by Wendy Burge
Christina, her gaze glued to the tall, aristocratic figure of Varek saw nothing else as he was made ready for the games to begin. Her hands fisted into her lap as she watched his broad-brimmed hat doffed and another ornamental piece of flimsy metal was placed over his golden head.
When a flute of champagne appeared at her shoulder, she grabbed it and downed the cold liquid in one gulp.
“Are you alright?” The Princess Esterhazy asked, a perplexed frown wrinkling the flawless skin of her brow.
Distracted, Christina nodded, as she accepted another glass.
Dorothea exchanged a puzzled glance over Christina’s head with the princess. Both looked at Christina, wondering at the change in her usual cool demeanor. The viscountess looked positively frazzled. The young countess tried to wave the solicitous footman away as he approached to replace the empty glass in Christina’s hand; however, the distracted lady was too fast for them. In trepidation the two ladies on either side of Christina frowned as she downed her third glass in rapid succession. Shaking their heads, the ladies turned back to the excitement of the festivities and promptly forgot their imbibing friend.
Christina, noticing her empty glass, looked about for the footman.
∞∞∞
Varek found himself watching Count von Serent, one of the rather more impetuous of the young Austrian nobility. He pondered over the count’s mysterious animosity. For weeks now von Serent had been goading him. Why, he hadn’t the faintest idea. However, this evening the young count had made quite vocal his displeasure of Varek. Wracking his brain for some insult he might have unwittingly given the young man, he finally shrugged it off. Then he grinned when his answer was promptly forthcoming.
Across the arena, his former mistress, Sophy, leaned over the railing in a brazen display of up-thrust breasts to throw a flower down on von Serent’s upturned face.
So that is how the wind blows, Varek realized with a chuckle. Thank God! It had taken weeks, even after he had paid her a handsome endowment, to get rid of her and her possessive attentions. He had finally been forced to cruelty by having her physically removed from his residence. His ears still rang with the shrill curses the incensed lady had thrown at his head. And of course, he placed the blame of the whole distasteful episode at Christina’s feet. If she had never left him he would never have been compelled to deal with the mundane problems of having to abide the tantrums of mistresses.
His grin died a slow death when the objects of his attention both turned toward him. Even across the vast width of the arena, their menacing expressions could be seen.
“So you see it too, your highness?”
He glanced down sharply to see Sergei standing at his knee. “What the devil are you doing here?” Varek grated out.
Sergei shrugged as he rechecked the richly tooled leather straps holding up Varek’s silver stirrups. “Executing a favor asked of me.”
“What favor?”
There was a pause as Sergei continued with his inspection. Finally, he looked up, his expression wary. It was obvious that Varek intended to hang onto his animosity against him. “Christina asked me to look out for you.”
Varek’s lips thinned to a tight white line. Looking up, he glared across the length of the floor at his irritating woman. He frowned when he saw her take another flute of champagne. That had to be her third or fourth. Since entering the lists he had kept an eye on her. Old habits die hard, or not at all, he was finding out.
His eyes narrowed on his wife as she quickly drained the flute. He hadn’t been in the arena that long and who knew how many she had before he arrived. Christina did not hold her drink well; it went straight to her head, even after only a few. He had always been amazed how quickly she could go from soberness, to cup-shot, to the inevitable after effects in just a matter of a few short hours.
“I’d watch out for von Serent. He’s been glaring daggers at your back since you arrived.” Sergei interrupted his thoughts.
Varek shrugged this inconsequential annoyance aside. He had a bigger problem at the moment and his eyes narrowed as he watched Christina list dangerously to one side as she stood to reach for another glass from a bobbing tray just out of her reach. He sighed in relief when the princess grabbed hold of her and sat her back down into her chair. Any minute he expected to see Christina tip over the railing and end up sprawled in the middle of the games. “Get the hell out of here, Sergei,” he muttered, while still frowning at his wife across the arena.
