Chapter Seven

A purple dusk hung over the hills rising in the distance, the last dying rays of light fading into the darkness of evening. Franz Steigler ordered his carriage to a halt near the outskirts of Baden in front of a moderately large, whitewashed residence belonging to a friend of a friend, a colonel of the Hussars, serving at present with the archduke’s forces.

Franz smiled to himself. Being a general had its advantages, not the least of which was the ability to collect any number of favors.

He stepped down from the carriage, ordering the driver to return three hours hence, and made his way to the front door, which opened before he reached it.

“Good evening, Herr General.” The butler, a stout little man who looked more like an innkeeper than a house servant, pointed toward the drawing room. “Your guests have already arrived.”

A brow arched up. He expected his people to be on time, but he had almost hoped the girl would be a few minutes late. His blood went hot just to think of her cringing in fear while he administered a measure of justice … ah, but that was only part of the plans he had in store for her.

His jaw tightened as a memory of Elissa rose up. After the frustrating nights he had spent aching for her, he was more than ready for a little physical diversion. He had waited too long already.

He turned to the stout little butler. “Thank you, Klaus. That will be all for the evening. I presume you’ve informed the others I will not require their services for the balance of the night.”

“Yes, sir. The house is empty as you requested. Good evening, sir.”

The butler hurried away, and Franz removed his gloves as he walked into the drawing room, a large, sparsely furnished parlor papered with murals of Grecian ruins. The paper had darkened a bit with age, matching the worn Aubusson carpet that covered the floor. A fire had been laid in the hearth and it flickered and popped, casting long, wavering shadows against the walls.

A handsome blond man several years his junior arose from the sofa when Franz appeared through the open parlor doors. “Good evening, General.”

“Major Holdorf”—Franz smiled, turned an assessing eye on the girl the man had provided—“I hope you’ve been keeping our guest entertained.” The major’s eyes swung toward the young woman seated on the sofa. She was dressed in the clothes of a peasant: cotton dirndl skirt, a brown linen bodice that laced up the front, and a white, full-sleeved blouse. Her long blond hair had been braided and looped beside her ears. “What is your name, girl?”

She came to her feet, smoothed the front of her simple skirt. “Helga,” she said, flashing him a warm, seductive smile.

“Where are you from?”

“Modling, Herr General. Not far away.”

No, not far. Just enough distance to be safe. And she wasn’t new at the game, he saw, studying her practiced coquetry, satisfied with Holdorf’s work. Though the pleasure was always heightened by an innocent, the tears and pleading afterward often resulted in problems. He wasn’t in the mood for trouble tonight … at least not of that sort.

The girl started walking in his direction, the sway of her hips making her simple skirt float seductively around her hips. She paused when she reached him, placed her hands on the front of his coat, ran them up and down his lapels.

“Let me help you out of your clothes, Herr General. I want you to get comfortable.” She started to work the buttons, but Franz caught her arm.

“I don’t think you understand.” Long, dark fingers bit into her wrist. “I give the orders here. You are simply to obey them.”

“But I thought you would enjoy—” He slapped her hard across the face.

“You aren’t being paid to think. You are being paid to spread your legs and do whatever I tell you.”

She wiped the blood from her mouth with a shaky hand. “Yes, Herr General.” She glanced across at Holdorf, whose mouth formed a thin, lustful smile, then her eyes swung back to Franz, who studied her with a cool, unfeeling stare.

“You’ve been here only a few moments,” he said, “and already you have displeased me.”

“But I—”

He slapped her again. “You will speak when I tell you—not before. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.”

He began to pace in front of her, taking two short steps then turning. “What shall we do to remedy that, I wonder? Something must surely be done; some form of punishment meted out.” Her face went a little bit pale and the sight made his pulse leap.

“Remove your clothes.” She wet her lips, which were full and red and glistening with the moisture from her small pink tongue. “Do it now, Helga … unless it is your wish to anger me again.”

