She softened against him like heated honey, wanting this night to last forever.
Michelle yawned as Alexei walked her toward the carriage. Behind them, the sounds of the orchestra continued over the clatter of sleet on the bricks. She leaned on him, glad to be beneath his cloak.
“Too late for you, Cinderella?” he teased.
“She was home before midnight. It must be past that”
“Far past. Time passes quickly when we are enjoying ourselves, Liebchen.”
“I am exhausted. All I want is to go home and go to bed.”
“Is that an invitation?”
She smiled. “I hope you think so.”
In the distance, through the clatter of sleet, church bells rang. The sound surprised her until she realized it was almost time for matins on the first morning of Advent. The year was nearly over, but she was sure her life was just beginning.
“Be careful,” Alexei whispered, steering her cautiously over the icy ground.
“There are advantages to flat slippers that boots do not have.” Her feet slipped. “However, even low heels are treacherous tonight.”
“This morning. When was the last time you were up all night?”
She pondered the question as Rusak opened the carriage door. Smiling she signed, Long night.
Night good?
Best night.
Alexei chuckled as he handed Michelle into the carriage. “Your fingers make magic in so many ways, Liebchen.”
When he sat beside her, she gave him that smile that rippled to the center of his gut and exploded along him. He was sure his heart would thud no harder if he had run from Paris to Vienna.
“I believe,” she said, “I stayed up all night once when I was about twelve. Maman had come to St. Bernard’s to pick me up. I had not seen her in almost a year, and we had so much to talk about. We talked all night.”
“Knowing Sophie and knowing you, I can believe that.”
“Alexei, don’t act as if you never get a chance to speak. Whenever you—”
His lips over hers silenced her. Her sweet gasp of astonishment cascaded down his throat, fanning his longing for her. As he wrapped his arms around her slender form, he thought of holding her more intimately in his bed. Her pliant curves re-formed along him, and he knew no woman had ever driven him so mad with fury and yearning.
When she pushed against his arms gently, he released her, but kept her within the curve of his embrace. “Tired of my kisses already, Liebchen?”
“It is sleeting hard out there. Rusak should not have to stay out in it any longer than he must while we …”
He chuckled. Even in the dim light, he could see the blush tinting her cheeks. She was a paradox, an enchantress in his arms, but still an innocent. He wanted to savor that innocence and her sweet magic again. Leaning forward, he called, “Rusak, let’s get home, man!”
Rusak grinned and closed the door. The carriage swayed as he nimbly climbed up to the box.
At a shout from outside the carriage, Alexei peered out the window. “Damrosch! What are you doing out in the storm?”
With a voice slurred by alcohol and a drunken smile on his face, a man rested his arm heavily on the door and lamented, “They asked me to leave, Vatutin. Can you believe that? They think I cannot drink their champagne without getting foxed. Will you go in and—”
“Whoa there, friend.” Alexei pushed the door open and managed to keep the rotund man from falling with the same motion. “If our hosts think that it is time for you to go home, allow us to give you a ride.”
“Don’t want to ride.” Damrosch flung out his arms and bowed, nearly knocking himself off his feet again. “Want to dance. Will you dance with me, Fraulein?”
Michelle put her fingers over her lips to silence her laughter. “Mayhap some other time. Why don’t you let us take you home, Herr Damrosch?”
“Dance with me some other time, Fraulein?”
“The very next ball we attend, Herr Damrosch, I will save you the second dance.”
He heaved himself into the carriage with Alexei’s help. Somehow he bowed toward her, a nearly impossible feat in the cramped space. “The second one it shall be, Fraulein. I assume you are saving the first for my dear friend Alexei.”
Behind him, Alexei made a motion. She understood immediately and rose to sit on the opposite seat. “Please sit down, Herr Damrosch,” she said.
“Always should let a lady ride facing forward,” he grumbled.
“Except when you might get sick riding that way, Claus, my friend.” Alexei shoved Herr Damrosch’s shoulders. The carriage springs creaked as he dropped onto the seat.
