Stolen Splendor (34 page)

She walked to the lodge, a giddy tightness in her
chest, her breath frozen in her throat. But when she pushed open the door and
stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the sunlit interior, Stefan was not there.
She couldn't even tell if anyone had been in the lodge since the week before—

A dry stick snapped outside, startling her.
"Stefan?" she called out, rushing from the lodge. She was greeted
only by the chirping of birds, perched high in the swaying branches of the
trees that encircled the logged building, and the gentle rustling of new
leaves, shimmering and waving in the sun.

Where could he be? Then she remembered something Isabel
had told her once about a favorite place of Stefan's, along an arm of the
Danube River that served as the northeastern boundary of their land. She had
said he used to spend many hours there as a boy, fishing or dreaming. She had
even caught him fencing at imaginary enemies, a wooden sword in his hand, one
day when she had ridden out to meet him.

Kassandra smiled faintly, conjuring up the scene, then
her thoughts returned quickly to the reason she had followed him here. But
where was this river? She had never seen it herself, for she never rode this
far north. She had no idea if it ran anywhere near the hunting lodge . . .

It must be close by, she reasoned. Otherwise Brand
would not be in the stable. She walked determinedly around the lodge, searching
for any sign of a path. She was rewarded when she spied a well-worn trail
leading through the dense woods at the rear of the lodge.

She began to follow it, almost running, a sense of
urgency spurring her on. The trail wound through the forest for a short way,
skirted a wide clearing, and finally sloped back into the trees and down a
gradual hill. She could hear the sound of rushing water growing louder and
louder, yet she was hardly prepared for the majesty of the river when she came
upon it, a winding torrent of light and vibrant color. She leaned against a
tree while she caught her breath, her eyes wide as she drank in the stunning
view.

Sunlight sparkled upon the water, interwoven streaks of
gold broken only by the white-flecked current, a splashing fish, or a gusting
breeze. Reflected in its depths was a sky of azure blue. Lush green grass
covered the rolling banks, like a velvet carpet falling into the water, and
towering trees lined ragged shores—

Kassandra's heart pitched as her wide-eyed gaze
suddenly fell upon Stefan. He was sitting with his back to her almost at the
edge of a grassy knoll overlooking the river, a short distance from where she
stood.

Quelling a rush of apprehension, she pushed away from
the tree. She moved slowly behind him, her footfalls masked by the soft grass.
She could tell he was lost in thought, his arms around a raised knee, his other
leg stretched out in front of him. It was only when she laid her hand gently
upon his shoulder that he started in surprise and jumped to his feet, whirling
to face her.

"Kassandra! What the devil?" he shouted. He
eyed her warily. "What are you doing here?"

She hesitated a moment. She had so much to say to him,
to explain to him . . . she didn't know how to begin. She took a tentative step
toward him, her eyes locking with his own.

"I've come to meet the man who has won my
love," she murmured evenly, ignoring the fierce beating of her heart.

Stefan winced, his face darkening. So this must have been
where she would meet her lover, he thought angrily. How ironic that she had
discovered this particular spot on the river, his favorite sanctuary, for her
liaisons. How fitting. But, damn it all, why did she have to torture him? Did
she hate him so much she would now flaunt her lover before him?

He turned to study the shoreline. There was no sign of
anyone yet. He looked back at her, consumed with barely controlled rage. No! He
would not have it. Elsewhere perhaps, but not on his land, and not here.

"If the man is fool enough to trespass on my
land," Stefan grated, "he will surely face the sting of my
sword."

Kassandra couldn't
breathe,
the force of his pain almost too much to bear. She saw it reflected in his
eyes, the gray depths that could stir her with only a casual glance; she read
it in the taut stance of his powerful body and in his expression, his ruggedly
handsome features set, implacable, strangely pale despite his bronzed skin. How
she had hurt him. How they had hurt each other. She had to choose her words
carefully, carefully . . .

"If that is so," she said softly, "then
you will be plunging your blade into your own heart."

