Stolen Splendor (6 page)

"Oh, aye, miss!" the driver blurted, shutting
the door firmly. He jumped into his seat and snapped his whip above the heads
of his horses.

"Hold there, man, I thought I paid you to
wait," a rotund gentleman called out, hurrying from the coffeehouse.
"What's going on—
"

"Sorry, milord, but this lady here says she's in a
hurry," the driver shouted with a laugh as the carriage clattered down the
street at a devil's pace.

Kassandra stared out anxiously from the window, unable
to relax even as the cursed tavern was left farther and farther behind. Would
Zoltan still be at the cathedral?
she
wondered. She
could tell it was well past four o'clock. The streetlamps were already lit
along the darkening streets.

Kassandra sighed heavily. She could only hope he had
not yet returned to the estate and raised an alarm over her disappearance.
There would be hell to pay for this misadventure if Isabel had already returned
from the royal gala to find her missing.

If only she had not lost her cloak, Kassandra thought
miserably. Then she might at least be able to hide her wretched appearance. She
looked down at her gown, her fingers quickly working through the tangles in her
hair. There really wasn't anything she could do about it, she told herself
resignedly, except brush off some of the dirt. The jagged tear in the skirt was
another matter. How would she ever explain it?

"Damn him," Kassandra muttered under her
breath, her amethyst eyes flashing fire.

She shook her head fiercely. No, you will not think of
him anymore!
she
vowed with defiance. You will put
this whole experience from your mind and pretend it never happened. Yet even as
she made her vow, her skin burned with the unwanted memory of his caress; her
lips, bruised and swollen, ached from the savagery of his kiss.

Kassandra closed her eyes tightly and slammed her fist
upon the velvet seat, willing the seething memories from her mind. But she
could not forget the blazing heat of his eyes, flint gray with just a hint of
blue. They were like a hot brand searing into her even now, a scorching
reflection of his all-encompassing desire . . . forever etched upon her
memory.

"We're almost there, milady." The carriage
driver leaned to one side and shouted down to her. Kassandra started, his voice
jarring into her tormented thoughts, flushing her body with apprehension.

"Please, please let Zoltan still be waiting,"
she murmured fervently, peering out the window at the massive cathedral, its
twin spires piercing the twilight sky.

"Whoa! Whoa, there," the driver commanded as
the carriage rumbled to a stop.

Kassandra opened the door and stepped onto the street
just as the driver jumped from his seat. "My thanks," she said,
dropping the three gold coins into his hand and searching anxiously for the
familiar carriage. She began to walk toward the main entrance of the cathedral,
the driver forgotten.

He's gone back to the estate without me, Kassandra
thought resignedly, her heart sinking as she surveyed the deserted cathedral
square.

"Lady Kassandra!"

She whirled sharply, the sound of Zoltan's gruff voice
filling her with elation. She spied the von Furstenberg carriage waiting by the
side door of the cathedral and ran toward it.

"Milady, what kept
ye
?"
Zoltan asked
,
his face etched with worry. His gaze
moved over her, quickly taking in her bedraggled appearance. "It's almost
six o'clock. I didn't know whether to leave and fetch help, else stay
here
and wait awhile longer."

Kassandra flushed at his frank perusal, inwardly
cursing again the man who had so wantonly disrupted her life. "Please,
Zoltan, I'm fine," she assured him, her mind racing. She wanted to avoid
the question in his eyes, but she had to offer him some explanation for her
tardiness. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting . . . but I—" She stopped.
She simply could not think of any plausible excuse.

No, Kassandra decided. It was better to say nothing.
She looked steadily at the burly Hungarian, her eyes pleading for his
understanding—and his silence. "Please, Zoltan, I would like to return to
the estate at once."

Zoltan cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting his
feet,
then
slowly nodded. "Aye, milady, as you
wish." He whipped his great cloak from around his shoulders and wrapped it
about her. "You'll need this, milady. The night is growing cold." He
looked away for a moment, embarrassed,
then
turned
back to her. "You may return it to me on the morrow."