“I am not drunk,” he retorted in a fuzzy voice.
“Please ride like this,” Michelle said before Alexei could speak. She did not want to be further delayed. She wanted to return home and to Alexei’s arms. “Herr Damrosch, I do not mind riding backward.”
“You don’t?”
“Of course not,” she lied.
“In that case,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes and sagged against the cushions.
Alexei climbed into the carriage and slapped the side to tell Rusak to start. With a grin, he put his arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear, “Why are you always so considerate of everyone’s feelings but mine?”
“You don’t like how I treat you?”
“I like the way you are treating me tonight. Before tonight, you never missed any opportunity to smite me with harsh words.”
“And do you think that is going to change?”
He chuckled. “Hardly.”
Herr Damrosch roused enough to begin singing a bawdy drinking song. Michelle thought that Alexei would halt him, but, when he rumbled with laughter, she knew the song would drag to its ribald conclusion.
Alexei joined in for the lusty third verse, and she giggled. This was a facet of him that she had never seen. As she clapped her hands in tempo with the jumbled words, she watched his face. He was enjoying himself as he seldom did.
“Such a bright smile, Liebchen,” he murmured beneath Herr Damrosch’s enthusiastic repetition of the final verse.
Kissing him, she delighted in the soft brush of his mustache against her lips. Her hands slipped beneath his damp coat to stroke his silk waistcoat and the strong muscles beneath it. His mouth teased hers with sparks that lilted across her lips.
He nestled her between him and the side of the carriage. With the shadow of his cloak drifting toward her, she was nearly hidden from Herr Damrosch, who was still singing boisterously. Alexei’s fingertip brought her lips to his as his other hand loosened the ties holding her cape closed. She could not restrain her soft cry when his mouth sought a luscious path along her throat. His tongue stroked her as eagerly as did his fingers along her back. Unable to control her craving, she pressed to him.
He murmured against her ear, “You taste as perfect as you look, Liebchen. Tonight we shall—”
The carriage rocked to a sudden halt. It bounced as Rusak jumped to the ground.
He signed, Road something.
“What?” Alexei asked, looking at Michelle.
“There is something in the road.”
“What is wrong?” mumbled Herr Damrosch from his wine haze.
“Just a delay,” Alexei replied.
Michelle glanced at him uneasily. Although his words were soothing, she sensed his disquiet. He started to add more, then looked out the opposite side of the carriage. He cursed.
“Alexei, what—”
A sharp detonation sliced the night. Michelle froze. What was that? It sounded like guns firing. What was happening? Something whizzed past her, striking the door. More explosions.
Alexei shouted, “Rusak, get us out of here!” He reached past her for the door latch.
“Alexei, what is wrong?” Something struck her left arm just above her gloves. She screamed as pain scalded her, unlike any agony she had ever known.
“Down!” shouted Alexei. More explosions devoured hi
s words.
He shoved her against the wall, and she shrieked as she struck her left arm. That pain was forgotten when another hot needle struck her left leg. Alexei’s arms around her held her to the wall of the carriage.
When he groaned with anguish, she cried, “Help us!”
No one answered. All she could hear were the continuing explosions from beyond the carriage.
A screech came from the opposite side of the carriage. Herr Damrosch’s coat was riddled with dark, glistening holes. He moaned once and toppled to the floor.
“Alexei! Alexei!” she shouted. His weight on her arm was excruciating, but she could not move him.
Wetness along her left hand drew her strangely unfocused gaze. Darkness etched a path along her gloves. Numbly she realized it was blood. Her blood. The same sensation inched along her leg, and she slowly realized she had been shot. The carriage was careening through the narrow streets. Rusak must be fleeing from whoever was shooting at them.
Shooting! It could not be happening. Her brain was deadened with pain and horror. She wanted to hear Alexei’s voice as he told her that this was simply another jest.
