Love Me Again

by Wendy M. Burge

  She followed blindly, almost running to keep up with his longer stride, her eyes on the broad width of his back. She was barely aware of the maze of halls and rooms they traversed, or the stairs they climbed. She only knew that finally he pushed open a door, pulled her in and snapped it shut. Immediately she was in his arms, his mouth voraciously claiming hers, his arms bands of hard muscles that wouldn't let her go.

  And she didn't want to go anywhere. With a whimper of need, her arms were around his neck and she was hanging on for her own life. At that moment nothing else existed in the world for either of them as they claimed, with selfish need, what they had been denied for years, and their tongues mated in a dance never forgotten.

  Varek's hands roamed her body, caressing every bewitching inch he could reach, and frantic to expose to his hands and mouth every inch he couldn't. He insinuated his knee between her legs, and when she urgently pressed her heat against his thigh, straining tighter against him, his groan was deep and long.

  Before either knew it, her bodice was somehow around her waist and Varek's hot hands were cupping and kneading her aching breasts. His mouth left hers, traveling down her neck, nipping and stroking her heated flesh till he reached his desired goal, the swollen tips of those generous globes he held reverently in his hands. Bemused, Varek could only stare at them for a lost moment. He didn't remember them this large, or lush. His mouth was parched, hungry as he bent down and drew one hard nipple into his mouth.

  Christina collapsed in his arms, sobbing with the joy of it, the absolute carnal truth of this moment. This was where she belonged, where she was meant to be, now and forever. When Varek's teeth gently nipped her, she cried out and rode his hard thigh, lost in the frenzy of the tumultuous yearnings, her body on fire ... on fire...

  When his fingers touched the molten heat of her, searing her through the silk of her gown, she threw her head back and sobbed, “Varek!”

  He raised his head and his whisper was a harsh rasp against her cheek. “I am here, lark. Right here. Come to me.” His fingers began to stroke her with a feverish intent.

  “No!”

  The word slithered through his crazed lust like acid. At first he denied her whispered moan; denied the cruelty that she could even utter such a cursed word, and his fingers sank deeper between her thighs, wishing he could rip the silk apart and plunge into the very depths of her. But again he heard her shuddered moan, “Varek, please no.” He felt tears on her hot cheeks, and still he was tempted to ignore her bloody convictions and just take her, here, now, forever.

  His own body shuddering, he froze, his arm clamping her wilting body against his, his other hand cupping the weeping heat that belonged to him. He wanted to scream out his frustration. After a long, long moment, he gave a savage curse and struck his hands viciously against the wall behind her, trapping her between his arms.

  She flinched at the suppressed violence shuddering through his body. She was barely able to hold herself upright without his arms supporting her, and she collapsed back against the wall. “I can't, Varek. You know, I can't.”

  He felt like strangling her. “No, damn you, I don't know,” he spat out, his glare a blaze of condemnation.

  Feeling pinned beneath his pained rage, Christina closed her eyes and bit her lip. Panting, she couldn't understand it herself. More than anything she wanted to be in his arms, to take this moment to its joyous conclusion, but she couldn't. She felt like sinking down into a huddle and crying, so great was her confusion.

  Varek stared down at Christina's face with a tumult of so many swirling emotions he couldn't even think straight. He couldn't begin to understand why she said no just when it seemed she had surrendered to him, and to her own need. But then the complexity of this woman was one of the things that held him in such thrall. Her convictions, her morals; she was a person who was above pride, or selfishness or greed. She was his lark and, he above all people, should understand her.

  He felt a surge of tears sting his nose, and his jaw flexed with the force it took to fight them back. Breathing deeply, he slowly eased the suffocating misery. Finally, he sighed. Leaning his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes and whispered, “Yes. I know.”

  Her arms wrapped around his chest and she leaned against him, her cheek pressed against the tightness in his chest, where his heart was breaking again. “Oh God, why did we have to find each other again? It is so unfair!”

