by Wendy Burge
He relaxed back against the pillows, a smile playing seductively about his firm lips. “Is that what you are, lark, my obsession?”
Challenging him back with a hard glare, she nodded.
“Well, you are right. Ever since I first saw you, plumb and pretty as a pigeon you have been my one obsession. So, why should anything be any different now?”
Wilting under his tender regard, she sat dejectedly on the edge of his bed. “Because everything is different, Varek, and no matter how much you want it otherwise, it can’t be changed. I have a son, damn you!” Again, she sprang to her feet.
His face wiped of all expression, Varek watched as she paced the room. Most of his free time was spent in brooding over a solution for them. Which was useless, because no matter how he twisted their lives about in his mind, it ultimately came down to one irrefutable point. Christina would never leave her son. So there was no solution. Robert would never let her go without a fight. He could never let her go again and Christina, no matter how much she might love him, would never leave her son behind. No solution.
Except for Robert’s death, came the insidious thought that was always swirling just beneath his nobler intentions. Too bad he didn’t have less of a conscience, he thought in disgust.
Yet, even with all this against them, Varek still stubbornly refused to give up. He had no doubt that there could be only one ending to this abysmal mess—Christina would be his again one day. And this feat would somehow be accomplished with her love intact. In the meantime, while he puzzled his way through this maze of complications, she was wasting away and he could only blame himself. She looked tired, thinner and hounded. What she needed was a rest, a chance to recuperate her strength.
“I’ll make a pact with you?” he said suddenly.
She stilled her pacing and glared suspiciously at him. “Another pact? No thank you, I remember your last attempt at a pact.”
“You are still sore about that because you lost. You give me a kiss at a time and place of my choosing and I promise I will not bother you through this month.”
Her mouth pursed with annoyance. “How gracious. No, I want you gone.”
Smiling, he shook his head. Lord, she was a stubborn minx.
She slid a sideways glower at him. “This month is almost over. A full thirty days.”
Irritated, he again noticed the dark circles under eyes, and reluctantly he nodded.
“Why can I not just kiss you now?” she peevishly asked.
Varek just stared at her in amusement. “You touch my lips and I just might faint from the pain. No, at a time and place of my choosing. I think that is more than fair, considering my concession to your demand.”
Worrying her lip, she studied the man lazing before her, his bruised chest drawing her hesitant attention. He was so dratted beautiful. To go near him, even in his sorry condition, was courting disaster. She swallowed her heart, when his biceps bulged as he shifted about. Turning away she paced slowly around the bed. She should insist on here and now. If she agreed to his demand and let him claim his kiss when he was hale and hearty again she might not survive it, for she knew from experience that it would be devastating, consuming, and euphoric. He wouldn’t just be stealing a kiss from her lips, he would be reclaiming her soul.
And he knew it.
Yet thirty days of respite sounded like heaven. And anything could happen in thirty days. She might be back at Kerkmoor by then.
Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Varek. “Very well. One kiss in exchange for thirty days of blessed respite from your stifling attention. Agreed?”
He bit back his smile and nodded solemnly. “Agreed.”
Christina knew she should leave, but still she stood there and gazed at him. How she wished it was her right to tend to him, to soothe him, to take care of all his problems. But it wasn’t.
“Do you have any idea how much I have missed you?” he asked softly, his voice once again that deep, hypnotic hum that resounded through her heart like a temple bell.
It took her a moment to fight back the swell of tears that threatened. Taking a deep breath, she looked directly into his bruised eyes and gave him a frosty smile. “I know only too well, your highness.”
Afraid she would lash out at him as she had Robert earlier, she spun on her heel and left. She so wanted to vent all her pain and frustration over his head; but she couldn’t, for it would be like cauterizing a wound, preparing it for the healing. Varek was a wound in her soul that had never healed, and as long as it was angry and inflamed she could keep her distance—and she needed that more than ever.
