Cristina pushed out of his grasp, struggled to her feet, and began to pace the carpet in front of the fireplace. The tears fell harder and faster and Cristina could do nothing to stop them. "Please, Blake, don't. Don't call me that. Not now. Not when I've just learned that Meredith is still your countess. Not when I've just learned that I'm your mistress and she's still your wife."
"You're my wife and the mother of my child."
"Then you've one wife too many." Cristina tried to smile through her tears. "The law frowns on this sort of thing. I don't think they allow you to have two at the same time."
"As far as I'm concerned, Meredith was never my wife. You are." He reached out for Cristina.
"But she was first."
Blake dropped his arms to his sides as Cristina's whispered words ripped at his heart. His expression was unreadable but his hands were clenched in tight fists as he sought to maintain some sort of control over his emotions. "I can't go back, Cristina," he said simply. "As much as I would like to, I can't change the facts. I can't undo the entailment on Lawrence House or do anything about the fact that I married Meredith before I married you."
"I know," Cristina couldn't stop the words she threw at him. She couldn't stop the hurt or the fear that drove her on. "But unfortunately for me, she's the only wife that counts--at the moment. And she wants my child."
"So do I," Blake said. "I want your child. And I want you. Tell me, Cristina, is that so terrible?"
"Not unless you only want me because I'm carrying the baby."
"I told you before, I don't want my child to be born a bastard and the only way to prevent that is to marry its mother." Blake hadn't meant to make it sound as if marrying her was like taking bitter medicine, but damn it, she was ripping his heart out, tearing the very life out of him with her fear and her doubt and her crazy accusations. "Countess, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he apologized. Blake wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but the words stuck in his throat. If she didn't know, if she could forget everything that had passed between them so quickly, if she didn't realize how he felt after all these months of living with him, sharing his life, then it was better for her to think the worst of him. And since he couldn't tell her the whole truth, he only told her part of it. "I don't think an innocent child ought to suffer for our mistakes. I don't want the child labeled a bastard when all I have to do to make things right is to marry you as soon as possible."
"Well, Lord Lawrence, you certainly have a way with words." If only he would forget about the baby long enough to reassure her, if only he would tell her how he felt, how much she meant to him.
"Cristina," Blake began again, half placating her and half cautioning her. "I know that learning that Meredith is alive has been a nasty shock for you. It has been for me, too. I thought you wanted us to be married. I thought you liked being married."
"I did. I do."
"Then tell me what else I can do. Because I'm running out of options."
"Go to London, Blake. Go to London as fast as you can. Go do whatever it is you have to do, but keep her away from my baby."
"I can't leave for London yet," he told her. "I can stay with you if you want me to. Or I can return to the embassy."
She shook her head. She knew she was blaming Blake for something that wasn't his fault, knew she was punishing him for Meredith's sins, for the fact that he'd married Meredith first and brought this catastrophe down around their heads, but she couldn't help herself. She was angry and frustrated and very much afraid that if he stayed with her, his life might be in danger as well. "I think that, under the circumstances, it would be best if you stayed at the embassy. You've got a long trip ahead of you and the baby and I might as well get used to being without you for a while." Cristina walked to the front door and opened it for him. She paused in the doorway, then twisted the heavy gold wedding band off her finger and held it out to him.
Blake shook his head. "Please, Cristina, don't."
"I can't keep it. I can't wear it." She looked up at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Take it. Keep it until this is settled. Until I have the right to wear it again."
"Cris, I'm truly sorry." He reached out and caressed her cheek.
She rubbed her face against the palm of his hand, turning slightly so she could place a kiss in the center of it. "I know," she whispered. "I know."
Blake pocketed her wedding ring then stepped out into the cold night, flakes of snow settling on his midnight hair as he turned to look back at her. "You can reach me through the embassy. If you change your mind about tonight or if you need anything, anything at all..."
I love you, she thought. I need you to hold me and tell me everything's going to be all right. I need you to make Meredith go away. She stared at him, memorizing his features, knowing she would rely on those memories in the hours and days and weeks to come. She smiled at him sadly, but all she could say was, "Happy Christmas, Blake."