With a lopsided grin, Sergei stepped back, his arms flung out wide and his shrug apologetic. “Would that I could, your highness. However, as I said, I am doing a lady a favor. Never have I told her nay, and I’ll not start now simply because I’m asked to do something that is not particularly appealing. Myself, I hope you land on your stubborn arse.” Then he bowed low without breaking eye contact. “Your highness,” he drawled in mock deference.
Varek couldn’t help it. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. Even as betrayed as he still felt by his childhood friend, Sergei could still make him laugh—most times at himself. Damn, if he didn’t miss him! Losing Christina and Sergei with one fatal blow had been devastating. With a curse, Varek turned away from Sergei’s engaging grin.
Just then the trumpets blared forth, announcing the starting of the games. With a sardonic salute to his traitorous friend, he wheeled his horse about and cantered back into formation.
Sergei’s grin faded as he turned to watch von Serent move into position behind Varek; then he spared a quick glance at the woman who had been Varek’s mistress. He had heard the rumors she was spewing about Vienna and obviously young von Serent believed her lies of the abuse she had supposedly suffered at the hands of Varek. His hooded gaze studied the obsessive demeanor of Varek’s former mistress as she closely watched Varek as he moved about the arena. She didn’t even try to mask the hatred twisting her face. Not once did she glance at von Serent.
Thoughtfully, he turned away to inspect Varek’s lances again. It was bound to be a long evening and he had no intention of letting von Serent out of his sight.
∞∞∞
Christina was definitely feeling none of her earlier anxieties as she watched the handsome knights display their expertise in catching the beribboned rings on their ornate lances. She clapped and shouted her approval with the other ladies. None noticed as a hiccup caught her by surprise. She giggled as she leaned over, and thinking she was whispering, shouted into Dorothea’s ear. “Aren’t they gorgeous?” Seeing a tray of champagne flutes out the corner of her eye, she eagerly reached behind her.
Several ladies exchanged amused glances, several just as tipsy as the usually sober-minded Viscountess.
“Your valiant knight is surely the most exquisite piece of heaven I have ever seen.” one lady sighed, her gaze pinned on Varek as he galloped by. The archduke made no effort to hide the devilish smile he cast boldly at his love. As Christina stood up to wave, she tottered then threw him a kiss. Varek’s eyes widened as he flashed by, close to the railing. He briefly cast a worried glance over his shoulder before he turned his attention to stabbing another ring. His lance fluttered with the ribbons of about a dozen captured rings as he continued on to the opposite end of the arena.
“He is so clever. Look at all those lovely rings,” Christina crooned as she sat back down, her champagne spilling over the railing and into the sand below. Frowning, she looked down into her empty glass, then blinking in confusion she looked around for the footman.
“I think you have had enough,” the Princess Esterhazy laughed as she waved the attentive young man away. Leaning over, she pried the glass out of Christina’s obsessive hold.
She hadn’t had that much, Christina’s tipping thoughts defended. She flinched as the ladies all applauded, standing as they praised the young Prince Trauttmansdorff’s performance of charging full tilt, with scimitar in hand, at a cluster of apples suspended on ribbons. With a cavalry yell, his sword slit a ribbon, then, while still in midair,
he severed the gleaming apple in two.
Not sure what she was applauding, Christina nonetheless stood and cheered with the others. As the excited ladies settled down into their chairs again, one lady behind her whispered rather loudly, “He has the most nimble fingers! I swear he can titillate you even as you lay between those rock-hard thighs and suck that stallion cock of his. I vow, I’ve never felt the like before! And talking of delicious!”
My goodness! Christina giggled as she pictured arms down to the young prince’s knees. They’d have to be to reach that far! With interest, her wide eyes searched out the object of such talent. She frowned in disappointment for his arms didn’t look so very long.
“That is nothing! Have you ever had Tour du Fen suck your nipples as he plunges deeply into you? Divine, simply divine, my dears. You must try him.”
