Stolen Splendor (12 page)

Kassandra bit her tongue against a bitter retort. Play
the part, she admonished herself. Remember, there is nothing more between you
than your recent acquaintance.

"Not at all," she replied, smiling brightly, her
heart thumping against her breast as she was struck again by his dark good
looks. He smiled back, his teeth a flash of white against his bronzed face.

"Good," Stefan said, matching his destrier's
pace to that of the mare's as they set off at a walk. "I was hoping for a
chance to offer an apology for my behavior last night at the reception."

Stunned by this statement, Kassandra felt her skin
flush with sudden warmth. She kept her eyes trained on the winding road before
them, fearful that he might see her discomfort. "An apology, my
lord?"

"Yes, for what happened in the garden,"
Stefan replied easily. "I was certain I had seen you somewhere before, but
of course, that's impossible. I'm only surprised you didn't mention to Isabel
that we had already met, so to speak, in the garden."

Kassandra swallowed, her mouth suddenly gone dry. What
game was he playing?
she
wondered. "I saw no
need," she finally managed, glancing at him. "It was an error easily
made in the dark, and certainly not worthy of mention. But I do accept your
apology, Stefan." She turned away, flustered, and rubbed the coarse hairs
along the mare's neck. Strange, that was the first time she had called him by
his given name.

Stefan sat back in the saddle, studying her exquisite
profile. It seemed he was getting no further in unraveling the mystery. First
Zoltan had insisted that Kassandra had never been out of his sight during that
day in the city, and now his apology had scarcely raised a slim eyebrow, let
alone the indignant outburst he had expected. What could he possibly say . .
.

"I wonder what you must think of me," he
began, "after stumbling upon such a, well, such an indelicate situation in
the garden—"

"Isabel told me you were something of a rogue, so
I am not surprised you would choose such a place for a tryst," Kassandra
cut him off flippantly, doing her best to conceal her true feelings. If he only
knew what she really thought of him! "And from what I have heard of
Viennese gentlemen, it seems discretion is not a valued trait." With that,
she spurred her mare into a trot, then a fast gallop. "I thought you
wanted to ride, my lord," she tossed over her shoulder.

Stefan's eyes gleamed with amusement, following
Kassandra's lithe figure riding low on her mare as the animal raced across an
open field. "You have won this match," he murmured to himself with
admiration, undeterred that she had bested him once again. "But there will
be others." After all, he thought fleetingly, the chase was nearly as
exciting as the quarry . . .

Stefan dug his heel into the stallion's glistening
flank and the mighty animal leaped forward, bolting from the road into the
field.

Chapter 11

Stefan tore up the perfumed letter, the second he had
received by messenger that morning from Sophia, and tossed it into the bright
orange flames blazing in the fireplace. He watched silently as the ivory paper
curled and blackened at the edges, then was consumed in a puff of acrid smoke.

Fool! You should have told her by
now,
Stefan berated himself, running a hand through his thick hair. It had been
going on like this for two weeks, ever since the day after the reception.
Letters, some written in a furious pique, some seductively suggestive, some
desperately pleading, had been arriving every day from Sophia, and all of them
contained the same message. When, and where, could they meet?

Stefan turned from the fireplace in frustration. If
only Sophia had been at the Hofburg when he had returned that night to fetch
Isabel, instead of having left unexpectedly with her husband, the archduke,
who'd
suddenly
taken ill. Then the matter would have
been settled. Instead, she still had no inkling that their affair was over. He
had been so busy catching up on matters concerning the estate, and with his
much more pleasurable task of keeping a watchful eye on Kassandra, that he had
hardly a moment to write Sophia a letter in reply.

But the end of their alliance was hardly something he
could discuss in a letter, Stefan thought, shaking his head. Sophia deserved
more than that. He would have to visit her at the von Starenberg estate later
that day, after his meeting with Prince Eugene at his palace on
Himmelpfortgasse within the city walls, and tell her himself. He would be gone
the better part of the afternoon, and maybe into the early evening . . . a long
time to be away from Kassandra. But there was no help for it.