Kassandra smiled faintly, tears springing to her eyes.
"You have my thanks, Zoltan," she murmured, taking his proffered arm
as he helped her into the carriage. She slumped against the seat, her body limp
with exhaustion, wanting nothing more at that moment than to be safely
back
at the von Furstenberg estate.

Chapter 6

Kassandra hurried up the winding marble steps of the
grand staircase, Zoltan's great cloak swirling about her. So far she had been
lucky. The only person she had seen since her arrival at the estate a few
moment ago had been the footman. He had informed her that Countess Isabel had
not yet returned from the gala, another stroke of good fortune.

She made her way quickly down the corridor to her
chamber, clutching the cloak tightly under her chin. It dragged at least a foot
upon the floor behind her, frustrating any illusion that it might belong to
her, but at least she was almost to her door. She reached out, grasping the
ornate doorknob.

"Lady Kassandra, I'm so glad to see that you have
returned! I was growing concerned about you. Were you able to complete your
errands?"

Kassandra's shoulders slumped, her hand falling from
the knob. She turned around, forcing a smile to her lips. "Yes, Gisela,
thank you," she said evenly, as Isabel's maid closed the distance between
them. "Now if you will excuse me . .
. "

Gisela's sharp gaze fell from Kassandra's face to the
cloak she wore, a sudden frown creasing her forehead. "Milady, forgive me
if I seem impertinent, but is that not the coachman's garb?"

"Ah . . . yes, it is," Kassandra answered, a
story swiftly forming in her mind. She looked steadily at Gisela, forcing her
voice to remain calm. "My cloak was caught under the wheel of a carriage
earlier today and ripped from my shoulders. It was a shame, really, for it was
completely ruined."

"How terrible!" Gisela
interjected,
her eyes wide with shock. "Surely you could have been hurt, milady."

"Yes, I suppose I was lucky," she lied. It
seemed this entire day was composed of lies, she thought guiltily. "I
simply left it where it fell in the mud. Zoltan kindly offered me the use of
his cloak for the rest of the day."

Gisela clucked her tongue in sympathy. "Well,
miss, at least you are unharmed. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Kassandra breathed an inner sigh of relief that her
story had satisfied the inquisitive maid. "Yes, Gisela. A bath would be
very nice. It has been a long day." Truly, she could hardly wait to bathe,
to rid herself once and for all of the scent of that man! It clung to her,
reminding her of him, when all she wanted to do was forget.

"Of course, milady. And I'll bring up a warm
brandy for you to sip," Gisela offered kindly. She turned and bustled down
the hallway.

Kassandra opened the door to her chamber, grateful to
see the familiar turquoise and cream surroundings. She was safe at last. She
pulled the heavy cloak from her shoulders and laid it over a chair, then
quickly stripped the soiled gown from her body, along with her remaining
clothing, kicked off her shoes, and rolled the gray stockings down her long
legs. Hastily she folded everything together in one pile and hid it in a far
corner of her closet, beneath a stack of oval hatboxes.

She would have to dispose of the gown later, she
thought with distaste. It was damaged beyond repair, and besides, she wanted no
further reminders of this disastrous adventure.

Kassandra pinned up her thick hair,
then
donned a robe of blue satin, absently tying the sash. Her reflection in the
full-length mirror caught her eye and she paused for a moment, gazing at
herself.

Strange, you don't look any different, she mused
grimly. Yet she knew she would never be the same. Her only consolation was that
there was little chance she would ever see the soldier again. Vienna was a
large city. People came and went like the wind, especially common soldiers,
passing through the city on their way to the fighting in the East, or bound for
their homes in faraway regions of the Hapsburg Empire.

"No, your secret is safe," Kassandra
whispered to her reflection. Even if she could never forget what had happened
that day, it would be a memory of stolen passion that would surely fade with
time.

A sudden chilling thought struck her, her eyes
darkening to a deep violet hue. What if there was a child? It was possible . .
.

She turned abruptly from the mirror, her slender
fingers rubbing her aching temples. No, she could not think of it!