Christina, mouth agape looked behind her and found the source of this little bit of generous advice. Petit Marie Gresset, who didn’t even reach five feet in height. Heavens, the lady barely reached mid-chest level to the French count who was famous for his towering height. Christina slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the laughter that bubbled forth. The thought of those two in bed together brought all sorts of hysterical pictures to mind. She couldn’t help but imagine the lanky gentleman climbing out of bed, his spine bent in half, after servicing his diminutive ladylove. Another spurt of laughter erupted and she slapped her other hand on top of the other as she faced forward, her shoulders shaking.
Dorothea glanced quizzically at her. “Are you crying?” she asked in alarm.
Frantically, Christina shook her head. When she was finally able to swallow her giggles she heard the tail end of another snippet of boasting. “…I vow I could feel his tongue touch my womb!”
Again her hand latched onto her mouth, the nails of her left hand digging into the tender arm of Dorothea, causing the poor girl to jump. Under her hand she was laughing so hard she could barely draw breath.
“Did you hear that?” Dorothea demanded as she pried Christina’s nails out of her forearm. “Jeanne Marie just said that her lover has hair on his back! Can you imagine anything more repulsive? Christina, let go!”
Christina had to let go. She was too busy stuffing her veil into her mouth to smother the gasps of hilarity that was now uncontrollable.
If one paid heed to the experienced ladies about her, she had just been given the picture of the perfect lover—a hunchbacked gorilla, arms swinging about his knees and tongue lolling somewhere past his jaws. All that was needed to complete this crazy image was this paragon of sexual dexterity drooling in abject adoration of his love. In desperation she gulped for air. Varek didn’t stand a chance!
Dorothea stared at Christina as if she where mad. “I vow, you cannot hold your champagne. Christina, you are drunk! Stop it! Right now! You are making a spectacle of us. Anyway, the jousting is about to begin.”
That sobered Christina instantly. Blinking through the tears in her eyes, she sat at the edge of her seat and grabbed hold of the railing. Dizzy, she spit out her veiling, wondering how it had gotten into her mouth.
Indeed the orchestra was swelling with another martial beat as the knights in two teams of four, aligned themselves on either side of the lists. Unfortunately, Varek was among this first tilt. When the heralds trumpeted the signal, both teams wheeled their horses and charged their challengers, their extended lances trying to lift their opponents from their horses.
Christina closed her eyes as Varek charged fearlessly into the fray. Her sightless void tilted alarmingly about her as she heard an explosive clashing of men and beasts. Then the hall erupted with the gallery’s thunderous cheers as they reverberated off the walls.
Christina shivered. Why did bloodsport always drive a crowd to such frenzied heights, she wondered in disgust as she opened her eyes again. At first she couldn’t see Varek in the tangle of men and horses. Then she saw him. Fear surged through her. Clamping a hand over pale lips, she thought she was going to be ill.
∞∞∞
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Sergei laughed, coming to a skidding halt beside Varek who was ignobly sprawled on his stubborn arse.
Varek threw a sour look up at this unwanted help. Wincing, he climbed to his feet, brushing aside Sergei’s outstretched arm. “Damn your eyes, Sergei. You have been nothing but ill luck for me. Take your own unabused ass and get the hell out of here!”
“Oh, ho! I do that and I’ll have to deal with a very drunk, very emotional lady. I try never to deal with very drunk, very emotional women. Can hardly reason with them when they are sober let alone in their cups. They just can’t hold their liquor with any modicum of respect. The darlings just aren’t men, after all”
Varek listened to this inane diatribe with a withering glare. Then he had the misfortune to look into the twinkling eyes of the audacious bastard and he had to bit his lip till it bled to stop the smile that fought to betray him. God how he missed Sergei’s pointless banter that could lighten any situation. He watched as Sergei turned and gave Christina a jaunty bow.
Directing his ire where he felt it belonged, he growled as he too looked down the arena at the dais. “I knew it!” Just as he had feared, in her nervousness she had imbibed too much. Knowing what the coming evening would bring, Varek cursed foully. So much for his erotic intentions that night! It would have been so perfect!