Stefan walked over to a massive table with intricately
carved legs, its dark, polished surface strewn with papers and rolled maps. He
leaned on it for a long moment, his eyes barely focusing. His mind conjured
forth a stirring image of flashing amethyst eyes fringed by lush, gold-tipped
lashes, and smiling red lips. Kassandra . . . He clenched his jaw angrily, then
with a sudden movement swept his arm across the table, sending maps tumbling to
the floor and papers scattering high in the air, only to drift down and settle
in disarray upon the woven carpet.

Damn, little good that's done! Stefan raged, shocked at
his own anger. He sat down heavily in his leather chair, rubbing his forehead with
his hand. What was she doing to him? It was as if he was beginning to doubt his
instincts, and the heated memory that had driven him since that afternoon in
the tavern. He was obsessed with a need to know the truth!

During the past two weeks, he had rarely let Kassandra
out of his sight. He rode with her in the morning, entertained her in the
library with tales of his travels and life as a soldier, joined her on the long
walks she favored, accompanied her and Isabel into Vienna on several shopping
trips—the pastime he least enjoyed!—and yet through it all she had given him no
further sign that she was the woman who had so bewitched him. Not an
expression, not a gesture, not a misspoken word—nothing!

Exasperated, Stefan rose from the chair and strode over
to the window, planting his legs wide apart and crossing his arms as he looked
out over the wide expanse of the snow-covered lawn. The first snow of the
season had fallen last night, blanketing the landscape in a thin veil of white,
the bare branches of the trees glistening like spun crystal under a transparent
sheen of ice. No doubt it would melt soon. The bright morning sun was warm on
his face through the windowpane, and already the snow on the curved drive was
fast receding, clear rivulets of icy water streaking the packed dirt.

Best to set off for Vienna before the roads become a
sea of mud, Stefan thought, sighing heavily. He glanced at the ornate clock on
the shelf of a mahogany bookcase. His meeting with Prince Eugene was scheduled
for half past eleven, barely two hours away. He had yet to dress in his dark
blue uniform and, he scowled, noting the papers lying on the floor, reorganize
the documents he needed for the meeting. He bent on one knee, quickly gathering
up the rolled maps and papers.

Of one thing he was sure, he thought darkly,
straightening to his feet and sorting through the documents. He would wait no
longer for an admission from Kassandra. When he returned from Vienna he would
confront her with the memory that was driving him mad, and if she denied it,
perhaps her kiss would decide the matter once and for all.

***

Kassandra sat in the middle of her bed with her knees
pulled up under her chin, her voluminous morning gown wrapped snugly about her,
one stockinged foot tapping nervously on the satin bedspread. She could swear
it had been almost an hour since Stefan had left the estate on his horse,
Brand, an hour that had passed like an eternity as she forced herself to wait
before making the slightest move. Although she knew he had gone into Vienna for
a meeting with his commander, Prince Eugene, she wasn't about to take the
chance that he might return unexpectedly.

It was the first time Stefan had left the estate by himself
in two weeks, two confusing weeks that had been an ever-increasing torment for
her. It had not taken her long to figure out that Isabel had assigned Stefan
the task of being her guardian. Berdine, having heard it from Gisela, had
confirmed her suspicions in a burst of giggling chatter.

From their first ride together the morning after the
reception Stefan had dogged her every step, becoming a constant companion who,
Kassandra loathed to admit, both infuriated her and excited her. His very
presence was so powerfully masculine, so compelling, that her firm resolve to
hate him was shaken every time they were together. She despised him for what he
had done to her, yet she could not deny she was overwhelmingly attracted to
him, beset by a scorching desire that was beyond her understanding. The aching
memory of that afternoon haunted her every waking moment and filled her nights
with unwanted dreams of his caress . . .

