A Sister's Quest

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

“No, Liebchen, I have listened to you. Now you will listen to me.” A cold smile twisted his lips. “Don’t judge what you do not understand. You should find Prince Charming and beg him to let you reconsider his suit.”

  “I don’t want to marry him! I do not love him!”

  He stroked her shoulders. “How do you know, Michelle? Have you ever been in love?”

  “I don’t have to be ill to know what being sick is.”

  With a chuckle, he sat again. “That might be the best analogy I have ever heard. You are so innocent. If I let you go with him to his court, I would be sending a lamb into a pride of lions.”

  “I am glad you can see sense, for whatever reason.” She went to the arch. “I don’t belong in a castle somewhere amid the German states.”

  “You are right. You belong here in Vienna with me.”

  Her heart halted in midbeat as she slowly faced him. Wanting to silence the exultation bursting through her, she could not. “You want me to stay here?”

  “Of course.” He stretched. Putting his hand over his mouth, he yawned broadly. “You have become a good member of our team, Michelle. You have not faltered in your role as my mistress, although it must have given you much distress while you were with Prince Charming.”

  “And that is why you want me to stay?”

  “Of course,” Alexei repeated.

  He watched Michelle race along the short corridor. The slamming of her bedroom door warned him that his plan was going just as it should.

  Yes, exactly as it should. A plan guaranteed to anger her and make him miserable.

  He leaned on the wall and stared at her door. How simple it would be to open that door and answer the passion in her innocent eyes with his own! Just to touch her drove every other thought from his head, except the most important one. She was the one woman in the world he must never possess. No matter how much he wanted her, she could never be his.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The door of the carriage was opened with a flourish by a footman. Alexei stepped down and held out his hand to Michelle. “Fraulein D’Orage, your admirers await your arrival.”

  “Admirers?” Her laugh was uneven.

  As he helped her down to the brick walkway, he smiled. “You don’t believe you have admirers, Liebchen? Surely you have heard the rumors that would make any man eager to catch your eye.”

  “Rumors? About Bar—”

  “No, the rumor that you are a lost aristocrat traveling incognito in Vienna while you try to regain what your family has lost.”

  “What are you babbling about?”

  “You have not heard the rumor that you are a Swiss aristocrat traveling in the guise of my mistress?”

  In horror, she said with a gasp, “They know about our charade?”

  “Not exactly. They think I am your bodyguard.”

  “You?” She laughed. “A wolf guarding the lambs would be more trustworthy.”

  The irony returned to his smile. “That shows you how stupid rumors can be, doesn’t it?”

  If he noticed how her hand on his arm trembled, he said nothing. For that, she was grateful. As storm clouds scudded overhead, obscuring the stars, she gazed at the house, which appeared to be lighted by thousands of stars. The gathering at the home of an English diplomat was the first time she had been among the delegates since she had turned down Bartholomew’s proposal three days ago.

  Rusak smiled and signed at her: Lovely Michelle, my pleasure to drive tonight.

  She pulled her hand from beneath Alexei’s to answer. With a grimace, she corrected a sign that was not the one she wanted. Rusak reached past Alexei to angle her fingers for the word she wanted. She nodded as he held up his hand in the proper sign.

  Understood, she told him.

  “Are you two finished?” Alexei asked.

  Rusak fired him a glower that needed no translation.

  “This was a private conversation,” she said.

  “Very private, for no one else can understand.”

  “You could if you came to Herr Professor Waldstein’s classes. Rusak is your friend. I would think you would want to learn.”

  Alexei glanced at Rusak, who turned to climb back into the box. A flash of regret crossed Alexei’s face. “Rusak understands I am too busy now.” Taking her hand, he placed it on his arm again. “After all, Fraulein D’Orage, you can teach me when we are traveling home.”

  “Home?” Blanching, she gasped. “Do you want me to go to Russia with you?”

  “No, you would be a lamb among the wolves there.” He drew her up the steps to the door. “Come along, Liebchen.” He chuckled.