“No! I mean, no, Herr General. I will take them off. I only wish to please you.” She did so with trembling hands, tossing her simple garments over the arm of the sofa, then turning naked to face him.

“Take down your hair.”

She pulled out the pins, set them carefully on the table next to her clothes, and unbraided the long golden lengths, letting the pale strands fall around her shoulders and covering the rose aureoles at the tips of her heavy breasts.

“Come here,” Franz softly commanded, his body hard now, beginning to ache and throb. He lifted away a long blond curl of hair, baring one of her breasts, slid his hand beneath it, squeezed it to test its weight, then let his hand drop away.

“In the army, a man who behaved with such disrespect would be flogged for insubordination.” He glanced to Holdorf. “What do you think, Major? Perhaps a taste of the lash would teach the girl a lesson.”

“No, please—”

“Silence!”

Holdorf started forward, a cruel smile on his lips. “Perhaps not a flogging,” he said with a speculative air. “She isn’t a man, after all, but merely a woman.”

Franz cocked a brow. “True.”

Holdorf walked up behind her, reached down to fondle the cheeks of her bottom, gave one a rough, thorough squeeze. When she winced, Franz’s erection throbbed with anticipation.

Holdorf fondled a plump, milk white breast. “Still … as you said, some punishment must be meted out.” Leaning down, he plucked up the riding crop he had tossed haphazardly on the table, its long, thick leather handle in contrast to the smooth, slim paleness of his hands. “Perhaps we should let dear Helga choose her own form of punishment. The whip might be wielded by one of us to teach her a lesson, or—” He placed the crop in her trembling hand, wrapped her fingers solidly around it.

“Or…” said Franz with a slight curl of his lips, “she might be ingenius enough to think of ways to use it on herself.” He gave her a cool, warning smile. He stared with meaning at the shape and size of the handle. “Surely there is something entertaining you might do.”

The girl looked aghast. “B-but that is not … I never agreed—”

His hand came down hard against her cheek. “Choose, my dear little Helga. You use the whip—or Major Holdorf will. The choice, my dear, is yours.”

The girl eyed the whip and a shudder of revulsion rippled through her. It was clear the choice she would make. Franz smiled with satisfaction. He looked at Holdorf, whose lustful expression said he was equally pleased, then settled down to enjoy the show.

A little entertainment first, then some physical relief. As always, the major had done an excellent job. He would go a long way in his career. If things kept progressing as they had been, Franz would see to it personally.

*   *   *

Two more days passed. The rain had stopped though it looked as though another storm might be coming in. The colonel had not yet returned. It came as a shock when Elissa realized, to her chagrin, that she had missed him. For all his arrogance and demanding ways, he was still the most attractive man she had ever met and one of her most interesting companions.

He was well traveled and well educated. A bit too observant at times, perhaps, given the role she was playing, but there was no one with whom she would rather have spent her days.

Instead, while he was away, she passed a number of hours in company with General Steigler. Today would be another such occasion. The duchess had planned an outing, a picnic for her guests, and though the day was overcast, the sky a little cloudy, the ground had dried, and everyone was excited to be getting out of doors.

Elissa had invited the general to join them, figuring there was safety in numbers, and the open spaces would give her a chance to discuss the war without them being overheard. Traveling with the duchess in a line of expensive carriages, the group made its way to the outskirts of Baden, an area of gently rolling hills dotted with vineyards.

The servants had been sent ahead so the picnic site was already assembled, the ground spread with blankets, white linen cloths, china and crystal, as well as an assortment of delicious food: sausages and schnitzel; a fine haunch of beef the Austrians called Spanferkel; and roast suckling pig—which Elissa did not eat.

Steigler joined them on the hill, and he and Elissa sat together on a blanket a little apart from the others.

“You should eat more, Countess,” he said, his black eyes scanning her scarcely touched plate. “A woman should have enough meat on her bones to provide a man with a proper cushion.”

Elissa laughed. “Do I displease you then, General Steigler? Perhaps you would rather I was as plump as Lady von Szabo.” She was the aging wife of a marquis, so wide in the girth she could barely bend over.

