Love Me Again

by Wendy M. Burge

  They ran at full tilt into the small street, the pounding of their feet loud in the deserted lane. The coolness of deep shadows bore down on them as they stumbled to look around them. Dismayed, Christina saw that countless side streets verged off from a small circular plaza. “Oh, no!” she breathed out, shock gripping her as she looked about helplessly. Which way? God, which way?

  In the distance they both heard a high-pitched scream. It was undoubtedly a child's.

  “Tina!” Christina screamed back as her feet flew over uneven cobblestones, down a passage to her left. Right at her side was the footman. Still more streets verged out from this small lane. Just when she was growing hysterical they heard the scream again.

  “This way,” the young man panted as he ducked into another side street that was little more than an alley. And there, at the end of what appeared a dark tunnel was Tina, in a patch of bright sunshine, struggling in the arms of a woman. Christina watched in horror as two men stepped around a carriage to grab hold of the little squirming body and begin to thrust her up through the door.

  Both Christina and the footman screamed their denials as they flew toward the kidnappers, and when they got close the young man launched himself on the man nearest him, knocking them both to the street in a tangle of flailing arms and legs. Without thought, Christina flung herself on the back of the other man, clinging to him with the tenacity of a barnacle.

  Startled, he let go of Tina, who instead of running turned about and started kicking the villain. Cursing and jumping, the man kept spinning in circles, trying to dislodge Christina, who was scratching and clawing any piece of skin on his face she could reach. When his flailing fist struck the side of her face, she barely felt it, so intent was she on gouging out his eyes. His bellow of pain was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. But she hadn't time to enjoy the sense of power, for she suddenly noticed the woman coming up on Tina from behind and reaching out to grab her. Pushing herself off the man's back, Christina gave her own bellow of rage as she ran to tackle the bitch. Both women tumbled to the ground amid screaming curses and churning skirts.

  The explosion of a pistol startled both women into looking up. Christina stared into the face of the man she had just attacked. His face was bruised and scratched and his look of utter surprise would have been comical except for the knife that he held suspended over his head, ready to strike her. It seemed time stood still as he hung above them, then slowly toppled backward, dead. When the woman gave her a fierce push and shot to her feet, Christina twisted about and grabbed her ankles, tripping her face first onto the filthy cobbles. Immediately, Christina rolled herself to her knees and then sat with a satisfying thump on the woman's back.

  She hardly had a chance to draw a breath of relief before Tina crawled onto her lap and, latching her arms tightly around her neck, began to cry.

  When the woman tried to heave her off, Christina gave her ass a vindictive swat.

  “Shh, baby, I have you now,” she crooned to the hiccupping child, whose strangling hold barely let her breath. Tina's body was trembling, overheated and ever so dear as Christina held her close to her pounding heart. Their tears mingled as they pressed wet cheeks together. “The bad lady can't hurt you now.”

  “I beg your pardon?” came an indignant voice from beneath her. “I never had any intention of harming the child.”

  “Are you all right?” a wonderfully familiar voice inquired. Two pairs of wet eyes turned to look up at Sergei as he squatted down beside them. When he tried to take Tina from her, the little girl swatted his hands away and then turned her face back into Christina's neck. Sergei frowned as he stroked Christina's bruised temple with a gentle finger. She flinched. Now the pain came with a vengeance.

  “We're fine, thanks to your marksmanship.” Christina looked over at the thug, whose blood was staining the dirt under him. Remembering the heroic boy who had run beside her, Christina twisted around to see him standing over the other kidnapper, proudly holding a pistol on the unconscious man. He grinned at her and gave a cocky salute.

  Grinning back, she said with all the sincerity in her heart, “Thank you so much.”

  “Excuse me,” came the muffled voice from beneath Christina again. The woman did seem to be in pain when she grunted out, “Could you please get off of me!”

