The Lady Bornekova

by Sara R. Turnquist

  "It is a hunter's wound. My father can tend to it well enough when we rejoin the others.”

  An ache filled her chest.

  “Let me see your wound." Stepan reached his good arm toward her.

  She shifted to give him a better view. A trail of deep red trickled down her arm.

  "We need to stop this bleeding," he said, his tone offered no room for argument.

  Leaning toward her, he bent down and tore a strip from the hem of her dress. As he tied the cloth around her arm, cinching it tight, she sneaked a peek at his arm.

  He had spoken true. She did not need to see it. The wound opening was a mess of the darkest red, pulsating out of his arm…and flowing all the more as he moved.

  The world spun. Her stomach flipped.

  An arm wrapped around her waist, holding her against warmth. Stepan?

  "It is all right. Just breathe...in and out, in and out." As she followed his direction, the world became more stable. Her hands gripped the front of his tunic.

  "Stepan?"

  "Uh-huh?" He lifted a hand to stroke her hair.

  "Whom was the arrow intended for?" Her voice was timid, the words breaking as she spoke.

  His arm once again fell to her back, hugging her to him. It comforted her.

  "Who's to say it was for either of us? It may have been a stray hunter's arrow meant for some poor animal."

  How could he dismiss the incident so easily? What was he holding back? Why would he have been so quick to clear the area if not for danger?

  Still, she did not press the matter. He only wanted to protect her.

  "We need to get you back to your father," she said after several seconds. The longer they waited, the more blood Stepan would lose.

  Stepan looked off in the direction they had come. And his features fell. Was he unsure about the short trip? What did he fear?

  Karin rose, taking his hand and pulling his good arm over her head. Then she laid it over her shoulders.

  Stepan paused, opening his mouth. Was he preparing to protest?

  "That arrow would have struck me had you not gotten me out of the way." Her voice was firm as she searched his eyes. "At least let me help you."

  Stepan eyes remained on hers. Their faces were so close. Would he attempt to kiss her?

  She turned her head and focused. It would not be right. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she spoke, “We best make our way back.”

  Stepan shifted beside her. Was he preparing for the walk?

  After some moments, she stepped forward and urged movement from Stepan. And, leaning on her, he did make progress.

  It would be slow, but Karin was determined to get them the few yards that remained to where they would find their fathers and help for Stepan.

  * * *

  It was time. There was no avoiding it. All other efforts had failed, and this was what it had come to. She had insisted it must be done, and tonight was the night.

  The young man whom Karin called "friend" walked as if afraid the slightest sound would awaken the entire chateau. He moved down the hallway in the cover of night. Only a few more paces and he slipped into her room.

  The darkness was thick, eerie. Or did it just seem so because of the task ahead of him? How had he gotten himself involved in this? So entangled? How had it come to this? And why had he agreed to it? He did not know how he would muster the courage to do what he had to do.

  Just do as I say, her voice whispered in his mind, and all will be fine. Follow my words, and it will be over quickly and no one will ever know.

  No one but me. His heart sank. There would be no escaping that. He would know what he had done, and he would never be able to blot out that memory.

  * * *

  Karin shifted in her sleep. Images of Pavel and Stepan swirled in her dreams. Her mind tried to work out in her sleep the confused emotions and thoughts surrounding to these two men. In the end, all that came from it was restlessness.

  As her mind moved closer and closer to consciousness, she sensed a presence. Was someone in her room? No, only a remnant from her dream. Would she open her eyes to find an appiration of Pavel? Could she bear it? She must.

  Karin was slow in opening her eyes to confirm what her mind had envisioned. But, as her lids rose, there he was, no more than a sillhouette standing over her.

  Still, it didn’t seem like Pavel. The figure was shorter.

  A slit in the curtain admitted enough moonlight to gleam against the metal in his hands. The man held a dagger above his head, ready to strike into her heart!

