Whisper Always

"Really?" the second girl's eyes lit up. "And Cristina pretends to be a lady. With that background, it's a wonder she's accepted in our society. Imagine her snatching Roderick from right under your nose."

  "Mother says Roderick must be mad to consort with baggage like Cristina. I can't imagine what he sees in her."

  "I can." The resonant baritone came as a complete surprise to the gossiping young ladies.

  They gasped in unison and turned to face the eavesdropper.

  He had obviously just arrived for he still wore his overcoat, and his silk top hat and cane were held in one white-gloved hand. He stood several inches taller than Roderick and his black hair was interspersed with strands of silver at the temples. His handsome mouth was curved into a mocking smile and he made no secret of his displeasure with the whispers of the gossip he had overheard.

  "Sir, it is extremely rude to eavesdrop on conversations without making your presence known." The first girl delivered the setdown.

  This statement increased his displeasure. "It's even more rude to gossip about one's host or the daughter of one's host while you're enjoying their hospitality, no matter how jealous of her you might be. And that's especially true when you're in a position to be overheard." His British accent was clipped and cutting. "Didn't your mothers teach you that ladies never gossip?" His icy sarcasm sent the two girls on their way, hiding their reddened faces behind lacy fans.

  He bowed mockingly to the retreating girls, then focused his attention on the red-haired vision dancing around the room. He lounged against the doorjamb, enjoying the view.

  "Please, Cristina ..." Roderick Baker pleaded. "Have pity on me. Don't keep me waiting. Say you'll consider my offer of marriage."

  "I can't, Roderick. I don't love you and I'm not interested in marriage," Cristina told him.

  "You mean to say you're not interested in marrying me."

  "I mean exactly what I said. I'm not interested in marrying anyone right now. I've only been in New York a year. I've barely had a chance to get reacquainted with my father. And I'm not ready to leave him. It wouldn't be fair."

  "Fair to whom?"

  "To me or you or any other man. And it wouldn't be fair to my father."

  "It isn't fair to keep me waiting."

  "I'm not keeping you waiting," Cristina said. "There are a dozen young ladies here that would be happy to marry you. Go ask one of them."

  "I sometimes think you're too devoted to your father."

  "Oh, Rod, that's ridiculous and you know it. Besides, I never asked for your attention or your affection. If you don't like my answer, then quit asking me. I'm only twenty-two. I have several more good years left before I even need to think about marrying a--" Cristina stopped. She had almost said "again." "At all," she amended quickly. "And I promised my father I would wait awhile."

  "What kind of promise is that for a daughter to make to her father? Most fathers are thrilled to see their daughters married and settled down with families of their own. But from the way your father acts, I'd swear he wanted to keep you all to himself. I don't think he wants you to marry at all."

  "Yes, he does," she said. "But he wants me to wait for the right man to come along."

  "Don't wait too long," Roderick comment snidely. "Or no one will want you."

  Cristina looked up at Roderick. Her green eyes sparkled angrily, but her smile was angelic. She lifted one white gloved hand from its resting place on his shoulder and patted him the way one would pet an overeager puppy. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, Rod, because I'm fairly certain that the fact that I'm sole heiress to my father's millions will guarantee there will be plenty of men waiting in line to marry me when I'm ready."

  "I may not be available when you're ready."

  Cristina stared at Roderick, almost dumbfounded by the young man's arrogance. What made him think he was such a catch? He came from a prominent New York family, but so did nearly everyone else in the room. She managed a laugh. "Then I guess I'll just have to suffer." And you'll just have to miss out on my inheritance.

  Roderick stiffened. "You know, Cristina, your father has spoiled you. You need a man who will lay down the law to you--a husband who will curb your impulsive ways and keep you in line. You're headstrong and like Mother says, far too independent for any normal man's liking."

  Cristina's full mouth thinned into a tight, angry line. "Including yours?" She issued the challenge coolly, wondering if Roderick would respond with an opinion of his own or if he would simply espouse his mother's. She was amazed by his sheer tenacity and his stupidity. Didn't he realize she saw through him? Didn't he realize she knew he wanted access to her father's bank accounts much more than he wanted her?

