but your wishing it doesn’t change the past. You say you love me and I have no doubt of your love, but you have to realize that the woman I am today is because of Varek. But he is my past and I am content to leave him there. You are my here and now; you are my future. Isn’t that enough?”

  Robert’s hands turned in hers and grasped them tightly. “I have been a bastard, haven’t I? I just love you so much that the thought of you loving anyone else but me is pure torment. Forget my noble words the other night. It does bother me that the two of you had a grand passion.” He looked at her with apologetic weariness. “I am sorry, but it does hurt me, and I can’t help it.”

  “Robert, what we have is good and I love you. You have no reason to doubt me.”

  His mouth twisted cynically as he pictured the archduke, every woman’s fantasy come to life. How can he ever compete with that? And this perfect manifestation of male virility wanted his wife. Despite what she said, how could he possibly claim her absolute love and loyalty over that?

  Christina was watching the turbulent emotions shifting in Robert’s features, saw the bleak doubt in his eyes and knew with a sense of defeat that she had made no impression on him at all. Everything was a competition to him, and he already felt he was losing to Varek.

  With a sigh, she dropped his hands and rose to her feet. She wandered over to the window and looked out over the twilit park. Knowing it was useless she nevertheless entreated in a listless voice, “May I return to Kerkmoor?”

  “Is running the answer to all your problems, Christina?” His question wasn’t hostile, just curious.

  That gave Christina pause as she pondered this. Maybe it was. At heart she was a coward and she couldn’t deny it. She ran once from Varek and had found a peace of sorts. Would it work again? Hardly, for Varek now knew where to find her, and her husband no longer trusted her.

  Her eyes widened in agitation as this fact just sank in for the first time since meeting Varek again. What if Varek never gave up on her? Her heart started beating a tattoo that made her lightheaded. Even as beaten as he had looked the other day at the dueling field, he hadn’t given her the appearance of a man admitting defeat.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass and despaired of Varek’s future. When would he realize that she could never be his again? He had to let go and get on with finding some peace of his own. Yet, even as she wished this for him, her heart ached for what she could never share with him again. Would he one day turn all his magical love and devotion onto some other woman and forget her?

  “I wish you to attend at the Hofburg tonight, madam.” Robert’s demand was spoken gently, but unmistakably final.

  Her eyes still closed, she nodded and said wearily, “As you wish.”

  “What I wish is for you to purge him from your heart. That is what I wish, Christina.”

  They both knew that what he asked was impossible, so she didn’t even bother to answer this absurdity.

  Robert stared at her back, and bit off the recriminations he wanted to hurl at her. What did she want of him? A castrated bull in her bed?

  Fortuitously, there was a knock on the door. Relieved with the interruption in a very stressful moment, Robert turned toward it as it opened and Sergei was announced. He again bit off the surge of anger that infused him. Massallon, her devoted watchdog. Another thorn in his side. He shot Christina a taciturn look, before moving toward the unwanted guest.

  “What the hell do you what?” he snapped as Sergei stepped over the threshold.

  Sergei glanced past Basingstoke and looked at Christina. She looked as white as a ghost and just as dispirited. His eyes slid sideways to meet Robert’s. Sergei’s voice was flat as he said, “Castlereagh has called a special meeting with his attachés. You are needed in the consul chamber.” Again, Sergei’s gaze flicked over Christina before turning back to Robert. “Now.”

  “Fine.” With a slight bow toward Christina, Robert said softly, “I will see you later, my dear. Shall I come back to escort you or will Massallon here offer his service?”

  There was a wry twist of Robert’s lips that Christina did not like. Before she could answer, Sergei supplanted, “I shall escort her.”

  Robert paused, then bowed again, not meeting Christina’s eyes. When he turned toward the door, she stepped forward saying loudly, “Robert, I would prefer your company, if it is not too much trouble.”

  His head jerked around and he looked at her, a smile of relief spreading over his grim features. “No trouble at all, my love. I shall be here no later than eight. Will that be enough time for you to prepare yourself?”

  Giving him a smile, she nodded. It faded as soon as he was gone. She looked sideways at Sergei and saw him frowning at her.

  “You still look like hell. You shouldn’t be going at all.”

  Sighing in agreement, Christina rubbed her tired eyes, thinking that the last thing she wanted was to spend another interminable night making inane chatter with people who were much too interested in sniffing around her life. On top of this, Varek had been conspicuously absent from all the social entertainments the last few days.

  After a moment of deep thought, she said quietly, “I told him.”

  Sergei inhaled in surprise. “Was that necessary?” The tone of his voice was an accusation.

  Her eyes began to burn even more as she fought off the sting of tears. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to, but I thought it would make him realize how hopeless it all was, these dreams of his.” My dreams, too, she admitted sadly to herself. “It apparently worked for I haven’t seen him since.” She looked at him, a question in her eyes.