Stefan stood motionless, his blood roaring in his ears.
When he spoke at last, his voice was a dangerous whisper. "So you mock me
even now, Kassandra
. "

"No!" she exclaimed, rushing up to him and
placing her fingers upon his lips. "Never." He flinched at her touch,
seizing her wrist in a cruel grip.

Kassandra winced against the pain but held her ground,
her chin trembling as she shook her head. "There has never been another
man, Stefan," she murmured. "Only you."

He quaked at her words, shaken to the very depths of
his soul. Ever so gradually, as the agonizing torment ebbed from his body, his
grip loosened. His eyes burned into her own as he brought her hand to his
mouth, his lips searing into her flesh as he kissed her open palm.
"Kassandra . . ." he moaned raggedly, his arm encircling her waist,
drawing her close. "Kassandra . . ."

She lifted her hand to his bent head, her fingers
stroking his thick black hair. "I love you, Stefan."

His mouth captured her own before she could draw a
breath. He kissed her with all the passion he possessed, yet with infinite
tenderness, saying without words what was etched indelibly upon his heart.
Nothing else mattered, no explanations, no apologies . . . only the kiss they
shared. The past was forgotten, lost in the face of impassioned forgiveness,
and there was only the future, shining before them.

With an exultant cry, Stefan picked her up in his arms,
her feet dangling off the ground. They twirled around and around, a wild shower
of kisses raining upon cheeks, eyelids, tips of noses, smiling lips. Incredible
joy, the sweetest rapture . . . they were drunk with it, giddy,
then
it seemed the ground moved from beneath them, and they
were falling through space—

Kassandra shrieked in shock as they hit the cold water
with a mighty splash, her cry cut off when she sank beneath the sunlit surface.
Then she was catapulted upward by Stefan's strong arms, sputtering and gasping
for air as she emerged from the shoulder-high depths. Stunned, she gaped at him
through spiky lashes, her chest heaving, her teeth chattering,
her
riding habit a sodden weight upon her chilled body. He
was as drenched as she, rivulets running down his face, his clothes molded to
the rugged breadth of his shoulders and chest. And he was grinning from ear to
ear.

"It appears, my lady, that I . . . misjudged . . .
the shoreline!" he gasped, holding her close against him to prevent the strong
underlying currents from forcing them apart. He kissed her with a loud smack, a
low chuckle rumbling in his throat. Then he threw back his head and laughed
uproariously, the deep, rich peals echoing all around them.

Kassandra thrilled at the sound, joining in,
her
bright laughter merging with his own. It felt so good to
laugh, to love! She entwined her arms around his neck as he lifted her easily
in his arms and waded to shore against the tugging current, climbing onto the
sloping bank, where he sank to his knees and set her gently upon the soft
grass.

He fell beside her and rolled onto his back, wiping his
hands across his face and through his hair. They lay there for a few moments,
staring up into the wide blue sky, their panting breaths punctuated by short
bursts of laughter.

Kassandra threw her arms above her head, luxuriating in
the golden warmth of the sun through her soaked clothing. But the mid-April
breeze was cool. She shivered, her teeth still chattering.

"I . . . I w-wonder what Isabel and . . . m-my . .
. father . . . will think when
th-
they see us,"
she stammered, glancing at Stefan with a quivering smile.

"They'll be none the wiser," Stefan answered
enigmatically, sitting up. He bent over her and planted a warm, lingering kiss
on her chilled lips, then drew away and rose to his feet. He held out his hand
to her. "Come with me, Kassandra."

With a puzzled look she took his hand. He pulled her up
beside him, and they walked back to the grassy knoll where he had been sitting.
He picked up his light woolen cloak and wrapped it securely around her
shoulders. Then they set out hand in hand along the trail to the hunting lodge.
The walk seemed much shorter going back, despite numerous pauses for breathless
kisses, and soon they were standing just outside the lodge.

Kassandra gasped in surprise as he swept her in his
arms and carried her through the door, standing ajar, just as she had left it.
He kicked it shut and set her down in the middle of the floor, then moved to
the fireplace. In a matter of minutes, tiny orange flames were licking at the
dry kindling and logs piled high upon the grates.