  Roderick averted his gaze and avoided the anger he read in the depths of Cristina's eyes. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I love you, Cristina, but I'm not blind to your faults. Mother and I simply want what's best for you. And I'm afraid the longer you wait to marry, the harder it will be for you to settle down and become a proper wife and mother."

  Cristina barely kept from laughing as she glanced at Roderick's boyishly handsome face. His expression was totally earnest. He meant what he said. He actually believed she needed to be molded into a suitable wife. Well, she thought sadly, he was probably right. She would require a great deal of molding in order to make him a suitable wife. That didn't bother her. What bothered her was the fact that she would probably require the same amount of molding for any man. Any man who wasn't--

  Cristina squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to forestall the rush of memories. "I'm very tired, Roderick," she said suddenly. "And I really don't feel like discussing this subject any longer."

  Roderick studied her face and noted the angry lines. He wasn't as smart as some men, but he knew better than to push Cristina when she was in a mood. He smiled down at her and his demeanor changed immediately. "You do look tired. The party arrangements have probably been too much for you. After all, it's only been a few months since your injury. I'm a brute not to have realized sooner. I shouldn't have pushed you so. Can you forgive me, Cristina?" The look in his clear gray eyes begged forgiveness. "You know it's only because I love you so much and want you so badly, don't you, Cristina?"

  "Of course," she agreed automatically.

  Roderick reminded her of his feelings for her at every opportunity. He vowed his love every time she saw him and Cristina was heartily sick of hearing it. She had made no pretense of the fact that she didn't return his feelings. And she'd done nothing to encourage his continued devotion. She treated Roderick in exactly the same way she treated all her would-be suitors. She had been completely honest about her feelings for him--or lack of them--but Roderick continued to press his suit, continued to hope she'd change her mind about agreeing to marry him.

  And that made Cristina uncomfortable. She wouldn't change her mind. She couldn't return Roderick's feelings, shallow though they might be, because she didn't have any feelings left. Blake Ashford had captured them all.

  Blake. Cristina glanced around the room and a vision of him swam before her eyes. She could almost swear that the tall form leaning carelessly against the door was real. The idea unnerved her. Cristina missed a step in the dance, stepped on the hem of her gown, and stumbled heavily into Roderick. She closed her eyes to combat her sudden light-headedness and when she opened her eyes once again and glanced back over her shoulder, the apparition had vanished.

  Roderick grabbed Cristina by the shoulders to steady her. The color had drained from her face and her eyes seemed feverishly bright against the stark pallor of her face.

  "Cristina, are you all right?" Roderick's anxious question mirrored the concern on his face.

  "Just a little faint," she lied. "I need some air. It's so hot and stuffy in here."

  "Should I find your father?"

  "No," Cristina shook her head. "Just get me out of here."

/>   Roderick wrapped an arm around Cristina's waist and pushed his way through the crush of guests to the French doors that led to the terrace.

  "Will you be all right alone here for a moment while I fetch you a cool drink, dearest?"

  Cristina nodded in reply, opened the French doors, and stepped outside onto the terrace. Standing alone in the darkness, she inhaled the cool, crisp air gratefully. It revived her, cleared her head, and helped her regain her composure.

  But the steely-soft voice coming from the shadowed corner of the terrace destroyed it. "Hello, Countess, it's been a long time." He raised himself from the marble bench and moved with the fluid Italianate grace Cristina remembered all too well, and came to stand beside her.

  Cristina shivered at his nearness. Her senses reeled as she recalled the taste and touch and scent of him. She clutched tightly at the balustrade to keep from crumpling to the ground. She had dreamed of meeting him again. She'd imagined the scene in her mind thousands of times and now that he was close enough for her to touch, Cristina was angered by the sudden, casual, almost effortless way he had reentered her life.

  "W-w-what are you doing here?" she demanded, angrily stumbling over her words.

  "I came outside for a breath of fresh air."

  "Isn't there fresh air in England?" she hissed. "What are you doing here? In New York? In my home?"