"Countess..."
"I know." She closed the door quickly, hiding his anguished face, before she turned and headed toward the bed they had shared on so many wonderful nights.
Christmas passed without a word from Blake, as did Boxing Day and four more days, but Cristina didn't shed a tear. She was far beyond tears. She was numb.
She had given up trying to sleep in the bed she had shared with Blake. Leah often found her asleep on the sofa in the sitting room or in the rocking chair in the nursery. Cristina told Leah the baby kept her awake at night, but Leah knew better.
"You've had a lover's quarrel," Leah said, firmly. "That's all it is, Cristina."
"You knew he had been married before, didn't you, Leah?" Cristina shot her friend an accusing look.
"Yes, I knew."
"And, that's why you tried to warn me about him in London."
"Yes," Leah admitted. "And I should have come right out and told you the minute I found out."
"Why didn't you?" Cristina asked, although she realized she probably wouldn't have listened. Even then, it was too late.
"I hoped it wouldn't matter. After all, she was dead and buried. Besides, I thought Lord Lawrence would do it." Leah frowned.
"He did tell me he'd been married and widowed," Cristina admitted.
"How was he supposed to know she would come back from the grave to haunt him?" Leah asked.
"He didn't." Cristina was thoughtful. "But for some reason, I thought he should. I was scared and angry and I blamed him instead of blaming her."
Leah remained silent. "I should mind my own business, but I won't. You were wrong to blame him, but you don't have to keep blaming him. Your stubborn Fairfax pride ain't goin' to keep you warm at night. Lord Lawrence might not say what he feels, but he's tried to prove how much he cares in the only way he knows. He's a man and he's got his faults, but you have to love him for what he is or not at all. He has given you all he has to give and you can't expect more than that, especially when you ain't givin' in return. If all he wanted was a warm body, he could find that on any street corner. He made a mistake once by marryin' the wrong woman; don't make him think he's made the same mistake twice." She finished her lecture and left Cristina alone in the nursery to think about what she'd said.
And she did think about it. She sat for hours rocking in the rocking chair, thinking about it. The apartment felt so empty without him. She felt empty without him.
Was Leah right? Was he showing her how much he cared instead of telling her? Was he afraid his words would be thrown back in his face. Is that why he spent so much time trying to amuse her and keep her form becoming lonely and bored? Was she being selfish by not telling him how much she loved him? Had she been afraid her words would be thrown back in her face? Cristina battled with herself as the afternoon turned into evening, weighing the arguments in her mind against the pain in her heart.
The nursery had grown dark and cold with the
waning of the winter sun, but Cristina resolutely refused to light the lamps or fire or seek the warmth of her bedroom. There were too many memories in that bedroom. Memories of the nights they had made love or lay quietly talking, thinking of names for the baby and trying to imagine the color of its eyes and hair while Blake felt the strong kicks in her belly against the palm of his hand or his soft lips; or the many times he gently massaged her aching back or rubbed cream into her itchy skin just like a thousand other expectant couples. Couple. Before she met Blake, Cristina had never thought of that word in relation to herself. When had her attitude begun to change? When she fell in love with him? Was that what love was all about?
She had never wanted any part of love until she'd met Blake. Oh, she had expected to marry one day, but she hadn't expected love. And here she was, a few short months later, afraid to marry without it. What had happened to her modern ideas? Hadn't she always said that love made you vulnerable and that she would never be vulnerable? Hadn't she seen what loving her mother had done to her father? Hadn't she always thought that marrying for security and companionship was preferable to love? Then, why had she found the idea of selling to the highest bidder so despicable? Why hadn't she simply agreed to go along with her mother's scheme and take whatever was offered? Was it because of Blake? Was it because the first time she met him he had managed to make the idea sound so sordid even though he professed not to believe in love?
