Alana tore her eyes away from the portrait and took a seat, but she’d no sooner got comfortable when Ella asked her frankly, “It’s serious between you two? I’d imagine so for Christo to bring you to meet us.”
A logical enough question, after what Hendrik had said when he’d caught them kissing, so Alana managed not to blush yet again. But what was she supposed to tell his mother? Christoph hadn’t said she could speak freely.
“No, I don’t think we would have stopped here if not for the snowstorm. He’s escorting me farther up the mountain to a chalet.”
“The king’s chalet?” Hendrik asked as he walked in to join them.
Alana blinked at his accurate guess, but Ella chuckled at her. “Don’t look surprised. The nobles live no higher than the foothills, with estates extending down to the fertile valleys. Only the king has property so high in the mountains that it’s not useful for anything other than a retreat.” Then Ella frowned. “Forgive my bluntness, but Frederick hasn’t finally taken a mistress, has he?”
“No!” Alana gasped. “Well, not that I know of. I’ve never even met the king.”
“Good. I would hate to think that the sedition currently being spread in the country would force him to desperate measures for an heir, when the queen isn’t barren. She’s just been having bloody rotten luck bringing a pregnancy to full term. I sympathize. My luck was just as bad after Christoph was born—until recently,” she ended with a smile.
“Recently?”
“Christoph’s brother, Wesley, is not even three years of age yet. Quite unexpected he was, arriving so late in our marriage, when Geoffrey and I had long since given up having another baby.”
A twenty-year age difference between the two brothers? Amazing, Alana thought. People would think they were father and son, not siblings.
“Your accent is familiar,” Ella added. “You’re English, aren’t you?”
“Like you, I was raised there, yes.”
“What brings you so far from home?”
“I came here to meet—a parent I didn’t know I had,” Alana said carefully.
Hendrik burst out laughing. “That sounds familiar, too, eh, Ella?”
After the story Christoph had related today about his English grandmother, Alana understood that remark. “Christoph told me a little of your family history.”
“Did he?” Ella asked with interest.
Alana felt like groaning. The mother was obviously still trying to ferret out the nature of Alana’s relationship with her son. Like Hendrik, she’d probably like to see him settled down and raising his own family.
To point out that he hadn’t volunteered the information on his own, she said, “I was surprised when I found out he was part English. I asked for an explanation. Is your mother still living in England?”
Ella tsked. “Yes, she comes to visit us each summer, but I’ve never been able to talk her into staying. Her art keeps her in London, where she has a comfortable studio in her own home and she can easily obtain the supplies she needs. She has such a long list of commissions for portraits. She’s very talented, but thinks that talent would be wasted here, where Lubinians favor a different sort of art. But I’m more hopeful this year she’ll change her mind, otherwise she should stop coming. The last few years she’s arrived here utterly done in. She’s too old to travel such long distances.”
“She’ll never stop coming here,” Christoph said as he stepped into the room. “She’s too ornery to think she’s too old.”
“You’re back already?” Alana said in surprise.
Christoph shrugged out of his coat. “It only took a few minutes to see that the two men were dead after all.”
“Did you bring those bodies back for your father’s wolves?” Hendrik asked. “They can’t be buried until the ground thaws, but the wolves can dispose of them nicely.”
Christoph laughed at Alana’s expression after hearing that. “He’s not serious, wench.”
“Then your father doesn’t really keep wolves?” she asked.
“He does,” Christoph answered as he sat down next to her on the sofa. “He breeds them because they are so unique.”
She was disconcerted for a moment. He could have sat in plenty of other places, including next to his mother. Ella had noted it, too, her eyes moving back and forth between them.
More as a distraction than a correction, Alana pointed out, “Wolves aren’t unique.”
“These wolves are. Tell her,” Christoph said to his grandfather.
Hendrik grinned. “When his father, Geoffrey, was just a boy, I would take him hunting in the high mountains each summer, where the snow never melts. One year we went higher than ever before. It was a clear day, no clouds on the mountain-tops. We found an unnatural creature up there, an albino wolf never seen before in Lubinia, or anywhere else in Europe that I know of. It would have made a fine pelt. I told Geoffrey to shoot it. I wasn’t as good with the bow and arrow as he was. But he refused. He wanted to capture it instead and bring it home to tame. I thought it would be a good lesson for him, that the wild should be left wild. I didn’t think he would succeed, but in less than half a year the white wolf was obeying his every command. Before she passed on, he found her a mate.”
“And he still breeds them?”
“Why not? They’re tame, at least, tame for him!” Hendrik laughed. “He uses them to hunt fresh meat in the winter. So many hunts come to a quick end in the high hills because the frequent snow limits visibility. But it doesn’t stop the wolves.”
She’d love to see these unique animals for herself, but they were probably kept outside and the snow was still coming down heavily, so Alana didn’t ask. Instead, she asked, “You actually hunt with bows and arrows here instead of rifles?”
“I’ve never seen a rifle shot start a snowslide, but why take the chance, eh, when a bow is as easy to master as a rifle?”
If it were that easy, Poppie would have taught her how to use one, but her eyes still flared wide and turned on Christoph. “You could have brought down an avalanche today?”