  Christina thought it over for a moment, then nodded reluctantly to Sergei, who was starting to chuckle. But then, he always had found amusement at the worst times. Standing, he helped Christina to her feet, while Tina, now more curious than frightened, was looking down at the woman.

  “Thank God,” she muttered as she climbed painfully to her feet. She turned to see Varek's woman and daughter glaring at her with such hatred that she felt herself in more trouble than she had at first thought. This was one predicament she would not be able to charm her way out of. Looking around, she saw the two incompetent fools whom Roget had sent with her, one trussed and bloodied at her feet, the other dead. Sighing, she looked up into Sergei Massallon's frigid gaze, his mouth pressed into a grim line.

  “Well, well, well. His highness will not be pleased to see you again,” he drawled as he took in her rumpled appearance.

  She raised her brows and replied with acid sweetness, “Then perhaps you should just let me go.”

  “Go?” Christina almost screeched out. “I will yank your heart out and stuff it down your throat before I let that happen!” Tina gave a firm nod of agreement, then sniffled.

  Sergei looked over his shoulder at Christina, smiling at the picture she made, the outraged hen with her chick, ruffled feathers and all. He expected to see her start scratching the ground at her feet any second now. She couldn't have been any more protective if it had been her own son in her arms. “I don't believe you will find a heart to pull out,” he pointed out, barely keeping his laughter in check.

  Christina considered that, looked at Tina and then said, “Too true. Then we shall have to settle on her gizzard. Right, Tina?”

  “Right!” Tina immediately seconded. Then she leaned in and whispered in Christina's ear, “What's a gizzard?”

  “I promise you, it's very disgusting.”

  That seemed fine to Tina.

  Keeping a wary eye on the disgruntled stranger, Christina stepped toward Sergei and asked softly, “Isn't that Varek's mistress?”

  This time his laughter did escape. With ungentle hands, he hustled his prisoner into the carriage, saying over his shoulder, “I believe I shall leave that explanation to Varek.”

  By this time the area was swarming with police and the princess's servants. Tina's nurse had hurried over to take her into her arms, but Tina clung all the more fiercely to Christina. And the woman was definitely in Christina's black books. If she had been doing her job properly, Tina would never have been taken from the park in the first place. She would make sure Varek turned her away. She would see personally to choosing a new nursemaid for Tina.

  And so Christina was content to keep the child in her arms. After what had just happened, she knew it was going to be hard to ever let Tina out of her sight again.

  * * * *

  The minute Varek stepped into Tina's room Christina was out of her seat and into his arms. She clung to him, shivering, and he held her tight against him as he looked over her head to see his daughter safely asleep in bed.

  Closing his eyes, he dropped his cheek next to Christina's and breathed deeply of her scent, reassuring himself that she was unhurt and exactly where she belonged, in his arms. When his lips claimed hers with urgent need, she melted against his hard body, and her kisses were just as wild and demanding. They held on to each other with a fervor that would leave bruised skin, but neither cared as long as for a few precious moments they could fool themselves into believing that they never had to let each other go again.

  “God, when I heard what had happened...” he began to moan before her lips covered his again, cutting off his anguished gasp.

  “It's all right. She is safe,” Christina whi
spered her assurance into his mouth. Her fingers tunneled into his silky hair, the feel of it against her palms a balm to her fractured emotions.

  “And you, little lark, how are you?” Gently he pushed her away to look into her eyes. Then he saw the swelling bruise, and renewed rage coursed through him. He was sorry Sergei had killed the bastard so quickly, for he desperately needed to take the edge off the savage heat that was seething through his blood. Beating the hell out of the bastard who had dared to harm his loves would have helped tremendously.

  Taking a deep breath, he looked into her eyes and saw remnants of her own rage and fear, but overlying that, there was a frenzy of passion heating her gaze as she devoured the sight of him. He knew why she was acting so strangely, so vulnerable. He had been in enough situations to know how the blood continued to pump with a force that drove out all thoughts except for a reaffirmation of life in the most elemental sense. If he took advantage of her weakness now, and God help him, how he wanted to, he knew she would be remorseful later, and he couldn't bear the thought of her regretting anything they shared together.

