Sweet Tannenbaum (8 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Watching the household preparing for the evening, Hans missed his own family. Not that the Von Rosens had planned to gather this Christmas. For years Hans himself had been too busy to spend the holiday at home, as for some time the military was his family. Now his brothers and sisters were scattered throughout Europe with their own households and his parents had taken to traveling. They might, according to their last letter, return home as soon as the spring. With Henry, the last unmarried sibling other than Hans, off to parts unknown, it would have been lonely indeed to holiday at one of the family estates.

That was what his life had come to, then. Celebrating the most holy of days in the house of a traitor to his country, while secretly coveting that traitor's sister. It had all the trappings of a Greek drama. Frau Rokiczana, or George as she insisted he call her, even served as a credible Greek chorus, taking the time to explain things to him when he didn’t understand the language or reference.

Meanwhile, Krystyna seemed sad and withdrawn. Having a better understanding of her goals now, he didn't see that her trip could ever have yielded the result she wanted. However, being the veteran of many untenable situations, he understood that sometimes you needed to 
something
, regardless of how slim the odds were for success. To do otherwise was to surrender to the impending tragedy.
Even if he found her belief in her father's stories foolish, it was certainly understandable that she was struggling to make sense of where she now found herself, stranded between her desire to fulfill her duty to her father's memory with an unwanted marriage and her loyalty to a brother who no longer believed himself to be a lost Polish prince.

How lowering it must be, however, to accept that one was not a princess, but a commoner. He could certainly understand the instinct to fight against that. He couldn't fathom learning that everything his father had told him had been, at best, an elaborate fabrication or, at worst, a terrible delusion. Hans wasn't sure that even he would have the fortitude of mind to convince himself that everything he believed was false, as Casimir had apparently done.

After supper the Rokiczanas gathered everyone in the parlor to trim the tree, sing songs, and drink egg brandy. Hans didn't even try to sing the Polish songs, but Frau Rokiczana tried valiantly to keep up. She then bravely sang some English carols on her own, since she was the only one that knew them. The group had dissolved into boisterous laughter when Casimir called for Wladek to take up his violin for dancing. Hans assumed he would naturally pair with Krystyna, but the siblings started by demonstrating traditional Polish dancing while he and George clapped in time. Krystyna was as beautiful and carefree while dancing as he had thought she might be. Her face shone with joy as she kept time with her nimble brother. He couldn't understand their language as they called out to each other, but could tell from the tone that it was typical sibling ribbing.

It
had been so long since he had been with his own siblings in such a way he had almost forgotten the simple entertainment to be had from teasing them. When they were young, Christmas had been a treasured time of exuberant games and rich treats. By the time Hans was six, their parents had given up on any sense of order and decorum for the season, letting the Von Rosen children sleep on blankets next to the tree on Christmas Eve like a litter of puppies. His favorite sister, Ilsa, would tell him and Henry stories until they fell asleep. He hadn't
seen Ilsa in over twelve years and their correspondence
had become sparse. Watching Krystyna laugh and hug her brother at the end of yet another song caused a pang of nostalgia and sorrow.

Casimir signaled to Wladek, and the young Polishman changed to a waltz. Casimir bowed to his wife and took her into the dance with a flourish. Hans bowed to Krystyna and she hesitantly took his hand. Having her in his arms again it was difficult not to pull her close. As they settled into the gliding rhythm she finally looked up into his eyes. Her expression was tinged with a sweet sadness, perfectly mirroring his feelings. It was bittersweet to hold her thus, to spend this special holiday time together. Spending this Christmas together only hinted at what they would never have.

He leaned
close to her ear to speak to her over the sound of the fiddle. "Are you having a good time, fraulein?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Are you still angry at me?”

She looked confused and shook her head.

“But you won’t speak to me?”

“You asked me not to.” She turned her face away as she replied and he thought he detected the same sorrow that he himself was feeling.

"My apologies, I was upset and beg you forgive me.”

“Of course.”

She was still flushed from her earlier exertions. “Perhaps a turn on the patio to cool yourself?"

"Yes, that would be most refreshing."

