When Passion Rules

  “Do you realize how disparaging that question is?”

  “You just said the schools sit empty, which I find outrageous, loving to teach as I do. Never mind. What happened to your grandmother?”

  “Are you sure you want to hear this? It does not have a happy outcome.”

  It must have been happy at some point, she thought, if he was a quarter English. “Yes.”

  “My grandmother knew her mother wouldn’t allow her to marry the young Lubinian man, so they married in secret before telling her. And my great-grandmother wasn’t just furious, she refused to recognize the marriage because my grandmother wasn’t of age yet. Her betrothed was a powerful earl, a match arranged by her father before he died. My great-grandmother took her straight home to England and forced her to wed the earl.”

  “Without getting a divorce for her daughter first?”

  “Why would she do that when she didn’t consider the first marriage valid?”

  Alana rolled her eyes. “Your grandmother still wasn’t of age yet, was she?”

  He shrugged. “Some consider a betrothal as binding as a marriage. My great-grandmother certainly did.”

  “And then?”

  “My grandmother didn’t know she was already with child. Her second husband knew she was not a virgin when she came to him. Still, he would have kept her—she was beautiful. But the child began to show too soon for it to be his. He kicked her out and did divorce her. My grandmother was disgraced. Her mother would have never forgiven her if she hadn’t become so attached to her granddaughter, my mother, after she was born.”

  “Did your grandmother’s Lubinian husband ever try to find her?”

  “Oh, he tried. He loved her and his family recognized the marriage. They considered Grandmother a runaway wife and insisted he bring her home. But, sadly, he never found her because her mother had changed their name and moved them to the country to escape the scandal.”

  Alana wished she’d stopped him when he’d warned her there was no happy ending. “They were never reunited, were they?”

  “No. My grandmother tried to find him after her mother passed on eight years later, but she was too late. He had died the year before. She stayed with his family for a while so they could get to know his daughter, but later that year she returned to London. But every summer thereafter she faithfully brought my mother back to visit her relatives here. On one of those visits, when she was sixteen, my mother met my father. That at least ended happily.”

  “So your mother actually grew up in England?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then would you mind telling me how you ended up with such atrocious manners? A woman who grew up in England would have taught you better.”

  He grinned at her. “But she did. When I am with the king, I exhibit the manners he expects in his nobles. When I am with my men, I use the manners they expect. When I’m with a woman—”

  “That’s far enough.”

  He raised a brow. “So your opinion of this country still hasn’t improved, eh?”

  “Nor is it likely to. I was raised in the most civilized country in the world, just as your mother was.”

  “Then maybe you should ask my mother why she loves this country so much. Do you even know how Lubinia came into existence? Goatherds settled here, prospered, their families grew with each generation, and finally a natural leader emerged, Gregory Tavoris, and with the people’s support he became the first Lubinian king. But we are all free men. Never have there been serfs here who grovel to a lord, who are no better than slaves—as your country had.”

  She blushed furiously, but would have pointed out that comparing today’s Lubinia with England’s past didn’t really support his point that Lubinia was superior to England. But the bullet flying past her ear sent her diving to the floor instead.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ALANA CROUCHED AS LOW as she could get on the floor of the sleigh. Not an ideal place to hide, but at least the back of the sleigh was high enough to provide cover. Unfortunately, the sides weren’t, as they were barely half a foot high. But she realized the shots were coming from behind them when Christoph grabbed his rifle from the floor next to her and shot back in that direction.

  Her heart was already pounding, but when she noticed Christoph was too busy returning fire to take cover himself, she was terrified. Kneeling on the backseat of the vehicle, he was exposing half his chest and his head, and his chest made a broad target!

  “Get down between shots!” she yelled at him.

  He glanced down at her, frowned at what he saw, then said as he crouched a little lower on the seat, “They’re cowards, already falling back.”

  Was her fear that obvious to him? But his remark and the cover he was taking now did relieve her—until she heard the crack of another shot fired, and not from Christoph’s rifle. He swore in annoyance and aimed to his right. “They’re playing crafty, taking cover in the trees.”

  “They can play crafty all they like as long as they continue to be lousy shots,” she replied.

  “Easy for you to say, you weren’t shot.”

  Her eyes flared, her heart skipped a beat. She looked frantically for blood, but couldn’t find any on him. But then she noticed the thin rip high on the side of his coat by his shoulder. No blood, though. The coat was thick, as was the corded epaulet on his jacket beneath it in that spot, so the bullet likely didn’t even touch his skin.

  Relieved without even realizing it, she assured him, “You weren’t shot, your clothes were.”

  Without glancing down at her, he said, “Not the least concern, eh?”

  She didn’t answer that, afraid she had too much concern. “Do you have an extra weapon I can use in your saddlebag? I’m an excellent shot, and you know I’m not going to use it on you.”

  “You’re not getting up off that floor to shoot at anything, but you can dig out the ammunition in the bag for me.” He added, “One down, one wounded. Two to go.”

  She quickly did as he asked, but it finally dawned on her that the sleigh hadn’t stopped or picked up speed. It was still moving along at a steady pace. She glanced behind her and gasped to see why. The poor deaf driver was still sitting on his perch, oblivious to the sounds of bullets flying about.

