Chapter 22 #2
He quickly set down his glass for fear he might crush it in his hand.
Try as he might, he could not suppress the feelings Kassandra roused in him of wild, extraordinary proportions.
That she would bestow her vivacious charms, smiles, such precious laughter, on other men infuriated him beyond reason.
Except for the brief period when they had first arrived at the gala, she had never granted him what she was so freely giving this night!
Women! He would never understand them. He had actually begun to think he had won her favor, then only the Devil knew what had happened to cause her sudden change of heart. Now he was no longer sure of anything.
Except that she is playing you for a fool, he mused grimly. And he would know the reason…
Stefan strode toward the dancers, but a hand tugging on his arm stopped him. His eyes flashed angrily at this sudden hindrance, only to find Prince Eugene’s personal chamberlain at his elbow.
“My lord, Prince Eugene must speak with you,” Clemens whispered urgently, out of breath. “If you would follow me, he is waiting in his library.”
Stefan nodded, and with a last glance over his shoulder at Kassandra, he left the ballroom.
His expression was guarded as he entered the impressive library, for he surmised it could only be an important military matter that would draw his commander away from his guests.
He noted the sodden and exhausted messenger standing at attention beside Prince Eugene’s desk, confirming his suspicion.
“Forgive me for calling you away from the dancing,” Prince Eugene began, looking up from a letter spread before him.
He indicated the messenger with a slight nod.
“This man has just arrived from the winter camp. It seems Commander von Paar has been injured in a riding accident and must return to Vienna for immediate care. I want you to replace him as commander-in-chief.”
Stefan’s gaze widened imperceptibly, his mind working fast. He had already prepared to leave for the camp within the week to join his cavalry forces, and had even told Isabel as much.
But he hadn’t expected this! And he had yet to say anything to Kassandra.
Now there would be little time, if any, to discuss the matter.
“I accept with honor, General,” he stated.
Prince Eugene studied him intently. “It is a heavy responsibility, Count, and usually reserved for an officer with more years under his belt. But you have proven your ability to command time and again with the cavalry. When I join you at the camp in early spring, I shall expect to find the men well trained and keen for battle.”
“So they will be. I shall leave this very night,” Stefan said, already looking forward to the challenge.
“Tomorrow morning will be soon enough,” Prince Eugene replied, rising to his feet.
“The roads are far too treacherous by night.” He turned to the messenger, a lad of scarcely seventeen years.
“I commend you for your bravery, young man, riding well past sunset as you did to reach me with your message. So you say the wolves are fierce this winter?”
“Yes, General. They brought down my extra horse, and would have taken me down as well if I had not carried another pistol at the ready.”
Prince Eugene patted him on the shoulder. He glanced at Stefan. “I’d say he would make a fine candidate for the cavalry, wouldn’t you, Commander?”
“I shall consider him one of my own men from this day,” Stefan agreed seriously, “for he certainly deserves it.”
“Th-thank you, my lords,” the lad stammered, a proud grin splitting his face as he looked from Prince Eugene to Stefan.
“Now, Clemens, see that he is fed and given a warm bed to sleep in,” Prince Eugene told his chamberlain. “He will have a long ride back to the camp on the morrow, in the company of my esteemed commander-in-chief.”
“Yes, my lord,” Clemens replied with a bow. “Come with me, lad.” He hastened from the library with the messenger at his heels.
Prince Eugene sat back down at his desk, perusing the papers before him.
“It appears I must forgo my guests for a short while,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I must write some letters to the other officers at the camp, notifying them of my decision. They will follow your commands explicitly. I’ll give them to you in the morning, before you set out.
If you leave Vienna by eight o’clock, you should be at the camp by late afternoon. ”
He glanced up at Stefan, his serious expression softening. “Go and enjoy what is left of the evening. No doubt Lady Kassandra is anxious for your return to the ballroom. I would not leave such a charming beauty waiting much longer.”
Stefan winced, his thoughts flying back to Kassandra. What he would give if that were true.
“Very well, my lord.” He bowed, then turned and walked from the library. His footsteps echoed down the long hall as he made his way to the ballroom, a strange eagerness seizing him. It felt as if he had been away from her side for hours rather than a few moments. Now they had so little time left…
Familiar feminine laughter greeted him at the entrance to the ballroom, setting his pulse racing.
Yet he stopped cold in his tracks at the sight of Kassandra surrounded by four young gentlemen, the ever-present Count Althann hovering close to her like a preening butterfly.
She was smiling prettily at some remark, then out of the corner of her eye she spied him.
She laced her arm through the nearest gentleman’s, her lilting voice loud enough for him to hear.
“Of course I will dance with you, Count Bonneval, and the rest of you gentlemen, if you will only await your turns.”
Damn it all, he had heard and seen enough! Stefan raged, unreasoning jealousy seizing his heart once again. He would not share the woman who was to become his wife! He strode toward them and gripped Kassandra’s arm just before she and her companion joined the swirl of dancers.
“I believe you have reserved this dance for me, Lady Kassandra,” he muttered tersely, throwing a dangerous look at the hapless gentleman at her side.
“In-indeed, Count von Furstenberg, I had no idea,” the stunned aristocrat acquiesced, stepping back as if he had been stung. He bobbed his head to Kassandra, then hurried away.
“How dare you,” Kassandra protested, though a quiver of fear shot through her at the dark, storm-tossed expression in Stefan’s narrowed eyes. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, his tight hold a painful vise on her arm. “You’re hurting me.”
Stefan did not answer, merely steered her toward the arched entrance to the ballroom. He would have to offer his regrets to Prince Eugene in the morning, but at least he now had another excuse besides Kassandra’s wanton display for leaving the gala early.
“Where are we going? What about the gala?” Kassandra whispered. Her cheeks fired with embarrassment at the inquisitive looks being cast their way by guests—Count Althann, Count Bonneval, a sullen Sophia—and servants alike, and she said no more, her eyes downcast.
Stefan ignored her, paying little heed that she had to practically run to keep up with his long strides as they hurried through the hallway and down the winding staircase to the marble entrance hall.
“Our capes, man,” he grated to the startled footman, who quickly obliged them.
“Go to the kitchen and tell my driver we are leaving at once.” The footman nodded and fled down the corridor, holding on to his wig.
They were ushered out the great doorway, a servant holding a lantern high as they made their way in the new-fallen snow to the carriage.
By the time they were settled, with piles of warm furs wrapped around their legs and draped over their laps, the driver had hoisted himself into his seat and the carriage slid into the street, borne upon sleek wooden tra?neaus.