It was Stefan's face, haunted, drawn, beloved . . . so beloved, hovering above her own! She could feel the strength of his arms about her, strong, safe, holding her fiercely, as if he would never let her go . . .
Her hand trembled as she raised it to his cheek, touching him gently, as if to assure herself he wasn't a dream.
She smiled.
Epilogue
Vienna, Austria
Brilliant sunlight splashed across the great bed, a glorious October morning beckoning to the couple nestled beneath the rumpled sheets and shimmering brocade bedspread. Yet they seemed in no hurry to rouse themselves, as if they had all the time in the world.
"Good morning, Countess," Stefan murmured in Kassandra's ear, nudging her awake with gentle kisses along her silken shoulder.
Kassandra stretched luxuriously, her skin tingling from his touch. She leaned back against him, her fingers playfully entwining in his thick black hair.
"Good morning, husband," she breathed, testing the word upon her tongue. Husband. She loved the sound of it, as she loved him, more than she could ever express. Love seemed to fill the room, like the golden sunlight, vibrant, alive, so full of promise. This was their first morning as husband and wife . . . her first morning as Countess von Furstenberg. She laughed softly. She loved the sound of that, too!
As Stefan drew her closer, his arm wrapping about her slim waist, Kassandra fell contentedly silent, remembering the beauty of their wedding the night before in the domed grandeur of the Karls-Kirche.
There had been candles, thousands of flickering candles to light their way to the high altar, and resplendent music, the Court Orchestra, choirs, and chiming bells merging in joyous song and celebration. But most memorable of all, the recitation of their vows before God and man . . . and their kiss, sealing their eternal pledge.
Then as husband and wife, she and Stefan had shared in the wonder of watching her father take Isabel for his wedded wife during the same ceremony, attended by the emperor and empress, Prince Eugene, and the entire Viennese court.
Save for two, Kassandra amended with little enmity. Archduchess Sophia von Starenberg had not attended, nor had Count Frederick Althann . . .
Her expression grew pensive. So much had happened since Stefan had rescued her from Halil Pasha's harem. The Imperialists had won a decisive victory that day, the fortress surrendering soon after. Many men had lost their lives on both sides, the grand vizier counted among the slain. And Count Frederick had lost his life, executed as a traitor, yet swiftly by the sword, as Stefan had promised. Prince Eugene and his army had returned to Vienna a month later in triumph.
Archduchess Sophia von Starenberg had been tried before a high court and sentenced to live out the rest of her days in penitential solitude, imprisoned within a strict Benedictine convent in the foothills of the Alps. And Adolph, her accomplice, was now a jester at the prince-bishop's palace in Salzburg. The high court took pity on him and merely banished him from Vienna, as he was forced to perform Sophia's evil deeds in fear for his life. His confession was instrumental in implicating the archduchess not only for her vile plot against Kassandra, but for the death of her husband.
Happier events had occurred as well. Her father had recently been appointed court minister to King George; he and Isabel would be returning to England within the month. Isabel could hardly wait to begin her new role as a court minister's wife, and eagerly anticipated the whirl of social duties that would accompany it. They would be sorely missed, but visits to Wyndham Court would soothe the parting for all of them.
Stefan had retired from military service to devote himself to his burgeoning estate . . . and most important, he had added when he told her the news, his gray eyes tinged with laughter, his new wife.
Kassandra blushed at that happy memory, sighing faintly. Yes, so much had brought them to this day. So much good, so much bad, a bittersweet collage of piercing joy, unfathomable sorrow, heartbreak, tears, laughter, and hope.
"What are you thinking, my love?" Stefan asked, sensing her thoughts. He nuzzled her nape, inhaling the jasmine fragrance of her fire-gold hair. "If not of me, I shall be very jealous."
His teasing drew a smile to her lips once again and she rolled onto her back, looking up at him.
"I was thinking how fortunate we are, Stefan," she murmured. "How fortunate that we found each other as we did." She flushed warmly, remembering that afternoon of stolen splendor, so long ago. Their chance encounter, ordained by fate, had set into motion the events that had forged this fierce love between them, a great love, a love that would endure whatever life brought to them.
Stefan traced his finger along her cheek, pausing at the lush curve of her mouth. His heart ached with love for this beautiful woman . . . his wife, a love that was woven into the very fabric of his soul.
"Yes, I'm a very lucky man," he breathed huskily, drawing her into his arms. He bent over and kissed her smiling lips, hungrily, passionately, greeting this special day with a splendor all its own.
About the Author
Miriam Minger is the award-winning, critically acclaimed author of ten historical romances. She also writes inspirational romantic thrillers as M.C. Walker, and is the co-author of the popular Little Mike and Maddie series of children’s picture books about a lovable pair of dogs and their motorcycle adventures.
Historical Romances by Miriam Minger:
Twin Passions
Stolen Splendor
A Hint of Rapture
Captive Rose
Defiant Impostor
The Pagan’s Prize
Wild Angel
Secrets of Midnight
My Runaway Heart (sequel to Secrets of Midnight)
Wild Roses (sequel to Wild Angel)
Inspirational Romantic Thrillers by M.C. Walker:
Blood Son
Children’s Picture Books by Miriam Aronson:
Little Mike and Maddie’s First Motorcycle Ride
Little Mike and Maddie’s Black Hills Adventure
Little Mike and Maddie’s Christmas Book
For information about the above titles, visit www.walkerpublishing.net or write to [email protected].
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