“Lay down here beside me and get some rest. We can't both be dead on our feet.”
Christina studied the narrow width of bed left open beside his sprawled body. Even though she was doubtful that she would attain anything close to a restful respite, in her exhaustion she had to admit that the bed did look inviting.
“Please, my love,” he whispered wearily. “I will rest easier knowing you are here beside me.”
Biting her lip, Christina searched his battered face and again she wanted to cry. Never had she seen Varek so helpless, and she felt cast adrift. She wanted back the forceful, charismatic man she had loved her entire life. It didn't matter that the last weeks had been hell for her, with him shadowing her every move. Anything was preferable to him lying before her crippled with such pain.
Without another word she laid down beside him, her shoulder barely touching his. After a moment she felt the brush of his fingers as he reached for her hand.
Her hand turned into his, and gently they held on, afraid that if they broke contact the other would be gone. In minutes they were asleep, both sharing the same dreams, both smiling.
* * * *
As the somnolent night faded into a pale gray on the horizon, Robert sat motionless but for his narrowed eyes, which followed the path of a murky shadow on the wall across from him. It crept along inch by interminable inch as it struggled to keep ahead of the advent of the rising sun, the last warrior of a dying night. Brooding, Robert sat in silence watching the progress of each of those bloody inches, for each one heralded another minute that Christina hadn't come back to him. He knew where she was, though, and he wanted to kill them both.
When the shadow had finally lost its age-old battle with its nemesis, Robert surged to his feet and started for the door. His bloodshot eyes were grim as he made his way to the residence of the Archduke of Austenburg, and any hapless pedestrian unfortunate enough to cross his path made way promptly.
There could be no doubt in any of their minds as they turned to watch the disheveled foreigner that murder would be done in Vienna today.
Nine
Christina was spooning broth between Varek's swollen lips when the door opened silently.
“Baron Hager, your highness,” the majordomo intoned, as slowly as he was prone to move. Christina set aside the bowl and disposed of the linen spread across Varek's chest. It was clear that Varek was none too happy to see the chief of police. She felt her own surge of irritation as she turned to face the baron; she never had liked the man.
Clicking his heels together smartly, the baron bowed low. “Your highness. Lady Basingstoke.” If he was surprised to see her in Varek's private apartment so early in the morning, no sign could be discerned on his impassive face. Knowing the baron, his spies had informed him the moment she had walked into the palace last night. Franz Hager prided himself on knowing everything about everyone. Being around him was much like stepping in horse manure, hard to get rid of. He always seemed to be around, lingering in the air.
“How are you faring, your highness?” The man's lips barely moved, his hooded eyes missing nothing.
Christina's lips twitched slightly as she looked sideways at Varek. “I should warn you, my lord, that his highness doesn't like being asked that question. What have you found out?” She didn't need to know if he was on the trail of the men who had attacked Varek last night; she took it as a foregone conclusion that he already had his nose in it.
The baron's gaze shifted deferentially to her and again he bowed, the click of his heels irritating. Officious little weasel, Christina thought unkindly, avoiding his shifty gaze. He still had that nervous tick in his right eye that seemed to emphasize the ratlike gleam in the black depths of his eyes. Even as he bowed and toadied up to the elite of Europe, he was busy sniffing about for all the filth he could glean.
“Indeed, my lady, we have found out very little. The third man was found early this morning with his throat slashed. Nearly decapitated, he was.”
Christina turned to Varek, shocked. He was staring at the baron with a stillness that set her heart racing. “How unfortunate,” he murmured, a thread of frustrated anger discernible even through the rasping pain.
“We are looking for the families of the three men, but it will take some time. In the meantime, with your highness's approval, I shall set some of my men to guard you.”
“No.”
Christina clasped her shaking hands. “But, Varek,”
“No,” he cut her off abruptly.
Angry, she pursed her lips shut, refusing to look at him or the baron. Her back stiff, she moved to look out the window. It was with some surprise that she noticed how high the sun had climbed.