  With a reluctance that tested his deepest mettle, he gently drew her to his side, and slowly they walked together to the bed. Tina was curled up into a tight little ball and was sleeping as if nothing of any significance had happened to her today. Her face looked so sweet in profile, her thumb in her mouth, her curls spread out on her pillow. Bending down, Varek very gently pulled her thumb out of her mouth, then he kissed her silky cheek. When he stood upright, Christina could see a shimmer of tears in his eyes.

  Christina's voice was tight with too many emotions to define as she castigated herself. “I almost lost her, Varek. When I saw her struggling with those men...”

  Varek pulled her close again, hushing her. “My God, lark, you risked you life to save her! When I heard how you threw yourself onto that man and then, little fool, turned your back on him! God, when I think of what could have happened if Sergei,,"” His mind shut down on that horrendous thought. It should have been him there protecting his ladies. But, again, it had been Sergei, Christina's ever faithful watchdog.

  “Why, Varek?” She pushed him away from her and stared up at him. “Who is that woman?”

  Varek wasn't even going to try and dissemble. Taking her hand, he sat her back down in the chair she had been sitting in when he had come in. Intending to sit on the edge of Tina's bed, he checked for telltale lumps. As usual, there they were, close to Tina's side. He laid a gentle hand on the largest lump and felt it shift beneath his hand. When he heard Sandi's sleepy groan, he crooned at her to go back to sleep and then opted to squat down beside Christina's chair.

  In a low voice, so as not to disturb Tina, he told her, “At one time she was my mistress. Our parting was not an amicable one.” To say the least, he added wryly to himself.

  Christina frowned. After a moment of thought she asked, “The woman you taunted me with at that ball?”

  Holding her gaze, he nodded slowly. “The very same. From the moment you came back into my life I never touched her again. I suppose I could have ended the affair with a little more diplomacy than I did, but I just wanted her gone.”

  A spark of anger entered her gaze. “So now this is my fault?”

  He couldn't help the grin that popped out. “Well, I suppose, in some ways it is.” He quickly placed a finger over her lips to still her next outburst. When her lips pursed into a moue of anger, he drew his finger very gently over the outer edges of the wicked bruise. “In all seriousness now?” His brows rose in challenge at her belligerent expression, then continued. “I believe her to be a puppet in a wider scheme.”

  “Which is?”

  “The insurrection brewing in Austenburg.”

  “But what has that to do with Tina?”

  “Everything, my love. She is my heir and Austenburg's salvation. You better than anyone should know what Tina is to our people.”

  Not my people, Christina thought angrily. They tossed me out.

  “I believe somehow they know that I am trying to dissolve the duchy. Added to that, over the last years, Roget has gotten greedy for power, and Tina is the key to that power. These two sets of circumstances make for a rather combustible situation, don't you agree?”

  “Roget? Surely you jest?” The thought was ludicrous. Christina remembered the chancellor as a nondescript, unassuming diplomat who had always seemed to be underfoot, and always giving his opinion whether you wanted it or not. She could still see him lurking in the shadows, scurrying in and out of rooms on silent feet. He had a brilliant mind, one had to give him credit for that; he was a political tactician without peer, but the man hadn't appeared to have an ambitious bone in his body. His whole life rotated around serving the royal family of Austenburg, just as his father had before him, and his grandfather before that, and he took such pride in that very heritage. The name of Roget was synonymous with unquestionable loyalty to Austenburg's royal family. The idea of him inciting rebellion was beyond belief. It was impossible.

  And yet, looking into Varek's eyes, she could see that he believed it was not only very possible, it was reality.

  “Will you stay tonight?” he asked on a whisper.

  Startled out of her dazed thoughts, she blinked at him, then nodded. “I don't want to let her out of my sight just yet.”

