Chapter 10
“Stefan, I have a favor to ask of you,” Isabel murmured, closing the door to the library.
She turned to find he had already seated himself in the leather chair near the fireplace, his long legs stretched in front of him, his boots crossed casually.
A gentle smile played upon her mouth to see him in the room he loved so well, among his books and papers. It was so good to have him home again.
“Ask away, dear sister,” Stefan replied, arching a black brow.
What could Isabel wish to discuss so early in the morning, and in such secrecy?
She had interrupted his morning meal—one he sorely needed, he thought, his stomach growling loudly, since he had missed the banquet at the palace the night before.
She had insisted they speak at once, before the rest of the household was awake, so he knew it had to be important. Isabel was not one to rise early.
Isabel sat down in the chair across from him, her morning gown falling in gentle folds. “It’s about Kassandra,” she murmured, her delicate fingers worrying at the lace flounces edging her sleeve.
Noting her nervous gesture, Stefan narrowed his eyes.
Had Kassandra perhaps gone to Isabel’s chamber late last night and told her of their exchange in the Hofburg gardens?
Considering he was still not certain she was the woman from the tavern, he had to admit his behavior toward her had been brazen and ungentlemanly.
Yet she had had a chance to mention it when they were introduced, and she had not…
“I’m worried about her, Stefan,” Isabel began, interrupting his thoughts. She leaned forward, her voice a raised whisper. “Why, just the other day she was nearly killed when she went into Vienna by herself.”
“What do you mean, killed?” Stefan queried tightly.
Isabel shook her head in consternation. “I invited her to attend a royal gala with me at the Favorita, but she insisted she’d rather remain at the estate…
to write letters and perhaps go riding. Instead”—she paused briefly, taking a breath—“she had Zoltan take her into the city on errands. While she was there, a carriage nearly ran her down. She lost her cloak under its wheels. Oh, Stefan, it could have been a dreadful accident!”
Stefan’s mind raced with this news. So Kassandra had been in the city the other day. Another clue to his tantalizing mystery. But if Zoltan had escorted her, she wouldn’t have been alone. Or would she? He would have to speak with the carriage driver later and discover the truth.
Isabel rose and paced in agitation. “And if that wasn’t enough”—she sighed heavily—“Kassandra refused an escort, even at Gisela’s insistence.
What would Miles say if he knew his daughter was roaming the streets of Vienna with only a carriage driver to protect her?
It’s not only unsuitable, but dangerous!
There are so many soldiers in the city now, carousing, drinking, and whoring—”
“Isabel!”
“I’m no green girl, Stefan,” Isabel countered, “and hardly ignorant of the ways of men, in this city of all places, where infidelity is encouraged. You can hardly blame the soldiers, really, after enduring another long campaign. But think of what might have happened, Stefan, if Kassandra had fallen into such ill company.”
Stefan nearly choked.
Thank God Isabel could not read his mind! he thought, suddenly conscience-stricken. He rose from his chair, anxious to put an end to the discussion.
“So what is this favor you ask of me?” he queried, rankled by his unease.
“If you could watch out for her, Stefan, at least until Miles returns from Hanover,” Isabel replied. “I would rest easier knowing she was in your hands.” A bright smile lit her face. “You could think of yourself as her warrior knight.”
Stefan exhaled sharply. If only she knew how far from Kassandra’s savior he really was. Yet Isabel’s request would give him an excuse to remain in Kassandra’s company, and being near her might further unravel the mystery that spurred him on…
He nodded. “Agreed.”
“I knew you would!” Isabel exclaimed, embracing him warmly. “You have my thanks, and Miles’s as well.” And it will give them a chance to become better acquainted, she thought, her hope that she could match them together flaring higher than ever.
“Now, Isabel, if you know me so well,” Stefan said, “I’m sure you won’t take offense if I return to the dining room and finish my meal.”
“Of course.” Isabel laughed, walking with him to the door. She stopped suddenly and brought her finger to her lips. “Ssshhhh.”
“What is it?” Stefan asked, perplexed. He heard light footsteps in the foyer, then the front door opening and closing.
Isabel only shook her head, motioning for him to look out one of the tall, arched windows.
He drew back the velvet curtain, his eyes widening as he spied Kassandra, dressed in a form-fitting riding habit and walking briskly across the lawn toward the stable.