∞∞∞
They lay before each other with nothing between them but the moon’s lambent glow, the night sky above them a blanket of stars. Together they reached out, their fingertips barely touching, and shivered as if an electrical frisson connected them, pulling them closer until the tips of her breasts barely skimmed the taut muscles of his chest. Their breaths stopped. Then they breathed as one—her sigh became his inhalation, their breaths mingling between lips hungry for a taste of the other. Slowly, their mouths met, blending their essence as their tongues mated.
She felt his broad hands cupping her buttocks, lifting her. Her legs encircled his waist, pulling him closer, locking his loins against her moist heat. They groaned as he surged into her tight sheath, their heads thrown back, the moon’s gentle light bathing them.
Slowly he teased her with long, slow strokes until she could take this frustrating torment no longer and she strained tighter against him, pulling him deeper into her, claiming every loving inch of him. He gasped as her inner muscles clenched about him, pulling him yet deeper His world spiked white with the savagery of his passion.
Flexing his hips, his hands clenched into her buttocks, bruising her, his near violence making her shudder with carnal joy. He withdrew, then groaning low, his teeth gently nipping her arched throat, he drove with hard, demanding strokes into her blessed heat.
Her nails dug into the straining muscles of his back, marking him as hers alone.
Into the still night their cries echoed, the cool mist blending with the sweat streaking their flesh. Then he stiffened. She moaned. He exploded and she dissolved. Their cries became one….
Miles apart and beds separate, Christina and Varek cried out in the night, both gasping as they sprang up in bed, the cold slashing across their sweat-slicked bodies. Disoriented, they looked about, unconsciously reaching out, seeking their other half. But their arms dropped empty to the bed. When they fell back onto the damp, cold bedding they both stared out their windows, watching in lonely vigil the setting of another mocking moon.
One wondered if her dreams could ever possibly come true again.
The other knew it was only a matter of time.
Chapter Eleven
Varek, true to his word, was nowhere to be seen in the next week. However, out of sight was not out of mind for Christina. She was tempted to call on him and check on his progress, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she concentrated on putting him from her thoughts. She spent what few idle hours she had convincing herself that her life was better without him—and trying to soothe Robert’s ruffled insecurities. It was easy to use her position as hostess of the British suite as an excuse to avoid Robert most of the time. Luckily, she worked well with Lady Castlereagh, joining her when she gave teas and dinners. Several times she escorted the Viscountess about Vienna, though most afternoons Lord Castlereagh made time to escort her himself.
Her attendance in the planning of the Carrousel was almost demanded of her now. Though she was enjoying the time she spent with all her acquaintances from her previous life, it was also uncomfortable most times as the European aristocracy, having no love of the stiff-necked English, preferred to treat her as if she was still the archduchess of Austenburg. Of course, this snobbish attitude of the people from her past fueled Robert’s ire even further and acted as dry kindling on the fire smoldering between them.
Now it seemed she cou
ld do nothing right. He was always close by to scowl at her or offer her an unsolicited lecture. Even a harmless, flirtatious conversation with the obese King of Würtemberg had been the catalyst to spark another argument between them later when they had been alone. She was beginning to realize it was not just Varek he resented, though perhaps his presence had triggered to a harsher degree Robert’s jealousy, but he resented any friend of hers that he felt was a threat to her undivided attention. She was still shocked and confused at discovering the extent of her husband’s lack of confidence in himself. There were times he was spiteful and petty, others when he was abjectly apologetic for his actions and then he would do a complete turnabout and be her Robert of old, witty and charming. She never knew which mood she would find him in from one hour to the next. It was disconcerting and at times almost frightening.
The next day was too beautiful to be wasted indoors with another interminable afternoon of the usual squabbling between the committee so Christina begged Sergei to escort her out on an aimless afternoon of wandering through the menageries along the avenue Jaegerzeile. The weather was brisk and clear and for the first time in a while, Christina was able to relax. She even let Sergei tease her into a full-bellied laugh that had her gasping for breath. It felt so good, she laughed again just for the sheer pleasure of it.
