Behind the Mask (36 page)

Through a long moment of silence Abbi felt tense, wondering what might happen now. It was evident that Cameron shared her nervousness, but she wondered if his thoughts were wandering to the same place as hers. She saw him smile, which sent a delightful tremor to her every nerve. He pressed her hand to his lips, nearly smirking as he said, “You know, my love, I do believe I feel like dancing.”

“Dancing?” She laughed softly. “Why?”

“Well,” he reasoned, “every wedding I’ve ever attended has had dancing. It’s a celebrating kind of thing, don’t you think?”

“I suppose it is,” Abbi admitted. “Although, I can’t say for sure. I’ve never been to a wedding.”

“Never?” he asked.

“I’ve been to this one.”

“So you have.” He came to his feet and she did the same. “And now that we are husband and wife, I’d say that some celebrating is in order.”

Cameron hurried to push aside the sofas and table, and he rolled back the rug. Abbi grabbed the broom and quickly swept away the dust that had gathered beneath them. In just a few minutes a fairly generous space was opened up, with a polished floor of wood slats. Cameron put one arm around Abbi’s waist and took her hand into his.

“But we have no music,” she pointed out.

“I don’t need music,” he said. “I can count. All you have to do is follow.”

They laughed together as they attempted to coordinate a simple dance step without much success.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I never even learned to dance until late last summer when I attended my first social. Actually, it was my only social. Georg taught me enough to get by.”

Cameron laughed. “Well,
I
taught Georg enough to get by before he attended
his
first social.”

“You’re joking,” she said.

“I am quite serious. Now try it again.” He counted a simple rhythm, and within a few minutes they were gliding gracefully together around the little room. “There,” he said, “very good.”

“You dance well.”

“I attended a few socials, once upon a time.”

“Do you miss that sort of thing?”

“You want the truth?”

“Of course.”

“I suppose there are aspects of such things that I miss, but overall, I found the social events I attended rather tedious.” He smiled. “I’ve never enjoyed dancing so much as now.”

“Nor I,” she said, “but then I have little to compare to.”

“Tell me about this one great social you attended,” he said as they continued to move in perfect tempo.

“It was tedious,” she replied with a little smile.

“Be serious.”

“I am. It was tedious and . . . well, there were some things about it that I enjoyed, but the evening was ruined when the duke got a little too friendly while he was giving me a tour of the castle.”

Cameron stopped dancing so abruptly that Abbi almost tripped. He stepped back, looking as stunned as if she had slapped him. While she was wondering what she’d said wrong, he asked in a voice that squeaked, “The
duke
got a little too
friendly
with you?”

The shame Abbi had felt over the incident came back to haunt her. She looked away to avoid his eyes. “I take it you don’t like him.”

“Like
him?” Cameron echoed in a voice that was angry. “Nikolaus du Woernig is an ogre and a cad, like his father before him. I shudder to think how many women he’s gotten a little too
friendly
with.”

Abbi felt her face burn hot with embarrassment. She turned away, wishing this hadn’t come up now. The last thing she wanted was to have this day marred by memories of the worst experience of her life.

Through the following silence, Cameron reminded himself not to take out his personal resentments on Abbi. He swallowed his anger and took a deep breath. With his hands at her shoulders he turned her to face him. “Forgive me,” he said. “It’s just that . . . I had no idea you’d spent your affections on . . . royalty. I mean . . . Nikolaus du Woernig?” Cameron looked into Abbi’s eyes and had to ask, “Did you care for him, Abbi?”

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“Whatever the past may be, it matters nothing to what you and I share now,” he insisted. “I only want to understand what happened. Did he hurt you? Did he—”

“I was ignorant and naive. I was a fool. He flattered me and led me on, making allusions to love and commitment, all the while betrothed to some princess.”

Cameron fought to keep his expression from revealing the true nature of his thoughts. He
hated
Nikolaus du Woernig, and he resented those who worked closest with him. But the only thing that mattered now was Abbi. Again he asked, “Did you care for him?”

“I was . . . attracted to him, I admit. But even then, my thoughts were drawn to you, and I could find no comparison.”

“To me? But how could you—”

“I met Nikolaus after I had come here last summer.” Her explanation was left hanging so she hurried to add, “Nothing happened between us beyond a few lusty kisses. I thank God that I had enough sense to hold him at bay until I learned his true nature.”

“Yes,” Cameron said with a gruff quality to his voice, “so am I.”

“Are you angry with me, Cameron?”

“Angry?” He was astonished. “Oh, Abbi, no. Forgive me. I’m just . . . well, perhaps jealous. To think of you waltzing in the arms of the Duke of Horstberg is . . . unsettling.”

Again silence hovered uncomfortably until Cameron said, “How is Castle Horstberg these days? I hear it’s magnificent.”

“It is,” she stated, not quite sure of his mood.

“Tell me about it,” he said in a voice that was almost wistful.

“It was dreadful, actually.” His eyes widened as if he didn’t believe her. She quickly clarified, “I mean, much of it is beautiful, and my evening there had its enjoyable moments, but . . . it’s so huge that I wondered how those people avoid getting lost. And everything just seemed so . . . pretentious and . . . tedious.”

Cameron chuckled softly, more like himself. “I can well imagine. I prefer folk-dancing in the market square, actually. My preference is a little more common.”

Abbi smiled. They truly had the same taste when it came right down to it. “You mean the dance they do at the fair?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“I’ve seen it done a few times. It’s incredible to watch.”

“Watch? Abbi, are you telling me you’ve never participated in the folk-dance?”

“No,” she laughed. “Does this disillusion you? Would you like to undo our vows?”

He grinned. “Never! I’ll simply teach you.”

