Rebecca Hagan Lee (42 page)

William had spared no expense on this special occasion. The immense marble ballroom was decorated with a profusion of red roses, white orchids, and lush greenery imported from hothouses all over the world especially for Cristina's birthday. Unfortunately the heady scent of the blooms mingled with the heavy, expensive perfume of overdressed society matrons to fill the ballroom with a too-sweet, almost nauseating fragrance.

Cristina sniffed the air, idly wondered how the musicians in the orchestra managed to breathe. The only breeze circulating the room was generated by the swishing of skirts during the dancing and that wasn't nearly enough to cool the crush of people.

Cristina longed to escape to the cool, fresh air on the terrace, but as the guest of honor she was obliged to dance at least one dance with the men who had signed her dance card.

But she didn't want to dance any longer. She was tired of dancing. Her slippers were new and tight and she was reminded of another dance when her dancing slippers had been too tight. Her feet ached and she wanted to be left alone to prop them up on the railing of the terrace and to fill her lungs with fresh air. But that wasn't possible any more than it was possible for her to skip the rest of the dances.

The musicians were already beginning to tune their instruments in preparation for another dance and Roderick was on his way to claim her.

"He's too good for her," complained one young lady as the tall, slightly built man took Cristina in his arms and led off the waltz.

"Anyone can see that," agreed her companion.

"Mother says that she's spoiled rotten," continued the first girl. "She says Cristina's father indulges her every whim because she was injured in a fall from a horse on the Continent when she lived with her mother. She nearly died. That's why she came to live with her father. Mother says Cristina's mother's affairs are common knowledge in Europe. You know Sir William"--she whispered this last bit of information--"divorced Cristina's mother almost a year ago."

"Really?" the second girl's eyes lit up. "And Cristina pretends to be a lady. With that background, it's a wonder she's accepted in our society.

Imagine her snatching Roderick from right under your nose."

"Mother says Roderick must be mad to consort with baggage like Cristina. I can't imagine what he sees in her."

"I can." The resonant baritone came as a complete surprise to the gossiping young ladies.

They gasped in unison and turned to face the eavesdropper.

He had obviously just arrived for he still wore his overcoat, and his silk top hat and cane were held in one white-gloved hand. He stood several inches taller than Roderick and his black hair was interspersed with strands of silver at the temples. His handsome mouth was curved into a mocking smile and he made no secret of his displeasure with the whispers of the gossip he had overheard.

"Sir, it is extremely rude to eavesdrop on conversations without making your presence known." The first girl delivered the setdown.

This statement increased his displeasure. "It's even more rude to gossip about one's host or the daughter of one's host while you're enjoying their hospitality, no matter how jealous of her you might be. And that's especially true when you're in a position to be overheard." His British accent was clipped and cutting. "Didn't your mothers teach you that ladies never gossip?"

His icy sarcasm sent the two girls on their way, hiding their reddened faces behind lacy fans.

He bowed mockingly to the retreating girls, then focused his attention on the red-haired vision dancing around the room. He lounged against the doorjamb, enjoying the view.

"Please, Cristina ..." Roderick Baker pleaded. "Have pity on me. Don't keep me waiting. Say you'll consider my offer of marriage."

"I can't, Roderick. I don't love you and I'm not interested in marriage,"

Cristina told him.

"You mean to say you're not interested in marrying me."

"I mean exactly what I said. I'm not interested in marrying anyone right now. I've only been in New York a year. I've barely had a chance to get reacquainted with my father. And I'm not ready to leave him. It wouldn't be fair."

"Fair to whom?"

"To me or you or any other man. And it wouldn't be fair to my father."

"It isn't fair to keep me waiting."

"I'm not keeping you waiting," Cristina said. "There are a dozen young ladies here that would be happy to marry you. Go ask one of them."

"I sometimes think you're too devoted to your father."

"Oh, Rod, that's ridiculous and you know it. Besides, I never asked for your attention or your affection. If you don't like my answer, then quit asking me. I'm only twenty-two. I have several more good years left before I even need to think about marrying a--" Cristina stopped. She had almost said

"again." "At all," she amended quickly. "And I promised my father I would wait awhile."

