A Sister's Quest (16 page)

He swept the pages he had been writing on into a drawer. “Never come in here while I am working, Michelle. Never!” He put his face close to hers. “Do you understand?”

“I understand. You can disturb me as you wish, but I must not speak to you without your permission.”

His hand under her chin tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Sorrow edged his voice. “How can I keep you safe if you sneak in and see things you should not see?”

“Things? What things?”

“Don't ask questions I cannot answer,
Liebchen
.” He caressed her cheek. “You must trust me on this.”

“Trust is not something you inspire.”

He smiled. “Enjoy your time in Vienna and your flirtation with Prince Charming. Do the work I need you to do, but keep your life separate from mine.” With a sigh, he released her and sat again at the desk.

Michelle blinked back tears. Never had she seen anyone so alone. She took a step toward him, wanting to put her arms around him and offer him comfort … and more.

His head snapped up, his practiced smile once more in place. “What did you want before I went off in a pelter?”

“To tell you that Rusak and I are leaving for Herr Professor Waldstein's school now.”

“Do not forget you must be back to meet Prince Charming later.”

“I would not forget something like that.”

His eyes dimmed for a single heartbeat. With regret? she wanted to ask, but he gave her no chance, telling her to enjoy her afternoon.

Michelle recognized his dismissal. She walked out, closing the door behind her. As it shut, she saw him open the drawer and pull out the sheets, his frown returning. Whatever he was writing did not please him.

She wondered if anything—or anyone—could.

The school was in a crowded part of the old city. As Michelle watched the lovely buildings pass by, she sighed. She hoped the day would take a turn for the better.

The carriage slowed in front of an unadorned stone building. She must not show her distress. Rusak was already unnerved enough. That a man who had faced his enemies boldly was afraid of going to school did not surprise her. It was a world unlike any he had ever known. By the time Rusak opened the carriage door, she had pasted a fake smile on her lips.

“Ready?” she asked lightly.

He nodded.

She said nothing as he handed her out of the carriage almost as gracefully as Alexei. She was glad for his help as they walked up the icy steps to the house's door.

Rusak hesitated, and Michelle lifted the heavy brass knocker twice. She watched Rusak, who kept looking back at the carriage as if he wanted to flee.

A dour-faced woman opened the door. She nodded when Michelle greeted her.

“Yes,” the woman said. “Herr Professor Waldstein is expecting you. This way.”

She led them toward the back of the house. As they reached the end of the dark corridor, a door opened to spray the passage with sunshine. A little girl emerged, regarded them with wide eyes, and then scurried toward the front door.

“
Grüss Gott
,” called Herr Professor Waldstein. “Exactly on time. It is a pleasure to see you again, Fraulein D'Orage. Come in and bring your friend with you.”

As she drew off her cloak, Michelle stared about her. This room resembled her own classroom with its books and papers as well as tables for the students. Scents of ink teased her. The room was drenched in sunlight from the large window overlooking the street. Until now, she had not realized how much she missed teaching. The laughter of her students, their bright eyes when they understood, their ruffled brows when they did not.

Smiling, she turned to Rusak, who remained by the door. “Herr Professor Waldstein, I would like to introduce Feodor Rusak. Due to an unfortunate incident, he is unable to speak.”

“But you can hear?” Herr Professor Waldstein affixed him with an uncompromising stare.

Rusak nodded.

“Then join us.” The old man appraised him. “So you once could speak?”

Again he nodded.

“Good. Then you shall be able to learn far more quickly than those who have no idea of language. You, Herr Rusak, possess that knowledge. All we must do is give you the method to convey words again.” Without taking a breath, he ordered, “Sit At this table. You, also, Fraulein D'Orage.”

Michelle smiled. Herr Professor Waldstein obviously expected instant obedience.

Sitting across from Rusak, the old man continued, “I shall endeavor to teach you a new way to communicate. You must endeavor to learn. It is no more difficult than that. Now watch.”