She called out to her brother in Polish as Hans led her from the room and Casimir waved a negligent hand in response.

"Your brother doesn't seem very protective."

Her expression was finally one he was familiar with, a mildly disapproving frown. "Why should he be?"

"If one of our sisters had been so headstrong and reckless as you have proved, and our father was no longer with us, my brother Albrecht would have locked her in the cellar until her wedding day."

"We're barely stepping outside the room."

"It's more his attitude than this particular moment."

"Well, I am the eldest."

There it was aga
in, that air of superiority that she wore as naturally as a queen dons her robe of station. How would her 
fiancé
 react to it? There were many men who could not stand a proud wife. They required submission, a woman who surrendered to them in all things. As much as Hans wanted to ask about this 
fiancé,
he didn't want to. Didn't wish to think about the man. 

On their second
perambulation around the patio Hans asked, "When will you return home?"

"You said you would take me the day after Christmas."

That hadn't been precisely what he had said, only that he would take her no earlier. As it stood he felt no desire to hasten her marriage to another man. "Aren't there a number of feasts that we should observe?"

"I didn't realize you had become so attached to London," she said drily.

"I've barely seen enough of it to decide one way or the other."

She shrugged. "Casimir can't take me, but perhaps Wladek can. Then he can visit his wife."

The idea that
she could leave the day after the morrow, even without his help, was too much to bear. "Krystyna--"

She looked up and
he cupped her cheek before kissing her.

Chapter Nineteen

Krystyna had been surprised by the choked sound of Hans' voice, then even more so by his kiss. She hadn't ever been kissed, not really. The gentle press and glide of lips was oddly thrilling. His hand moved to the nape of her neck and he held her closer still. Her body moved to his of its own accord, as natural as seeking his warmth. Then the kiss deepened from thrilling to dangerous. Any moment the last threads of her heart might lose their anchor and drift away. Was it possible to live without any heart left to speak of? She rather thought not. Best not to risk it.

Countering every command of her body, she pushed away. She couldn't even look at him, see what he might be thinking. He held fast to her hand.

"Krystyna."

She shook her head no, not sure what she was denying.

"Marry me, Krystyna, be my wife."

She stopped. Slowly, she raised her gaze to his. He appeared sincere. Of course he did. Hans was the most sincere person she had ever known. Noble, brave Hans. She could hear her own breath grow harsh as she wrestled between what her heart wanted and more practical matters.

She couldn't marry Hans. She could never keep her past in highway robbery from him and she could never tell him. It hadn't given her a qualm in plans to marry Gregor. She would not only have happily kept the information of her robberies from him, but put in action some plans to recoup at least a portion of her dowry. Even the thought of trying to take something from Hans, of keeping something from Hans, made her feel ill.

"I can't," she whispered.

"Your brother says he has broken the engagement."

"I can't," she said more forcefully. She tugged her hand free and ran, seeking solace in the one place that had always consoled her. The stables.

* * *

Hans watched Krystyna run towards the back gardens. He was stunned, partially because of her refusal, but mostly because of his proposal. He hadn't planned to ask her to marry him. Had, in fact, counseled himself on numerous occasions that it was the very last thing he should do. Her brother was a traitor to the Prussia. His parents would never approve of the match, even if they were unaware of Casimir's perfidy. But God's blood, this didn't feel like a choice. It felt right. Inevitable. He just needed her to see that.

He heard the clop of hooves in the alleyway leading to the street. Certainly she hadn't saddled a horse so quickly?
And to where would she even be riding? It couldn't be her. He hastened to the alley to check
.

Her horse shied when Hans rounded the hedge into the alleyway, then turned in a tight circle.

"Gods, woman, what are you doing? You don't have a bit or a saddle on that animal." He stepped forward to grab the reins on the halter but the horse danced back, partially rearing.

"Hans, stand back, you're spooking him."

The horse turned that tight little circle again, and Hans realized she was guiding it.

"
What are you thinking riding out like this?"

"Hans--"

"Without a saddle or proper equipment?"

"Hans--"

"You're not even dressed for the weather."