“Do you have any information you could impart to help in this investigation, your highness? Have you any knowledge of anyone who would want to see you dead?”
Though the question was directed at Varek, Christina was surprised to see both men's eyes watching her with unwavering interest. Biting down on her retort, she stared Varek down, daring him to voice his suspicions. God help her, for she couldn't deny to herself that they were also her own suspicions.
“No. No one, Franz,” Varek answered evasively. She exhaled slowly, unaware that she had been holding her breath.
The baron bowed again. “Very well,”
He was cut off when the door was flung open with brutal force. Robert strode into the room, two of Varek's footmen tumbling into the room after him, still trying to restrain the intruder. Robert didn't notice as Varek waved the servants out, for his glaring attention was riveted on Christina as she stood by the window, the full sun illuminating her disheveled appearance. Stepping farther into the room, Robert stopped not far from her, rage radiating from him, kept under control by the merest thread.
Remembering she had failed to send a message to him last night informing him of her whereabouts, she felt irritated with herself for causing Robert such worry. But otherwise she felt guiltless of any wrongdoing. There had been many times in the past when he had not bothered to inform her where he would be when he so precipitously disappeared, sometimes for days, without a word to her. She had trusted him and she was only entitled to the same consideration. Without a word, she cocked her chin at a militant angle and stood her ground.
“I knew I would find you here,” he spat, his anger making him careless.
“Basingstoke, you know Baron Hager, I presume,” Varek's voice broke into the brewing argument.
Blinking as if waking from a dream, Robert turned about slowly and stared with incomprehension at the baron and then at Varek. His eyes widened as he took in the archduke's battered face and body. “What in bloody hell happened to you?” he sputtered in amazement.
Christina relaxed, a smile softening her mouth as she went to stand beside Robert. He looked too surprised to be anything but innocent of the foul deed.
“I had come here with the intention of killing you; however, it seems someone had a jump on me. Too bloody bad of him to botch it. But,” Robert shrugged, “there you have it. Tell me who it is so I can tender him my gratitude.”
Varek laughed, then groaned as pain bombarded his body. The baron didn't find it quite so amusing. “Where were you last night, my lord?”
Robert continued to examine his foe. “At the Hofburg, as you damn well know. Then I went home. Alone.” This was directed at his wife, along with a fulminating glare. “You could have sent me a message, y'know.”
“I'm sorry, Robert, I wasn't thinking very well.” She would pay for this little misdeed later. If she had been lectured before for her imagined transgressions, he was going to have a field day with this episode.
“No, you never do when he is involved.”
She stiffened, but it was Varek's voice that snapped out at Robert. “Watch yourself, Basingstoke.”
The baron looked on with morbid interest, a small smile curling his thin lips.
“Let me know what you find out, Franz,” Varek's rough whisper dismissed him.
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With another curt bow, the baron withdrew, leaving the two adversaries alone, with the viscountess standing as a buffer between them.
“What can you be thinking, Christina? Am I to simply shrug and say everything is just fine when my wife doesn't come for the night? Well, I can't. Maybe you are right; it is time for you to go home.”
Christina's breath hitched, whether in joyous relief or disappointment, she wasn't quite sure. She so wanted to see Eddie again, but to leave Varek, when he was so ill ... She bit her lip, at a loss as what to do. If only Robert had done this a day ago, she would have fled without a backward glance. Now it wasn't so easy, with Varek laid up in bed, perhaps internally bleeding to death at this very moment.
“This works out superbly, if I may say so,” Varek announced with as casual a tone as he could manage.
Robert swung around to face him. “Why is that?” Even seeing Varek laid up, as helpless as a gutted goat, he still didn't trust him, especially when the bastard was in the same room as his wife.