Michelle watched intently as Herr Professor Waldstein made various signs with his hands. He explained too rapidly for her to understand as his fingers flew. Some she could figure out, but others were as confusing as if the professor spoke Russian.

“Slower, please, Herr Professor,” she begged. Rusak flashed her a grin, and she knew he was having the same problem. “I cannot remember all of this.”

Herr Professor Waldstein smiled and pointed at Rusak. “You will listen and watch very closely. I see intelligence on your face. Prove that to me.”

Stretching across the table, Herr Professor Waldstein shaped Rusak's hand into the sign for
hungry
as he said, “This may be the most important sign you can make, for it serves a basic need.”

Michelle watched as he curved his hand into the shape of the letter
C
and drew it from his throat toward his stomach. She smiled. That was easily understandable as the path food followed.

Rusak struggled to copy the sign.

“You, too, Fraulein D'Orage,” Herr Professor Waldstein ordered.

She tried, but her fingers refused to obey.

“Relax, Fraulein D'Orage,” he said with a chuckle. “No one expects you to master this in a single day. It will come slowly. You are babes learning to babble at your mother's knee. You will learn. Your friend will learn.”

When Rusak gave the guttural sound that served as his laugh, Michelle smiled. The competition between them to learn would be friendly. It astonished her how much she looked forward to it.

Michelle's life became a blur as she tried to fulfill her obligations to three men. Two afternoons each week, she went with Rusak to class. As Herr Professor Waldstein had predicted, their knowledge expanded rapidly. Her evenings were taken by parties she attended with either Alexei or Bartholomew.

Most often, her evenings were with Bartholomew. She had heard enough whispers to know that he was escorting no other woman around Vienna. The only mention she heard of Alexei was in a laughing aside about the Russian count who was going to lose his mistress to Prince Bartholomew. She wondered if having her at the center of attention so no one would take note of him was what Alexei wanted. She never could be certain with him.

In addition to her busy afternoons and evenings, she spent her mornings dealing with the needs of their odd household. She needed to buy food and cook for the few meals they took in the apartment. As the days flowed into each other, she grew accustomed to being exhausted. She had never guessed she would become tired of adventure.

Today Alexei and Rusak had gone with her to the market. Alexei had spent the whole time talking with a pair of men who were determined not to let her see their faces. She had not asked Alexei about them because she knew she would get no answer.

Returning to the apartment, Michelle reached for the door key in her reticule. She heard Alexei grumbling behind her and laughed. He had insisted on carrying all the packages instead of letting Rusak bring in some after stabling the carriage.

“Hurry!” he ordered. “These are going to slip any minute!”

“I am hurrying!” She pulled out the heavy iron key. She put it in the lock, but the door swung open before she could turn it. “What …?”

“What is it?”

She ignored his question as she pushed the door open farther. Alexei had locked the door when they left, so how had it come ajar? Something crunched under her feet. A shard of glass! She stared about herself in disbelief.

Every piece of furniture was upended. The settee and the chairs had been slashed. All stuffing beneath the cushions had been ripped away. Pictures hung awry on the wall. The few figurines that had been on the mantel lay in ruins on the floor. She saw a book on the hearth, its cover scorched beyond repair. The lamps were broken, leaving the carpet covered with oil-stained papers.

Hearing a curse behind her, she gasped as the packages were shoved into her arms. Alexei rushed past her and through the arch. She slowly lowered the boxes to the floor as she listened to his heavy footsteps resonating along the wooden corridor.

Michelle turned to close the door, but halted when she saw Rusak coming along the hall. He must have come up the back stairs. He looked into the room, and his mouth twisted with frustration. She knew he longed to ask the questions displayed in his blue eyes. The phrases they had learned were for everyday events. They did not have signs for this.

Shutting the door, she leaned back against it. Her hand closed over her mother's ring.
This
was
Maman
's life, a life of secrets and enemies.

Alexei erupted from the shadows near the arch and spat, “Damn fool!”