  Karin pushed against the bed covers to gain what distance she could, pressing up against the wooden headboard. She screamed.

  Everything fell into place—the poison, the carriage accident, the loosened saddle strap, and the stray arrow. All intended for her. They were not coincidences, or the easily explained away happenstances those protecting her pretended they were.

  Someone was trying to kill her. And tonight, if the blade over her was telling, he would succeed.

  The man followed her movements, pressing his hand over her mouth. Would he now smother her? Why did he not slit her throat and be done with it? Or plunge it into her chest?

  He stayed as he was, looming.

  She maneuvered against him. Could she free herself enough to scream once more?

  His hand slipped, but then clamped down like a vise.

  Words filled the space between them. Was he trying to say something?

  The moonlight revealed the glint of metal near her head. What could she do? No one was coming to save her. She had to fight for her own life.

  Karin reached for the dagger, fighting for a hold on it.

  Her attacker pulled at it. There was not much of a struggle; he was too strong.

  Whoosh!

  Had it happened? Had the blade pierced her?

  No, it now protruded from the headboard, just beside her head. How had he missed? Did he do so on purpose?

  Seizing the moment, she jerked away. But her hair caught and she fell back on the bed. Whether intentional or accidental, her attacker had driven the dagger into her braid, pinning her to the headboard.

  The attacker’s hand dropped over her mouth once more and he moved his body closer to hers. His face came down over hers. What was she to endure?

  "Karin!" his harsh voice said into her ear.

  She could hear little above her muffled screams. But her eyes widened at the sound of her name on his lips. Was he about to—?

  The door burst open.

  Karin could see nothing but the figure over her.

  A scream cut through the night. Had Mary come to her aid?

  The figure over Karin pulled up and turned toward the door.

  Run, Mary!

  Footfalls sounded in the hall. More rescuers?

  "Move away!" Stepan’s voice! It was forceful and angry.

  The weight of the intruder lifted.

  Mary was at her side as Karin sat up as much as she could against the headboard. "Milady, are you all right?"

  Karin nodded, unsure she believed it herself.

  Father was behind Mary.

  But Karin’s eyes sought out her rescuer.

  Stepan was on the other side of the room, pressing the intruder against a wall.

  Father reached for Mary's candle. He came behind Stepan, moving the flame toward the attacker’s face.

  "Luc!" Stepan gasped.

  "You will wish you had the sweet release of a dagger when I am through with you," Father ground out.

  Karin did not doubt this to be true. Father was mild-mannered enough, but he had a harsh streak and connections in many places. But right now her chest throbbed. It was all surreal.

  "Luc," Karin said as hot moisture poured from her eyes. "Why?"

  "I could not do it," Luc said through his own tears. "I could not do it...and I did not. I could not."

  Stepan kept his arm rigid. His elbow nearly at Luc’s throat.

  Other servants, who had bee
n roused by Karin's and Mary's screams, started to appear.

  Father instructed a couple of manservants to take charge of Luc and rouse the Viscount. He then exchanged a look with Stepan.

  As Luc was moved from the room, Stepan stepped to Karin’s bedside.

  Father exited, doing what he could to manage the growing crowd outside the room.

  Karin refocused on Mary. Her hand was on the daggar’s hilt, pulling. How long had she been trying to free the weapon?

  "Allow me," Stepan said to Mary, but his eyes sought out Karin's.

  Mary slid out of the way and shuffled across the room, but lingered.

  Stepan removed the knife with little trouble and Karin leaned into his waiting arms, releasing her fear and crying on his strong shoulder.

  "I was so scared. I thought he would kill me!" she cried, clinging to Stepan, careful of the bandage on his arm.

  He pulled her closer to his chest. "I know. Did he..." Stepan paused. "Did he hurt you?"

  She shook her head, burying her face in the warmth he offered. "No."

  "I should have been here to protect you."

