Sweet Tannenbaum (5 page)

"There's plenty of room here."

"No, there's not."

She scooted closer to an edge. "Yes, here, see?" She patted the expanse of bed.

He stood there in the dark, breathing. She wasn't sure what was going through his head.

"Hans, take this blasted blanket off the bed and come here."

"You don't want the extra blanket?"

I want you
, her heart cried, yearning
for its other
half.

"Are you sure?" he asked, making her fear that she had said it aloud.

"Yes."

He pulled the blanket back off the bed and retreated to the doorway.

Blast it all, but she felt like sobbing.

Chapter Ten

Hans awoke in a
cloud of warmth with something nudging his side.

"Hans, wake up. I need to get past you."

The poking was
apparently from Krystyna's slipper. He captured her ankle to make her stop. It took no time at all to realize what a terrible mistake
that was. Her dainty ankle was connected to a very shapely leg. She put her hands against the door to balance herself while he had her foot in his grasp. She was only wearing
her chemise and an open robe. If she stood any closer he would be able to see
right up --

He released her foot and sat up. "Sorry."

"It's all right. Go lie down on the bed, you'll be more comfortable."

Confound the woman and her insistence on having him in her bed. Did she not know what that meant? She hadn't outright flirted with him in the way of a woman knowledgeable of bed sport, but perhaps that meant nothing. Perhaps she knew exactly what invitation she was extending. But it didn't matter. She was Casimir's sister. He scooped up his pallet as he stood and moved out of her way.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, and scooted out the door, he assumed to use the privy. He set his blankets on the chair and crept under the covers of the bed. There was still a spot warm from her body and he gravitated to it. He picked up the pillow to inhale her scent. Holding her pillow against his chest he admitted to himself that he was done for. He had run from one of the first skirmishes and now had already lost the war. In this case, however, surrender seemed preferable to a fight.

She came back to their room and walked past him to peer out the small window. Her voice held the saddest note he had ever heard. "The snow stopped."

He placed her pillow back on the bed and rose up on his elbow. "Aren't you getting cold out there?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, her expression woebegone and sweet. "Yes," she admitted.

He turned the covers back and patted the mattress. "Come back to bed."

Her expression lightened and she tossed aside her robe and kicked off her shoes before climbing under the covers. She pressed up against him, her skin as chilly as he thought it might be. He held her close. Yes, surrender seemed the only viable option.

* * *

When Hans left to talk to their driver, Krystyna arose to dress and freshen herself.
He didn’t return quickly, so
she went downstairs to her breakfast. After nibbling on toast and jam she still hadn't seen Hans and decided to return to their room to make sure everything was packed to take their leave. The idea of leaving made her morose
, but it was unreasonable to believe that they could stay here for any length of time. As she opened the door she heard a soft splash that made her stop short. In her absence Hans had apparently returned to their room to freshen himself. He had removed his shirt. She realized she had never seen a man's chest before. A boy's, yes, but now it was clear to her that the difference was more pronounced than that between a draft stallion and a pony
. Thick muscle was dusted with curling, golden hair. He reacted more quickly than she did and held his shirt up in front of himself.

"My apologies."

She turned bright red
.
She had been staring! "Oh. No. I'm sorry. I should have
knocked. I--"
She turned and fled back to the common room. Once downstairs she wasn't even sure if she had closed the door. She had the brief uncharitable thought of hoping to receive word that her Silesian 
fiancé
 had died in an accident.

* * *

He had come to know her so well in such a short amount of time, but the look she
when she opened the door was new. Naked longing, a stirring of sensual interest that he was sure hadn't been there before. How had this beautiful, sophisticated woman made it to her age with the innocence of a young girl? Because she was a lady, that was how. Protected and cherished. For the first time he sincerely regretted agreeing to take her on this journey. Now the only option was to remand her to the care of her brother, hopefully in a few short hours.

Would she rest against him in the carriage? He realized that he was still clutching his shirt in a crumpling grip and shook it out before donning it again. It was fortunate that he had finished shaving before her appearance, because he was quite sure that he would only manage to cut himself now.

Once dressed, he gathered their few belongings and made his way downstairs. She was perched on a chair near the fireplace in the common room and looked up when he arrived, although she didn't meet his eyes.

"We're leaving then?" she asked.

"Yes, the driver assures me the roads are good enough for the journey."

She nodded and preceded him out the door.
When he assisted her into the carriage he thought that she gripped his hand longer than was necessary
, but that could have been his own imagination. His hope. Following her, he asked. "Where would you like for me to sit?"

She paused in arranging her skirts and said, "It wouldn't do to break tradition at this late stage."