She had never meant to love any man, and yet Cristina loved Blake Ashford with all her heart. But love was a new, powerful and frightening emotion and she had been afraid to tell him how she felt--afraid that he would use that knowledge as a weapon against her. Leah was right. She had been selfish--taking everything Blake had to offer without offering anything in return--even the trust she had promised him.
She told herself that she had been protecting Blake's reputation in London, but in reality she had been protecting herself. Running away from love because love could make her so vulnerable. And she was still running, blaming Blake for Meredith, using her as an excuse to drive Blake away because she was afraid that he might take her heart and break it into a thousand pieces.
But she had learned her lesson. Love did make you vulnerable, but it could also make you stronger. And life wasn't worth living without it.
Cristina slowly got up from the rocking chair and walked into the adjoining bedroom. She lit the lamp on the wall and carefully removed a wrapped package from the top drawer of the dresser. It was the Christmas present she had meant to give Blake on Boxing Day. Cristina quickly unwrapped the gaily colored paper and opened the box to reveal a small gold disk hanging from a sturdy gold chain. There was beauty in the simplicity of its design, but there was nothing feminine about this necklace. It was a medallion meant for a man. A medallion made especially for Blake. She removed it from its box and held it in her hand, allowing the heat of her body to warm the cold metal. She had meant to give it to him as a symbol of her love. She had pictured him wearing it and even now, when she closed her eyes, she could imagine it nestled in the thick hair covering his chest. Cristina reached out and traced the inscription with the tip of her finger. On one side was the single word, "Always," in elegant script and on the other side were the words "Cristina, 1878."
She wanted Blake to have it. She wanted him to think of her as he wore it above his heart--to have a part of her near him. Always.
Tomorrow she would find him, give him the medallion, and tell him she loved him. Tomorrow she would tell him she didn't care about Meredith or inheriting Lawrence House or a divorce or anything except loving him and the baby they'd created. Meredith could have the house and the title. Meredith could have everything except him and the baby. Because she wanted them. She loved them. They belonged to her.
Sighing, Cristina climbed into the large double bed and slept peacefully for the first time since Blake had walked out the door, the gold medallion clenched tightly in her fist.
Weeping may endure for a night,
but joy cometh in the morning.
--PSALMS 30:5
*Chapter Twenty-three*
Cristina awoke the following morning feeling refreshed and optimistic. She dressed quickly without Leah's help in a topaz-colored satin morning gown which fastened down the front and allowed ample room for her burgeoning belly. She finished dressing, and obeying the rumbling of her empty stomach found her way to the kitchen where she attacked a breakfast of cream-filled pastries and Viennese coffee.
She had just drained the last bit of cinnamon-flavored coffee from her cup when she heard Leah talking to someone in the front hall of the apartment. Her heart raced at the sound of the low voices. It was New Year's Eve and Blake hadn't left for London without first seeing her. Cristina breathed a prayer of thanks. She nervously patted a hair into place, licked her dry lips, and headed in the direction of the sitting room. She was halfway there before she remembered the medallion and hurried back to her room to get it.
Minutes later she stood in the doorway of the sitting room with the medallion in hand and a smile of greeting on her lips. "Blake!"
"So sorry to disappoint you, Cristina." Crown Prince Rudolf rose gracefully from his chair as she entered the room and watched as her happy smile died on her lips.
"Your Imperial Highness," Cristina acknowledged him and managed a hasty curtsey.
"It appears the rumors circulating the city are true." Rudolf's usually warm blue eyes hardened perceptibly.
"I'm sorry," Cristina apologized. "I never meant to hurt or embarrass you in any way, Your Royal Highness." She bowed her head and studied the pattern on the rug.
"It was all a lie," Rudolf insisted. "You deceived me by pretending to care." His words struck a chord in Cristina. She had thrown a similar accusation at Blake only days ago.
"I made my feelings for you clear from the beginning, Your Royal Highness," she reminded him.
"I thought you were beginning to soften toward me, Cristina. I thought that you might even be learning to care for me as a man," Rudolf said solemnly.
"I value your friendship highly, Your Royal Highness."
