Love Me Again

by Wendy M. Burge

  “He is behaving like a fool! Has he no pride? If not for himself, then at least for you!” Christina hissed in outrage as she turned to the princess.

  Laure looked away from her husband. Blinking back her rush of tears, she gave Christina a weak smile and shrugged. “He loves her,” she stated simply.

  “Why do you defend him, Laure? This isn't his first affair and it won't be his last!”

  “I love him, Christina. Despite his wandering ways he is good to the children and me. I never thought I could compete with the beauties that vie for his attention. I am content with what he does give me.”

  Christina sighed in disgust. True, Laure was not and never had been cited for any claim to beauty, but she was probably the most generous and loving person Christina had ever met. They had known each other as children and the years spent apart had only strengthened their affection for each other. It just made her want to go over to that selfish man and box his ears till they rang. But would that help? A man as shallow as Metternich would never be able to appreciate the jewel he had in his own wife. Only beauty was of any apparent worth to his kind.

  “He is letting this ridiculous affair affect his duties.”

  Laure shook her head with adamant refute. “No, Clemens allows nothing to interfere with his duties to the Emperor. He devotes every waking minute to this Congress. He will not fail the Empire.”

  Christina glanced cynically at the prince's pale countenance, exhaustion weighing down his usually handsome features. Christina had heard the same rumors that everyone else was sniggering about. Most of his waking hours lately were spent in pouring out his tortured soul in endless letters to a heartless lover who had tossed him aside for another. Yet as worn as he appeared, Metternich moved with a restless energy as he gracefully performed his duties on this most important occasion of the Congress: The Peace Ball, celebrating the first anniversary of Napoleon's defeat in the Battle of Leipzig and the turning point of the Corsican's fall. Christina watched as he paused to chat amicably with the Crown Prince of Württemburg. He was not even trying to conceal the fact that his gaze constantly shifted to Wilhelmina, Duchess of Sagan. And that fickle lady, knowing her past lover was studying her every move, seemed to take even more pleasure in her flirtation with her dashing new lover.

  Concerned for Laure, Christina turned away in disgust. “Still, he should be more circumspect.”

  Laure turned to her friend. “I have long ago accepted this weakness of his. Clemens may wander, but he always comes back to his family. And I am content to wait.”

  The gentle comment was like a slap in the face. Christina's face bled white and became rigid with past pain. Should she have been so noble and self-sacrificing when she had the choice all those years ago? Should she have waited patiently by Varek's side as he, did what? Turn her into his mistress? Could she have waited patiently each night while wondering if he would come to her or perform his duty on his wife? And when would she have learned to hate herself as she callously prayed for the death of an innocent pawn, just so she could have her life back?

  No, never could she have stood by and watched as their magical love deteriorated into a pitiful sideshow for all to mock. Christina started when she felt Laure's hand on her back.

  “Forgive me, my dear. That was not well done of me.”

  Christina gave a stilted shake of her head. Her heart was pounding so hard she barely heard Laure's whispered words. A feeling of urgency was building in her hour by stressful hour as she wondered if she would see Varek while in Vienna.

  Suddenly, Christina wanted to find a dark corner to huddle into and cry. How pathetic of her. It was just that she was tired from all the traveling, she assured herself. And being in Vienna again ... Christina closed her eyes for an instant. This city was bringing back memories she had struggled for years to suppress. Yet, with every familiar face she saw, every well-known landmark she passed, they began to rise like a phoenix from the ashes, and each remembrance chipped away at another crack in her shell. Even now, any shift in the heavy air about her made her catch her breath as she detected an essence that teased her with the unforgettable scent of him.

  “I'm so sorry,” she heard Laure whisper close at her side. Poor Laure; as if she didn't have enough to worry about, now in her own maudlin self-pity she was adding to her friend's distress.

