Chapter 33 #2
He stood up and strode to the water’s edge, his keen eyes judging the distance and angle of approach to several trees farther down the shoreline, now knocked over and half-submerged because of the fierce storm of the past week.
He cast the cloak into the river, watching as it drifted on the swiftly flowing current.
He felt a rush of triumph when it snagged on a branch.
Perfect! Then he dug his bootheels into the muddy bank, so it appeared as if someone had slipped into the water.
Frederick grimly turned his back on the river and hurried to Kassandra, hoisting her once again over his shoulder.
He walked upstream a short way to where he had tethered his horse, laid her crosswise over the saddle, mounted, and set off at a fast canter through the woods.
He veered north, intending to avoid the von Furstenberg estate altogether.
He would cut back toward Vienna when he was well past it.
Raw excitement gripped him and he spurred the spirited stallion on with a sharp nudge of his boot.
Tomorrow he would at last be able to leave the city and head south along the Danube to Belgrade, Serbia. It was only Sophia’s unexpected task that had prevented him from leaving several days sooner.
He had finally discovered the date the Imperial army would depart for the summer campaign. Halil Pasha would be most pleased by this information…as well as by the seductive gift he would present to him.
Now there was nothing left to do but hire a boat and send a message to Archduchess Sophia von Starenberg that Lady Kassandra Wyndham was dead.
Stefan led the two horses toward the lodge, amazed at his light step. How different from when he had arrived there earlier in the day.
“Kassandra!” he called, surprised that she wasn’t waiting for him at the door. He had been in the stable for a quarter hour, plenty of time for her to finish dressing. He shrugged, raising his voice again. “Kassandra!”
When he received no answer, he tethered Brand and the Arabian mare to a tree stump and strode into the sun-washed interior—but it was empty.
Stefan turned on his heel and walked back outside, surveying the clearing surrounding the lodge.
Perhaps she was teasing him, hiding behind a tree, as a game…
He laughed shortly, his voice tinged with feigned exasperation. “Kassandra, come out. We don’t have time for games this afternoon. I want to reach the house before dark.”
There was no reply, not even a giggle. All was hushed, still, except for the wind rustling through the trees and the haunting call of a mourning dove.
A mourning dove. A shiver ran down his spine, but he quelled it angrily. He had never been one for superstitious nonsense, and he wasn’t going to begin now!
It was simple, he reasoned. He had taken longer than she had thought he would, so she had decided to entertain herself with a stroll.
The woods were magical at this time of the year, with the sun filtering through the new leaves, dappling the ground in light and shadow, and the scurrying of forest creatures and their young.
The forest had intrigued him as a boy, and drew him even now, stirring his senses.
Kassandra and he were alike in that regard.
Perhaps she had strolled back toward the river, he considered. It was worth a look.
He mounted Brand and urged him into a trot, skirting the lodge and setting out along the trail.
Every few moments he called out her name, but only his voice came back to him, echoing in the silent woods.
He searched for the blue cloak he’d lent her; its color would surely stand out amidst the forest hues, but there was no sign of her anywhere.
Stefan’s spirits lifted as he neared the river.
Something inexplicable told him she was there, waiting for him, perhaps to share a last kiss in memory of the day. She was a romantic at heart—another trait he loved about her.
He pulled up on the reins at the foot of the hill and dismounted, walking the rest of the way to the river. Yet when he reached his favorite spot, he was disappointed once again. She was nowhere to be seen.
“Kassandra!” he shouted above the rushing torrent, looking first upstream, then the other way. “Kassan—”
His voice froze in his throat, fear cutting through him.
Was that his cloak, caught within the branches…? He moved closer to the shoreline to get a better view, his feet slipping in the mud at the water’s edge, and he had to catch himself from sliding in. He looked down, his heart lurching sickeningly in his chest. Someone had fallen here, not long ago…
Kassandra!
Stefan began to run along the rolling bank, faster and faster, desperation spurring him on.
He did not stop until he reached the fallen tree, half of its splintered length stretching out across the water, its branches reaching for the sky like bony fingers.
Floating on the surface of the white-flecked currents was his blue cloak, snagged by one of the outermost branches.
Kassandra…
“No…” he whispered vehemently, as if he could will away the thought burning into his mind. “No!” He wrenched off his boots and dove into the water, frantically searching the muddy river bottom and along the length of the submerged tree…nothing.
He came up for great, gasping breaths only to dive beneath the sunlit surface again and again, swimming with powerful strokes to the place where he had slipped, diving, searching, diving…nothing…nothing!
The horrible minutes dragged on, the agonized cries that tore at his throat melding with the ragged breaths for air that rasped in his lungs.
At last, spent and exhausted, he dragged himself from the water and fell to his hands and knees, his chest heaving, water running from his clothes and pooling on the ground.
“Brand!” he shouted hoarsely, fighting to catch his breath. “Brand!”
A shrill whinny carried to him on the breeze, then the thunder of hooves sounded upon the grassy bank as the black steed galloped toward him.
“Steady, boy, steady,” Stefan gasped, staggering to his feet and leaning on Brand’s glistening flank. His hands, scratched and bleeding, seized the reins, and with a groan he hoisted himself into the saddle. He nudged the stallion into a fast trot, veering along the rolling bank.
He would search the entire length of this river, he swore vehemently, and on to where it joined the Danube, if need be. He would find her…he would find her! Alive or—
No, he would not think of it! Desperate tears stung his eyes. He tried to choke them back. He had never wept before in his life.
Yet his eyes welled up once again, tears streaking the hardened planes of his face and dimming his vision as his tortured gaze followed the line of the shore…the life that had held so much promise suddenly become a living hell.