His lips curled a bit at the corners. “Heaven forbid.” His gaze slid down to her bosom then darkened in a way that made her shiver. “You know that you please me very well. You are, in fact, a tender little morsel … if perhaps a bit unrestrained. A good man would not find that a problem. He would simply take you in hand, teach you your place.”

Irritation trickled through her. Elissa forced it down. She smiled and changed the subject. “I heard a rumor today that the archduke will not be able to attend Empress Caroline’s ball. Apparently duty called and he was unable to leave his men.”

“Yes, I heard that as well.”

“Do you think that means he makes ready for war?”

He looked down his sharply pointed nose. “Always you speak of war. One would think you a man instead of a woman.”

She trilled a laugh at that, but a knot formed in her stomach. “La! You say the oddest things. War is exciting. I am simply amused by it. Since you are in a position to know things that no one else yet knows, I thought perhaps you might share some tidbit with me. I would never divulge a word, of course.” She ran a finger down the front of his coat. “Surely you know me well enough by now to know that you can trust me.”

A thick black brow arched up. He caught her hand, gripping it painfully tight, and moved it away from his chest. “I believe you are discreet enough. I am simply not sure of your loyalty. There are times I believe you are opposed to this war.”

She eased her hand away and looked at him with earnest. “In truth, General Steigler, would that be so wrong?”

Angry color swept over him, turning the skin over his sharp cheekbones a dull shade of red. “Do not speak this way to me. You know my feelings on the subject, the position I am in. I tire of your constant need for gossip and I warn you, my lady—the time will come when I take retribution.” He came to his feet, smiling coldly. “But all in good time. Never fear, Countess, you will learn your place well enough, once you are settled in my bed.”

Turning, he strode away, leaving her to stare after him, his angry strides carrying him across the grassy knoll to the carriage he had arrived in. He made no offer to see her home and she was grateful. Her heart was hammering, thumping like a cannon inside her breast. She had angered him far more than she had intended. She had taken a chance that her boldness might somehow breach the barrier of his confidence.

Perhaps she had in some way. Perhaps that was why he had gotten so angry, why he had professed his loyalty to Austria to the point of fury. Perhaps she had crossed some line that she could make use of in the future. Whatever had occurred, it was certain the general was not a man to succumb to her wiles with ease. Unless she found something in his room, or overheard something, or someone came forward to implicate him in spying, odds were she would never catch him.

Elissa looked down at the delicious food now congealing in a cold lump on her plate. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably and she rose to her feet. The afternoon had grown chill and the flat gray clouds were growing denser. Still, she was glad to be out of the villa, and now that the general was gone, she might as well enjoy what was left of the afternoon. Picking up her yellow straw bonnet and wrapping her cashmere shawl more tightly around her shoulders, she headed off toward the vineyards, determined to stretch her legs before the party headed back into town.

*   *   *

After a three-hour carriage ride from Vienna, Adrian reached Blauenhaus in the middle of the afternoon. Eager to see Elissa, he walked into the marble-floored entry only to discover the place was nearly deserted.

“Her Grace planned an outing for her guests,” the butler informed him. “They have not yet returned.”

“And Lady von Langen? Would you happen to know if she was in attendance?”

“Yes, my lord. Her ladyship traveled with Her Grace in the ducal carriage.”

“Thank you.” He asked directions to the site where the picnic was being held then hurried upstairs to freshen up and change into his riding clothes, snug brown nankeen breeches and a full-sleeved white linen shirt. He pulled on a pair of high black boots, grabbed his cloak off the hook beside the door, and headed for the stable.

Minotaur nickered a welcome, fresh and full of himself, since the stallion had remained in Baden while he was away. A groom quickly had the animal brushed and saddled, and Adrian swung aboard, tossing the lad a coin for his trouble.

It didn’t take long to reach the outskirts of town and the hills not far beyond. Even so, the sky had grown dark, the clouds much thicker than they had been earlier in the day.