Stefan rose to his feet and shrugged off his drenched
outercoat, his fingers working at the buttons on his sodden waistcoat.
"Take off your clothes, Kassandra, and we'll dry them in front of the
fireplace," he murmured with his back to her.

With a deep laugh he removed his boots and poured the
water from them into a bucket, before setting them aside, then draped his
dripping garments over a chair near the fire. That left only his breeches. He
turned, unfastening the row of vertical buttons, but stopped at the stricken
look on Kassandra's face. She was still standing in the middle of the room, a
small puddle forming around her feet.

Kassandra's skin fired hotly at his startled
expression, and she lowered her eyes, embarrassed. She felt like such a fool!
But when he began to undress, she could not quell the hint of fear that this
was all a dream. Scarcely a week had passed, and now suddenly everything was so
different between them. Things were happening so fast! She needed some time
before . . . before . . .

She blushed bright pink, so lost in her confused
thoughts,
she didn't hear him walk up to her. She started as
he gently lifted her chin, his eyes searching her own.

"Kassandra, we have all the time in the
world," Stefan murmured soothingly, as if he had read her mind.
"There is no need to rush things. When you are ready, we'll both know it.
It's enough for now that we love." He bent and tenderly kissed her flushed
cheek. "If you'd like, I shall turn my back and close my eyes as you
undress," he offered with a playful smile, "and I'll leave these
on." He glanced down at his breeches. "Agreed?"

Kassandra nodded, blinking back the tears swimming in
her eyes as Stefan walked to the fireplace and leaned his muscled arms on the
mantel. She cast off his cloak and undressed quickly, peeling off layer after
layer of soaked clothing, her riding coat, wide skirt, petticoat, chemise,
boots, stockings. She hung everything on the other high-backed chair, propping
her boots beside Stefan's.

"Why don't you wrap yourself in a fur, my
love," Stefan suggested, sensing she was near him. It was all he could do
to keep his eyes closed, knowing what a fetching sight she must be. But he was
determined not to betray her trust, despite the burning ache in his loins.
"There are plenty on the bed."

Kassandra's gaze darted from his face, his striking
profile highlighted in the glow of the flames, his eyelids tightly shut, to the
bed. She ran across the floor and seized a soft fur, whirling it around her
shoulders and clutching it to her body. She turned from the bed, and was about
to tell him he could open his eyes, but the words died on her lips.

Her heart pounded wildly as her gaze traveled along the
powerful length of his body, from the broad span of his shoulders, the muscles
firm and knotted, his black hair falling to just below his nape, to the
sculpted definition of his back, tapering to a slim waist, banded with muscle.
His breeches, wet and molded to his lower body like a second skin, did little
to hide the taut outline of his buttocks and the strength of his thighs . . .

Kassandra shivered, a rush of liquid desire tingling
from her scalp to her toes. These were the thoughts of a woman, and here she
was acting like a frightened child. This was not a dream. Stefan was
real,
of flesh and blood . . . He was her love, the air she
breathed. She didn't need more time to tell her that. She needed his arms about
her, the warm pressure of his lips upon her own, his touch . . .

"Stefan?" she murmured, her voice barely
above a whisper. She tensed as he turned, her breathing shallow, her lips
parted. His bronzed body was outlined in an aura of flame, magnificent, virile,
and she could not tear her eyes away. Her hands loosened their hold on the fur
and it drifted along her skin to the floor, the whisper-soft sensation exciting
her beyond measure. She moaned faintly, crying out in yearning for this one man.
She stretched out her arms, wanting him, wanting him . . .

For a moment Stefan could only gaze at her, mesmerized
by the startling vision she made. Her porcelain beauty was awash in gold from
the warm sunlight streaming through the windows, her damp hair clinging to the
lithe curves of her body and down her back, streaking across her high, pouting
breasts. She swayed slightly, and something winked and sparkled between the
tempting hollow, the jeweled locket he had given her.

Diamonds, rubies—they paled beside her loveliness, he
thought fleetingly. She was the rarest jewel, with facets of fire-gold and
cream, brilliant amethyst and palest rose, goddess, woman . . . perfection. And
she was his.