  Sergei shook his head, worry creasing his brow. “No, I haven’t seen him either.”

  Turning away, Christina gnawed her lip. “Would you check on him, Sergei? I’m frightened.” It took a force of will she barely had to hold back the tears. She refused to cry anymore. “You should have seen his face.” Her whisper was tortured, and filled with self-loathing. “I hurt him, Sergei. I hurt him so much.”

  The look she turned on him was so raw with pain that Sergei was at her side in the next instant. He gathered her close and in grim silence they held close to each other, each lost in their own regrets.

  “You will find him?”

  Damn you, Varek, why couldn’t you have stayed in the past where you belong, Sergei cursed, even as he was nodding his reassurance. He also was worried about what he would find when he next saw Varek. If he knew his old friend, it would not be a pretty experience.

  ∞∞∞

  Within hours, Sergei presented himself at Varek’s residence. He was told in no uncertain terms that his highness was not at home to visitors. The door was then closed firmly in his face.

  Sergei blinked at the closed portal. Never had Varek turned visitors away from his door. Even if he did not see them personally, callers were admitted to his salon and offered refreshments and hospitality.

  Backing down the steps, Sergei looked up at the window that was Varek’s private room. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared up directly at Varek, who stood at the full-length aperture, one hand holding back the drape, the other casually holding a crystal glass. He looked like hell; dressed in nothing but breec
hes and wrinkled shirtsleeves. The shadow of a week’s worth of whiskers made him look sinister and haunted.

  They made eye contact for the briefest moment before Varek turned away, the drape falling back in place.

  Sergei continued to stare up at the window, seeing nothing but the look of utter defeat in his friend’s hooded eyes. Feeling helpless and alone, Sergei looked about him, not knowing what he should do next. It had been a long time since he had felt this lost.

  With his head lowered, Sergei wandered off into the darkness.

  Chapter Eight

  As the Congress continued through the fall months, little if anything but endless quibbling was being accomplished between the ruling powers of Europe; and still Christina saw herself far from home and escape from a life in hell. Now it was rumored that no negotiations would be agreed upon through the Yuletide holidays. Christina shuddered at the thought of spending her Christmas in Vienna, among hundreds of acquaintances she could care less about. Her soul yearned to see her son’s gamine smile on Christmas morning.

  And always there was Varek. Now, with the approach of winter teasing the crisp Vienna days, more and more she found herself envisioning her former husband with the romantic beauty of a delicate winter morning glistening about him; it was unbearable at times. Winter had always been their favorite time of year. Whenever she closed her eyes she could picture him teasing her with fistfuls of pristine snow, the newly fallen flakes shining like sprinkles of diamonds in his golden hair, his white-as-snow grin slashing across the bronzed symmetry of his face. Every time she flirted with these tormenting flashes of her incredible past she felt more and more like the adulterer Robert secretly accused her of being.

  As the weeks crept slowly by she almost resigned herself to her fate. Varek was again close by no matter where she went. It was as if he knew where she would be before she did: dinner at the Chancellery, tea at Lady Castlereagh’s, or simply sitting down for a cup of coffee at one of the hundreds of kaufeehauses along the ringstrasse. It never failed that she would look up and there he was, propped against a wall watching her with the patience of a predator who was not yet hungry enough to put himself to the trouble of going in for the kill. This strategy was diabolical in the fact that he was guilty of everything and yet could be held accountable for nothing.

  Every time she looked into his face though, she felt and shared his pain. Since that terrible night, he appeared even harder than before, if that was possible. A smile never seemed to entice his beautiful lips anymore, and his eyes were shuttered to any emotion except vigilant weariness. She had no idea what was going on in his mind, and she didn’t want to know. All she was sure of was that if she was in hell, she wasn’t alone.

  So, with a dogged determination at odds with her usually reclusive nature, she jumped in with both hands and devoted as many hours as was asked of her by the committee of hostesses involved with the upcoming extravaganza, the Carrousel, a reenactment of a medieval tournament. Thankfully, it kept her busy and out of the way of Varek and Robert’s brooding presences. There were even times when she was able to forget her problems, though far and few were those blessed moments.

  Even though she kept her days busy enough, the sun would inevitably set and she was forced to return to her apartment. If a wary peace had settled between herself and Robert, it was hard won, and she was resentful of the amount of time it took to reassure him each time they came across Varek, which was now every day, and most times within hours of each meeting.

  It was at times like these she was most tempted to give them their rapiers and get out of their blasted way.

  ∞∞∞

  Varek stepped out of his residence and into the cold evening, his thoughts on the meeting he’d had with his cousin Francis earlier. He was pleased with the concessions the emperor was granting him—in truth he was being far more generous then he could have ever hoped for. Now if he could convince the people of Austenburg of the benefits, he might yet be able to save the duchy from a bloody insurrection. If only these options had been available all those years ago. Unfortunately, it had taken the bloody monster, Napoleon, to sweep through their land, raining destruction in his path, for the people to realize how vulnerable they were to a changing world. Austenburg was too small to marshal an army of any size to protect its borders, and for the first time in over a hundred years, war was no longer some dimly held idea of a threat, but brutal reality.