“Why, I shall escort her, if you give me a few days of recuperation. I had planned to visit England anyway. Isn't it coincidental providence? You can be sure I'll see her safely to her destination. Perhaps I shall even stay on and keep her company, especially with you here in Vienna for lord knows how many more months.” Varek's wintery smile mocked Robert.
With Robert's militant stance and out-thrust chin, he put Varek in mind of a heckled bull. In a minute he expected to see flames of rage shoot out of the poor sod's distended nostrils. How easy it was to bait the man. In truth, it was too easy. It rather took the fun out of it.
Why couldn't the bastard have died? Robert thought viciously. Now he wouldn't even have the peace of mind of shipping Christina home. He was being duly warned. And not for a minute did he doubt the archduke. Where Christina went, he would follow like a bloody leech. And he was stuck here until Castlereagh released him from his duties. Unlikely chance that would happen anytime soon. Bloody, bloody hell!
The moment of terror Varek had felt after Basingstoke's threat eased. He had played his bluff and, thank God, it had worked. With Austenburg's uncertain future hanging over his head, he couldn't have left Vienna anymore than Christina's husband. He had gambled on Basingstoke's insecurities and won. Christina wouldn't be taken from his sight. Varek watched in amusement as Robert studied him with helpless rage. No, this war was far from over.
With a stifled oath, Robert turned and grabbed hold of Christina's hand. Without another word he pulled her unceremoniously from Varek's bedchamber, despite her very vocal disagreement. Just as she disappeared out the door, she cast a despairing glance back at Varek.
He gave her a weak smile in return which faded the moment she was lost to his sight. Seeing her being mistreated in such a way made his hands clench in helpless rage; it was all he could do not to stumble out of bed and chase after them. But he was too weak to lift his hand, let alone his body.
He turned his head slowly and looked at the empty chair Christina had used, already missing her. For all the pain he had suffered last night, it had been pure heaven every moment she had been beside him.
With a painful sigh he closed his eyes and breathed in the lingering scent of her.
* * * *
Christina kept her back to her husband as he raged and paced behind her. She was at fault for not relaying a message to him, but that was all! He was carrying on as if he had found them frolicking the morning away in carnal splendor. Her cheeks surged with heat when that thought brought to mind a totally unsuitable image, Varek with his nude body stretched out before her, and her breathing accelerated as she thought of his bruised flesh. Despite the distortion of lacerations and swelling, he had been as magnificent as ever. Biting her lip hard, she spun around and faced her husband.
“I'm sorry, Robert. You have every right to belittle me, but are you through?”
Robert jerked to a halt, gaping at her. He hardly recognized the woman standing proud and belligerent before him. Feeling his hands beginning to shake, he clenched them.
“Send me home,” she demanded, emotionless.
“You know I can't do that. You heard what he threatened.”
“You have to know he was bluffing. He won't be able to move for at least a week, and traveling would be almost impossible.”
When he merely continued to stand there and glare at her, her eyes narrowed to slits of ire. “Are you accusing me of adultery, my lord? If so, stop shilly-shallying about it and be man enough to say it out loud.”
Surprised at her cold accusation, Robert shifted about on his feet, and his gaze dropped away from her.
“Come, my lord, you have only to voice what you have been accusing me of for weeks!” Silence. “Say it or be damned!” she shouted, her glare furious.
Robert flinched as he contritely studied her flushed face. He didn't know how to talk to her when she was in this mood; he had never known her to be other than coolly poised. In fact he didn't believe he had ever seen her in such a tantrum; it was disconcerting to say the very least. Almost petulantly he assured her, “I don't accuse you of anything, my love, but you constantly lack sense in your dealings with that man. What was I supposed to think when you didn't come home last night?” He sat down before the fire and lounged back.
“You should have assumed I had a good reason and been patient.”
He gaped up at her in amazement. “Been patient? Surely you jest!”
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she forced herself to calmness. “Did you set those thugs on Varek?”
“What?” Robert jerked upright, indignation clear on his face. She trusted this involuntary response to her accusation with relief.