By the time he reached the duchess and her guests, they were scrambling off the gentle hillside back into their carriages, dodging the first few drops of rain. Servants scurried about, gathering plates and glasses, stuffing the uneaten food back into baskets. Adrian rode past them, his gaze searching for Elissa, but he didn’t see her. He found the duchess at the top of the hill, standing next to Ambassador Pettigru and the diplomat Robert Blackwood, staring off toward the mountains.

“Colonel Kingsland,” Robert said as Adrian rode up and dismounted. “You are just returned to Baden?”

“Yes, just this afternoon.”

“Then you have come here directly from the villa?” Pettigru put in with a note of urgency that drew Adrian’s attention in his direction.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“We seem to have lost Lady von Langen,” the duchess said with obvious concern. “She was here a little while ago, sitting over there with General Steigler.” She pointed to a spot a bit away.

Thinking of Elissa with Steigler, Adrian felt the heat at the back of his neck. “Perhaps she left with the general,” he said through a jaw that felt suddenly tight.

“I don’t believe so,” Blackwood said. “I saw her sometime later, after he had already gone. She was walking off toward the hills, in the direction of the vineyards.”

Adrian glanced in that direction, but except for the leafy vines, all he saw were empty fields and outcroppings of boulders.

“We searched the area as far as that abandoned stone cottage you can see near the top of the hill,” Pettigru said, “but we didn’t find her. We thought perhaps she had returned to the villa in someone else’s carriage.”

Lightning flashed just then and thunder rumbled across the landscape. Adrian glanced over at the duchess, surrounded by a handful of servants, one of whom held a parasol above her head.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said. “The countess probably arrived at Blauenhaus just after I left and is sitting warmly in front of a fire.” But he didn’t really think so. Elissa had always seemed thoughtful of others and he didn’t believe she would wish to cause the duchess needless concern.

Lightning flashed again, closer now, a long, jagged streak against the horizon. “You must see to the duchess’s welfare,” he said to Pettigru, “be certain she is returned home safely. In the meantime, I shall make a sweep of the area to be sure the countess is not here.”

The duchess hesitated a long moment, her shrewd eyes assessing him from head to foot. With a slight nod of her head, she turned and took Pettigru’s arm, letting him and the servants escort her back to her carriage.

“I’ll stay and help,” Robert offered, but Adrian shook his head.

“I’m well mounted. You’re afoot. This storm is going to turn ugly and I can act more swiftly if I know I’ve only myself to worry about.”

“But surely—”

Adrian laid a hand on Blackwood’s shoulder. “Go back to the villa, Robert. If the lady is here, I will find her. Do not worry if we do not arrive forthwith. Once I have her safe, I’ll seek shelter until the storm passes. Then I’ll return her home.”

Rain rolled off the brim of Robert Blackwood’s tall beaver hat. “Perhaps you are right. Good luck, Colonel Kingsland.” He made a slight bow of farewell, turned and walked off down the hill.

Pulling his cloak around his shoulders against the rain, Adrian swung up in the saddle to begin a systematic search of the valley and vineyards below. He wondered how far she could have gotten before the rain began to fall, and why she hadn’t returned once it did.

Worry nagged him. Unless Steigler had returned for her, she was out there. She had taken refuge somewhere from the storm—or she was hurt. Ignoring the bright flashes of lightning and the heavy crack of thunder, he urged the big black horse into a gallop, calling her name, his circles growing wider, worry building by the moment.

The path he traveled carried him through several rows of leafy budding vines, but he saw no sign of Elissa. He rode up hills and into gullies, passed through another small vineyard, continuing to circle. Still no sign of her. The storm had turned to cold, pelting rain, and he tried to tell himself he was wrong, that she had indeed returned to the villa, but he couldn’t make himself believe it.

His instincts said she was out there and that she was in trouble.

“Where the devil are you, angel?” The words disappeared in the damp, chilly air. He rode into a low spot, puddling with water, traveled up a rise, and stopped at the top of a ravine. Lightning flashed. Thunder clapped a mere instant behind it. He knew he should be anywhere but where he was, but he couldn’t make himself quit.