  “Shouldn’t the driver take cover?” she asked Christoph. “He doesn’t even know we’re being shot at.”

  “Cover, no, but we need more speed. Tell him.”

  “How? He can’t hear.”

  “Indicate, and do it without getting up. Also, there is a road coming up on the right. Let him know to turn down it.”

  She couldn’t reach the perch above her without leaning up so she grabbed one of the blankets and flipped it up at the man’s back. He glanced behind him. He didn’t even see her on the floor, but he saw Christoph shooting and immediately whipped the horses for the needed speed. One down, one to go, she thought. She whipped the blanket at the driver again to catch his eye, then pointed to the right. He nodded as if he understood perfectly, and maybe he did, if he was familiar with the area.

  Task accomplished, she glanced at Christoph again. He might be taking careful aim before he fired off a shot, but she hadn’t missed that earlier laugh of his. She didn’t doubt that he was having a great good time fending off these assailants, whether they were after him or her. He might be crouching on the seat, but his head and shoulders were exposed. Someone might get a lucky shot . . .

  “Why didn’t you bring some men with us?” she asked, annoyed.

  “I did. I sent them ahead. I was trying not to draw attention to us.”

  “Well, that worked wonderfully, didn’t it?”

  He glanced down at her. “Are you always so sarcastic when you’re frightened?”

  She sighed. “I don’t really know. I’m not used to fear. But I’m not actually frightened anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you aren’t.”

  “I’m terrified—”

  “Oh, sure you are,” she
scoffed.

  “—that you’ll be shot. Like you, I hide my emotions well.”

  She snorted. A fine time to be teasing her, she thought. But then he turned around, sat on the seat again, and extended a hand to her.

  “They’re gone?” she asked.

  “Two left behind on the ground, the other two riding off with their wounds. I’ll send—”

  He stopped to swear foully. She didn’t realize why until she was seated next to him again and saw a snowstorm racing toward them. In moments the snow was swirling all around them and moving down the hillside.

  “So much for following a blood path,” he continued in disgust. “I should go after them myself.”

  Alana knew that with the snow coming down so heavily the tracks their assailants’ horses left behind would soon be covered. She glanced behind the sleigh expecting to see nothing but a sheet of white, yet for a moment she actually caught a glimpse of the sun still shining far below in the lowlands before even that disappeared from her line of sight.

  “Go ahead,” she suggested bravely as he shook out one of the blankets to spread over them again. “I’ll be fine now.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “I made you a promise. I’m not leaving your side.”

  Music to her ears—not that she liked his company! She just didn’t really want to be left alone in the middle of a snowstorm.

  She dusted the snow off her shoulders before she pulled the blanket up to her neck. That didn’t help her face, which was getting quite wet as the snow melted on it.

  “My nose is freezing,” she complained, wishing more than ever that they were in a coach.

  Christoph immediately drew her closer to him so that her head rested against his chest and raised the blanket over her. She decided not to object. His coat wasn’t exactly warm against her cheek, but she didn’t doubt it would be in a few minutes.

  “I was hoping we could reach the chalet before we ran into one of these mountain storms,” he said. “This is not good. The path is treacherous when it isn’t clearly visible.”

  “Let me guess,” she mumbled under the blanket. “No fencing to protect a vehicle from sliding over the side?”

  “Yes, there’s fencing higher up. But it’s not sturdy enough to keep a strong horse from breaking through if the driver can’t see well enough to steer away from the side. There are no slopes yet, but there will be.”

  “So we’re going back?”

  “No.”

  “But you just said—”

  “My home is near here. We’ve just turned onto the road leading to it. If the snow doesn’t blow over within the hour, we may pass the night with my family.”

  Family?! “Who are you going to tell them I am?”

  “My mistress, of course.”

  She gasped. “The devil you will.”

  “Very well, I won’t mention it.”

  She tried to get out from under the blanket to see if he was serious. But he held her fast to his chest so she couldn’t. Deliberately, she didn’t doubt. But before she could decide if it was worth a struggle, the sleigh stopped at his family’s estate.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  WHEN ALANA THREW OFF the blanket, she saw that the sleigh had stopped near the front door of the house, close enough that she had to turn her head both ways to see just how far the house extended. Quite far. The large house was several stories high in the center block, with wings spreading beyond that. She’d only seen three other mansions like it on the way to the capital when she’d arrived in the country.

  Set off in the higher hills like the Beckers’ home, one of those mansions had caught Poppie’s eye that day and prompted him to explain to her, “There was a time long ago when the nobles of the land vied to impress each other with bigger and bigger homes, adding wings they had no use for. It might have continued to a ridiculous degree if the king at that time hadn’t put a stop to such a frivolous waste of resources. Some say he was merely jealous because a few of those mansions were growing larger than his own palace!”

  She knew of ducal properties in England that were just as grand as these mansions, but the majority of the homes in the English countryside were of a more modest size. Here in Lubinia there didn’t appear to be anything but cottages for commoners and mansions for noblemen, at least not in the countryside.

  “The people don’t resent such a show of wealth?” she’d asked Poppie.