  “What is so amusing now?”

  “You are staring at the house like a child at a piece of candy. I hope you are not disappointed.”

  She pushed back the hood of her cloak. “I realize that this ball is a way for diplomats to continue plotting.”

  “You have such a high opinion of us,” he teased as he led her up the steps to the door.

  “Exactly what you have earned.”

  “Ouch! That one struck deep, Liebchen. Can you withdraw that spear from me so I can deal with the ones waiting inside?”

  Despite herself, she could not keep from laughing. When Alexei attempted to charm her, she could not resist. Especially when he looked so handsome in his dark blue coat that opened to reveal the white silk of his waistcoat, which was embroidered with vines to match the roses on her gown. Black breeches accented his white stockings. As her gaze rose to his brilliant green eyes, she wondered if she had ever seen a man who was so handsome and so irritating … and so tempting.

  They were a perfect match tonight, for she was dressed in her most elegant gown as well. Rosebuds embroidered at the edges of the sleeves and at the end of the ribbons beneath the high bodice matched the pink ruffle at the hem. The gown was exquisite, and she had been shocked when Alexei brought it to her along with a pair of slippers dyed the same pink and the feathered fan that was hooked with a gold cord to her wrist. The gift told her that he considered this gathering a very important one.

  Michelle wondered what scheme he had in mind for tonight. She smiled as Alexei took her black evening cape and handed it to a servant along with his cloak and hat. Whatever it was, he would not tell her.

  She put her hand on his arm, hoping to appear aloof and sophisticated. That hope evaporated when they walked from the plain foyer into a crowded ballroom. She could not keep from admiring the crystalline glow of the chandeliers that reflected in the gilt mirrors edging the walls. The whirling dancers mesmerized her. Listening to the lyrical waltz, she could only stare. She did not belong here.

  You could have. She could have been one of them if she had married Bartholomew. A prince had found his heart’s desire in the midst of the greatest assembly of allied leaders the world had ever known. It was a fairy tale, but one without a happy ending. She was not a princess, but Fraulein D’Orage of St. Bernard’s School for Girls. Nothing had changed for her.

  Alexei put his arm around her waist and swept her toward the dancers. That he did not ask her if she wanted to dance did not surprise her. Alexei Vatutin never acted as others did.

  She fought not to trip over her feet as he steered her through the crowd. Watching the others, she faced him and placed her right hand in his while her left held up her skirts. She swallowed her gasp as his arm slipped around her waist and drew her to him. Seeing his smile, she knew she was not the only one savoring this sweet embrace.

  Without warning, he began to twirl her to the music. When she stumbled, he asked, “Don’t you know how to waltz?”

  “No, Frau Herbart considers the waltz vulgar and refuses to allow the dance master to teach it at St. Bernard’s. Alexei, find someone else to dance with.”

  “But I do not want anyone else but you, Liebchen.”

  Something in her center rippled with yearning as she saw the glow in his charismatic eyes. With his arm about her waist and her hand on his broad palm, which was as unyielding a
s the floor beneath her feet, she pushed aside all pretense. This was what she wanted, the happy ending to her fairy tale, a happily-ever-after with Alexei. It could happen only in a fairy tale, but she delighted in imagining it as his gaze moved along her and his fingers stroked her back. She wanted him to pull her closer and caress her with the passions she had discovered in his kiss.

  When the music ended, applause broke the spell spun by her craving for him. As the orchestra began another waltz, she walked toward the edge of the dance area.

  Alexei’s hand on her arm halted her. He grinned and put his arm around her waist again. “Michelle, you still need to learn to waltz. It is simple. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three.” As he spoke, he began to turn her slowly to the rhythm.

  She kept her eyes on his face. As she relaxed into the music, he smiled.

  “This is fun,” she said.

  His laugh was a low rumble that reached inside her to stir her longings into a frenzy. Her breath became shallow and rapid as he whispered, “It is supposed to be fun, Liebchen. Can you envision a better way for a man to spend an evening than to whirl to this music with the most beautiful woman in the room in his arms?”