  Karin found a smile for him. She wished, too, that he had been there, but it was not possible. Maneuvering her face so her cheek was against his shoulder, she said, "You cannot be in my bedchambers in the middle of the night."

  "I could if we were married."

  She pulled back. "What are you saying?"

  Stepan took her hands. "This may be the worst possible time, but I cannot hold back my wishes any longer. I love you, Karin. And I want you to be my wife. I want to be with you always—to care for you and protect you."

  Karin gasped. What could she say? She could not deny that a part of her had become fond of him. "Stepan, I do care for you a great deal..." Her words trailed. Could her mind work faster?

  "But?"

  "But my thoughts are spinning. I can’t think clearly.”

  He moved his hands up to her elbows, vying for her attention. "Tell me, dearest Karin, if you want to marry me." His voice was so soft, so gentle.

  Karin tried to find some clarity. The fact was that she would be married to Stepan. And she grew tired of fighting the inevitable. She had come to care for him...

  He drew in a breath and his features calmed. "Take the time you need," he said, caressing her face.

  Her eyes closed and she reveled in the feeling of his touch.

  Stepan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of her face.

  As he pulled away, Karin leaned forward and tilted her face to catch his lips. The kiss was gentle and sweet, not filled with the same kind of passion as when she kissed Pavel. But there was nothing wrong with gentle and sweet.

  When they parted, she spoke, "I don't need any more time, Stepan. My answer is yes."

  "Yes?" he asked as if he had not heard her.

  "Yes. Yes, I will marry you."

  * * *

  Stepan pulled Karin to himself for another kiss. As they broke apart, he enveloped her in his arms once again. She leaned heavily into his embrace.

  Soon after, he heard her breathing deepen and felt her body slacken in his arms. He lay her back down on the bed.

  It was only then he became aware that Karin’s maidservant had remained in the room. He motioned for her to finish settling Karin.

  The woman crossed the room and pulled the covers over her mistress’s form.

  Stepan watched, gazing at the woman he planned to make his wife. Once her handmaiden completed her ministrations, she would beckon him to retire from the bedchambers. As well she should. So he drank in the sight of Karin while the woman worked.

  Karin was rather alluring in rest, peaceful. She was free from the worries that had plagued her these last weeks.

  This was how he wanted to see her always—at peace. Now that she had agreed to wed, it would be his life's mission that this calm, unfettered rest would find her every day of their lives together.

  Karin’s handmaiden tucked the blanket around her mistress and stepped toward the candle. Was she preparing to extinguish all lights in the room?

  He turned away with reluctance to remove himself from Karin’s bedchambers, but with every hope his dreams would be filled with images of his bride-to-be.

  Chapter 11

  The Engagement

  Hoof steps drew the messenger closer to the residence of the Baron and Baroness Krejik. His journey had been easy and the weather good. It afforded him every opportunity to enjoy the beautiful vistas of the Czech landscape. Though his livelihood gave him many chances to see his country, he never tired of it and never ceased to be awed by the simple beauty.

  There were never-ending rounded hills, dotted with the lush greenery of trees and forests, broken up in places by homes. Hills rolled before him, while the distant mountain peaks reached toward the clear blue crystal of the skies. Those same skies in the dark gave way to a million diamonds twinkling overhead.

  He longed to one day visit those peaks. Would he be able to touch the stars? The scenery so captivated him that his travels seemed to rush by. Even now, he turned his horse through the entryway leading onto the vast estate of the Krejik home.

  The news he carried was neither urgent nor of ill tidings. Of this, he was grateful. He did not relish the idea of being the bearer of bad news—news which may shatter a life or break a heart. It was not that he was often privy to the messages he bore, but he happened to know the nature of this message. Yes, this was an announcement of the happiest kind.

  Often, he thought of his station in life, riding though all manner of weather to deliver the greetings, letters, secrets, and announcements of others. His life was different than that of household servants and peasants, but similar in the most essential way—his day-to-day life was not his own. Still, an important difference remained—he could lose himself in the countryside along the way.