“What choice did I have, eh? But, no, there isn’t enough snow down here for an avalanche.”
“Who was shooting at you so near here?” Ella asked. “Thieves don’t usually waylay people on the roads. Rebels?”
“The king’s enemies are my enemies. I’ve been a target for some time now.”
Ella scowled at him. “I could have done without hearing that.”
He grinned at her. “You have nothing new to worry about. They only send expendable lackeys after me. But today, we are not sure who they were shooting at, me—or her.”
He actually bumped shoulders with Alana when he said her. She scooted away from him. What was he doing, behaving so familiarly with her in front of his relatives? Especially after he’d been caught kissing her!
“Why her?” Hendrik asked.
“She’s also a target,” Christoph said. “But that’s a long story and privileged information.”
Ella raised a brow at him. “Who is more privileged than your family?”
“Don’t ask” was all he said, but firmly enough to make his point.
Ella nodded and changed the subject, asking, “How are Frederick and Nikola faring? Anything interesting happening at court?”
“The queen is still far too anxious over the rebel situation, but at least she’s entertaining again, which reminds me.” He turned to his grandfather. “Ernest Bruslan’s widow was dining with them recently and asked after you. She—um, misses your humor.”
Christoph said that so suggestively, he obviously didn’t think it was humor the widow was missing, and Hendrik laughed, agreeing with him. “I actually thought about renewing our old acquaintance a while back, but Norbert Strulland was already entrenched as Auberta’s ‘retainer,’ and at my age I didn’t feel like competing with that old goat.”
“She seems to be paving the way for Frederick to name her grandson Karsten his successor, bragging about all of Karsten’s
recent accomplishments.”
Ella was surprised by that news. “That would certainly solve a lot of the current difficulties, but wasn’t Karsten following in his dissolute father’s footsteps?”
Christoph laughed. “He was definitely trying for a while and hasn’t exactly abandoned the wenches yet, but he’s giving a very good impression of having changed enough to shoulder some family responsibilities now—and endearing himself to the commoners in the process.”
“So he’s paving the way as well?”
“He actually thinks he’d make a good king.”
“Would he?” Christoph merely shrugged, so Ella changed the subject again. “As long as you’re here, I insist you stay the night. Your father will be back soon from his hunt. He will be annoyed if he misses you.”
They all felt the draft as the front door was opened, and Ella added, “That must be him now, though why he would use the front door . . .”
It wasn’t Christoph’s father who appeared in the doorway to the parlor, but his lady “friend” whom he’d had forcibly removed from the palace grounds. Nadia gave them all a bright smile. Even dusted in snow, she was incredibly beautiful.
Her eyes lit on Christoph and went no further. “How wonderful to see you again so soon, Christo.” Then she blushed prettily as if she’d only just remembered her manners and told his mother, “I’m sorry for not knocking, but it was too cold out there to wait. I’m lucky to have made it here at all. I was out riding when the snowstorm rushed down the mountain. I must have gotten turned around in it. I thought I was heading home, but here I am instead.”
“That’s quite all right, Nadia,” Ella said graciously. “You know you’re always welcome here.”
“No, she’s not, not anymore,” Christoph countered. “And she knows it.”
Ella gasped. “Christo!”
“He’s been quite mean to me, Lady Ella,” Nadia complained in an aggrieved tone. “He trifled with my—affections—then forbade me to visit him anymore.”
Christoph’s expression darkened with anger. No one could miss what the blond beauty had just implied. But Alana didn’t doubt it was true. How like a barbarian to end an affair as rudely as she’d seen him do.
Elle apparently believed it, too. “Our neighbor, Christo? How could you?”
“I couldn’t, so be at ease, Mother. Nadia has merely become vindictive in her old age.”
Nadia gasped. Hendrik found something to look at on the ceiling. Ella nodded, believing her son without needing further explanation.
Yet still the gracious Englishwoman, Ella told the young woman, “Nadia, warm yourself at the fire for a few minutes while our coach is readied to take you home. Hendrik, would you mind seeing to it?” But Hendrik wasn’t about to leave the room just then and simply bellowed for a servant. Ella sighed. “I could have done that.”
Nadia, quite stiff with indignation now that she knew she wasn’t welcome, moved to the fireplace. As she passed the sofa, her eyes narrowed on Alana and then dropped on Christoph.
“Isn’t this the wench you took to your quarters at the palace the other day?” Nadia said cattily. “You insult your mother by bringing your mistress here?”
“Why don’t you learn some manners, wench?” Alana surprised them all by saying. “Or is the captain going to have to throw you out of here as he did at the palace?”
Christoph burst out laughing. All anger gone, he stood up and tossed Alana’s coat at her. “Come, wench,” he said, laughing again, probably because it was a name he’d called her so many times himself. “I’ll show you those wolves you were so interested in.”
“I’ll join you,” Hendrik said, adding with a chortle, “It’s probably warmer out there than it is in here right now.”