  Forcing a smile, Christina took a deep breath as she quickly touched her kerchief to her eyes before turning back around. “Lud, Laure, don't be such a goose.” However, her brave mask cracked under Laure's grave regard. “It's all in the past,” she murmured, praying with all her heart that it stayed so.

  Laure bit her lip. How very cruel of her to even allude to Christina's tragic past. Almost desperately the princess looked about her, praying to find something, anything, to distract her friend's painful thoughts. Laure almost laughed out in relief when her attention was caught.

  “Well, look there! A most ardent admirer bearing shamelessly down upon you, Christina.” Laure winced at the desperation she heard in her own voice as she attempted to tease her friend. “I vow, isn't he a most handsome one at that!” Then her smile became quite genuine as she watched the object of her deliverance wend his way through the assemblage toward them. “Excuse me, my dear, but I had best see to my duties in this crush. Lord, I shall be happy when this day is done,” Laure sighed wearily. Then with a swish of silken skirts she was gone, giving Christina's husband, Robert, a friendly tap on his cheek with a gloved finger as they passed each other.

  Robert flashed the Princess Metternich a wide smile as he bowed to her. Turning to Christina, his smile melted away when he noticed her pale face. “What is wrong, my dear?” he questioned as he came to stand at her side.

  Relieved by his presence, Christina leaned against his stocky frame. “Nothing, my lord. Laure's predicament is just very distressing to me.”

  Robert glanced with derision at his host. “The fool. He has a true lady as his wife and he dabbles with the common.”

  A wry smile lifted the corners of Christina's lips as she studied Robert's idea of common. The Duchess of Sagan was a stunning woman and she well knew it. Since the beginning of the Congress last month, Christina had watched with humor as every man at one time or another had laid his heart at her dainty feet. And for those who did not worship at her shrine, there was the Princess Bagration, another past lover of Metternich and a distant cousin of Czar Alexander. Both beauties shared the same floor of the Palm Palace, vying competitively for the prestige of who had the most powerful of lovers, politically speaking. Every day and night an equal amount of admirers were seen entering the plush palace, taking either the left staircase or the right. Obviously discretion was never a consideration of much importance, since between the spies, police, admirers and servants who grew wealthy on the outrageous bribes thrust at them, the Palm Palace was one of the social and political highlights of the Congress.

  Laughing with incredulity, Christina turned to Robert. “Are you telling me you find nothing tempting about that temptress?”

  Pulling her farther behind the palm and into his arms, Robert nuzzled her cheek playfully. “She began to pale before my eyes the moment she opened her ruby lips. Besides, I already have the best. She could only be a disappointment and a waste of time.”

  Laughing, Christina evaded Robert's persistent lips, a little unsettled at this uncharacteristic attention from him.

  Feeling her tensing in his arms, Robert released her and said casually as he stepped away, “Sergei was looking for you earlier. He seemed quite rattled.” Glancing about, he noticed a few men eyeing his beautiful wife, and anger twisted his gut. Stepping close to her side again, he took hold of her gloved hand and dropped an innocent kiss on the bare flesh of her wrist. He wasn't used to sharing her with society and he didn't like it one deuced bit.

  Christina looked up in surprise. “Sergei? He never rattles.”

  “Well, he is now.” He became preoccupied as he watched a pair of renowned rak
es wending their way toward them, their avid attention fixed on Christina.

  Christina could not believe her ears. Sergei upset? This she had to see.

  She tugged Robert with her as she stepped out from behind the palm and looked about for her friend's tall form. An unconscious sigh of relief escaped her lips as they stepped closer to the assemblage. She was dismayed with herself to feel so uncomfortable in Robert's company lately, for it seemed these shows of possessive intimacy occurred more often when they were out in public than they ever did when they were alone. If she didn't know any better, she could almost swear he was staking his claim on her. As she had never appeared in public with Robert before, this side of her husband was a distinct surprise to her. She wanted her old affable Robert back, for all this unusual clinging had her a bit disconcerted.

  “Do you realize you haven't given me one dance?” Robert complained as he pulled her toward the dance floor.