He started to rein away from the ravine, but the stallion nickered just then and his ears perked up. Adrian tensed as he spotted a flash of pale yellow at the bottom of the gully that seemed out of place against the red soil of the landscape.

The horse danced beneath him, sensing his sudden tension. “Easy, boy.” He swung down from the saddle, his stomach knotted, and hurried to the edge of the drop-off. An area of fresh dirt showed where the earth had crumbled away. Through the low-growing shrubs, the swatch of yellow lengthened into a long strip of mud-spattered muslin, and Adrian’s chest went tight. At the bottom of the hill, Elissa lay in a tangle of muddy skirts, her crumpled bonnet hanging from the pale yellow ribbon still tied around her throat.

He made his way down the hill as fast as he dared, then went down on one knee beside her, his hands suddenly unsteady. “Elissa … love, can you hear me?” Her clothes were soaked through and rain ran in rivulets down her smooth cheeks, but she made no attempt to answer.

“It’s Adrian,” he said softly, his hands moving with practiced skill over her arms and legs to check for breaks. Gratefully, he found none, discovered instead a great lump forming at the back of her head. “Can you hear me, Elissa? I’m going to get you out of here.”

She moaned just then and her eyes fluttered open. “Adrian…?” She tried to sit up, winced with the effort, and Adrian forced her back down. A thread of relief trickled through him. At least she was awake.

“Take it easy, love. You’ve taken a nasty fall, but nothing seems to be broken. Just relax and let me take care of you.” The words seemed to ease her. Her eyes slid closed and the stiffness drained from her body. Careful not to hurt her, he lifted her into his arms and climbed the muddy embankment to where Minotaur stood waiting. It was difficult to mount, but by propping her in his saddle he was able to swing up behind her. Holding her against him, he enfolded her in his coat and started down into the valley and up the opposite side.

It didn’t take long to reach the abandoned stone cottage Blackwood had spotted near the top of the hill. He said a prayer of thanks that the lightning had spared them, swung down from his horse and lifted Elissa down, then moved to the door.

Lifting the wrought-iron latch, he shoved open the heavy wooden planks with his boot and stepped inside. Instead of being empty as he had imagined, the cottage was merely out of use. Dusty white sheets enshrouded the furniture. A simple woven carpet covered the floors, and a stack of wood sat next to the small stone fireplace.

Adrian smiled with gratitude and swept the sheet off the sofa. As he bent to place the countess atop it, her long, thick lashes parted and her pretty blue eyes opened up.

Adrian smiled. “It’s all right, angel. You’re safe now. We’ve a roof over our heads and soon I’ll have a warm fire going in the hearth. ’Twould seem God was looking after us this day.”

Elissa turned her head and surveyed her surroundings, taking in the dimly lit cottage, its white-sheeted furniture and musty, unused smell, the single white candle Adrian had lit on the table in front of the sofa.

“What … what happened?”

He was busy at the hearth, stacking dry pine logs in the grate. “You took a pretty hard fall. No broken bones that I could find, but you’ve an ugly bump on the back of your head. Do you remember anything at all?”

She frowned, searching her mind, trying to recall what had occurred. “I don’t know exactly. I was enjoying myself, walking through the fields along the edge of the vineyards. It felt so good to be out of doors I went farther than I intended. I remember I had climbed a small hill to the edge of a ravine when it started to rain. I remember thinking that the duchess would be worried and that it was past time I returned. The next thing I knew I was looking into those bright green eyes of yours, and you were telling me you would take care of me.”

He finished lighting the fire and returned to the sofa. “Which is exactly what I’m going to do. You are soaked clear through. You have to get out of those wet garments.”

Elissa stiffened, her hands coming up protectively over her bosom. “Wet or not, if you think I’m disrobing in front of you, Colonel Kingsland, you are sorely mistaken.” She was shivering, she realized, but it didn’t make the least bit of difference. She knew Adrian too well. She wasn’t removing her clothes.