  At his compliment, she missed a step, and his foot came down on her toe. When she yelped, the dancers around them scowled.

  “Forgive me, Michelle.”

  “My fault.” When he put his arm around her again, she was shocked that he steered her off the dance floor. “I am not badly injured!”

  He nodded, but sorrow stole the lightness from his voice. “I know, but you must excuse me. The person I must speak to just arrived.”

  “Alexei—” Although she had known that he was coming here to gain more information, she did not want to miss any chance to be in his arms.

  “It shall not take all evening.” He framed her face with his hands. “I promise you that, Liebchen. There will be more dances for us tonight.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I promise you.” Raising her fingers to his lips, he added in the same intense tone, “You will dance with me later, won’t you, Liebchen?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “As often as you wish.”

  He smiled as he stroked her cheek before striding away with an air of arrogance that drew eyes from every side.

  As she touched the spot on her face that was warm from his touch, she smiled. Mayhap this night could be as perfect as she had dreamed. All she had to do was figure out a way to persuade Alexei to forget his work.

  There might be one way, and she intended to find out tonight.

  “My dance, my dear.”

  Michelle turned to see Bartholomew, but a Bartholomew unlike any she had seen. He exhibited a grandeur that diminished her fancy gown. A scarlet sash, topped with gold medals, slashed across his chest. He was every inch a prince from the tip of his tousled hair to his shining boots.

  When she started to drop into a curtsy, his hand halted her. He did not release her elbow as he drew her toward the dance floor. Bringing her smoothly into his arms, he turned her to the tempo of the waltz. He did not seem to notice that her feet were stumbling over his. The dance that had seemed so perfect in Alexei’s arms was a trial with Bartholomew.

  “What a pleasure to see you, my dear,” he murmured.

  “I thought you were going home,” she said in a whisper, knowing many of the guests would be eagerly watching.

  “I decided to stay.” His gaze edged along her with obvious yearning. “Gott in Himmel, you are more beautiful tonight than I have ever seen you. I saw you dancing with Vatutin, and I wanted to cut out his heart so I could have you to myself.”

  “Don’t say things like that, I beg you, Your Highness.”

  He said in a snarl, “I thought to you I was Bartholomew.”

  “That was before.”

  Stopping in the center of the floor, he stated, “Nothing has changed, Michelle. I still love you. I still want you as my wife.”

  She looked, horrified, at the others who had stopped to eavesdrop. “I wish I could tell you yes,” she said as she stepped away.

  He refused to release her. “But you cannot.”

  “Nothing has changed. I still cannot marry you.”

  He pulled her back into his arms and spun her about the floor with more enthusiasm than the tempo suggested. His medals cut into her, but he refused to allow her to move back even a half step. He whispered in her ear, “I pine for you, my love. I shall not go back to Coxe-Saxony-Colburg without you.”

  “But I do not want to go to Coxe-Saxony-Colburg. My life, for now, is here.”

  “For now?”

  “For as long as it must be.”

  He scowled. “What hold does that Russian bastard have on you? Tell me, and I will help you get free.”

  “I do not need assistance. I am staying because I promised to stay with Alexei while he was in Vienna.”

  “And then?”

  With a sharp tug, she escaped his embrace. She ignored the onlookers who stared at her, aghast. “That, Your Highness, is none of your concern. Good evening.”

  His infuriated gaze followed her as she walked away. Even when another man dared to ask her to dance, she knew Bartholomew watened. Had she made an enemy of him? She had no choice. A promise was a promise.

  She wished Alexei would return from wherever he had gone. In his arms, as they spun to the music, she would find the haven she yearned for. She hoped that she would find a haven and far more.

  Alexei took out his pipe, then tapped it against an ornate ash container. Putting it in his mouth, he puffed on the remnants of smoke and looked at the dancers. Michelle apparently had taken to the waltz as if it had been invented for her.