  "Your father invited me," Blake replied guardedly. "I had some business with him while I was in New York and naturally he invited me to your birthday party."

  "You should have refused."

  Blake sighed. "What if I told you I had to come? That I had to see you again, if only to satisfy my curiosity?"

  "And what do you see? Has your curiosity been satisfied?" Cristina asked, wanting him to be as aware of her as she was of him.

  "I see that the lovely half-grown girl I knew has disappeared," Blake fixed his dark gaze on her, appraising every detail of her appearance from the top of her artfully arranged curls down the length of her shimmering champagne-colored dress to the tips of her matching slippers. And he was anything but disappointed. "You've become a beautiful woman, Countess." His black eyes burned through her as he delivered his verdict. Then he smiled rather wistfully. "But I can't help regretting the loss of the girl."

  "Too bad," Cristina told him. "Girls do grow up, you know. I did. I grew up the day you took Nicholas and left Vienna without me." The seductive gleam in Blake's eyes affected Cristina more than she liked to admit and she took refuge in bitter memories.

  "I know you did," Blake acknowledged thoughtfully.

  Cristina's eyes suddenly brimmed with burning, accusing tears. "I thought you'd come for me. I waited for over a year before I realized you wouldn't." She barely managed to choke out the confession.

  "I'm here, Cristina. Now," Blake reminded her urgently.

  The hot tears spilled over the barrier of her lashes. "And you've come too late, Blake. One year and three miserable months too late."

  "Countess ..." His rich, caressing whisper reached out to her. It was achingly familiar. Too familiar....

  "Blake, don't," she ordered. "Don't make me remember things it's best I forget. It can't be the way it was. Too much has happened. Do you know how much it hurt to wake up and find you were gone? I grieved for my baby, Blake, but I grieved more for you. Do you know how I felt when I read that curt note informing me you were off to London and that you had asked Rudolf and Cason to look out for me? Was there a problem with Meredith? Were you suddenly afraid the divorce might be granted? Were you afraid I would make you marry me after Nicholas died? Is that why you abandoned me?" Cristina's words tumbled out--cries from the heart that had to be answered.

  Blake reached out to brush away her tears but Cristina deliberately jerked her head out of the reach of his gentle touch.

  "I know you won't believe me, Cris, but I never abandoned you. I was trying to ease your burden, not add to it. I wanted you to know that you and Leah would be taken care of while I was away and I wanted to make certain you were reunited with your father as soon as possible. It was important to me. I meant to reassure you."

  "You succeeded in assuring me that you could resume your life without me. It's a lesson I haven't forgotten, Blake." Cristina spat the words at him and spinning on her heel, marched back into the crowded ballroom in search of Roderick.

  Blake remained standing where Cristina had left him on the terrace, staring into the night. Things had gone so wrong between them. She was bitter. And she had reason to be. She believed he had abandoned her and the evidence was overwhelmingly against him. The fragile strand of trust that had begun to grow in Vienna had snapped under the strain of separation and had been blown into the wind like cobwebs.

  He reached into his coat and removed a thin cigar from the pocket, lit it, and began to inhale deeply. He had miscalculated. And badly. It had taken longer to petition the court for a legal separation from Meredith than he expected and longer still to conclude his mission for the queen. He had spent months struggling with the problems associated with the eastern question and the formation of the alliance between Germany and Austria. He hadn't wanted to be bothered mediating diplomatic maneuvers between Austria and Germany, but Blake had had no choice. England needed his expertise and the queen had a way of getting what she wanted from her civil servants. Blake's personal life had had to wait. The long weeks of work and travel had become months and the months had grown in to a year by the time he was able to return to London and resign his post in the Foreign Office.

  He couldn't blame Cristina for the doubt she felt. Their fragile understanding had been ripped apart by Meredith's reappearance and Nicholas's death and he knew he had to repair the damage or lose everything.

  Blake was grateful to William Fairfax for writing to invite him to Cristina's birthday party and for providing him with the opportunity to win her over again. He had two months before he had to return to London for the final divorce hearing and he intended to use any means necessary to prove to his love. Smiling to himself, Blake impatiently tossed the cigar aside and stepped back into the ballroom just as Cristina took the arm of Roderick, her wet-behind-the-ears would-be suitor.

