Behind the Mask (132 page)

“Yes,” she said, “but I’ve never had such a . . .
horrible
dream. It was a nightmare, in truth.”

“A nightmare?” Cameron asked, his voice low and husky. “Just a bad dream, or does it have meaning, Abbi? How did it make you feel?”

She groaned in response to the question and clung to him more tightly. “I feel as if it will come to pass. I’ve never felt it any more strongly than I do now.”

“Tell me,” he prodded gently. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

“I saw a woman . . . murdered,” she said and heard Cameron draw a sharp breath.

“There hasn’t been a murder in Horstberg since my first wife was killed,” he said, his astonishment evident.

“I know,” she said sadly.

“Did you see who it was? Who did it?”

“No. I could only see the victim, and her face was obscured.” Tears came with her clarification. “She was dressed simply, like a common woman. As a woman would dress who worked at a pub, perhaps, except that she had a white silk scarf around her neck; a very lovely scarf that did not go at all with her attire. Her hair was dark blond and curly. She was . . . near my age, I would guess, perhaps just a little older—early to mid-twenties. She was stabbed through the heart with a dagger; the dagger had a carved, ivory handle. And that’s all I saw.”

Cameron pressed his lips into her hair and muttered gently, “It’s going to be all right, Abbi.”

“How can it be all right for a woman to be murdered? Is this meant to be some kind of warning? Am I expected to protect a woman that I can’t even identify?”

Cameron leaned up on one elbow and remained thoughtfully silent. Abbi could feel his compassion and concern, but she knew he didn’t have the answers any more than she did. She touched his dark hair and then his face. He put a hand over hers, holding it there a long moment. He then touched her face in return, saying, “Abbi . . . I believe that sometimes . . . there are things that simply happen, and there’s nothing we can do to prevent them, however tragic they may be. Perhaps your dream is more for the purpose of being prepared.”

Abbi had to admit that felt right, but it didn’t erase her anxiety. She had to ask, “For who to be prepared, Cameron? And how?”

“I don’t know, Abbi. We just have to go on and be aware, and perhaps the answers will come.”

Abbi knew he was right, but she had trouble going back to sleep, and when she did the dream recurred. She rose early and went to the window, looking out over the valley below. She wondered what unsuspecting woman might be destined for this horrible fate. The sun was barely showing itself when Abbi noticed a sleigh being harnessed in the courtyard below. Elsa would be leaving soon and the thought darkened Abbi’s mood further. Elsa was her lady’s maid and dearest friend, and Abbi wasn’t certain how she would manage without Elsa while she traveled far to care for an ailing aunt. They had exchanged farewells before going to bed, but she felt an added sadness as she watched Elsa attempting to say goodbye to her husband before she finally got into the sleigh and it disappeared through the castle gate.

Abbi stood as she was until the sun came up, and she couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful day. It had been snowing almost nonstop for days, but now the sun had appeared and the world was brilliantly white. If only she could free herself from her heavy thoughts. Thinking it through, she knew that she
had
to free herself of them in order to do all that was required of her. If she went about her day melancholy and distracted, people would be concerned and question her. And she had no desire to discuss her feelings with anyone except her husband.

Abbi went to the wardrobe to find an appropriate dress. What she needed was a distraction, and getting started on her Christmas shopping seemed the perfect way to go about it.

Chapter One

DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

S
unlight peered tenuously over the snow-covered peaks standing to the east of Castle Horstberg. The sky was brilliantly clear, a stark contrast to the heavy clouds that had steadily dumped snow for the last three days. Georg Heinrich eased his wife a little closer to his side and walked sullenly across the castle courtyard toward the waiting sleigh, harnessed to four bays. Georg and Elsa stood silently facing each other while servants tightened down the baggage and rechecked the harnessing to be certain all was in order. Georg became lost in Elsa’s eyes until an officer’s voice startled him.

“I believe we’re ready to go, sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said absently. Then to Elsa, “I’ve been dreading this moment.”

“So have I,” she said and gave him a lingering kiss. “But the time will go quickly. You’ll see. I’ll be back before Christmas. I promise.”

“Yes, well. Christmas is more than seven weeks away. It seems like an eternity, in my opinion.”

Elsa managed a smile, but he saw her chin quiver and knew she was trying to be brave. He knew she didn’t really want to go, but her aunt needed her. They weren’t close, but this woman was Elsa’s only remaining relative. She strongly valued the family tie and felt compelled to answer the plea. This aunt had close friends who were caring for her through a lengthy illness, but they had some other pressing matters to attend to and had written to ask if Elsa could come and stay just long enough to give them the time they needed. Georg had wanted desperately to go with her, but working as the duke’s highest advisor was especially demanding at the moment, and he simply couldn’t get away. He’d made every possible arrangement to see that she would be well cared for, but he still couldn’t help being concerned. And oh, how he was going to miss her!

“You’ve got that worried look again,” Elsa said. “Now stop that. Gertie will keep me company, and the lieutenant will take very good care of us.”

Georg glanced briefly to Lieutenant Joerger standing nearby. He was competent and trustworthy, and Georg knew he was the perfect escort for Elsa and her friend. But he just hated the thought of being away from her at all. The Black Forest seemed terribly far away.

When it became evident that everyone was ready and waiting discreetly for him to complete his goodbyes, Georg took Elsa’s delicate shoulders into his hands, though he could barely feel them through her heavy cloak. He pressed his mouth over hers as if he might never have the chance again, oblivious to being observed.

“I love you,” he murmured, trying not to think that he’d never been away from her for more than a day or two since they’d been married nearly four years ago.