"What kind of promise is that for a daughter to make to her father? Most fathers are thrilled to see their daughters married and settled down with families of their own. But from the way your father acts, I'd swear he wanted to keep you all to himself. I don't think he wants you to marry at all."

"Yes, he does," she said. "But he wants me to wait for the right man to come along."

"Don't wait too long," Roderick comment snidely. "Or no one will want you."

Cristina looked up at Roderick. Her green eyes sparkled angrily, but her smile was angelic. She lifted one white gloved hand from its resting place on his shoulder and patted him the way one would pet an overeager puppy. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, Rod, because I'm fairly certain that the fact that I'm sole heiress to my father's millions will guarantee there will be plenty of men waiting in line to marry me when I'm ready."

"I may not be available when you're ready."

Cristina stared at Roderick, almost dumbfounded by the young man's arrogance. What made him think he was such a catch? He came from a prominent New York family, but so did nearly everyone else in the room. She managed a laugh. "Then I guess I'll just have to suffer." And you'll just have to miss out on my inheritance.

Roderick stiffened. "You know, Cristina, your father has spoiled you. You need a man who will lay down the law to you--a husband who will curb your impulsive ways and keep you in line. You're headstrong and like Mother says, far too independent for any normal man's liking."

Cristina's full mouth thinned into a tight, angry line. "Including yours?"

She issued the challenge coolly, wondering if Roderick would respond with an opinion of his own or if he would simply espouse his mother's. She was amazed by his sheer tenacity and his stupidity. Didn't he realize she saw through him? Didn't he realize she knew he wanted access to her father's bank accounts much more than he wanted her?

Roderick averted his gaze and avoided the anger he read in the depths of Cristina's eyes. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I love you, Cristina, but I'm not blind to your faults. Mother and I simply want what's best for you. And I'm afraid the longer you wait to marry, the harder it will be for you to settle down and become a proper wife and mother."

Cristina barely kept from laughing as she glanced at Roderick's boyishly handsome face. His expression was totally earnest. He meant what he said. He actually believed she needed to be molded into a suitable wife. Well, she thought sadly, he was probably right. She would require a great deal of molding in order to make him a suitable wife. That didn't bother her. What bothered her was the fact that she would probably require the same amount of molding for any man. Any man who wasn't--Cristina squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to forestall the rush of memories.

"I'm very tired, Roderick," she said suddenly. "And I really don't feel like discussing this subject any longer."

Roderick studied her face and noted the angry lines. He wasn't as smart as some men, but he knew better than to push Cristina when she was in a mood. He smiled down at her and his demeanor changed immediately. "You do look tired.

The party arrangements have probably been too much for you. After all, it's only been a few months since your injury. I'm a brute not to have realized sooner. I shouldn't have pushed you so. Can you forgive me, Cristina?" The look in his clear gray eyes begged forgiveness. "You know it's only because I love you so much and want you so badly, don't you, Cristina?"

"Of course," she agreed automatically.

Roderick reminded her of his feelings for her at every opportunity. He vowed his love every time she saw him and Cristina was heartily sick of hearing it. She had made no pretense of the fact that she didn't return his feelings. And she'd done nothing to encourage his continued devotion. She treated Roderick in exactly the same way she treated all her would-be suitors.

She had been completely honest about her feelings for him--or lack of them--but Roderick continued to press his suit, continued to hope she'd change her mind about agreeing to marry him.

And that made Cristina uncomfortable. She wouldn't change her mind. She couldn't return Roderick's feelings, shallow though they might be, because she didn't have any feelings left. Blake Ashford had captured them all.

Blake. Cristina glanced around the room and a vision of him swam before her eyes. She could almost swear that the tall form leaning carelessly against the door was real. The idea unnerved her. Cristina missed a step in the dance, stepped on the hem of her gown, and stumbled heavily into Roderick. She closed her eyes to combat her sudden light-headedness and when she opened her eyes once again and glanced back over her shoulder, the apparition had vanished.

