A Sister's Quest (25 page)

A hearty laugh resounded along the hall.

Frau Schlissel rushed out the bedroom door. Her gentle face was twisted with anger when she returned. “Prince Bartholomew insists that he will sit in the parlor until you agree to see him.”

“Tell him not to be so stupid.” Michelle winced as she sat straighter. “It is ridiculous—”

“Not to receive me,” Bartholomew said from the doorway.

She gripped the covers and lifted them over her nightgown as he strode into the room. No one could deny that Prince Bartholomew, heir to the German state of Coxe-Saxony-Colburg, had a regal mien. Handing his ivory-tipped walking stick to Frau Schlissel, he removed his leather gloves and tossed them in the housekeeper's direction. In the sunlight, his ebony hair glowed with blue lights.

“Bartholomew,” Michelle said quietly, “I do not feel hearty enough to see you yet”

“My dear, did you think anyone could keep me away? You look wondrous.” He bent to kiss her.

Averting her face, she began, “Bartholomew, I—”

“Don't say anything, my dear. Let me just look at you. How horrible it would have been if you had died imagining I was angry with you!”

She closed her eyes. “Bartholomew, please go.”

He sat on the edge of her bed, ignoring the gasp of outrage from Frau Schlissel. A diffident wave of his hand dismissed the housekeeper, but she remained by the door.

“Don't order my friends about!” Michelle stated, her exasperation strengthening her.

“Friend?” He glanced at Frau Schlissel and smiled coldly. “You have very odd notions, my dear, if you call servants your friends.”

“At least Frau Schlissel concerns herself with my recovery. She does not refuse to listen to a polite request to leave so I may rest.”

Taking her right hand, he murmured, “Just let me look at you, my dear. I want you to get better so you can come with me to Coxe-Saxony-Colburg.”

“My opinion on that has not changed,” she said tautly. She almost added that her arm and leg were injured, not her head, but she did not want to insult him more.

He bent to kiss her cheek. His smile dimmed as she pulled away. “The doctor is pleased with your progress?”

“The doctor is very optimistic about my recovery and about Alexei's. Thank you for your visit, Bartholomew.”

He stood and bowed over her right hand. “I shall come to see you tomorrow.”

“No, you shall not!”

Instantly Frau Schlissel seconded her command. “Your Highness, it is imperative that Fraulein D'Orage remain undisturbed during her recovery. If you wish updates on her condition, I shall be glad to send them to you, but, please, Your Highness, do not call until you receive word that she has recovered.”

“I do not take orders from servants,” he said with a snarl as he snatched his cane and gloves from her.

“You will if you care for her.”

With a growl, he stamped out of the room. Frau Schlissel paused to look back at Michelle. With a smile, the housekeeper winked.

Michelle relaxed into the pillows. At last, they had convinced Bartholomew to stay away.

Or she hoped they had.

Michelle waved aside Frau Schlissel's assistance as she paused in the middle of the room. If she showed any weakness, the housekeeper would insist she return to bed. Only Michelle's assertion that she was going to visit Alexei today and Frau Schlissel could help or not as she wished had convinced the housekeeper to allow her to try to reach the connecting door.

Wincing, she put more weight on her left foot. Pain climbed her leg, but she hid it. With her right hand sliding along the wall, she walked with slow, uneven steps toward the door to Alexei's room. Knocking on the door almost knocked her off her feet.

When it opened, Rusak put out his arms to steady her.
How Michelle? You understand me
?

She started to nod, but the motion sent anguish through her head. “I cannot answer you as Herr Professor Waldstein would wish, Rusak, but I can understand what you are saying.”

Concentrating on his fingers, she tried not to let the motion unfocus her eyes. She smiled. He was relieved to be able to communicate with someone again. For the first time, she realized how cut off Rusak had been.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Hidden by carriage. Shooting at inside. Sorry slow
.

“You saved our lives with your quick actions. I—” When she swayed, a hand settled under her right elbow.

Frau Schlissel said, “You should go back to bed. You are not yet healed enough.”