He sat next to her, just close enough that the motion of the carriage would have them brush together if she didn't lean away from him. She was quiet and withdrawn, but not with the haughty arrogance she had displayed when they met. Her posture was still perfect, but not stiff. A gift from her love of dance, no doubt. What if Casimir refused his suit? He should have stayed that night, watched her dance. What if she never danced for him now?

He noticed that he had clasped his hands together and forced himself to relax. "Is your brother expecting you?"

She finally met his gaze and he saw a ghost of a smile pass her lips. "He should be, but he probably isn't."

It worried him that he was only now asking such a basic question. Had she addled him from the start and he hadn't realized it? No, in the beginning he had considered her business her own, and it only happened to coincide with his own desire to talk to Casimir. But now he wanted to speak to the man for entirely different reasons. Reasons that would not be aided by arriving with an unexpected, perhaps wayward, sister.

"Did you write to tell him you were traveling?"

"No, but my letters to date should have illuminated my state of mind to him. Even if there were things I couldn't write explicitly."

Her phrasing put Hans on alert. Was it simply paranoia from his training, or had he intuited that there was a secret here that needed revealing? Perhaps now, when she still seemed ill at ease, was not the best time to press her for answers. They subsided into silence, back to the tension of the second day they had traveled together. He wished he knew how to put her at ease again.

Chapter Eleven

Krystyna glanced at Hans from under her lashes, something she had been doing surreptitiously as often as she could for the last hour. His posture seemed perfectly relaxed next to her, but she could see that his jaw was clenched. She wasn't sure what he was thinking and hoped it wasn't about her accidental intrusion earlier. The incident had certainly made her more aware of 
him
. Before that she had thought of him as being very safe. He had reminded her of the sweet, protective dog she had grown up with. And why wouldn't he? No one had ever been more solicitous of her comfort or made her feel as sheltered. Not that shelter was something she typically sought from anyone, but... Hans made it seem perfectly natural that she look to him, rely on him.

She looked out the window again.
It would be horrifying marrying another man. She had never been in favor of the match,
not from the first time she had met Gregor Eichen when she had been eight and he only four. Even then he had seemed spoiled, weak. Running to his mother over the slightest incident. She hadn't seen him often in the intervening years, but it was clear
that he had grown into a spoiled, weak man. But he was an Eichen. A name of repute to uplift the Rokiczanas in society. Of course, Von Rosen was a name of repute as well, better than
Eichen. But beyond her touch. Far beyond her touch.

"What's wrong?"

She supposed she had sighed or made some other noise of distress, and her guard dog was again attentive to her needs. When she looked at him she could see that his jaw was still tense and he had worry lines around his eyes. He was handsome and trustworthy and so impossibly 
dear
. "I suppose I am chilled again."

He still looked worried but opened his arms to her and she settled against his chest. She rested there, warm and sad, listening to the squeak of snow under the wheels for the remainder of their journey.

* * *

Their carriage rolled to a stop in a lovely, settled part of London. Townhouses lined the street, with just enough room between to afford some privacy, a mews, and a speck of garden. Not an area of outrageous wealth, but well enough to do. Hans supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Casimir had landed on his feet, the boy had something of the cat to him. Nor should he have been surprised this morning when, asked to provide her brother's location, Krystyna had rattled off a very precise street address. Now it was coming on noon in a strange city and gray clouds pressed down over them like a heavy, chilled blanket. The city hadn't seen as much snow as they had en route, but drifts of it decorated the walkway.

When Krystyna emerged from the carriage, it was with the military posture and glint in her eye that he had first seen from her. It seemed her ire was mostly reserved for battle with her brother and that should prove to be interesting. Casimir didn't strike him as the type to like direct confrontation. His own brother Henry had been known to leave the country to avoid it, and the two were more alike than different. He held her elbow as she walked up the slick cobblestones and stairs to the door, then stepped back as she took hold of the knocker. He knew his role, for now, was simply as escort.

Hans recognized the man who opened the door as Casimir's valet from Vienna. Wladek, if he remembered correctly. What he didn't expect was the reaction the man had upon seeing Krystyna.

"Królewna!"
Then
he dropped to the floor in a clear sign of supplication. Hans knew little Polish and didn't recognize the word. Nor was he able to keep up with the stream of Polish that Krystyna spoke after that. Her tone was affectionate, but firm. Wladek rose to his feet again and finally noticed the other guest. "Herr Von Rosen."

Hans
bowed in acknowledgment, and then they were herded into the household, through an open foyer, and into a drawing room. Wladek looked skeptical about leaving his 
królewna
with Hans, but withdrew, leaving the door open. Hans raised his brows questioningly at Krystyna, but she shook her head with a frown. Deferring any of his questions until later, he supposed.