  With a dragging sense of defeat, he wrapped her in his arms and he held her close, the feel of her body pressed against his a memory that would have to sustain him again for more years than he wanted to think about. Maybe he should just go, leave Vienna, and never look back. His heart froze at the thought, but perhaps it would be for the best. Slowly, he released her and stepped back. The sight of her standing there in her rumpled gown, her breasts still exposed to his hungry gaze, was torture.

  Christina looked into his eyes as he stood before her, passive and remote. Slowly, she drew up her bodice. “I love you, with my entire heart and soul, I love you. But I have a child waiting for me in England that I love every bit as much. Please understand that what I do is for him alone.”

  At least there was no mention of the saintly Robert any more, he thought spitefully. In a deadened voice, already knowing it was a lost cause, he said numbly, “We could make it work. We could live in England, where you could see Eddie as much as you needed, and as much as he needed you.”

  “What would you do if the situation was reversed? In order to live with me, would you give up Tina?”

  His eyes narrowed into a heated glare. The sexual frustration still surging through him made him edgy and vindictive. “Of course, not,” he snapped. “Why would I need to? I would not be ashamed to raise my child with you.”

  Anger curled about her heart. “Is that what you think? I would be ashamed for you to raise my son?”

  Those sensual lips were now thinned with ire. “You have stated as much, feeling your honor would be so tainted that even your son could never love you.”

  “Devil take you, Varek, there is no reasoning with you!” Christina turned on her heel and headed for the door.

  “Christina, don't you dare walk out that door! Is that your answer to everything? To run away?” Spinning about, she shouted back at him, “I did not run away! You threw me away!” Panting, she stared at him with the rage she had never allowed herself to show. When he stalked toward her, she held her ground and returned his glare with equal fierceness.

  “I did not throw you away!” he gritted out, so sick to death of having to defend himself to this woman. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “I was trying to protect your life. Never in all our years together did I realize what a selfish little bitch I loved. You ran, Christina! You ripped our lives apart to get even with me for keeping you safe.”

  Wrenching out of his grip, she pulled back and slapped him. He froze, and stared down at her in shock. Primitive satisfaction surged through her and, pulling back her hand, she slapped him again, then again. God, it felt so good! she thought with a sense of liberating fury.

  Varek flinched but, seeing the ravaged pain in her eyes, he did nothing to stop her. If this was what she needed, then by God, he would stand steady for her, even if she put a bullet through his heart. His face was burning, his heart was in tatters and his arms longed to pull her close, yet all he could do was stand steady and accept her enraged pain, wanting nothing more than to cleanse her soul.

  “Damn you, Varek! How I hate what you did to me! You had no right to make that decision!” She brought up her fists and slammed them against his chest. “You didn't even discuss it with me. What was I, just some possession, some lifeless doll you didn't want broken?” She struck him again, her voice cracking with the sobs that were strangling her. “You had no right to ruin my life. It should have been my decision.” Crying, she leaned heavily against him, her face buried against his chest. “It should have been my decision.” The last words came out in a choked whimper.


  Varek's arms came up and enfolded her close. With a weary sigh, he leaned his bruised cheek against her hair. “I gave you no say, my love, because I knew what you would do, and that wasn't an option. You were the most important thing in my life. Even having lost you all these years, I would still make the same decision if it meant keeping you alive. I love you Christina, and I could no more have stood back and seen you endangered than I could have hurt you myself.”

  “But you did hurt me,” came her muffled accusation.

  “I'm sorry,” he murmured, his lips pressed against her temple. “I am so sorry, but I had no choice.”

  “Yes you did.”

  “No, Christina, I had none.”

  Raising her head, her tearstained eyes stared up into his with a numb finality. “And now I have none.”

  He knew he couldn't continue to fight her like this. Her nobility was too innocent, too consuming. When Christina loved, she loved with her entire being. Her son had a part of her that he could never touch and it hurt like hell. It should have been their son that was inspiring such devotion. It should have been his son that she had carried under her heart.