“Whoever did this—”

“I am not talking about our unexpected guests,” he retorted with a vicious smile. “I am talking about me. I should have …” He sighed. “Why don't you hang up your coat, Michelle? Then you can help us clean up here.”

She nodded. Tonight she was supposed to attend the theater with Bartholomew, but she would have to cancel that. She must devise a message for Rusak to deliver to Bartholomew. It would have to be a lie, for Alexei would want no word of this to filter past their door.

She took a steadying breath as she put her hand on her room's doorknob. She pushed it open and stared. Nothing had been touched. When she heard a deep chuckle behind her, she looked over her shoulder to see Alexei.

“They did not search my room,” she said.

His smile became an intense scowl. “What makes you think they were looking for something?”

“Alexei, I am not stupid! You did not come to Vienna to enjoy seeing Europe's leaders parade before you.” Wrapping her arms around her, she wished his arms enveloped her. “You have told me that you and
Maman
were spies. Others must think that you have information here that your enemies would be eager to possess.”

“You are right.”

“I am?” She had not thought he would admit to any espionage.

“You are not stupid, but neither am I. I would not leave anything valuable lying about.” He chuckled. “That was one of the very first lessons Sophie taught me.”

“So they got nothing?”

“It would appear that way.” He walked past her and opened her armoire. Taking her coat, he put it inside, where nothing had been moved. He patted the fabric on the door as he closed it. “You clearly have convinced everyone that you are nothing more than my mistress, Michelle.” His face remained rigid. Despite his jesting words, he was furious.

Softly she asked, “Does that mean we can expect another visit?”

Taking her hand, he led her to the adjoining door. He pushed it aside, and it crashed against upset furniture. She moaned. The room had been devastated. She tried to step over papers and broken ceramic littering the floor, but it was impossible. The rug had vanished beneath the stuffing from the mattress and the chairs.

With another moan, she threw her arms around his shoulders. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. Fury coiled within him, but his lips were gentle as they found hers. She leaned into the kiss, wanting to be swept away by this pleasure. He deepened the kiss until she was panting against his mouth. When his hand slid up from her waist to curve along her bodice, she quivered. Sensations, fiery and fragile, flew along her. Her fingers clenched on his coat while his glided along her breast in a sinuous path before a single one slipped beneath the shoulder of her gown and began to lower it along her arm. His arm tightened around her waist as if he feared she would slip away. She wanted to be nowhere but here in his arms.

His mouth followed the lowering sleeve, then moved along her bodice, which was slipping down across her breasts. Boldly, his tongue sought beneath her dress, laving the curve of her breast with a succulent flame. When she whispered his name in a desperate tone, for she could no longer control the need escalating through her, he captured her mouth again and tugged her against him.

Ceramic cracked under Michelle's boot, and Alexei pulled away. She swayed as she held her arms out. Her empty arms. Blinking past the haze of delight, she whispered, “Alexei?”

He walked to his desk and snarled what must be a curse, although she could not understand the word. He looked back at her. “
Liebchen
, when the one who sent them discovers they have failed to find anything, he will send them back to try something different.”

Michelle blinked again, then realized he was talking about whomever had ransacked the apartment. “Alexei, forget about that for now.” She went to him and ran her fingers up his arm. “Alexei, I—”

“Do not fret,” he said as he pushed past her, walking back to the door that connected their rooms. “I am their target, not you. They made that clear by not touching your room.”

“Mayhap because they believe I do not use it.”

Why was he keeping her so far away when, moments ago, they had been so close? He was acting as if nothing had happened when she was in his arms.

His laugh was cold. “Now you are beginning to understand,
Liebchen
, why I suggested this charade for our stay in Vienna.”

Charade? Was that all this was? No, she could not believe that the passion she had tasted on his lips was feigned. “You suggested it to protect me?”

“As Sophie would have wanted,” he said quietly; then he grinned. “I told you that you have been doing an excellent job in pretending to be my almost devoted mistress. Your flirtation with Prince Charming suggests I would not trust you.”