If only she did not hurt so badly …
Michelle moaned as her wounded arm was pressed into the wall when they swerved around a corner. Herr Damrosch rolled over her slipper, leaving it awash with blood. Pain swelled along her leg, but she could not shift it. Freeing her right hand, she touched Alexei’s face.
“No!” She moaned.
Blood covered him. Was he still alive? He could not be dead. Not just when they had discovered the beginnings of love.
Her voice scraped her throat as she cried, “Help me! I think he is dying. Help us! Someone, help us!”
Tears burned her face, but she ignored them. The anguish in her leg was increasing as Herr Damrosch’s weight bent her foot to a strange angle. She feared her ankle would snap.
The carriage rolled to a stop. Light flashed by the window seconds after someone leapt from the driver’s seat. Wanting to call to Rusak, she discovered her voice had disappeared in the void of agony. Herr Damrosch must be dead. He had not moved, not even to breathe.
Just like Alexei. As tightly as he pressed her to the wall, she could not tell if he was alive or not.
“No,” she whispered, “do not be dead.”
If only she did not hurt so badly …
The light vanished. Wondering why they were being abandoned in their greatest need, she struggled to remain conscious. If she surrendered to the tentacles of pain, she might never reopen her eyes. She had to survive. She must survive because … No answer entered her head.
The door opened. When she saw several lanterns, she realized that Rusak had gone for assistance.
In a whisper, she begged, “Rusak, help Alexei. Please.”
Hearing shouts, Michelle fought unconsciousness as something heavy slid past her feet. A scream echoed in her ears, but she could not tell if it came from her or someone else.
The pressure holding her to the wall lessened. She wanted to whisper Alexei’s name, but no sound emerged save for a moan. Someone touched her face, and she focused on a mouth moving in front of her. No words entered the haze separating her from everything but pain.
“Alexei?” she whispered with the last of her strength.
A bright light and hands moving along her hardly pierced her stupor until fingers touched her left arm. She screamed with the renewed agony that journeyed with her into oblivion.
Michelle woke to pain. It cleared her mind of the webs of senselessness. She opened her eyes, but nothing told her where she was or what had happened.
“Alexei? Alexei?” Even to her ears, her voice sounded like a frog croaking.
Where was Alexei? He had been with her only a moment ago. Hadn’t he?
If only she did not hurt so badly …
“Hush,” came a woman’s soft voice. “Rest, child.”
Forcing her eyes open again, Michelle saw the ceiling of her bedroom in the apartment. Slowly she focused on Frau Schlissel.
“Count Vatutin is alive,” Frau Schlissel said quietly. “He shall be in to see you soon.”
She closed her eyes, and a smile wafted along her lips. If Alexei was coming to see her, he must not be badly hurt. Joy thudded through her heart.
An arm beneath her shoulders tilted her up enough so she could swallow the warm liquid placed against her mouth. Whether it was tea or coffee or heated brandy, her senses were too deadened to tell. All she could feel was the never-ending pain on her left side.
Slowly that faded as she drifted into a world where there was no beginning and no ending and no now. She simply was.
For that moment, it was enough.
Some time after she first woke, Michelle opened her eyes again. A second or a century could have passed. With the drapes drawn over the window, she could not tell if it was midday or midnight. The caress of rain against the panes comforted her. The sleet must have turned to rain as the day warmed.
She groaned as she tried to stretch. An ache along her back warned that she had been lying in the same position for too long.
“Lie quietly, Fraulein D’Orage.”
Michelle saw a strange man bending over her. She screamed. Or at least she tried to scream. All that emerged was a moan.
“Alexei!” she whispered. “Alexei, help me please!”
“What is she saying?” grumbled the man. “Is it French?”
Frau Schlissel answered, “She is distraught and asking for Count Vatutin.” Coming into Michelle’s view, she whispered, “Hush, child. No one will hurt you again. Here. Drink this. It will help the pain.”
When a cup was placed at Michelle’s lips, she realized how parched her throat was. She gulped the honeyed tea, and her eyelids drooped. The pillows came up to surround her as she sank into the nothingness again.