With that worry off her mind, she was finally able to let her body relax. Her shoulders bowed under the weight of her fatigue as she collapsed into the matching chair across from him. “Never mind.”
“You think I did that?” he demanded.
“No.”
Leaning back in his chair he continued to glare at her. “Not that it wasn't a jolly good idea. I wish I had thought of it.”
Christina gasped and raised her shocked gaze to see his reluctant smile, his eyes, red with his own fatigue. At last a glimpse of her old Robert. She had thought him gone. “It's not funny, Robert. They almost killed him.”
He sobered instantly. “I assure you if I was going to kill the bastard, he would have no doubt it was me.”
“Well, that certainly relieves my mind,” she murmured ruefully as she stood again, weary to the bone.
Robert jumped to his feet as she swayed slightly. Without another word, he swept her into his arms and carried her to their bedchamber. “You have done enough this day. Now let me take care of you.” And so saying, he laid her gently down on the bed and began to strip her of her rumpled gown. He frowned at the amount of blood staining the delicate silk.
When she was undressed, she curled onto her side, asleep almost instantly. It was only midmorning and there were duties he should be attending to, but none were as important to him as Christina. Quickly, he stripped down to his breeches, then climbed in behind her. As he pulled her against him, she murmured a sleepy whisper and cuddled back into his gentle embrace.
Tears misted his eyes as he rested his cheek against her fragrant curls.
She had whispered Varek's name.
* * * *
“Tell me you didn't set those thugs on the archduke,” Castlereagh demanded with silken steel.
Robert stared back at him, straight in the eye. “I did not.” He was almost becoming accustomed to being blamed for the crime.
Castlereagh nodded, accepting Robert's word without a second thought. “Very well; however, I am not at all pleased with your conduct of late, Basingstoke.”
Robert's lips thinned as he continued to stand before the foreign secretary. He hadn't been asked to sit. “Yes, my lord.”
“This has got to stop. It's bad enough I have to dance around Metternich's amorous trage
dies, I will not condone the same weakness in my own staff. You are here to lend support, not conflict.”
Robert's heart was pounding; in anger, in helplessness, in embarrassment, he could not say. “Yes, my lord.”
There was a new hardness to Robert's eyes that his superior didn't like. Clearing his throat, Castlereagh suggested gently, “Perhaps it is time to send Lady Basingstoke home.”
“No!” Robert clipped out, then stiffened again. “No, my lord. I will take care of my own.”
Castlereagh studied the guarded man before him, speculating quickly on what might be the best course. Too many things were going awry; he was losing control of the negotiations, and Parliament was becoming more and more unfavorably inclined toward him. He hated losing control. In truth, it was not an option, not with the fate of Europe hanging in the balance. And now he was being forced to ignore the directives of Parliament in order to force events the way he was sworn to follow and knew ultimately was in the best interest of all the powers. He couldn't waste time on petty family squabbles. On the other hand, von Vischering was a favorite cousin of Emperor Francis, and at this delicate stage in negotiations he couldn't afford to give the emperor a reason to resent him by interfering in the archduke's business. Perhaps it was best that Christina remain in Vienna, at least for the present.
With a sigh, he finally stood up. “Very well, Robert. It would be a shame for her to miss out on the Carrousel, after all her efforts on behalf of the committee. We will wait till then and see, shall we?”
Robert glanced up sharply, relief barely discernible on his grim face. “Yes, my lord.” Then with a bow he withdrew, his stride long and sure.
Castlereagh pondered on that closed door for many minutes before he returned to his desk and the endless mountain of work waiting there. Already he wondered if he had made the wrong decision.
Ten
The Emperor Francis looked down on Varek, shaking his head in amazement. Had it been him laying there, black and blue from head to toe, he would have been blubbering like a baby. But then, he had always been the first to admit to his many weaknesses, and his inability to bear pain with heroic stoicism was definitely one of them.
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