Chapter 23
Kassandra’s face burned with humiliation and fury, so much so that she kept her head turned away from Stefan during the entire journey. Her tear-glazed eyes stared blindly out the window at the darkened streets, then into the inky blackness of the forest along the road leading to the estate.
She did not trust herself to speak. There was too much emotion, too much pain welling up inside her, threatening a storm over which she would have no control.
The tension was palpable in the carriage, like a living presence between them. Stefan made little movement and no sound but for his steady breathing. Yet she could feel him watching her in the darkness, provoking shivers within her.
In the pressure of his muscled thigh against her own beneath the furs, the warmth of his body searing through her clothing, she could sense his tightly reined restraint.
She chewed her lower lip, wishing desperately for the solace of her chamber and the safety of her doors bolted firmly against him.
At last the carriage came to a jarring halt. The flurry of neighing horses, footmen opening the door and lifting her to the ground, then assisting her up the steps to the front entrance, was a welcome diversion from the unnerving silence.
She was grateful the hour was so late. She had no wish to face Isabel, or the prying Gisela. Yet no sooner had she shed her cape in the dimly lit foyer then Stefan took her arm once again and escorted her up the grand staircase and down the corridor to their adjoining chambers.
“Good night, Kassandra,” he murmured tersely when they reached her door, his expression masked by the shadows filling the hall. “It has been a most pleasant evening.”
Kassandra’s throat constricted at his coldness. “M-my lord,” she finally managed.
She fumbled with the doorknob, then the door opened and she stepped inside with a sweeping sense of relief.
She fairly slammed it in her haste to be free of his unsettling gaze, her fingers flying to the bolt and sliding it into place.
She slumped against the door, scarcely breathing as she listened for the sound of Stefan’s footsteps moving down the hall—but there were none.
Stefan’s eyes narrowed furiously, the door slamming in his face a booming echo in his mind. Only her silence during the journey back to the estate had held his rage in check. Now, with this last act of defiance, he felt his temper finally snap.
“Open the door, Kassandra,” he demanded, his voice low and menacing.
Stunned, Kassandra backed away from the door, slowly shaking her head with disbelief.
“I will not ask again, my lady,” Stefan murmured vehemently, leaning his broad shoulder against the doorjamb. “The choice is simple. Open this door, or I will break it down.” He laughed harshly. “Believe me, Kassandra, no bolt will keep me from you.”
Kassandra’s hand clutched at her throat, her mind racing wildly at his last words. She had no more time to think as he tested the doorknob, still held fast against him.
“Very well—”
“No, wait!” she exclaimed, flying to the door.
Her fingers shook as she withdrew the bolt, stark realization flooding through her that perhaps she had gone too far at the gala.
Then the door swung open and she darted away, Stefan’s powerful form filling the room where she had stood only a moment before.
He closed the door firmly behind him, and bolted it.
Kassandra backed away as he moved slowly toward her, his striking features, set, implacable, illuminated in the pale moonlight streaming through her windows.
It was then she recognized the scorching desire reflected in his gaze…
the same look she remembered so vividly from the tavern, only heightened by flashing anger.
Her worst fears were confirmed. Her limbs suddenly felt weak and she could not still her trembling.
Her gaze skipped about the room for any means of escape, but there was none.
“Oh!” she gasped, backing into the divan placed near her bed. She scrambled around it, taking some fleeting comfort that there was an obstacle between them.
Stefan stopped his relentless advance, one hand resting on the back of the divan. His eyes raked over her. “Tell me, Kassandra,” he breathed softly, belying the torment twisting within him. “What game have you been playing tonight…and with so many?”
Ire coursed through her, jolting the fear from her heart and giving her courage. Bastard! He spoke of games…to her! She drew herself up before him, her gaze meeting his with defiance.
“Game, my lord?” she retorted, throwing all caution to the wind. “I play no game. I am merely exercising my prerogative to choose a lover. That is the custom in Vienna, is it not?”
Stefan’s expression hardened and his jaw clenched, but before he could reply, she rushed on breathlessly.