The pattern continued over and over. Michelle woke, tried to battle her pain, drank some sweetened tea, and fell asleep again. Finally she realized there must be a sleeping potion in the tea.
When she woke one sunny day, the room was bright. Inching her face toward the right, she saw that the drapes had been pulled aside to let in the sunshine. Ice frosted the panes.
It was cold again. She wondered when it had stopped raining. Then she told herself not to be foolish. Surely more than a day had passed since … Her mind veered away from the past.
In the distance, church bells chimed. Sunday, she decided. Only on Sunday would she hear so many bells ringing. It sounded as if every church in Vienna had joined the symphony.
Underneath that exultant clanging came a hushed squeak. The door opening. She had fearfully waited for that sound after the apartment was ransacked. Now … was Alexei coming to see her?
When a man entered, she knew that she had seen him before, although she could not recall where. His black frock coat and dark breeches resembled a raven’s feathers. White eyebrows matched the few wisps of hair he had remaining.
A tired smile deepened the lines in his face. “Good afternoon, Fraulein D’Orage.”
“Who are you?”
“Herr Doktor Telemann.” He adjusted the glasses perched on the very tip of his long nose. “It is good to see you awake, Fraulein. How do you feel?”
“Horrible,” she answered with a weak smile. All her muscles, even those in her face, were so stiff, she was surprised she could move them.
He grinned, transforming his angular face. “Unfortunately that is what your recovery requires. I did not want to keep you sedated any longer.”
“How long?”
As he placed a dark satchel on the chair and opened it, he murmured, “You were on your way back from a ball last Friday night, correct?”
“A week ago Friday,” answered Frau Schlissel from a bench near the foot of the bed. Until now, Michelle had not realized she was there.
He glanced at the housekeeper and away quickly. “Almost a fortnight then. Today is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.” Harrumphi
ng deep in his throat, he continued, “Now let’s look at that arm of yours.”
Her gaze followed his fingers as he touched the bandages swathing her left arm from the middle of her palm to past her elbow. Two wooden splints lay on either side of it.
The doctor said, “I shall be gentle, but I must examine it.”
He lifted her arm slightly, and everything telescoped into blackness as pain surged over her. “No!” she cried, but heard only a moan. She did not want to be lost in oblivion again.
A cool cloth against her cheek offered comfort. She blinked and saw Frau Schlissel leaning over her, concern on her face. “There, child. I know it hurts, but Herr Doktor will be as quick as possible.”
“What is wrong with me?”
“Your leg is healing well, for it was little more than a scratch. A ball struck the bones in your forearm, fracturing them.”
“Ball?” She gasped.
Memories exploded around Michelle as the gunshots had through the carriage. Clenching her right hand, she fought to silence the echo of her own screams. Again and again and again, the balls had struck the carriage.
“Fraulein D’Orage!”
At the doctor’s tight voice, she looked up to see that his face was as drawn as Frau Schlissel’s. “I will …” She took a steadying breath. “I shall be fine.”
“Of course you will be.” He smiled. “What you must do now is rest. You need to remain in bed and have quiet for at least another three or four days.”
“Can Alexei come and see me?”
His bushy eyebrows jutted. “Fraulein, has no one told you—”
Frau Schlissel interrupted, “Herr Doktor, may I speak to you for a moment?”
Michelle wanted to protest, but she had too little strength. She watched as the doctor and Frau Schlissel stood by the door and spoke too quietly for her to hear. Fear flashed through her, as overpowering as the pain. Until now, lost in her drugged dreams, she had not questioned Frau Schlissel’s assertion that Alexei was fine.
“Tell me,” she begged in a cracking voice. “Is he alive?”
The doctor came back and took his satchel off the chair. Sitting, he took Michelle’s hand. “Count Vatutin is alive, but barely. He was struck many times. Fortunately none of his vital organs was pierced. Frau Schlissel lied to you on my orders. We did not want your recovery jeopardized by your worries for your—” He cleared his throat. “For your employer.”
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