  On these sometimes lengthy rides, he did wonder after his charges. As the horse crested a hill, he saw in a valley below the residence of the nobleman this message was intended for. So, as he often did, he thought about the man whose name was written on the letter he bore across so many miles. Who was he? What was his life like? What was he like, this Pavel Krejik?

  * * *

  The Baron and Baroness were sitting down to eat when they were interrupted by a servant bearing a missive. Marketa watched from her seat as the man pardoned himself, walked to Pavel, relinquished the letter, and stepped back. Did he await further instruction? What word did he bear?

  Pavel opened the folds of the papers and read, his features hardened as he did so.

  Was the news so concerning? What had disturbed him so?

  Pavel nodded to the courier and sent him on his way.

  "What is it?" Alexander asked, concern underlying his words.

  Pavel glanced toward him. "Stepan sends word. He announces his engagement to the Lady Karin Bornekova. We are invited to a ball honoring their coming wedding."

  "This is wonderful news!" his father said.

  Marketa beamed as well. This was good news indeed. Yet Pavel did not seem pleased. Stepan was his closest friend. Should he not be thrilled?

  "Pavel," she said from the other side of Alex, "Are you not glad for your friend?"

  "Of course, Mother."

  Alex’s eyes met Marketa’s. There was a knowing sadness there. Stepan and Pavel were indeed close and had done everything together. Did it bother Pavel to lose their friendship as it had always been?

  "Is this the same lady you mentioned? The one staying at the chateau?" Alex attempted to move the conversation along.

  Pavel nodded.

  "Pray then, tell us more about her. We are eager to hear about the future Viscountess."

  Marketa watched the emotions play across her son’s face. Why did it seem as if Pavel did not want to talk about this Lady Karin?

  "She is pleasant, graceful, intelligent. Karin is a capable horsewoman and an eager conversationalist."

  Was this young woman so
familiar to Pavel that he would speak her name so informally?

  "What a fine match Vlastik has made for his son!" Alex shot Marketa a look. "Such fine qualities for a noble wife."

  "Is she pretty?" Marketa tested the subject. She had to know more about the Lady Karin’s affect on her son.

  "Yes." Pavel's breath caught. "She has fine red hair, sparkling green eyes, fair, smooth skin..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes focused on something in the distance.

  Marketa's met her husband's eyes. Did Alex realize?

  She looked at Pavel and had nothing more to say. Would that she could pull him into her arms and kiss his hurts away as she had when he was a small boy. But there was no easy cure for his current ailment. Nothing but time would heal this wound.

  * * *

  Clearing his throat, Pavel returned to the present. His fingers rubbed the pages. There was more in the letter from Stepan. But it would have to wait.

  "I...I beg your forgiveness. I must excuse myself. I am suddenly unwell." It was the absolute truth—his heart ached. Would it break? This had been the first time since returning home he had allowed himself to conjure an image of Karin and dwell on it. And he found the wound as fresh as the day he left.

  Pavel stepped from the great hall and moved through the familiar hallways. He made the necessary turns almost without realizing. His mind was not on where his footsteps fell. As much as he might fight it, his thoughts were miles away, on memories of a certain lady who held his heart. This news of her had devastated his spirit.

  Had he not known it was coming? How could he have let it take him by surprise? Had he thought she would resist more? That she would never agree?

  He sighed, slowing and leaning against the nearest wall. She had no choice. Her future was in her father's hands, and Petr had made his intentions clear. This announcement was inevitable. Karin would be wed to Stepan.

  Pavel turned, his back to the wall. Was the worst yet to come? He would not be able to escape the wedding. Yes, he would have to see her again. Only this time, she would belong to Stepan.

  It was too much. How could he have the misfortune to fall in love with the woman who was to become his best friend's wife? There was only one place he could go to seek strength, one place to find some semblance of solace from the turmoil within.