  Christina turned back to him and noticed his suddenly grave expression, again wondering at his odd behavior. Looking down, she murmured, “Dare I trust my tender toes to those monstrous boots?”

  Robert also glanced down at his gleaming Hessians and winced. It was quite true; he was the worst dancer to ever grace a floor, especially with the romantic and fluid waltz, still a rarity among the staid English. However, even though he suddenly had a need to hold her in his arms, he didn't want to hurt her. Sighing with regret, he shook his head. “I suppose not.”

  Christina looked up at Robert with a puzzled frown. The grueling schedule that Castlereagh tossed him each day must be starting to wear him down, for he certainly wasn't himself lately. When he glanced sideways at her, she gave him an affectionate smile and took hold of his hand. His face lit up with pleasure as she tugged him into her arms, and together they bravely melded into the swirling pattern of the romantic waltz.

  After a studious moment of counting out the beats, Robert grinned down at his wife and pronounced, “'Pon my word, I do believe I could learn to like this waltzing business!”

  Christina's laughter floated amidst the merry hum of over a thousand guests, lost to everyone, but one man. One man with the instincts of a predator scenting its mate. And when her laughter sang in his ears for the first time in six years, a smile formed on lips unaccustomed to smiling.

  His gaze never left her as she flashed by, just out of his reach. He was about to step forward when his attention was caught by another quarry.

  The smile was gone before he drew his next breath. His body tensed with a rage so overwhelming he had to physically restrain himself from leaping upon the bastard and ripping out his treacherous heart. In the next instant, he disappeared into the milling crowd.

  * * * *

  Sergei felt a shiver of unease as he lost sight of his subject. He searched quickly for sight of Christina, then eased back when he spotted her still in the arms of her husband. Before he had a chance to expel a sigh of relief, he felt a sharp stab in the middle of his spine. He froze, then quietly cursed. How could he have been so stupid?

  “I should kill you where you stand,” a well-remembered voice murmured close to his ear.

  Sergei's face was grim as he watched Christina and Robert stumble slightly, then Christina almost double over in laughter when Robert's face flushed the humiliating color of puce. It would have been a comical scene if his life wasn't suddenly suspended on the point of a blade.

  Again, he cursed his carelessness. After all, he knew better than anyone Varek's ability to hunt and strike with the deadly finesse of a cobra. With every nerve in his body humming, Sergei waited for Varek's next move, not sure what to expect.

  “Why?” Varek's question rasped harshly as the tip of the blade sliced through the fabric on Sergei's back and embedded into his flesh just left of his spine.

  Sergei started to sweat. He had to remember that the boyhood friend from his past no longer existed. Standing at his back was a stranger, an enemy intent on wrecking a justified vengeance. The only thing keeping him somewhat in control was the same tension he could sense in the hand holding the knife, it literally vibrated through the steel and leeched into his blood. Taking a deep breath, Sergei answered hollowly, “Did you really expect me to just let Christina walk away without protection? You knew I had no choice.” Sergei kept his voice low, trying to draw as little attention as possible from the assemblage.

  Sergei gasped as the tip pierced his skin. He felt the warmth of his blood as it trickled down his spine. Varek's hot breath seared his ear. “Protect her? She needed no one's protection but mine. You took her away, you bastard!”

  “I took Christina nowhere. I only followed where she led. I tried to talk sense into her, Vare, but her hurt was too devastating at the time. I did what I thought best. And I don't regret any of it. Leave her be. If you would but look at her, can you not see she is content? Love her enough to let her go.” He hissed as the blade stung again.

  Now angered himself, Sergei spun around and for the first time in six years looked into the eyes of his oldest friend. But he saw no sign of friendship in the glacial glare bearing down on him, the light blue of Varek's eyes like chips of ice. He could have been facing an enemy on the field of battle, and death was staring him in the face.