“I’ll go, too,” Ella said, but she was the last to leave the room, and she paused at the door to tell Nadia, “I don’t know why he’s annoyed with you. I don’t care. But I warn you, don’t ever try to turn me against my son again as you did here today. Be gone before we return.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
ALANA NEEDED A FEW minutes alone to freshen up before she went outside again. The Beckers had a small retiring room downstairs. Hendrik went ahead to clear the path of snow. Ella gave her directions so Alana could follow when she was done, probably because Ella wanted a few minutes alone with her son. Christoph, that barbarian, asked if Alana needed assistance. She closed the door to the water closet in his face.
She didn’t expect to find a modern flushing toilet as so few homes had them yet, even in England, but in a contrived semblance of one, a sturdy block of smoothly polished wood cradled a ceramic chamber pot, thankfully empty. She made quick use of it and was washing her hands when the door opened behind her.
She swung around. She wasn’t really surprised to see Nadia standing there. The look the blonde had given her in the parlor had been nasty enough to suggest they weren’t done with each other. Alana should have kept her mouth shut, but Nadia had attacked her directly in calling her Christoph’s mistress. She had responded angrily, thoughtlessly, and now she was going to reap the consequences.
She thought about pushing past the woman and simply ignoring her, but she was too curious to see if Nadia was as malicious as Christoph had implied, or if she was there to apologize for her catty remarks. Alana could understand why Nadia had been upset at the palace. Apparently Christoph had asked her to leave, she’d refused, so he’d had her forcibly removed. But they were neighbors! How close had they been before that argument? He never did say what sort of friends they used to be.
Nadia clarified that rather well when she said stiffly, “Don’t think he will marry you. He’s soon going to marry me. Our families expect it.”
If she hadn’t added the remark about their families, Alana could have scoffed that the woman was still just being a jealous shrew. Instead, she felt oddly—deflated.
“He’s a barbarian, you’re welcome to him,” she replied, but then she felt a spark of anger and added, “Though last I saw, he was banning you from the palace, so I doubt he thinks he’s going to marry you.”
What was wrong with her?! She sounded as jealous as Nadia did. Nadia’s face turned quite pink at that reminder. Still, Alana didn’t expect to be slapped for it, but she’d never been so glad of all those rapier lessons she’d had as she was when her arm rose automatically to block it.
“I warn you, we only had a lovers’ quarrel,” Nadia hissed. “We’ve had them before, but we always make up and we will this time as well.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“I’m not.”
Alana chuckled without humor. “You could have fooled me. Maybe you should be convincing him that you two always make up. I could care less. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are some wolves I want to meet, a prospect I find far preferable to listening to anything else you have to say.”
She brushed past the woman, almost hoping Nadia would try to detain her further so she could really give her a piece of her mind. She was furious to find herself in the middle of a lovers’ spat. And without warning. But of course Christoph wouldn’t tell her he was just using her to make his lover jealous. For Nadia to come to that conclusion so rapidly suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d done so, either.
Stepping outside behind the house, she gave Christoph a baleful look. He was close enough to catch it, on his way back to find out what was keeping her.
Grinning as he took her arm to help her along the swept path, he guessed, “You got lost?”
“No, I can follow directions.”
“Then—?”
“You should make an effort to tame that shrew. She’s really quite unpleasant.”
“Nadia spoke to you again?”
“Yes, she had to make sure I knew that you’ll be marrying her—eventually.”
“Wishful thinking on her part that will never come to pass, but this is no concern of yours.”
“Isn’t it? She just made it my concern by trying
to slap me a few minutes ago! She’s lucky I didn’t break her bloody nose.”
He choked back a laugh. “Perhaps I should explain.”
“Yes, perhaps you should,” she huffed.
“As neighbors, we grew up together. At one time she was even my best friend. But that ended long ago, when she became what you met today, a shrew, as you called her. Once I did think of marrying her, but I was still a boy, and she had yet to become the termagant.”
Alana blushed, that she’d been so gullible. “So she’s not your lover?”
“No, nor will she ever be. The only thing left between us is unpleasantness. She nags me to marry her. She even tries seduction. But her trap is clear. I’m not fool enough to step in it so she can cry foul to her father. Now come and get the foul taste from your mouth with fresh wolves.”
She was appalled by the thought. “You killed one of your father’s pets?”
He rolled his eyes. “Fresh as in babies.”
“Oh, babies!” she exclaimed with a laugh.
Alana had never owned a pet of any sort, nor had any of her friends, at least not in the city, where conditions weren’t ideal for them. She thought it was cruel to keep a dog cooped up indoors for most of the day. So her heart opened immediately when she saw the four little wolf pups through the gate, three white, one gray, all the same size, playing with a bone as if it were a toy.
They were in a large pen, with high stone walls, open to the snow. With the snow still falling, it took her a moment to see the white adult sitting in a corner watching her, or the other adult that came out of the cavelike structure attached to the pen to guard her pups. The mother picked up one of the pups by its nape and carried it into the den. Hendrik yelled at her and she dropped it, but that wouldn’t stop her for long.
“She’s going to hide them all, isn’t she?” Alana said with disappointment. “I was hoping to meet them.”
“That’s probably not a good idea,” Christoph cautioned next to her.