A firm rap at the door broke into Kassandra's roiling
thoughts. "Yes? What is it?" she snapped, her emotions at a near
breaking point. Then she shook her head, drawing a deep breath. It would not do
for her to appear overly upset, for that would only encourage more of Gisela's
prying questions.

"It is only your bath, milady," Gisela
responded stiffly, as if affronted by Kassandra's tone. But, observing the
paleness of the young woman's features, she relented. "Please, Lady
Kassandra, if you would sit and rest until your bath is ready," she
murmured, gesturing toward the chair.

Kassandra nodded, following her suggestion. She watched
silently as Gisela opened the door wide for several maidservants, who carried
in steaming buckets of hot water. They returned again and again, pouring them
into the large porcelain-lined tub set behind an oriental screen in a far
corner of the room, until it was filled. Then Gisela liberally splashed some
perfumed oil into the water, lastly
unwrapping
a fresh
cake of hard-milled soap and setting it in a dish on a low table beside the
tub.

Assured that all was in order, she hurried to the door.
"I will return in a few moments with your brandy. Enjoy your bath,
milady."

"There is no need to rush, Gisela," Kassandra
murmured. She smiled her thanks as the maid closed the door behind her, then
she tested the water with her toe, the robe slipping to the floor as she
stepped gingerly into the tub.

"Hmmm . . ." Kassandra murmured contentedly.
The warm water felt so wonderful. She
lay
her head
against the tub, the tension gradually fading from her mind. After a few
relaxing moments, she rubbed the soap in a soft cloth until it was thick with
lather,
then
ran it along one slim arm, luxuriating in
the heady jasmine fragrance.

A sudden commotion in the hallway just outside her
chamber startled Kassandra. She sat bolt upright in the tub, the soapy cloth
slipping from her hand into the water. "What!" she gasped in surprise
as the door burst open and hit the wall behind it with a resounding thud.

"Kassandra, what is this I hear of you almost
being killed?" Isabel cried, sweeping into the room in great agitation.
She crossed the floor in a flurry, her velvet cape flaring behind her, her
skirts swishing and swaying from her rapid movement. "Oh, forgive me,"
she murmured, blushing. "Gisela didn't say you were taking a bath."
She moved to the other side of the screen, allowing Kassandra some privacy.

"I simply told Gisela—"

"I just met Gisela in the hall. She told me all
about your terrible brush with death," Isabel rushed on, clearly horrified
by what she had heard. She paced back and forth. "A carriage, you say. Did
you see the driver, or the coat of arms, perhaps? We should report this to the
authorities at once! Oh dear, what would Miles say if he knew such a thing had
happened?"

Isabel paused for breath, glancing reproachfully in
Kassandra's direction. "I thought you said you were going for a ride
today, not into Vienna on errands. And Gisela said you refused an escort. Oh,
Kassandra, I am simply stunned that you could go into the city by yourself!
Especially with all the soldiers about, now that the Imperial army has
returned."

Clearly exasperated, Isabel plopped into a nearby
chair, a difficult task due to the stiff whalebone hoopskirt beneath her gown.
She held her skirts down as best she could, her voice betraying her irritation.
"This fashion is so impossible," she blurted.

Kassandra could have laughed out loud, a welcome urge
after such a day. But the feeling quickly passed, a sense of irony gripping her
in its place. Yes, there had been soldiers in the city, much to her misfortune.

"If you will give me just a moment, Isabel,"
she called out, rinsing the soap suds from her body. With a sigh, she rose out
of the tub and grabbed the thick towel draped over the screen, quickly buffing
herself dry. Then she snatched her satin robe from the floor and wrapped it
about her. Stepping from behind the screen, she was struck by the color of
Isabel's eyes, usually a lively blue but now so clouded with concern that they
appeared more gray . . . flint gray.

That's odd, Kassandra thought, a chill coursing through
her. They were so much like . . . Then she dismissed the unsettling
coincidence. What she obviously needed was a good rest, as soon as she appeased
Isabel.

Kassandra sat down in the chair adjacent to Isabel's.
"I don't know what Gisela told you, Isabel, but the incident was really
nothing. A slight scare, that's all. I will simply have to be more careful in
crossing the streets."