A warm hand captured hers and he looked into her face. “I am a lot of things, my lady. But I am not so low that I would take advantage of an injured woman.” There was sincerity in the depths of his eyes and unmistakable concern. “I care only for your safety, Elissa, I promise you.”

She glanced away, touched more than she should have been by the worry etched into his face.

“I’ll try to find some blankets, something to warm you. Rest easy, love. You’re in no danger from me.”

She relaxed against the sofa, bone tired and suddenly freezing cold. Her shivering increased until her teeth were chattering. She clamped them together, but couldn’t seem to stop shaking. It occurred to her that Adrian must be equally as wet and cold as she, and the thought was oddly disturbing.

If he was, he did not say so. Just proceeded with his search of cupboards and chests then returned with a stack of blankets and colorful quilts.

“Do you think you can stand up?”

“I think so, but—” He took her hand to help her, but the moment she tried, her head began to spin and the room turned black around the edges. “Adrian?” His arm held her steady. He guided her to a chair he had uncovered and sat her down there, turned the cushions on the sofa over to the dry side and fashioned her a bed.

“Your clothes will have to go. It is the only sensible course.” He looked at her sternly. “You must listen to me in this. You have my word as an officer of His Majesty’s Army I will not take advantage.”

She hesitated a moment more, then finally nodded. She was too cold to remain in her freezing muddy clothes and too unsteady to try and change out of them on her own. She sat in the chair as he unfastened the row of buttons down her back, then stood and leaned against him as he stripped off the soggy yellow gown. Wearing only her thin embroidered chemise, wet and plastered to her body, she stood before him, but as he had promised, there was nothing untoward in his manner. Not even as he knelt beside the chair and rolled down her torn and mud-spattered hose.

When he had finished, he carefully wrapped a soft woolen blanket around her. “The chemise must go,” he said thickly. “Perhaps you could help me with that … seeing as I am still a man and by nature only human.”

She smiled, feeling a soft warmth inside. “You are more than simply a man, Colonel Kingsland. You are my savior for the second time in a row. That makes you something of a hero, I should think.”

His mouth curved faintly. “Yes … well, hero or not, I want you out of that wet garment. Can you manage on your own?”

She nodded. Wriggling inside the blanket, she pulled the chemise off over her head and handed it over. The colonel’s eyes touched hers as he accepted the thin swatch of fabric she had worn next to her skin, and for an instant they darkened. Then the hungry look faded and he turned away, his attention focused on spreading the clothes over a chair to dry in front of the fire.

She watched him work with a guilty sort of pleasure, knowing it was her fault he had been forced out into the storm, unable to stop a surge of gladness that he had come.

“You must be cold and wet as well,” she said, noticing the way his soaked shirt molded to the muscles across his chest, the way his breeches clung to the long, hard muscles in his thighs.

“I’m used to it. I’m a soldier, remember? We are often outside in the rain.”

“It doesn’t seem fair that I should be warm while you are cold. Perhaps you should dry your clothes as well.”

His gaze swung to hers and he looked at her hard. “I should rather be cold than break my word. If you had any idea how fetching you look in that blanket, you would not dwell on the notion that I should remove a single stitch of my clothes.”

Her stomach did an odd little twist. “Oh.”

“Quite so. Now, why don’t you rest for a while? The storm still rages like a banshee outside and poor Minotaur stands at the door. There is a lean-to behind the house. Perhaps if he is lucky, I’ll find a bit of hay somewhere.”

“Yes … I had forgot about your splendid horse.”

Adrian smiled as she settled herself on the sofa. “I won’t be long.”

He returned a few minutes later, his wavy dark hair wind tousled, his greatcoat swirling around him. As he hung it on a peg beside the door and shed his soggy woolen jacket, she found herself staring at the muscles beneath his linen shirt, the ridges and valleys outlined by the damp white cloth. Where before she had suffered a faint pounding in her head, now all she felt was the increased thud of her heartbeat and a slightly dizzy sensation that had nothing to do with her fall.