  Knowing nothing else could be said between them, he gently kissed her temple. “We have to go find Tina,” he told her with a heavy sigh.

  Sniffing, she nodded, her head resting again on his broad chest. She just didn't want to let go of him.

  “Do you feel better?” A handkerchief was in his hand and gently brushed against her cheek.

  Taking it from him, she blotted her eyes and nose. “Strangely, yes.” She gave a watery chuckle.

  “Well, that is good, since my face hurts like the devil.”

  Her head jerked up and she stared aghast at the skin of his cheeks, which was indeed red and flushed. Tsking in regret at her selfish actions, she reached up and cupped his hot cheeks. Then she kissed one gently, then the other. “I am so sorry, my love.”

  His heart skipped a beat. It was the first time she had called him that since they had been reunited. Shaking his head, his own hands covered hers as she caressed his face. “Letting out rage is cathartic. I think we both needed this.”

  This time she pressed a feather-soft kiss on his lips before she stepped back. Self-consciously she patted her hair, as she looked distractedly about her for her shawl. “How can I possibly go down looking like this? I am so embarrassed. What will everyone think?” She deliberately applied herself to making her gown and hair presentable. She couldn't look at Varek anymore, especially with the sight of the large canopied bed standing in majestic state behind him. For the first time she realized they were in a bedchamber. Blushing, she flinched when Varek draped the shawl around her shoulders.

  “What does it matter what they think? We know what went on here, and you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “Except loving you,” she couldn't help saying sadly as she turned to stare up at him solemnly. Stepping closer to him, she rearranged his cravat, which was hopelessly rumpled. How she missed this simple task.

  His eyes slid shut. “God, lark, don't say that to me now or I may not let you go.” He grabbed her fussing hands and bent his head to kiss her fingers for a lingering moment before he set her away from him again. He tucked a silken curl behind her ear, then walked toward the door.

  “Will you do me a favor?” Her hesitant question broke the sudden silence between them.

  “Anything.”

  “Forgive Sergei.”

  His lips quirked, and he asked with a comical reluctance, “Must I?”

  Thankful for his attempt to lighten the mood, she offered him a stern frown as she marched up to him. “Yes, you must.”

  “Oh, all right,” he grudgingly agreed like a sulky little boy. Then with an endearing grin, he opened the door, and held out his hand to her. “Are you ready?”

  Supplying her own brave smile, she slipped her hand into his and together they went in search of Tina.

  She almost resented Varek for what had happened here, for her wound had finally been lanced and was now healing. What she had feared was happening , she was letting Varek back into her heart without any reservations of guilt or anger. She was healing, and just in time for her heart to be ripped in two again.

  * * * *

  They found Tina squealing amid a boisterous crowd of children who were scampering about under a huge tree whose golden branches were bowed under the weight of numerous toys and trinkets. Tina immediately spotted her father as they walked into the room. Running over to him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him under one branch where a brightly feathered bird was perched. A golden cord dangled from its jeweled beak, and when Tina tugged the cord a sweet melody trilled forth. Giggling, she looked past her father to Christina, her eyes dancing with delight. Turning back to Varek, she pleaded prettily, “Please, Papa, I want the lark!”

  Varek looked over Tina's bobbing head at Christina and her breath hitched at the look of such love in his eyes. Then he told Tina in no uncertain terms, “So do I, little love.”

  As the gifts were being raffled off for a charity, they had to wait with an excited Tina inspecting every gift won and stripped from the tree before the auctioneer finally reached her glittering bird. Varek won the bid with his first offer, gasps of surprise floating among the guests at the generosity of his bid.

  The bird was taken down and placed into Tina's arms. “I will hang her over my bed,” she pronounced as they made their way over to their hostess to extend their thanks for such a joyous fête.