Together they paused to watch a couple of dwarfs on stage dancing with some puppets. Then, hearing the roar of a lion, their curiosity pulled them along. Christina turned toward Sergei intending to point out some monkeys to him, when a head of golden hair caught her eye. She stopped short, staring, her breath caught in her throat.
Sergei, unaware of her preoccupation, had walked a few paces ahead of her before he realized she was no longer at his side. Looking back, he was startled at the ravaged expression on her pale face. Following the line of her vision he espied Varek, standing near the cage of the Royal Tiger. Though still sporting many bruises, Varek looked hale enough to be out again. In his arms was the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen. She was the image of her majestic father. Quickly, he retraced his steps back to Christina’s side.
As if he sensed her behind him, Varek turned and looked straight into Christina’s eyes. The laughter on his face died slowly, then he gently set his daughter on her feet and led her over to them.
He bowed courteously to her and gave Sergei a brief nod. “Good morning, lark,” he greeted her warmly, his voice low so only she could hear.
Christina couldn’t seem to find her tongue. Her gaze was riveted on his daughter. Oh, God, his daughter. The child she couldn’t give him. And she didn’t know what she felt. Her breathing was erratic, she had broken out in a cold sweat, and the ground beneath her tilted. Varek’s child by another woman. This beautiful little angel should have been hers.
Almost in a daze, she sank down onto her heels so she could look into the child’s eyes. She was so like him! The brilliant ice-blue eyes, wide and unblinking, framed by an abundance of dark lashes and bold, slashing brows, so much darker than her light hair. Right now those beautiful eyes were frowning with a solemn regard at her. Christina reached out to touch a fine textured curl that was still the white blonde of childhood, but with age it would darken to the deep honey rich shades of her father’s silken mane. Looking sideways she saw her little hand engulfed in her father’s gentle grasp.
Swallowing thickly, she gave the curious little girl a smile. “Hello. I’m Christina.”
Crowding closer to her Papa’s leg, she poked her thumb into her mouth. Bending down beside them, Varek gently tugged his daughter’s thumb out of her rosebud mouth. It came out with a smacking pop. Christina didn’t know whether to hug Varek and his child or to offer her wishes for a good day and quickly take her leave.
“Say ‘Hello’ to the pretty lady, Tina,” Varek’s low voice rumbled softly as he wiped the sticky thumb on his kerchief.
Dutifully, the child repeated, “Hello.”
Tears prickled her eyes as Christina looked into Varek’s intense gaze, which seemed to possess her completely. “Tina?” she whispered.
Slowly, he nodded. “Tina Marie.” Christina’s middle name was Marie. Christina’s eyes slid closed to capture the tears she refused to let fall. Oh, Varek, my dear love. Even all those years ago he was telling the world who was his child’s mother in his heart.
Blinking rapidly, Christina again studied his daughter. Tina Marie. If Varek was her soulmate, did that make Tina Marie her soul daughter? She almost laughed at the sad absurdity of it. Her voice quavered as she said, “She’s gorgeous, Varek. You must be so proud.” When she again had control of herself, she dared to look at him.
Still watching her intently, Varek merely nodded, his penetrating gaze speaking a multitude of his feelings, none of which could be spoken out loud at that moment.
Taking a deep breath, she stood abruptly and stepped away from them. She had to get away. Now! Linking her arm with the silent Sergei, she smiled with false brightness down on them. “It was a pleasure meeting you, young lady. Be sure you tell your father to take you to see the puppet shows.” Then she literally dragged Sergei away as she did what she was best at—she ran.
Tina Marie popped her thumb back into her mouth, then she tugged impatiently on her Papa’s arm to get his attention. But, he wasn’t looking at her; he was watching the pretty lady until she was out of sight. He looked sad again and she didn’t like her Papa to look sad. Holding onto his cheeks, she pulled his face around to her. “You a’right, Papa?”