Roderick grabbed Cristina by the shoulders to steady her. The color had drained from her face and her eyes seemed feverishly bright against the stark pallor of her face.

"Cristina, are you all right?" Roderick's anxious question mirrored the concern on his face.

"Just a little faint," she lied. "I need some air. It's so hot and stuffy in here."

"Should I find your father?"

"No," Cristina shook her head. "Just get me out of here."

Roderick wrapped an arm around Cristina's waist and pushed his way through the crush of guests to the French doors that led to the terrace.

"Will you be all right alone here for a moment while I fetch you a cool drink, dearest?"

Cristina nodded in reply, opened the French doors, and stepped outside onto the terrace. Standing alone in the darkness, she inhaled the cool, crisp air gratefully. It revived her, cleared her head, and helped her regain her composure.

But the steely-soft voice coming from the shadowed corner of the terrace destroyed it. "Hello, Countess, it's been a long time." He raised himself from the marble bench and moved with the fluid Italianate grace Cristina remembered all too well, and came to stand beside her.

Cristina shivered at his nearness. Her senses reeled as she recalled the taste and touch and scent of him. She clutched tightly at the balustrade to keep from crumpling to the ground. She had dreamed of meeting him again. She'd imagined the scene in her mind thousands of times and now that he was close enough for her to touch, Cristina was angered by the sudden, casual, almost effortless way he had reentered her life.

"W-w-what are you doing here?" she demanded, angrily stumbling over her words.

"I came outside for a breath of fresh air."

"Isn't there fresh air in England?" she hissed. "What are you doing here?

In New York? In my home?"

"Your father invited me," Blake replied guardedly. "I had some business with him while I was in New York and naturally he invited me to your birthday party."

"You should have refused."

Blake sighed. "What if I told you I had to come? That I had to see you again, if only to satisfy my curiosity?"

"And what do you see? Has your curiosity been satisfied?" Cristina asked, wanting him to be as aware of her as she was of him.

"I see that the lovely half-grown girl I knew has disappeared," Blake fixed his dark gaze on her, appraising every detail of her appearance from the top of her artfully arranged curls down the length of her shimmering champagne-colored dress to the tips of her matching slippers. And he was anything but disappointed. "You've become a beautiful woman, Countess." His black eyes burned through her as he delivered his verdict. Then he smiled rather wistfully. "But I can't help regretting the loss of the girl."

"Too bad," Cristina told him. "Girls do grow up, you know. I did. I grew up the day you took Nicholas and left Vienna without me." The seductive gleam in Blake's eyes affected Cristina more than she liked to admit and she took refuge in bitter memories.

"I know you did," Blake acknowledged thoughtfully.

Cristina's eyes suddenly brimmed with burning, accusing tears. "I thought you'd come for me. I waited for over a year before I realized you wouldn't."

She barely managed to choke out the confession.

"I'm here, Cristina. Now," Blake reminded her urgently.

The hot tears spilled over the barrier of her lashes. "And you've come too late, Blake. One year and three miserable months too late."

"Countess ..." His rich, caressing whisper reached out to her. It was achingly familiar. Too familiar....

"Blake, don't," she ordered. "Don't make me remember things it's best I forget. It can't be the way it was. Too much has happened. Do you know how much it hurt to wake up and find you were gone? I grieved for my baby, Blake, but I grieved more for you. Do you know how I felt when I read that curt note informing me you were off to London and that you had asked Rudolf and Cason to look out for me? Was there a problem with Meredith? Were you suddenly afraid the divorce might be granted? Were you afraid I would make you marry me after Nicholas died? Is that why you abandoned me?" Cristina's words tumbled out--cries from the heart that had to be answered.

Blake reached out to brush away her tears but Cristina deliberately jerked her head out of the reach of his gentle touch.

"I know you won't believe me, Cris, but I never abandoned you. I was trying to ease your burden, not add to it. I wanted you to know that you and Leah would be taken care of while I was away and I wanted to make certain you were reunited with your father as soon as possible. It was important to me. I meant to reassure you."