  He noted that she was garnering the attention of many of the delegates. He should be pleased, for that had been his plan when he told her she would be joining him here. Instead he was inflicted with that uneasy emotion he wanted to ignore. Jealousy! He swore under his breath. More than one of his supposed friends had been eager to tell him that his mistress had been dancing with Prince Charming.

  Although he wanted to deny it, that fact had brought him back to the ballroom. He did not see Prince Charming, but he suspected the prince would remain close to Michelle. If Alexei had told her that Bartholomew would want her even more now that she had turned down his proposal, she would have accused him again of interfering.

  He spotted a movement just past where Michelle danced with a member of the French delegation. Prince Charming! Swearing again, because even that silly name roused this accursed jealousy, he saw that the prince intended to ask her to dance again.

  Alexei stuffed his pipe under his coat. He strode through the crowd, not stopping when someone spoke to him. He reached Michelle and her French partner just before the prince did.

  “Can you spare a dance for an old friend?” Alexei asked.

  Michelle lost her smile as she met Alexei’s intense eyes. “Do you mind, sir?” she asked her partner.

  “Of course not, Mademoiselle D’Orage,” he said with obvious regret. Nodding toward Alexei, he added, “Your partner, Count Vatutin.”

  When Alexei did not move, she remembered to translate the words into German. He thanked her partner before holding out his hand to her. Lifting the hem of her gown, she stepped easily into his arms and let him twirl her into the dance. The music enclosed them in the sweet rhythms.

  “Will I insult you if I tell you how you have improved?” he asked.

  “I had an excellent teacher.”

  “And much practice.”

  “You sound jealous!” She lowered her gaze to his waistcoat. “I am sorry. I should not have said that.”

  “Why? It is the truth.”

  “Alexei!”

  His arm tightened on her, drawing her closer to his lithe body. When he whispered against her hair, she shivered. His breath heated her to her soul even as it wafted the loosened tendrils along her cheek.

  “Why are you surprised, Liebchen?Just because you have r
efused to believe how enticing you are does not mean that I have failed to notice.”

  Her eyes widened. “Alexei, you should not say things like that when they think we are lovers.”

  He smiled sadly. “No one is listening to be shocked that I am speaking of unsated desire to my supposed mistress. This is not part of the deception. This is the truth. I have been fascinated with you since we met. You are an incredibly lovely woman, Michelle D’Orage.”

  The flush along her cheeks was so warm that she feared she would burn him where his skin touched hers. She had waited so long for him to say something to her that was not couched in insults. When he had, she wanted to believe the desire in his eyes was genuine.

  He stopped abruptly and said in a growl, “Move aside, Your Highness.”

  In dismay, Michelle looked past Alexei to see Bartholomew blocking their path. Other dancers were pausing in curiosity. As a circle formed around them, Michelle remained silent. To speak might escalate the fury.

  “I wish to dance with Fraulein D’Orage,” stated Bartholomew, every inch the imperious prince.

  “She is dancing with me,” Alexei replied with quiet dignity.

  He ignored Alexei. Looking at Michelle, he asked, “Will you dance with me?”

  “I promised this dance to Alexei.” She moved closer to Alexei. “Mayhap later, Bartholomew.”

  “My dear, I cannot believe you would prefer to let this Russian beast paw you rather than dance with me.”

  When she heard the comment translated into several languages she knew and others she did not, she could not restrain her frustration. “Your Highness, you degrade both yourself and your father’s title with such comments. Good evening, Your Highness.” Holding out her hand, she said as regally as any member of royalty in the room, “Alexei, shall we?”

  “Of course, Liebchen.” He bowed his head toward Bartholomew before twirling her away. When he had put several steps between them and Bartholomew, he chuckled deep in his throat. “That may not have been wise, but you certainly put that incompetent princeling in his place.”

  “I do not like being ordered about.”

  Again he laughed. “You do not need to tell me that.”