Grabbing hold of his horse’s reins, the two men quickly made their exit off the floor as the next sets took their places. “Mayhap you’d be more useful seeing to her until I’m done with these blasted games.” He had to have been insane to get involved with this infantile show, especially when his ex-mistress’ new lover was out to prove some undefined point of honor.
“Absolutely not. I was instructed to stick like tar to you, your highness.”
“Well, of much good you were when von Serent’s hit landed under my shield.” Scowling, Varek glared over his horse’s back at the nuisance across the arena. He cursed long and viciously as he watched von Serent receive another flower from his vindictive lover. Looking up, Sophie gave Varek a taunting smile, then blew him a kiss. Varek looked away in disgust.
Sergei scratched his chin reflectively. “Shall I inform the heralds-of-arms of the illegal pass? Clearly none of them caught it.”
“Hell, no! I want to get that bastard in the next round. It is time he knows who he is dealing with. After I’m done with the little worm he’ll be lucky if he can climb between her greedy thighs in a month!” Another groan escaped Varek’s lips, and not being able to help himself, he rubbed his burning gut. His chest ached under the deep dent in his chest piece.
“Just be careful. You don’t want to get yourself disqualified.”
“Whenever have you known me to do anything dishonorable?” Varek charged in a scathing retort as he turned away.
Sergei just quirked a brow at his friend’s back.
∞∞∞
“See there,” Princess Esterhazy soothed as she rubbed Christina’s back. “He is just fine.”
Christina nodded numbly. She felt so ill. All she wanted to do was get out of there, away from the heat and the thundering noise of over a thousand voices. Swallowing thickly, she held a hand to her throbbing temple.
When a cool cloth was thoughtfully pressed against her warm forehead, she sighed in relief. “Thank you,” she murmured, not really caring who was the source of the merciful act. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I think I really do need to lie down before I swoon at your feet … or,” she swallowed deeply, “… or worse.”
“Nonsense,” Dorothea announced brightly. “Just sit still and draw in deep breaths. The dizziness will pass soon enough. It always does for me. I never realized you drank so much,” she added in awe.
Christina shuddered and her mouth felt like cotton. “Please, could I have a glass of water?”
“Of course, my dear. Right away.” The princess turned in her seat and whispered to the footman who arrive
d promptly at her elbow. Turning back, she patted Christina’s hand, which was clamped with a death grip on the arm of her chair. “Now just take it easy. The archduke is going to expect your support during the next skirmish, do not forget.”
Good heavens! Christina looked up quickly and gasped as the arena tipped alarmingly before her. “Are you sure he is well?”
“But, of course. They would not allow him to mount again if he wasn’t. The Emperor himself would see to that.”
When the glass of cool water appeared over her shoulder, she grabbed it and tried to swallow the entire glass in one long pull. However, it was yanked from her hand quickly enough as her two companions tsked at her. She was ordered to drink slowly and thankfully it was held to her lips again. As demanded, she sipped slowly as she took the glass back into her trembling hands.
When Dorothea’s squeal of delight shot like bolts of lightning behind her eyes she almost dropped the glass. Dorothea jumped to her feet, clapping and waving her veil. Her Calvary officer must have done something right and at that moment, Christina could have hardly cared less. With a groan of pain, she pulled on Dorothea’s skirts to get her to sit down again. “Please, my friend,” whispered Christina, “if you are indeed my friend, could you please not shout.”
Dorothea looked hurt, indignant and apologetic all at once. “But I wanted Karl to hear me.”
How could Christina argue with this bit of romantic logic.
Would this horrid night never end?
Chapter Fourteen
Varek ignored the good-natured jostling of the men around him as he almost rudely squeezed himself through the crowd of battered, happy knights. Thank God this interminable day was over! He couldn’t even remember why he had agreed to participate in the farcical extravaganza. What had it brought him but a sore arse, an aching gut and one hell of a guilty conscience? Again, he saw young von Serent’s expressionless face as he lay before the doctors’ probing hands and questions. Varek hoped to God, that those learned men were wrong. Not to ever walk again …