  Princess Maria glanced at Christina and, seeing the wounded look in her eyes behind the polite demeanor, could only assume that all their speculations about what had happened behind that closed door was just that, speculation and nothing more.

  Which was a true pity, for if anyone needed a good tumble between the sheets, it was Christina.

  Sixteen

  Vienna sparkled under a fresh blanket of snow, and wanting to enjoy the pristine morning Christina persuaded Sergei to accompany her for a stroll in the Prater. He did so, but his heavy-lidded eyes and yawns spoke of a long night; where, she didn't want to know. To compensate for his kindness, she directed their steps to his favorite kaufeehause and he only started to come alive after a steaming cup was placed in his hands. She smiled when with his first sip, he gave a deep sigh of relief and offered her an audacious wink.

  When she noticed Castlereagh enter the crowded room, she was surprised. It was unusual for this reclusive man to be out and around alone; if he wasn't escorting the viscountess, or attending some fête where he felt the need to socialize for political reasons, he was buried under a mound of work at the consulate. He barely took the time to find the respite of sleep, let alone idle away important hours at a kaufeehause.

  She waited a few minutes to see if he was here to meet someone, but when it was apparent he was looking about for an empty table, she stood up and hailed him over. A smile of relief seemed to ease the strain on his features upon seeing her, and pausing to acknowledge a few acquaintances on the way, he weaved his way through the tables to her side. He greeted them both, bowing over her hand, and when Sergei held out an empty chair for him, he demurred till she brushed aside his protestations.

  “I must admit I am surprised to see you here, my lord.” Christina told him after they were settled. She looked closely at his face and saw a weariness in his eyes that normally wasn't there. He appeared defeated, which was absurd for Castlereagh held a tight rein on everything about him. She doubted if the word defeat was even in his vocabulary.

  “I am afraid I suddenly had this urge to get out of my office, and the morning looked so beautiful that I did just that. As my wife was already out, I simply took off on my own.” His words sounded a bit forced, even to himself, and when a cup was placed before him, he applied his attention to sweetening it.

  Castlereagh swallowed a sip of coffee along with his depression, and took this opportunity to inform Christina of the latest information. “I am pleased to tell yo
u that your husband should be back within the next few days.” The expression that flitted across her face was beyond even his intuitive abilities to decipher. However, he had the feeling she was not pleased. “And then on the tail of this, I am sorry to tell you that you will only have him for a few days before I must send him off again. The negotiations are not going as well as we had hoped and I need to communicate with Wellington again. I pray you will not think too unkindly of me, my lady,” he asked with a respectful smile.

  Christina took in his words and felt a myriad of sensations sweep her body, but didn't seem to know what she felt. Feeling too disjointed to speak of Robert, she queried instead, “Do you see the negotiations reaching a conclusion anytime soon?”

  With a sigh, Castlereagh cast his tired gaze about him, then reluctantly shook his head. “I fear not, my lady. And I am afraid England is not happy with my skill at the table.”

  Christina glanced sharply at him. “How so?” With a shrug, Castlereagh turned back to her with a rueful smile. “How can they be happy with our progress when none has been made? They intimate that I am not forceful enough. Yet when I take a calculated risk they ridicule me for being too rash. I can do nothing right, it seems.” For a moment Christina thought he was going to say more but apparently thought better of it; Castlereagh was nothing if not cautious.

  Suddenly, she understood what he was alluding to, and she was appalled, for if anyone had kept these delicate mediations from falling apart it was this gifted man. “They mean to recall you.” It was not even a question.

  He paused then nodded slightly. “I pray you keep this knowledge to yourselves.” This command was directed across the table at Sergei.

  Sergei gave a solemn nod. “Of course, my lord. On my life.”

  Castlereagh gave him a strained smile, then looked at Christina and explained, “Hence the need for Robert's attention in this matter. The least amount of people privy to this information the better. If all goes well, the change of England's authority will cause as little disruption as possible in the negotiations.”