  Blake crossed the floor and bowed in front of her. "Miss Fairfax, I believe you promised me this waltz."

  "I-I..." Cristina was astonished by Blake's blatant intrusion.

  "Sorry, old man," Blake turned toward Roderick and calmly removed Cristina's hand from its resting place on the younger man's arm. "This dance belongs to me."

  Cristina pleaded silently with Roderick to rescue her from Blake's unwanted attention, but Rod didn't seem to understand the look in her eyes. He yielded to Blake's superior authority without a word and allowed him to lead Cristina away.

  "How dare you bully Roderick that way?" Cristina gave vent to her anger once she and Blake were out of earshot.

  "I've told you before, I dare many things," Blake responded to her anger by pulling her closer. "I believe the fact he's easy to bully is one of his attractions. Don't you think?"

  "You know nothing about Roderick. He's nice and considerate and--"

  "Easy to manipulate?" Blake supplied helpfully. "And I do know something about him, Countess. I know he didn't care enough about you to make even a token protest when I snatched you away from him. He yielded to a stronger person. Something I suspect he does quite a bit. And I'll bet he tells you he loves you morning, noon, and night, but never shows you. Because he doesn't love you. He's the type of man who loves himself more than anything else. He values appearances more than feelings. I also know that you're angry, angry enough to chose deliberately a suitor you don't even like."

  "I did not," Cristina denied. "He chose me. But I can tell you from personal experience that he's everything a woman could want in a husband. And don't hold me so close. It's indecent."

  Blake ignored her order and continued to hold her c
lose, his lean fingers pressed against one sensitive breast. "I used to hold you a lot closer than this and you never found it indecent." His warm breath caressed her ear as his lips brushed against the soft flesh of her neck.

  "Stop that. What we had is in the past. I have a new life here in New York and I'm not going to run the risk of having you ruin it. Let me go. I don't want to cause any talk." Cristina pushed against his chest in a feeble attempt to put some distance between herself and his disturbing presence.

  "Is that why you're allowing nice, safe Roderick to squire you about?" Blake demanded. "To squash any rumors that might have followed you from Europe? To insure your reputation in New York society?"

  "Not at all. I see Roderick because he's a nice, dependable, respectable, single man, and--"

  "Yes, I know, you've said all that before," Blake reminded her. "That's a very sound basis for a nice, dull, marriage. I wonder what happened to your 'I won't marry without love' ideal?"

  "I married you."

  Blake sucked in a breath, his face paled, and he stopped dancing so suddenly that he and Cristina barely avoided causing a collision among the remaining dancers. "You have grown up, Countess. Now you don't merely spit and scratch, you go straight for the jugular." He quickly regained his composure and led her back into the dance.

  "I told you I'd changed," she said. "And in any case, Roderick loves me."

  "I doubt that. And so do you. But even if it were true, you'd trample his heart to bits within a week because you don't love him."

  "Yes, I do," Cristina insisted.

  "Really?" Blake wanted to know. "Does he make you tremble with desire? Does he excite you? Make you burn with passion?" He lowered his voice to a husky, seductive whisper. "Can you really ignore all that's happened Between us? Can you honestly tell me you don't want me? Shall I kiss you and prove you want me?" Blake lowered his head toward her upturned face.

  Cristina waited breathlessly for the feel of his cool, firm mouth.

  It never came. And when she reluctantly opened her eyes to find him staring down at her eager face, she felt like a fool.

  "I could kiss you right now and make you forget everything except me and the passion we share, Countess, but I'm not going to." His words amazed and dismayed her at the same time. "You see, I've also changed. It occurred to me that I've never been much of a gentleman where you're concerned. And I was brought up to be a perfect gentleman at all times. So I'm going to accept your word that Roderick is everything you want in a husband. From now on, I'll be a perfect gentleman in your presence. New York society will never suspect you were ever anything to me except the daughter of a business associate, and I promise not to trouble you with my unwanted attentions."