“From what I have seen, it’s only fair. God knows to whose bed you ride out almost every night. Obviously you have your whores…your mistresses…that…that Sophia!” she spat angrily. “I see no reason why I might not have a lover as well!”
Stefan exhaled sharply, momentarily confused.
Sophia? What the devil could she mean by…
? Then suddenly it all made perfect sense to him.
An amused smile tugged at his mouth, the anger ebbing from his body, overwhelmed by an emotion far more intense.
He threw back his head and laughed deeply, loudly.
Kassandra stared at him in shock, hardly expecting this reaction and thinking he was mocking her. “Don’t let me keep you, my lord,” she grated, her chin lifted. “I have no doubt your mistress awaits you.” Her eyes flickered toward the door. “Now get out of my room.”
Stefan’s smile faded and he took a step toward her, glancing down at the divan blocking his way. Then he raised his head, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. “You are correct on one count, Kassandra,” he murmured lightly. “I agree wholeheartedly that you should have a lover.”
“Y-you agree?” Kassandra queried, astonished. She gaped at him, caught completely off guard by his unexpected acquiescence as he shoved the divan roughly out of the way and caught her within his arms. He drew her against his chest, and though she struggled wildly, he held her fast.
“Yes,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her neck, “but I must tell you, Kassandra, your other accusations are way off the mark.” He brought his hand up and tilted her chin so she would look at him.
“I have no mistress…not since we met that night in the garden. You are the only woman I desire, the only woman I long to possess.”
He paused, drawing a shuddering breath, his unflinching gaze searing into the violet depths of her eyes.
“As to your other charge, you must be referring to the nights I have spent alone at my hunting lodge. My only refuge against the torment of having you so close to me…wanting you, more than I have ever wanted any woman, while I have waited for that moment when you admit to the desire that is raging within you. A desire that is matched only by my own.”
“No…” Kassandra whispered fiercely, tossing her head. “No, it’s not true. I hate you…despise you!” She felt as if she were being ripped apart, long-repressed emotions welling up inside her, vivid memories of shared passion, shivering sensations…aching desire,
“It is true,” Stefan insisted, drawing her closer, his powerful arms like bands of iron. “For you have just revealed something to me this night, Kassandra, something I have not seen before,” he murmured, stroking her hair, then running his finger lightly along her cheek. “Your jealousy.”
Stunned, she renewed her struggles, kicking, lashing out with her arms, anything to be free of him. “Blackguard! You’re mad!” she exclaimed, striking his chest with her doubled fists. He easily caught her hands and drew them behind her back, making her lithe body arch against his.
“When there is jealousy, Kassandra…there is desire,” he said softly, his eyes holding her own with an intensity that took her breath away. “I know that because I, too, have felt unreasoning jealousy possess me tonight. I believe you want me now as much as I want you.”
She shook her head, the fierce pounding of her heart a deafening roar in her ears. It seemed the room was crashing down around her, along with her will, her resolve to resist him. Nothing made sense anymore but the truth in his words, and the stirring power of his arms.
“Then deny it and I swear I will leave you,” Stefan said abruptly, releasing her.
She fell back against the foot of the bed, groping for the corner post so she might regain her balance. Her breath tore at her throat, her breasts heaving against her taut bodice as she brought herself around to face him.
Sweet Lord, deny him! her inner voice screamed. Deny him! She met his eyes, and in that fleeting moment he knew…as she knew. She opened her mouth to speak, to cry out, but no words came.
Kassandra’s hands slid limply down the corner post and she slumped to her knees, her gown fanning out around her. She bowed her head in defeat and sighed raggedly.
She could no more deny him than she could deny she lived and breathed.
When Stefan bent over her and lifted her gently to her feet, she did not protest. The muscled strength of his arms around her once again thrilled her, and she returned his embrace, knowing she was lost…
yet no longer caring. She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his, a mirror to his fervent desire.
Then his lips touched her own, tentatively, sweetly, deepening into a kiss that seemed to draw her soul from her body.
“Kassandra, my only love,” Stefan murmured huskily against her mouth, as she entwined her slim arms about his neck. They twirled around slowly in the center of the room, lost in their embrace, their solitary dance serenaded by moonlight and the rustle of satin.