Casimir entered the room quickly. He gave Hans a disapproving frown, not an expression Hans expected to see from the young man, then turned his worried attentions on his sister, holding her hands and talking with her in rapid Polish. Even more of a surprise to Hans was the woman who entered on Casimir's heels. A willowy, blonde British girl he had known as Frau Appleton in Vienna.

He bowed. "Frau-"

"Rokiczana," she supplied before he could say more. She curtsied briefly to him. "It's delightful to see you again, Herr Von Rosen."

"I hadn't expected to see you here."

She narrowed her eyes a fraction. "I could say the same. But here we are. May I offer you refreshments?"

"I am your eager guest, Frau Rokiczana."

"Come, sit with me." She guided him to a sofa that faced the Rokiczana siblings. "I suspect they will be at this for awhile." She waggled her brows at him. "And I doubt that she knows how much Polish I've learned."

Hans grinned, remembering the ease of spending time with Gina Appleton, who had somehow now become Gina Rokiczana. The attraction between she and Casimir had been clear at the Congress and he had suspected an affair. But even in England a divorce was a spectacular scandal. There was a story there, no doubt. "What are they saying?" he asked.

She kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet under her. "So far, she is covering much of the same ground that she did in her letters. She doesn't approve of his marriage to me. I'm not advantageous, you see," she said, in a mock confidential tone. "I was merely Georgiana Lockhart, daughter of a lesser gentleman. He has duties. Responsibilities. He needs to marry a woman who can become a queen."

"I thought you were Gina Appleton."

She waved a hand at him. "Yes, well, there is what we think and what is true."

It was clear that here in her own home, Gina, or Georgiana, felt she could be herself without censure. She was outrageous in a most entertaining way. "If he has already married you, how is he to marry someone else?"

"I suppose," she said, making a slicing motion across her throat with a finger and a sputtering sound. She turned her attention back to the siblings. "Oh yes," she said, "here we are. The guilt portion of the argument begins. If 
she
 can marry the man their father chose for her, then certainly he can think of their family first, of Poland first."

Hans felt everything inside of him still, like water suddenly freezing. "Beg pardon?"

"It's just Poland, squawk, squawk, Poland."

"She's married."

"
Not yet. It has been delayed years at this point, but their mother set the date for New Year’s. New
year, new beginning sounded auspicious, I assume."

Hans stood too quickly and felt the blood trying to rush and catch up with him. "If you'll excuse me, I need some air."

He didn't hear her if she made a response. He charged through the house, desperately looking for a door to the outside. He ended up on a portico outside the study, leaning on the balustrade and taking deep breaths of the chilly, moist air. Krystyna was engaged to be married and had never mentioned it. He was sure that at any moment his rage would overshadow his shock and he would shout at the heavens. Or perhaps his grief would take the forefront, and he would sink to his knees on the stones. Neither occurred and long minutes later he was still standing, for all outer appearances impassive, as his breathing had evened out in the cool air. He heard footsteps behind him. Krsytyna's footsteps. He knew them now.

He turned to face her, arms crossed over his chest. Her face was tear streaked and he heard another stream of Polish from her. He shrugged. "I can't understand you."

She bit her lip and started again, in German. "I demand you take me home. I will not spend another moment in the house of this traitor."

He uncrossed his arms and braced himself as he leaned back on the balustrade. "Sorry, I'm afraid I can't do that. I have things to discuss with your brother. And I don't want to travel, with it being only a week until Christmas."

"Please?" she asked, more plaintive now.

"Perhaps
your 
fiancé
 will come for you."

"How did you--"

"How did I know? Since you didn't tell me? The truth will always out, you know. I count on it."

"I can't stay here," she said in a deathly calm whisper.

"It's hard to say that surprises me, as you don't seem to treat your family any better than you did me."

"My family? How can you say that? 
I
 am the one who has stayed loyal to
what the family needs. 
I
 am the one who is willing to sacrifice everything in service to our cause. 
He
 is the one who is ruining everything. And now he's married that woman--"

Hans straightened away from the railing. "That woman happens to be a perfectly delightful friend of mine, so be careful what you say about her in front of me." It was perhaps stretching the truth a bit, but he had enjoyed her company in Vienna and Krystyna's objections to her seemed insubstantial.

She looked at the ground and frowned. "I see." Whatever hysteria had possessed her seemed to have passed, and when she raised her eyes again she was the remote lady he had first met. "Thank you for your escort to London, Herr Von Rosen. If I can ever repay your kindness, you have only to ask." The queen again, offering a boon to her knight.

"Show me the kindness of never speaking to me again," he said, brushing past her. This time he was able to find the front door and descended to their waiting carriage. He tossed her bag to the walk in front of Casimir's house and asked the driver to take him to the nearest inn. Preferably one with a public room.