She chided him with a barrage of incomprehensible Polish.

"And riding
astride with your skirts rucked up? Where could you even be going?" His harangue subsided as he ran out of evident complaints.

Her horse quieted under her hand. "I thought to ride about the square and clear my head,
but I suppose doing it with a rucked-up skirt would be quite unseemly." She kicked off her slippers and faster than he would have thought possible was standing on the horse's back. "Try not to spook him again."

With a flick of her reins she set the horse in motion, trotting up the alleyway while she stood on its back as serenely as most women entered a ballroom. It was enthralling and terrifying all at once. What manner of woman was this? Where had she ever learned to stand on a trotting horse? A trot was jarring enough with a good seat and the use of stirrups.

Hans picked up the slippers she had discarded and followed her out to the street. As she had said, she was riding around the small green before her brother's house. She was mounted astride again, rather than standing. After one turn around the green she stopped a few feet from where he awaited her.

"Krystyna--"

She held a hand up for him to stop. "I can't marry you, but you at least deserve to know why. I-- I feel I owe you that."

"Your
brother told me about your father's belief in your family's heritage. But certainly the Von Rosen name isn't beneath consideration?"

"Casimir told you? When?"

"This morning."

She nodded, as though considering. "Did he tell you the source of our wealth?"

"No, does it signify?"

She slid to the ground in a fluid motion. The cold ground.

"Krystyna, your slippers."

She held her hand up to ward him off again. "I don't chill as easily as you think."

He would tease her about flirting with him at the inn if she didn't look so deadly serious now.

After a deep breath she said, "Hans, I never questioned my father. I loved him. Adored him."

"Casimir said that you were close."

"It means that I never questioned anything we did, never saw the flaws in it, until now."

"What changed?"

"Where I've always had certainty, Casimir is filled with questions and doubt. We have been arguing for days and it has made me reconsider some things. But even more importantly," she paused, her lips pursing and eyes filling with tears. "Even more
importantly, I don't think you will think well of me and what I've done."

Hans felt a terrible dread. Was Krystyna also a spy working against Prussia? His lips were numb
as he asked, "What have you done?"

"Carriage robberies."

Hans blinked. "Beg pardon?"

"Robberies."

"You're saying that your family's wealth, whatever there is of it, is based on robbing carriages?"

"Yes."

"So you've carried on with this since your father's
death?"

"No, there was no need and it seemed dangerous to draw further attention to ourselves."

"You're a former highwayman, then. Highwaywoman. What is the correct term?"

"I've no idea."

"Let's say highwaywoman. You would just ride up to the carriage and point your gun at them?"

"No, I was tasked with stopping the horses. A carriage is plum for the picking if the horses won't run."

"Plum for the picking? Really?"

"May I have my slippers now? My feet are quite cold."

"How can a mighty highwaywoman be challenged by something as simple as the cold?" But he handed her slippers over to her.

"You're behaving strangely."

Hans recognized his numb and oddly chaotic feelings being the same as when facing almost certain death. "Your brother betrayed Prussia, you're a highwaywoman, and I find I still want to marry you. It's possible I'm going mad."

"My brother betrayed Prussia?"

"He forgot to mention it?"

She paused, then ventured. "And you say you still want to marry me?"

Did he? This unusual woman who had the bearing of a queen but history of a rogue? "Inadvisably, yes."

She smiled at him and his heart throbbed almost painfully.

"You realize," he said, "that if the children turn out like either one of us that they will have us terrified on a daily basis."

"But what adventures
they will have," she said softly.

With Krystyna he had found something more thrilling than running into cannon fire, yet more peaceful than a hearthside coze
. He kissed her and she stepped into his embrace. She snuggled under his jacket and her hands were like ice, even through the linen of his shirt.

"I thought you didn't get chilled easily."

She sighed and laid her head on his chest. "I'm always chilled when I'm not in your arms."

"Is that a yes to my proposal?"

She looked up at him again and he couldn't read her expression. For a moment, he almost begged her not to respond because he couldn't bear to hear her say no. Then she smiled again. "Yes, Hans. Yes."