the path and cut across the grass.
“Trouble?” she asked in a taut whisper.
In answer, he drew her into his arms. “Waltz with me, Kate.” His fingers entwined hers as he spun into the first figures of the dance. “Before it grows too late.”
He looped his other arm around her waist, reveling in the warmth of her body beneath the azure silk. Their feet skimmed silently over the freshly mown grass, twirling in harmony with each other. The music floated through the leaves, soft and lilting as the first pale dapplings of moonlight.
Her skirts flared as they whirled through a turn, and to his eyes she looked like an ethereal ocean wave washing over the soft earth.
Ti amo, he thought, pressing his cheek to the golden strands of her hair. He knew he should say it aloud, but somehow his tongue seemed to trip over the words. For now, the unspoken understanding connecting them would have to be enough.
Longing to hold the enchantment for more than a few magical moments, Marco closed his eyes and lost himself in her sweet scent. His palm traced the inward curve of her back, drawing her closer so that he might imprint every nuanced curve of her body to memory.
The violins rose in crescendo, then the notes died away, leaving only the twittering of the nightingales to serenade the night.
“Thank you.” Kate lifted her face and smiled. “That was lovely.”
“Si, bella,” he whispered.
Her lashes flickered in the lanternlight as she averted her gaze. “I—”
Marco heard her breath catch in her throat.
“I see him.”
He went very still. “Where?”
“There. Three paces to the left of Apollo’s Temple.”
Turning slowly, Marco saw Grunwald standing with several other men. They were smoking cigars and watching the ballet dancers.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “And, Kate, be patient. I can’t say how long this will take.”
Kate watched Marco slip away into the shadows. Patience. It was not a virtue that came naturally to her, she thought wryly. Her first impulse was to follow along, but for his sake, she would try to rein in her hellion spirit. She understood that any distraction could put him in mortal danger.
Marco was dealing with a deadly adversary. A man who would kill without compunction.
Her hands smoothed over her skirts, feeling the lingering warmth of his presence. Il Serpenti could take care of himself, she told herself. Still, a frisson of fear snaked down her spine.
Forcing aside her worries, Kate turned away from the blazing lights and walked along the tall boxwood hedge leading to the outer fringes of the grounds. The laughter and the music grew fainter….
Oh, if only she could quiet her trepidation.
At the far end of the formal garden, she spotted a strange shape looming up in the shadows. It swayed gently in the breeze and then slowly started to grow larger and larger, a blaze of blue and white stripes rising above the dark leaves.
Recalling that a hot-air balloon was to be part of the evening’s festivities, she edged closer, curious to see the contraption close up. Peering through the hedge, she watched two men carefully adjust the brass burner inside the passenger basket, slowly inflating the colorful silk.
Thick ropes tethered the balloon to the ground. Seemingly satisfied that all was in order, the men climbed out of the basket, which was now hovering several feet off the ground, and began draping silver bunting over the sides of dark woven wicker.
Kate lingered for another moment, then started to retrace her steps. The evening was certainly going to end on a high note, she mused. The prince had hired the famed Herr Stuwer, Vienna’s master of pyrotechnics, to create a special show of fireworks. To highlight the awesome display, the orchestra was to play Handel’s “Music for the Royal Fireworks.”
Sparks and fire would light up the heavens—a fitting salute to the Allied victory over Napoleon.
Looking away from the starry sky, Kate saw the wink and flash of the honor guard as they stood at attention among the white columns of the domed pavilion. Supper for the sovereigns was ending, and the dignitaries were starting to stroll out to partake in the outdoor festivities.
She tried to relax, but her nerves were stretched as taut as the balloon’s tethers. So much could go wrong for Marco. What if the local agents had betrayed him to the Saxon conspirators? Everything was for sale in Vienna—state secrets, fleshly pleasures, princely kingdoms…
An involuntary shudder raced through her limbs.
Seeing an arched opening in the hedge, Kate slipped into its shelter