Kassandra shook her head and sprang from the bed. No,
she would not think of him anymore! Especially not now, when she at last had
her chance to rid herself of the garments hidden in the stable. She shrugged
off her morning gown and tossed it on the bed, already dressed in her warm
woolen riding habit. She ran to her closet and threw open the door, quickly
pulling on her leather boots,
then
she whirled the new
cape Isabel had bought her about her shoulders. Fastening it securely, she
lifted the fur-lined hood over her head and hurried to the door.

At least Isabel is still sleeping, she thought gratefully,
running lightly down the stairs. And Gisela was in Vienna at the market, so no
one was here to spy upon her. She exhaled sharply as she stepped outside, the
sharp, cold air taking her breath away. But the warm sun on her face lifted her
spirits, and she walked briskly along the path leading to the stable.

"Hans?" she called when she reached the
stable yard. She received no answer; a strange quiet hung over the place. Then
she remembered Stefan had given the stableboys, several of the drivers, and
other workers from the estate a free day to spend as they wished after laboring
so long and hard in preparation for the coming winter.

No matter, she thought. She knew how to saddle a horse.
She walked into the dark stable, silent but for the low rustling of horses in
their stalls and an occasional whinny.

"Hello, girl," she said softly, stepping
gingerly into a wide stall. The roan mare turned at the sound of her voice,
nickering in greeting, and nudged Kassandra with her velvety nose.

"There you go," Kassandra murmured, reaching
deep into the pocket of her skirt and pulling out a carrot stub. "I saved
it just for you." As the mare munched contentedly, she hoisted the
lightweight saddle onto her back,
then
fastened the
girth below her belly. Lastly she drew the bridle over the mare's head, patting
the white spot on her forehead,
then
led her from the
stall.

Kassandra tethered the mare and ran over to the wall,
exhaling with relief when she dug below the pile of straw and found the roll of
clothing still there. Thankfully the stableboys had not found it. She tucked it
under her arm and hurried back to the mare, then eased up on the saddle.
Clucking softly, she ducked her head as they left the stable. At first the
bright sunlight on the white snow blinded her,
then
they were off across the stable yard and along the road, the mare prancing
friskily as they eased into a canter.

"Whoa, girl," Kassandra commanded, pulling up
hard on the reins as the mare instinctively veered into the open field just off
the road. "We're going this way today." She turned the mare in the
opposite direction, heading her down an incline through a ditch drifted high
with snow,
then
into the thick woods that she knew
stretched for miles on this side of the road. It would be a far more secluded
place to bury the clothing, and the cover of the trees would lessen the chance
of being seen by anyone.

The forest was so dense that she had to slow to a walk,
carefully winding around the trunks of towering
trees
and dodging fallen branches. She had never been this way before, and on any
other day might have feared becoming lost. But it had snowed last night, and
the mare's hoofprints made a welcome guide for the journey back.

Kassandra allowed herself to relax after several
moments, the hushed quiet of the surrounding woods lulling her senses and
easing the nervous tension that gripped her body. She allowed the mare to
choose her own path while she looked around her at the glistening wonder of the
winter scene.

"It's so beautiful . . ." she breathed,
smiling as a pair of plump white-tailed rabbits hopped along the ground just in
front of them, diving under the cover of a snow-laden thicket as the mare
snorted and tossed her head in surprise. Two pair of velvet-brown eyes peeked
out from beneath the low-lying branches, black noses and whiskers quivered,
their furred bodies poised for flight.

The ground was crisscrossed with what seemed like
hundreds of tracks. Squirrel, birds, rabbits, and deer; an intricate mosaic of
forest life. Stefan had told her it was a favorite pastime for him to venture
into the woods, not so much for hunting but for the solitude it offered—

Kassandra frowned, amazed at how quickly her thoughts
flew back to Stefan. Her hands tightened on the reins once again. The man was
such an infuriating contradiction! One day a rogue, with that taunting smile
and hint of challenge in his eyes she remembered so vividly from the garden,
and then the days thereafter a gentleman of gallantry, wit, and intelligence,
with a droll sense of humor—the many qualities Isabel had so highly praised.