  When a bodyguard, armed with a torch and a sidearm, appeared at his shoulder to escort him to the palace, Varek waved him away. He knew the short distance to the Hofburg like the back of his hand, and he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Reclusive by nature, he hated people dogging his heels, and even with Francis’s recriminations ringing in his ears about protection, he cavalierly dismissed them.

  A smile eased his lips as Varek looked up at the black velvet of the night. The evening was crisp and clear, with thousands of stars adorning the sky. He paused for a moment and marveled at the magnificent display spread out before him, a treat from the gods. It never failed to humble him, the vastness of this other dimension. His fingers itched to ply the dials on his telescope. It had been a present from Christina years ago on his birthday. She had teased him, saying that since he was always likening her eyes to the beauty of the stars, perhaps it was time he saw what a star truly looked like. When he had taken up the hobby of astronomy with such a dedicated passion, she had been amazed. Since that first telescope, he had collected the best science could produce from all over the world; but Christina’s gift had never lost favor with him—it was still in a place of honor by the bed they had shared; the same bed he had never shared with another woman.

  He had just turned onto Augustine Street and was but a stone’s throw away from the imperial palace when they jumped him. Varek had no time to release the steel out of his cane as he was swept backward into a tiny side alley, three sets of brawny arms holding him practically immobile. In the scuffle he felt his walking stick ripped from his hand. As the stygian dampness of the fetid alley suffocated him, fists and clubs were employed with equal ruthlessness upon his entire body. Paralyzing pain shot to every part of him, almost taking him down, and in a flash he saw the ending of his life.

  But he was not a man to take unprovoked abuse and then meekly offer up the other cheek. As his initial wave of surprised vulnerability left in a heated rush, the coldblooded necessity of survival took over.

  Soon it was the grunts and curses of his attackers that punctuated the blackness and he grinned with evil purpose when his fist connected solidly with a nose. The sound of cracking bone and cartilage was sweet indeed.

  Just as he knew he was starting to get the better of them, his head exploded in crippling pain when a club caught him with brutal force above his right eye. The darkness popped with white shards of brilliance, and it was with a panicked sense of awareness that he knew he was going to pass out.

  With a desperate snarl of rage, he found the strength to throw his attackers off, knowing if he went down under these assassins he would never get up. Suddenly free, he stumbled back and jarred his shoulder against a damp wall. Cursing, he bent down and grabbed the stiletto out of his boot. Again, the world tilted precariously around him as he swung around to face the new onslaught and by blessed luck, his blade caught the throat of one of the thugs. The death scream hadn’t even faded when his dagger found the gut of another. Exultant, he pushed the man off and was struck again, laid low with the blunt end of a cudgel to his midsection. Gasping, he fell to his knees, doubled over and instinctively prepared himself for the final, fatal blow. However, it never came. He was thankful, and totally bewildered, when he heard his third attacker take to his heels.

  Fighting for breath and clutching at the fire in his belly, he was vaguely aware of hands grabbing hold of him, trying to help him up. Vague voices faded in and out around him making no sense and, confused, he pushed them away and lurched out onto the lighted street. All he knew was that he had to get to Christin
a. But before he could take another step, he collapsed and lost what consciousness he had been clinging to.

  Christina!

  ∞∞∞

  Christina fidgeted with her fork as she again glanced across the table at the empty chair.

  Varek should have been in that chair.

  Never had he been late for a function she attended. Though there was probably a very logical reason he was not there, she couldn’t help the queasy sense of dread that sat like a rock in the pit of her stomach. Surreptitiously, she glanced down the table and espied his mistress talking and gesturing with gaiety at the attentive Prince Trauttmansdorff. Nothing unusual there.

  Her glance then swiveled down the vast length of the imperial table to where her husband sat. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his animated discussion with the Countess Zichy.

  Why, he looks as if he is enjoying himself, she thought, mystified. He hated the countess. Not to mention, she hadn’t seen him this light-hearted in weeks. Again, she contemplated her poached eel swimming in its bowl of green herbed sauce, and her stomach lurched.

  She couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong. Suddenly, she felt a frisson of gooseflesh prickle along her skin. Her breath shortened and a bone-chilling fear slithered through her mind. Her startled gaze shot to Varek’s empty chair and she knew.

  He was in danger. She could feel it constricting her heart.

  Nerveless fingers dropped her fork onto her plate and she struggled to push her chair back, smiling faintly at her partners who looked up at her in surprise. She was thankful when a footman promptly stepped forward to help her with the massive chair.