Immediately he wanted to follow her, and was chagrined by his own eagerness.
Never before had he had so little control where a woman was concerned.
“You agreed, Stefan,” Isabel said, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’m afraid your meal will have to be postponed.
” She shrugged, her eyes dancing. “The lady awaits her protector.” She held the door open for him.
“She’s gone for a ride every morning since she came here, without fail, except for yesterday. It is her passion.”
One of many passions, Stefan amended, the mere thought of that afternoon in the tavern arousing his desire.
“Very well, Isabel.” He winked playfully. “As I am a man of my word, a warrior knight should be about his duties.” His laughter echoed through the hall as he whipped his black cloak over his broad shoulders and stepped outside, closing the door firmly behind him.
Kassandra veered off the path leading to the stable and walked determinedly toward the carriage house, Zoltan’s woolen cloak draped over one arm while under the other she clutched a tight roll of clothing.
The heavy cloak was slowing her down, much to her irritation, but it was time she returned it to the burly driver.
It had looked out of place in her chamber, another glaring reminder of a day she would rather forget.
Her breath hung like a fine mist upon the morning air, which was tinged with the first cold snap of the season.
At last she neared the large outbuilding.
The wide wooden doors were open, so she stepped inside, her eyes adjusting quickly to the darkened interior.
It smelled of horse dung and varnish, the sort used to lacquer the fine wood of the carriages.
“Zoltan?” she called out. “Are you here?” A burst of laughter startled her, then the carriage house fell silent again except for the low drone of masculine voices deep within the building.
Hesitating, she shrugged and followed the sound past a line of well-kept carriages, almost stumbling into a group of drivers seated upon the hay-strewn ground.
They all jumped to their feet, holding bowls of steaming porridge in their hands.
“Lady…Kassandra,” Zoltan managed, hastily swallowing a hearty mouthful with a gulp.
“I-I’m sorry. Please, go back to your meals,” Kassandra stammered, almost as surprised as the wide-eyed drivers.
She stepped to the other side of the carriage and waited for Zoltan to set down his bowl and hurry to her side.
She looked up at the huge Hungarian, gratitude shining in her eyes.
His kindness the other day had deeply touched her.
“Here is your cloak, Zoltan,” she murmured, holding it out to him. “Forgive me for not returning it yesterday. I rose late, and then there was the reception to prepare for—”
“It is no matter, milady,” he replied, his deep-set eyes intent on her face. “Are ye all right, miss?” he asked, absently twisting the cloak with his huge, callused hands.
“Yes, I am fine,” she replied. “Thank you for waiting for me at the cathedral the other day.” She chewed her lip nervously. Could she ask him? she debated, then shook her head. She had to… “Zoltan?”
“Yes, milady?”
“There is something I must ask of you,” she said softly, meeting his gaze.
“If—if anyone should ask if we, I mean, if you followed me in the carriage during the day as I went about my errands”—she paused, gauging his reaction, but his swarthy features were devoid of expression—“would you tell them that you never lost sight of me?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
Surprised, Zoltan mulled over her unexpected request, yet in his heart he already knew his answer. God help him, she was so beautiful, he could hardly deny her plea. For he knew it was a plea, and a desperate one.
Something had happened to this young woman two days past—he was no fool; he had seen the anguish in her eyes when she had met him at the cathedral, something she wanted to keep hidden.
Now she trusted him enough to ask him to lie for her, aye, to knowingly deceive whoever might ask any questions about that day.
And, Zoltan decided firmly, he would not be the one to betray her trust.
“Aye, milady, I will,” he answered gruffly, nodding.
A wide smile broke across Kassandra’s face, but she had no time to thank him, for just then another voice called within the carriage house. “Zoltan!”
Kassandra tensed, her smile disappearing. Stefan! Clutching the roll of clothing to her breast, she brushed past the startled driver and, skirting his equally astonished companions, slipped through an open side door just beyond where they were seated.
She headed straight for the stable, her heart lurching.
Was it a coincidence, or was he following her? She entered the low building and hurried to the stall where her favorite roan mare was quartered.
“I have her all ready for ye, milady, just like every day,” a young stableboy piped up, his fair complexion reddened by the frosty morning air. An eager grin split his face. “Shall I walk her out for ye?”