“No!” She had come too far to return to her bed without assuring herself that Alexei was indeed alive. Although Rusak was trying to tell her something, her eyes blurred.

Michelle staggered into the room. Rusak's hand on her arm steered her toward the large bed. Her rubbery legs struggled to carry her across the room. Had it grown larger?

“Why are you risking yourself to come here?” Alexei's voice was cold.

“Alexei!” She put her right hand on the bed to steady herself.

Her stomach cramped when she saw he wore many more bandages than she did. One was wrapped around his head and covered his right eye. Another nearly met it along his right cheek. Beneath his dressing gown, the bulge of more bandages widened around his upper arm.

She whispered, “How are you feeling?”

“Better than you, I would wager. I have never seen a face so colorless in my life. How could you be so stupid and come here when you are not yet healed?” Raising his voice, he called, “Rusak, where is your head today? Just because Michelle is being feebleminded, must you be? Get her a chair before she falls.”

Michelle stared. Alexei had been terse with her before. He had taunted her for her innocence. He had chided her for her mistakes, but never in a voice as frigid as this one. Even though she could see so little of his face, she could not mistake the fury there.

When a chair appeared behind her, she sat gratefully. She glanced over her shoulder to see the door closing.

Thankful for Rusak's understanding of their need to be alone for a few minutes, she smiled and looked at Alexei again. Mayhap he was just as frustrated as she was with being infirm.

“Why are you here?” he asked in the same demanding tone.

“I wanted to be certain you are alive.”

“Barely.”

“I am sorry.”

He pushed himself forward and gripped her right arm—with his left hand, because his right one was lost within bandages. “Sorry? Why? Because Herr Doktor Telemann doubts I shall ever regain use of my right hand or sight in my right eye?”

“Oh, Alexei—”

“Save your sympathy for yourself, Michelle. I have neither need nor desire for it.” He squinted at her, and she wondered if his head ached as hers did. The ache had grown more ferocious since she had come in here. “I understand you were hit twice.”

“And my bonnet once.” Her attempt at humor fell flat when he scowled.

He became wavy, but not from her dizziness. Tears burned along her cheeks. She reached out to him, but he drew his bandaged arm away. Why was he opening a chasm between them that had never existed?

“Alexei,” she whispered through her sobs, “when I thought you were dying, I thought I would, too. I would do anything to—”

“You cannot change what happened. Neither can I. We cannot change anything that happened that night”

Michelle recoiled as his words struck her as savagely as the ball had sliced through her. “Would you change what happened in the conservatory?”

Instead of answering, he picked up a bell set on the table by his bed. He rang it, and the door opened. “Rusak, will you help Michelle back to her room?”

She slowly came to her feet. When she winced as she put too much weight on her left leg, Alexei's gaze shifted away from her. She raised her chin and forced the rest of her tears back down her throat.

“Thank you,” she whispered to Rusak as he assisted her to the connecting door.

She could not keep from looking back at the bed as Rusak opened the door. Alexei was staring at the canopy over his bed. If he sensed her gaze on him, he did not acknowledge it.

As clearly as if he had shouted it, she comprehended the truth. Nothing, but his death, would halt Alexei from doing what he must. All those around him must accept that.

Or leave.

Alexei frowned at the sound of laughter beyond his room. He tossed the letter he had been reading on his desk and slowly stood. Crossing the room, he opened the door to the hallway. Then, knowing that the bandages over one ear had misled him, he realized the laughter came from Michelle's room.

Not just her musical laugh, but a man's laugh. A savage pulse thundered through him. He ignored it. The laugh was not Prince Charming's, but Rusak's.

He fisted his hand on the wall as he opened the door a crack to peer through it Frau Schlissel set a tray on the table by Michelle's bed and poured a cup of coffee. Handing it to Michelle, she smiled.

How easy it would be to get sucked into that joy again! Raising his other hand, he stared at the bandages that concealed his fingers in a white mitt. Hadn't he learned the cost of letting his attention wander from his work? Exulting in his pleasure with Michelle and the anticipation for more had betrayed him into thinking more about her than about his enemies.