“And I love you,” she replied in a shaky voice. He saw tears brim in her eyes, but she smiled them away––at least for the moment. He knew she’d be crying once the sleigh pulled away, and so would he. “You take good care of Han, now. Tell him every day that I love him and I miss him.”

“I will,” he promised and kissed her once more before he forced himself to help her into the waiting sleigh next to Gertie, who was already seated beneath a heavy quilt. She eased a portion of it over Elsa’s lap just as the lieutenant took a seat next to the driver and the sleigh moved forward. Elsa turned back, pressing a gloved hand over her lips and waving. Georg returned the gesture and stood in the cold until the sleigh had disappeared through the high castle gate and slipped down the hill.

He glanced skyward and pushed back his emotion as the biting cold forced him to return quickly to his apartment in the servants’ housing to one side of the courtyard. He hurried inside and up the stairs where he found three-year-old Han still sleeping soundly. He paused a few minutes just to watch his son and ponder how good their life was together. Then he gently woke him, holding him until he became coherent enough to get dressed. Once Han was bundled up for the cold, Georg carried him across the courtyard and through the main entrance of the castle. Even though Han’s mother was gone, the routine was familiar. Each day, while Elsa assisted the duchess as a lady’s maid and Georg worked with the duke, Han played in the nursery with Erich, who was younger than Han by only a matter of months, and destined to be the next Duke of Horstberg.

They had only been in the nursery a few minutes when the duke and duchess arrived with their young son, who would be turning three in a few months. Little Erich and Han were playing together as quickly as Erich’s father set him down.

“Good morning, Georg,” Abbi du Woernig said brightly, pressing the standard kiss to his cheek. They’d been friends since childhood, and their relationship now was warm and comfortable.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” he replied and Abbi laughed softly.

“We’re in the nursery, Georg. Formalities are really not necessary.”

Georg managed a faint smile then became distracted by his thoughts until Cameron du Woernig slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “I take it Elsa’s on her way,” he said, “unless there’s some other reason you’ve got that pathetic look on your face.”

“How perceptive you are,” Georg said with subtle sarcasm. “I’d wager you’d look a whole lot worse if Abbi were off for nearly two months.”

Cameron glanced toward his wife, then back to Georg. “You’ve got me there, my friend. A day without Abbi is difficult to bear.”

Abbi tossed her husband a warm smile, saying, “Then you’d do well to be empathetic, my dear. I already miss Elsa myself. I’m certain the weeks will drag for Georg.”

Again Georg managed a weak smile, and he was grateful when Cameron shifted the conversation by bringing up a matter of business that would be on the day’s agenda.

While Abbi watched her young son playing with Han, her mind was drawn against her will to the horrid images of her dreams. She forced her thoughts elsewhere by focusing on the boys playing and their fathers sitting close together, talking comfortably. Han was a childlike miniature of his father, with fluffy blond hair and gentle features. Erich too was the spitting image of his father, except that he had inherited Abbi’s red, curly hair as opposed to his father’s, which was dark and wavy. Abbi’s thoughts guided her eyes to Cameron. Her husband typically wore his hair combed back off his face and it hung to the bottom of his neck. He had an innate regal air about him that could not be diminished by the way he often dressed so casually and behaved, with no effort at all, like a common man. He just looked like a duke without even trying, which Abbi found intriguing simply for the fact that she had known him for so long before she’d realized that noble blood flowed in his veins.

Breakfast was brought into the nursery for the children and Abbi watched how naturally Cameron and Georg helped their sons with the meal while they continued to visit intermittently. Cameron had once declared that he would keep his country strong by keeping his family first, and she loved him all the more for the way he had held to that promise. The citizens of Horstberg would likely be surprised to see their ruler cutting his son’s food into bite-sized pieces while the nanny waited nearby for any order he might give her. But Cameron valued purposeful interaction with his son at every possible opportunity, and even though he was a very busy man, he took his time in the nursery very seriously. He talked with Erich for a few minutes while the child ate, then he and Georg stood side by side, continuing their conversation while the boys giggled and tried to kick each other under the table. The nanny just observed and smiled. Abbi did the same, loving the way that Erich and Han were being raised together, especially in light of the close relationship shared by their fathers. The two men together were a striking contrast in coloring and features but similar in build and stature—tall and thoroughly masculine—and kindred spirits to the core. Their strengths and weaknesses balanced each other richly, and they were well practiced at translating their unified strength into the running of a country.

Georg and Cameron stayed in the nursery until their sons had eaten breakfast and were off playing together as if they were brothers. Abbi was visiting with the nanny when Cameron interrupted their conversation to kiss his wife.

“You take care now, my love,” he said, briefly setting a hand to her well-rounded belly. The baby was due a few weeks after Christmas.

“I hope your day goes well,” she said and kissed Cameron again before he and Georg left the room to get an hour’s work in before breakfast was served for the adults.

After breakfast Abbi sat in front of her mirror while Bruna put the finishing touches on her hair. Caring for the duchess’s rich, red curly hair was an envied task among the servants, and it was usually Elsa who saw to it. But in Elsa’s absence, Bruna always proved capable and pleasant.

“That looks very fine,” Abbi declared once she was finished. She pinned a hat into place that went well with the rust-colored dress she wore, and hurried down the stairs, knocking lightly at the door of the duke’s office.

“You’re looking as lovely as ever, Your Grace,” one of the officers flanking the door remarked.

“You’re too kind,” she said just before Cameron’s voice called for her to enter. The officer smiled and opened the door for Abbi, but it was evident when she stepped in that she had interrupted something. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she murmured, glancing quickly at each of the men seated in the room. Along with Cameron and Georg, there was Lance Dukerk, who was the Captain of the Guard. Also present were three of his highest officers. She focused her attention on her husband as he came to his feet and she added, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going into town now and––”