"Friendship, Cristina? Is that all you think I feel for you?" the prince scoffed. "I want you, Cristina. I want you to give yourself to me of your own free will. I'll do anything to have you. Even marry you if there is no other way."
"You flatter me, Your Royal Highness, but you must know that's impossible. Even if the emperor allowed it, which I am certain he would not, a marriage between us would never work. I'm neither royal nor Catholic, and I happen to know my name wasn't on your list of prospective brides. And I'm married already."
"You were married," Rudolf said. "And you can be again. I'll renounce my rights."
"No, you won't," she said, shaking her head. "At least, not for me. I don't love you, Your Royal Highness, and you don't love me. You only want me because I'm different from the girls who fall into your arms and into your bed at a moment's notice. You've had to bargain with me and now you want me because I won't come to you willingly."
"I still want you."
"Only because you can't have me. You know I don't love you. You know I deceived you by letting you assume we might have--"
"You didn't deceive me, Cristina. I've always known I wasn't your child's father. I didn't make love to you, but to another lovely redhead--one someone paid, I suspect, to keep me entertained and far away from you. And when you came to me for help, I chose to let you take advantage of me," Rudolf told her.
"You knew?"
"Yes."
"You knew and still you helped me. Why?" Cristina wanted to know.
"I was curious. I wanted to know why you had suddenly changed your mind about me, so I played along. I decided to take advantage of the situation and see if I could to get what I wanted. I knew you were running away from someone. A lady doesn't c
ut up the Prince of Wales's bed linens and climb out the window to keep a man from taking her virginity and then run headlong into the same man's arms. At least not a lady like you, Cristina Fairfax."
"You knew all along." Cristina still couldn't believe he had fooled her so convincingly. "And I felt so guilty."
"I hoped you would." Rudolf had the grace to look away from her when he spoke. "I also hoped I might get another chance once your passion for Lord Lawrence burned out. I thought your coming to Vienna with me was a ruse to persuade him to follow you."
"No, Your Royal Highness," Cristina informed him. "I never intentionally pitted you against him. I didn't know how to tell Blake about the baby. And after hearing about Lord Ainsford's scandal, I was terrified that the same thing would happen to us. I had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. So I used you to get away from London."
"I've been wrong about you from the beginning, Cristina. I was wrong to assume you were interested in pursuing an affair with me. I was wrong to assume that you could be purchased for mere jewels. And I clearly misjudged your passion for Blake." The warmth returned to Rudolf's clear blue eyes when he smiled at her. "You love him very much."
"Yes."
"Then I suggest you catch him before he leaves the embassy for London."
Cristina's eyes sparkled with tears of gratitude. "You've seen him?"
Rudolf shook his head. "No, but I make it a point to know my rivals' whereabouts. It's one of the few advantages of being crown prince. He's taking the midmorning train out of Vienna."
"Oh, no!" Cristina breathed. "I must get to the embassy. I must see him before he leaves." She searched the room for her muff and coat. "Leah! Bring my coat and muff and call a fiacre. Hurry."
"Take mine," Rudolf intervened.
"What?" Cristina was too preoccupied to listen closely.
"Take my carriage, Cristina," Rudolf offered again. "It's parked right outside and my driver knows the quickest route to the embassy. I can get a cab back to the palace."
"Oh, thank you!" Cristina flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, then grabbed the muff Leah handed her and struggled into her coat.
"Godspeed, Cristina." The crown prince blew her a kiss as she raced out the door and into the waiting carriage. He would miss her, but he didn't love her. He wanted her, but there were other beautiful, more willing women waiting for him to favor them with his affections. And there was a most charming young woman waiting for him back in Prague....
Yes, he would miss Cristina Fairfax, but he doubted it would be for long. His guilty conscience was at rest.
Cristina instructed Rudolf's driver to take her to the British Embassy as fast as possible, but on a day like this speed seemed impossible. The Ring was crowded with holiday makers showing off their Christmas finery and enjoying the entertainments provided by the emperor and the court musicians. It was carnival time in Vienna and the air was filled with delicious aromas and the music of Herr Strauss.