“Oh,” her hesitance was evident, “it looks very difficult. Are you sure it’s worth the time?”

“Absolutely,” he insisted. “First of all, the women are lined up here.” He guided her to a spot on the floor. “And the men are lined up here.” He stood across the room from her. “The men come forward and bow, then they step back.” He demonstrated as he said it. Then he motioned toward her. “Then the women come forward and curtsy.” Abbi did so and he gave her an exaggerated smile. “Very good.”

He walked her through the series of turns and steps, telling her the traditions of the dance that she’d only been vaguely aware of. “There are a group of folk-dancers,” he said, “which mostly consist of local merchants and such, and they dress in traditional costume.”

“Yes, I’ve seen them.”

“On the afternoon of the fair they perform the dance, then each dancer takes someone from the crowd and they do it again. They keep doing it over and over until everyone is dancing. Even as a young man, I went to the fair, often with Georg, and we had such fun. After the last set, you are supposed to spend the remainder of the day with your dance partner.”

“When you take
me
to the fair, we must dance the last set together.”

“Indeed, we will,” he said, loving the thought of such an opportunity. “All right, now you’ve learned the whole thing.”

“I have?”

“Yes, now let’s go through it again.”

Abbi felt more comfortable with the steps this time. She especially enjoyed the part where they turned together, facing opposite directions with their arms around each other.

“They’ve been doing this dance for decades, you know,” he told her. “Perhaps even centuries.”

“That’s an intriguing thought.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know it,” he said, holding her hands high from behind. “I thought it was against the law not to know Horstberg’s traditional folk-dance. I’m surprised His Grace didn’t have you executed for your ignorance.”

“Well,” she said, “he didn’t know that I didn’t know it.”

Cameron laughed. “What Nikolaus du Woernig doesn’t know . . .”

“Won’t hurt him?”

“Actually, I was going to say . . . could see him undone.”

“His Grace undone? Because I’m learning this dance?”

Cameron laughed again. “Precisely.”

“You know,” Abbi said, “I do believe I remember watching my parents do this dance.”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t have been very old, because my mother died before I turned five. But it seems familiar.”

“Well, shame on your father for not teaching the dance to you. I must discuss this with him the next time we meet.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” she said.

As Abbi gained confidence with the series of simple steps, their dancing picked up momentum. Cameron began improvising by lifting her off her feet when they turned, and kissing her between steps. They laughed and danced themselves into exhaustion, plopping down onto one of the sofas.

Abbi took Cameron’s hand and pressed it to her lips. “Will you take me to the fair, Cameron? It’s late in the summer, is it not?”

“Yes, it is, my love. And you can count on it.” He sighed. “Oh, I miss the simple pleasures of life in Horstberg.”

Abbi listened as he talked of going to the pub every day except Sundays to meet Georg. She found it ironic that she had been aware of Georg meeting a friend each morning. Cameron also told her of going into town on market day, how he loved to wander among the street vendors, buying odd things. He reminisced about the sounds and smells, bringing familiar images to her mind.

“What are you thinking?” Cameron asked, noting her dreamy expression.

“I was just savoring the idea of sharing such simple pleasures with you.” She kissed him quickly. “I look forward to the day when that might be possible.”

“It’s a vision that could keep me going through the tough moments.” He looked into her eyes, noting that dusk was settling over the room. “I love you, Abbi.”

“And I love you, Cameron.”

Abbi’s heart quickened as she read the meaning in his gaze just before he bent to kiss her. Before it ended, he took her face into his hands. Then he kissed her again. And again. Abbi took hold of his shoulders, slipping into sensations she didn’t understand, but ached to know. She was startled when Cameron came to his feet. The distance between them felt stark, and Abbi wondered about his intentions. He held out a hand for her. She took it and stood to face him. With purpose he touched her hair, saying in a hushed voice, “When we get married again, I want you to wear your hair exactly this way.”

Abbi smiled. “It would be a pleasure, although my aunt will be mortified.”

“All the better,” he said and kissed her. Abbi tipped her head backwards, finding his hand there to hold it. He drew slightly away to look into her eyes, and then he scooped her up into his arms. Abbi could hear pulse-beats in her ears, echoing in time with his footsteps as he carried her briskly across the common room and up the stairs. She laughed as he gained momentum. He paused before the door, as if to question her amusement.

“This was all just a ploy to get your bed back, wasn’t it.”

“Precisely.” He laughed and carried her over the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him.

Chapter Eleven

DREAMS

A
bbi opened her eyes slowly, feeling as if she’d just emerged from a dream—a perfect, ethereal dream. She turned her head on the pillow and found Cameron watching her in the fire’s glow, leaning on one elbow, his head propped up with his hand.

“My husband,” she said, reaching out to touch his face.

“Forever,” he whispered, and kissed her before he relaxed his head on the pillow to face her.

“Do you believe in forever, Cameron?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you believe we will part at death? Can feelings so deep just dissipate into nothing when this life ends?”

“I pray it’s at least fifty years before we have to worry about that,” he said.

“Yes, but . . . eventually life ends for everyone. And I just can’t believe that everything we share would be for nothing.”

“Abbi, my love, if you believe that true love lasts forever, then I believe it, too. You’ve taught me to believe in miracles. And surely there could be no greater miracle than that.”

Cameron pulled on his breeches and got up to stoke the fire. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, pulling on a nightgown. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

Cameron laughed and took hold of her hand. “Come along,” he said. “Let’s see what we can dig up, shall we? I believe we forgot to eat dinner.”

“So we did,” she laughed and picked up a lamp, following him out of the bedroom. She was surprised when he stopped and unfastened the latch on one of the two trunks on the landing. She recalled him implying once that their contents were none of her business, and she held her breath as he sat on one trunk and lifted the lid of the other.