  Varek hadn't thought he could love her any more than he already did, but seeing this devotion and love turned upon his child shifted his whole concept of love to an even deeper level than he could possibly conceive.

  Then he remembered that he had a problem to deal with.

  Angrily, he turned on his heel and left the room, praying he could deal calmly with the bitch and not strangle her as soon as he saw her.

  When Sophy saw Varek enter the room, she held up her trussed hands and asked peevishly, “Is this really necessary?”

  The smile he turned upon her sent a shiver of fear down her spine, and she leaned back farther into the nest of pillows she was propped up against. She suddenly began to wonder if she would leave Vienna alive.

  “You should be thankful this residence does not have a dungeon.”

  Wisely, she held silent. She watched with wary resentment as he walked about the room. His seeming idleness was a deception that had her sweating under the heavy woolen redingote she still wore.

  “Why did Roget send you?” he inquired with smooth politeness.

  Varek always had been too astute for his own good, Sophy thought with a despondent finality. And yet for years he hadn't known what was brewing beneath his very nose. If she was going to walk away from this debacle with her life, she knew the time for dissembling was long past.

  All at once she was surprised at how tired she was, and wearily she shrugged. “When I returned to Austenburg I was still angry with you, and Roget seemed to sense it, like a rat sniffing cheese. He approached me and told me how, for the good of Austenburg, we needed to get back the princess. Well, as you can guess, political intrigue and loyalty to the duchy never held much interest for me, so I politely shrugged him off. Then he dangled the promise of a title in front of me, with a handsome stipend thrown in for good measure.” She glanced sideways at him and entreated with a pout, “How was I to say no to that?”

  Varek stopped beside the bed and stared down at her with a coldly lethal smile that could cut flesh. “You will soon wish you had, my dear. I promise you that. It doesn't pay to get too greedy. Didn't I warn you of that before?”

  “For God's sake, Varek, your daughter was never in any danger and you know it. Roget needs her alive and well. I still have enough feelings for you that I would have made sure she was taken care of.”

  Varek was so close to throttling the bitch that the hands he held clenched behind his back trembled. He remembered the bruise on Christina's face, and the knife that had been pointed at her back before Sergei had taken the man out.

  Sophy's next words caught his attention with a clarity that echoed at the back of his mind, “It
is you he wants dead.”

  Eyes narrowing, he demanded softly, “Go on.”

  Those chilly blue eyes really were intimidating when turned upon you with an intensity that sucked the very air from your lungs, yet she couldn't seem to look away. Raising her bound hands, she brushed away a trickle of sweat from her temple. “The beating. That was Roget.”

  He hadn't been too far off, thinking it was some revolutionaries from Austenburg. He just hadn't suspected it was Roget. Dependable, dedicated Roget. A man he had disliked most of his life and had always taken for granted because of his family's loyalty to his own. How utterly imbecilic of him! The embarrassment he felt swamped him with the force of an Atlantic gale. His fingers flexed as he remembered that day long ago when Roget's throat had been in his hands. How different would his life be today if he had killed him then.

  Sophy watched in silence as he continued to stare at her without even blinking. Didn't anything make an impact on the man? Was he made of a block of ice? Well, let's see how he takes this piece of news, she thought vindictively. “He has hired an assassin. Bröchre.”

  That seemed to spark something, for his eyes widened an infinitesimal degree. His lips barely moved as he said dryly, “I'm honored. This must be costing Roget a king's ransom.”

  A king's ransom to hire the assassin of kings.

  Even after twenty years of infamy, no one knew what the man looked like. He was as invisible as the plague and twice as deadly, for he left no survivors in his wake. If you were marked, you were as good as buried.

  Now, knowing this man had marked him, Varek felt his own mortality staring him in the face.

  Sophy's voice droned on at the back of his consciousness. “Roget doesn't want you to be made a martyr to the people who love you, and he doesn't want Francis coming down on him with his imperial forces. So Bröchre was instructed to do it during a battle, which of course, with Napoleon free, there are certain to be many.”