Varek looked at his littlest love and felt a sadness swamp him that almost unmanned him. Christina should be standing beside them, not running away. Covering his daughter’s hands, he pulled them to his lips and kissed them. “Oh, Tina, hopefully one day we will all be all right.”
Standing, he lifted his daughter into his arms and determinedly strode toward the puppet shows.
∞∞∞
“Are you all right?” Sergei asked concerned, as his long-legged stride easily matched Christina hurried steps.
“No. Just keep walking.”
“He named her after you.”
“Shut up, Sergei,” she snapped, her voice cracking. Her shoulders started to jerk and quickly Sergei swept her behind a colonnade, offering her some privacy. Blindly, she turned into his arms, and held on as if she expected a wave to sweep her away. “She should have been mine, Sergei! Why? Why?” Her body was shaking with tremors that had Sergei frightened. Ignoring the curious and frowning stares around him, he held her close enough for it to seep into her panic that she was not alone.
He was the last person to answer that painful question. He had been asking it himself for years. What had been so wrong with her and Varek? What sick lesson had God been trying to get across to them?
Looking back through the crowds, he caught a brief glimpse of Varek, with his daughter in his arms again. He cringed at the stark pain etched on his friend’s usually impassive face.
Still trembling, Christina pushed out of his arms, and he was surprised to see her eyes dry. However, seeing the hard, brilliant cast to the glare she tossed about her, he much preferred the tears. He didn’t like this stranger suddenly standing before him. Her body was as rigid as a corpse when she moved off, striding with hurried steps toward the British apartments.
Sergei looked once more toward Varek and saw him gone. He stood undecided for a long moment, not knowing whom to follow. Then with a sigh, he took out after Christina. God, in the mood she was in, she might charge across a street not caring what she walked out in front of.
Enough was enough. Tonight he was going to write to Edward. If the duke was intent on playing God then he could sure as hell fix this mess he had instigated.
∞∞∞
Two days after that heart-wrenching meeting with Varek’s daughter, Christina’s steps dragged as she let herself into the apartment, weary and heavy-hearted. She looked about the lush room as if in a daze, drawing off her gloves and bonnet. She was surprised to see a ligh
t on in the study and curious, as Robert was hardly ever in at this early hour, she walked into the cozy room.
Her feelings were mixed as she noticed his figure sprawled in the chair before the fire, engrossed in a letter. Stepping closer, her heart skipped a beat. The letterhead was Kerkston. Edward had finally written. For months she had waited impatiently for word from home.
Tossing her apparel aside, her skirts rustled sharply in the quiet room as she moved eagerly forward to stand over Robert.
Startled, he jumped to his feet and blinked down into her radiantly smiling face. Not having received such a show of warmth from her in weeks, he offered her a hesitant smile in return, bending down to give her a kiss.
“We have finally heard from Edward?” Were the first words out of her mouth, her gaze fixed almost hungrily on the letter in his hands. His smile died a swift death as he realized her buoyant good cheer had nothing to do with him. As usual. The letter fisted in a convulsive grasp as she reached for it. Perversely, he stepped away from her, holding it out of her reach.
Confused, she looked into Robert’s eyes and warily stepped back from the enraged glare he bent upon her. Her hands came up to twist together at her waist. She was having a hard time biting off the anger she was beginning to feel most times when she was in Robert’s company. Not another argument. “Is something wrong?” she asked patiently, striving to keep her voice unassuming.
He offered her no reply as he stepped around her and headed for the door. She couldn’t believe he was simply walking away from her.
“Robert!” she bit out sharply.
He paused in the doorway and turned partially toward her without having to look at her. Again he said nothing.
Taking a deep breath to tamp down her resentment and anger, she waved sharply at the letter. “How is Eddie…”
“Fine!” he grated out, turning to fling a sidelong scowl at her. “He’s just fine! How about asking how my day went!” With that dearth of information he left her alone staring in turmoil about the empty room. In the distance she heard the slamming of a door and the rage that swamped her had her trembling.