  “Oddly enough, no. They take pride in the size of their landlord’s home. I know my family did. But then competition can be contagious.” Poppie had laughed.

  Christoph got out of the sleigh and held out his hand to her. She thought he meant to help her down. But, no, he pulled her to him so he could carry her cradled in his arms right to the door. Thanks to his chivalrous behavior, her boots wouldn’t get snowy and she wouldn’t slip on the steps, which already had several inches of newly fallen snow on them. He stamped his feet just outside the door before he opened it and stepped inside.

  But he didn’t set her down there, either. When she looked up at him to see why, he captured her mouth with his own. She was startled by the kiss despite the intimacy they’d just shared in the sleigh with her hiding under a blanket against his chest. So much for thinking he’d just made a gentlemanly gesture, carrying her out of the snow.

  For some reason her resistance was paltry at best. She shouldn’t even have tried to lean away from him. The attempt just tightened Christoph’s arms on her and deepened the kiss until she was straining toward him instead of away. She must have been affected by their proximity in the sleigh without even realizing it. How else could this happen again with her showing such complete surrender?

  “We would have made a fire in that sleigh if it didn’t snow,” he said passionately against her lips. “You might want to let your nose get cold when we continue on, or I will behave as the barbarian you think I am.”

  Make love to her in an open vehicle with a driver a mere few feet away? Did she really tempt him that much? If his kiss hadn’t taken the chill off her, his words certainly would have because she didn’t think he was joking!

  “You finally bring a woman home to meet us?” a new deep, masculine voice asked. “When is the wedding?”

  Christoph chuckled as he bent to set Alana carefully on her feet. “Don’t embarrass the lady,” he told the old man standing there watching them with interest. “I am escorting her. We ran into some trouble on the road. We may spend the night here if the snow doesn’t quit soon.”

  Why would he volunteer so much information? Was he as embarrassed as she was to have been caught kissing her, even by a servant? Unless this wasn’t a servant.

  Alana gave the old man a closer look. His hair was silver gray, but it wasn’t thinning yet. Worn long, some of it was queued, but the rest was loose on his shoulders, giving him a scraggly look. His eyes were light blue, his face craggy with wrinkles. But he was tall, robust of frame, his shoulders barely stooped. And he was oddly dressed. He wasn’t wearing a jacket with his dark blue, long-sleeved shirt, but a white fur vest that reached the hem of his knee-high breeches. There were no shoes on his feet, only stockings.

  “You kiss all the ladies you escort, eh?” the old man asked.

  Christoph laughed. “Only the pretty ones. Lady Alana, this is my grandfather, Hendrik Becker.”

  Alana wondered if her cheeks could get any hotter. They did a moment later when a middle-aged woman appeared in the open doorway to the parlor.

  Seeing her, Hendrik immediately crowed, “Look who’s here, Ella. And I caught him kissing this young woman. You should tell him to marry her. He’ll listen to you. If they give you a grandchild soon, our Wesley will have a playmate.”

  “Hush, Henry,” Ella said. “You’re embarrassing the girl. And Wes has a playmate. You. I have to fight to get him out of your arms.” Then she held out her arms to Christoph. “Come here.”

  He grinned and walked over for a hug. “Introduce yourself, Mother, and make Lady Alana comfortable. I wi
ll be back shortly.”

  “You just got here!” Ella protested.

  Alana was speechless. He was going to leave her alone with his family? She was about to protest, too, when he told his mother, “I shot a few men not far from here. I just need to make sure they are dead or cart them here for questioning if they still breathe.” Then he turned to Alana and chucked her chin. “I leave you in good hands.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  CHRISTOPH WALKED OUT THE door, every inch the captain, all-business, to deal with his unpleasant task. Alana would still rather have gone with him. She didn’t mind meeting strangers, but these people were his relatives. Did they have the same barbaric tendencies he displayed? Not his mother, of course, but the rest of his family? He’d been raised in this house, so where else would he have learned such behavior?

  But Ella Becker put her at ease immediately with a simple warm smile. She looked no different from most Englishwomen her age Alana could have met in London. Her light brown hair was neatly coiffured, her lavender day dress in the height of English fashion. No taller than Alana was, Christoph’s mother had blue eyes as dark as Christoph’s, but otherwise Alana noted no resemblance between mother and son.

  Ella led Alana into the parlor where a fire blazed, the room warm enough that she quickly took off her coat, gloves, and cap. The furniture was English in style, dark, polished wood tables and cabinets, tan and brown brocaded sofas and chairs. Alana was reminded that she was in a foreign land when she saw that one entire wall was decorated with a mosaic depicting a mountaintop view of the capital city in summertime. Alana found it breathtakingly beautiful. The windows in the room had tasseled, velvet drapes, which were open. She could see the snow-covered landscape, steep hills and mountains not too far away.

  A family portrait hung above the fireplace. Alana wondered if Christoph’s grandmother had painted it. She recognized Ella in it easily, and possibly a younger Hendrik. Two other men were in it, another woman much older, and one young boy, blond, blue-eyed, handsome. She didn’t doubt the boy was Christoph, and it felt a bit odd, seeing him as a child.