Your enemies never rest
. Sophie's voice resonated in his ears like his own conscience. She had told him that more than once, but the last time had been only hours before she left on the assignment that would be her last.

“
Frohliche Weihnacten!
” came a voice from the other room. Frau Schlissel's voice.

“Christmas?” he muttered, then swore.
Verflucht!
He had not guessed the year was so near its end. Too many days had been wasted while he was imprisoned in his bed like a mewling baby.

“
Frohliche Weihnacten!
” At the happiness in Michelle's voice, he knew it was not only his days that had been wasted, but his nights.

He swore again. How much more did she need to suffer before he acknowledged the truth? His hope to keep her safe by bringing her with him had been futile. Instead of protecting her, he had made her a target of his enemies … of
their
enemies. That those enemies had been hers as a birthright changed nothing. He should not have brought her to Vienna with him. Instead he should have found a place where she could be hidden for as long as necessary.

When Rusak appeared in his narrow view, Alexei was amazed to see his assistant bend and kiss Michelle on the cheek as he made some of those bizarre signs with his fingers. She must have understood because she laughed and bade him a happy Christmas, too, as if nothing were amiss.

With a sigh, Alexei pushed away from the door. He could not imagine where in Europe the daughter of Sophie D'Orage might be safe now. Going to his desk, he pulled out a drawer. He lifted a small package wrapped in brown paper. It was time for this.

Alexei was not surprised when the laughter faltered as he walked into Michelle's room. He nodded to the housekeeper's halfhearted greeting. Rusak folded his arms over his chest, his smile gone.

Verflucht!
He had thought Rusak, of all of the others in the apartment, would understand why Alexei was acting as he did. Rusak knew the perils of this life and the cost exacted from anyone who got in the way.

Looking away from his friend, Alexei glanced at where Michelle sat up against a mound of lacy pillows in her bed. A mistake, he knew instantly, because he could not pull his gaze from her soft lips and eyes that revealed too much—fearful anticipation and stubborn love … and the yearning that kept him from sleeping. With her hair drawn back into a single ebony braid and the lace surrounding her, she possessed innocence and sensuality that drove him mad with desire.

Frau Schlissel said, “There is enough for two on the tray. Rusak and I are going to Christmas services, so, Fraulein, why don't you ask Count Vatutin to dine with you? Coming, Rusak?”

When the door closed behind them, Alexei waited for Michelle to speak. She remained silent, so he asked, “Can we ignore such an edict?”

“No.” She motioned toward the chair by her bed. “Why don't you sit here?”

He almost laughed with irony. She was treating him with the coldness he had offered her on her single call to see how he fared. As he sat, she peered under the cloth over the dishes.

Her eyes widened, and he saw a hint of the happiness that had been on her face before he came into the room. “Oh, my! Strudel!” Picking up a pastry covered with strawberry jam, she tried to rip it apart.

“Let me help,” he said.

“Help? You?”

He ignored her sarcasm as he set the small package on the floor and took the other end of the pastry out of her hand. She gave a sharp tug, and it broke in two.

“Between us,” he said quietly, “we have one complete set of hands. This should make for an interesting meal.”

“Interesting is not the word I would have chosen.”

Alexei did not answer as she spooned eggs onto a dish for him. Although she appeared outwardly accepting of her infirmity, he knew she hated being unable to do what she once had done easily. Just as he did. He silenced his grim thoughts. It was Christmas Day.

He picked up the small package and placed it on the tray. “Open it.”

“A Christmas gift?”

“Not exactly.”

Michelle frowned, then set the dish down. Taking the package, she set it on her lap. Glancing at Alexei, she saw his intense expression that even his bandages could not conceal. This was important to him. And her? She almost asked him that, but that would make her as bitter as he was.

Opening the paper where it had been folded together around whatever was inside, she smoothed the paper aside and opened a small box. “Oh, my!” she said softly as she lifted a miniature portrait out. Not a single portrait, but one of a man and a woman. The woman was
Maman
. She had never seen the man before. “Is this my father?”