She watched him from beneath her lashes. Encased in tall black boots, his legs were long and well muscled, his buttocks narrow, tight, and round. When he turned to face her, a ladder of muscle formed bands across his stomach, and Elissa felt an odd sort of tingling in her breast. Desire for him, she knew, a sensation she was becoming all too familiar with.

Sweet God, what would it be like to lie with him, to touch those beautiful, rippling muscles, to know the texture of his warm, sun-browned skin?

It was crazy. Pure, unbridled insanity, yet she couldn’t help thinking about it. It occurred to her that she felt more for Colonel Kingsland than merely an attraction—much more. She desired him in a way she couldn’t have imagined. He made her think things, feel things, she had never felt before. He was the bravest man she had ever met. He was handsome and charming, but there was something else. Something she had glimpsed in his eyes on occasion, a loneliness he usually tried to hide.

She thought of the lost little boy he once must have been, and it made her want to reach out and touch him, to hold him so he wouldn’t be lonely again.

An unexpected thought arose, surprising in its simplicity yet hitting her with stunning force—dear God, she was falling in love with him! She reeled as if she had been struck a second blow and let her head fall back on the pillow. For a moment the room grew fuzzy again.

Adrian crossed the room to where she lay and rested a hand against her forehead. “Your skin is no longer so cold. You still look a little too pale, but the color is returning to your cheeks.”

Elissa made no comment. She was still trying to grasp her newly discovered feelings for Adrian Kingsland.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “There seems to be no end to what I might discover. Perhaps there is something—”

“No, no, I’m fine.” She forced herself to smile. “How was your horse?”

The dimples returned to his cheeks. “Minotaur is delighted with his surroundings … he has hay enough for supper and even a blanket to keep him warm.”

“As you should have,” she said softly.

He frowned. “I told you I am fine.” He glanced off toward the window to the gray skies beyond. “Our hosts are quite thoughtful. I’ll have to make certain they are properly rewarded.”

“I believe the cottage sits on a portion of the Murau estate. Some sort of retreat for the duchess’s children when they were young. I hope she does not worry overmuch.”

“I have told them I would find you, then seek some sort of shelter. The storm, however, does not abate. We may be here till morning.”

If he expected her to protest she did not. Instead her mind was spinning, thinking about what she had learned of herself, thinking about Adrian and how much she desired him—about Steigler and the plans he held for her future. The question rolled over and over in her head: was she really willing to sacrifice her virtue to avenge her brother’s death? The answer shot to the surface—a swift, resounding yes.

In truth, it wasn’t just Karl. It was all the young soldiers who might die because of a traitor. Perhaps even her brother Peter.

Steigler’s thin, dark face rose into her mind, his features harsh and somehow disturbing. Perhaps another woman would be too proper or too frightened to allow him into her bed. Elissa believed she could manage, if it meant unmasking the Falcon. And the more the general’s ruthless nature surfaced, the more she believed he was the man for whom she had come.

Unless he canceled his invitation, he would be escorting her to the empress’s ball on Saturday night. Sooner or later, perhaps even then, Steigler would find a way to take what he wanted. The general had made his intentions perfectly clear.

She glanced at Adrian, seated in the chair across from her, watching her with a face still darkened by concern. Just the sight of him made her mouth go dry and her pulse beat a frantic tattoo. He wanted her, she knew, and in some way, at least, he cared for her. And there was the matter of her virginity, a lie Steigler would unmask that Adrian could neatly dispose of.

She wasn’t sure what she would tell Adrian about it, once it was a fait accompli, but she had lied to him before and he had believed her. There was a far better chance of convincing him of whatever story she concocted than she had of lying to Steigler.

And there was far less danger.

At least she thought there was. She still wasn’t sure whom she could trust in matters of state and, unfortunately, that included Adrian.

But in this, the matter of making love, she trusted him completely. In this, there wasn’t the slightest question, Adrian knew what he was about.