  “Tell me why, Sergei? I loved you like a brother. I raised you higher than anyone in my duchy. You had everything because I gave you everything. And for all that I had done for you, you repaid me with a betrayal most cruel.”

  Sergei's vision blurred even as his eyes remained stubbornly open. The pain that smote him at Varek's words was crushing, for everything Varek said was true. But how could he have done anything different? It was because of his love for Varek and Christina that he had done what he'd had to do to protect them all during that hellish time.

  Nevertheless, this was all a moot point now. The die had been cast years ago, their lives tumbling about like little ivory cubes. And after all these years, Sergei had yet to figure out if there had been any winners.

  Sergei forced himself to return Varek's glare with one of indifference. “You're still not behaving rationally, Vare, even after all these years. It was your decision that lost you Christina. You made your choice and now, whether you like it or not, you have to live with it. Forget Christina. She has forgotten you, I can assure you. Go back to your wife.”

  “That woman meant nothing to me and you damn well know it!”

  Sergei just stared at him.

  The rage that flared in Varek's wintry eyes was frightening to see. Sergei tensed himself for an attack.

  “What would you have done, damn your treacherous soul?” Varek demanded.

  “If Christina had been mine? I would have renounced the duchy.”

  Varek was so enraged, he felt light-headed, his skin damp with perspiration. How noble the bastard sounded! How pathetically simple-minded! Could this possibly be the same man he had once loved so dearly, this fool standing before him spouting such bloody, self-righteous crap? It hurt. God, how it hurt! In one fell slice of hell's will, he had lost both his love and his closest friend. What had he ever done that had been so wrong? He had been forced to literally rip his heart out and all he had received for his selflessness was betrayal from the very people he had been trying to protect! Varek's hand tightened about the handle of his blade.

  “You pathetic fool! Would you have, indeed? And how long do you suppose Christina would have lived before an assassin's bullet found her? You may not have cared for Austenburg or had much faith in its longevity, but I assure you the thousands who live there think quite differently. Abdicating and trying to run into obscurity would have signed our death warrants even as the fanatics hunted us down like animals! At all times, Christina's safety was my first and only consideration.”

  “My God, man, all you have to do is think back on what was happening throughout Europe at that time! Death was cheap and easily had. Fears were running rampant and out of control. Look at the masses of corpses still littering the byways of Europe
from Paris to St. Petersburg. Independence may mean nothing to you, but it was and is everything to the people of my duchy! They would have done anything to protect their way of life, their wealth, in a world gone crazed. The only way I could have saved Christina's life was to put her aside, but I never meant to lose her. Damn you, Sergei! Did you really think I meant to set her up as my mistress and place her in such a position of ridicule? Did you truly believe my love for her was so shallow? I would never have put that stigma on her!”

  Sergei looked away, feeling guiltier at that moment than he had throughout the long years of exile from Austenburg. He knew the truth of Varek's words. He had tried to reason with thoughts very similar to these to Christina when he had tried to dissuade her from her desperate desire to flee Austenburg on the day of Varek's wedding. Even she had admitted to the volatile situation they were all simply trying to survive. When he thought back on the hysteria and helplessness of that terrible time, if anyone could be held accountable for selfishness, it would have had to have been Christina. Varek had done anything and everything in his power to keep Christina from harm, and she has hated Varek for it everyday of her life since. It was more than possible that the only reason Christina was alive today was because of Varek's sacrifice. But even so, Sergei's loyalty was now Christina's alone.

  Looking up, he noticed Varek's gaze riveted on something across the room. Christina was the only thing that had ever inspired that sense of intensity in Varek.

  “How is she?” The pain in Varek's voice was unmistakable.

  Sergei tensed, and after a long moment said reluctantly, “Married.”

  That feral intensity was suddenly focused on him.

  “When?” The word snapped out with the force of a steel-tipped arrow.

  Sergei's head began to pound. He suddenly wished he could just disappear. Even though Varek stood before him threatening his life, Sergei didn't want his old friend hurt any more.