a better word.” Marco checked the priming on his Italian turn-on pocket pistol and tucked it into his coat. “Ready?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t resist adding, “I hope that we may have a chance to waltz together before duty calls.”
He touched her hand, sending a tiny thrill dancing up her arm. “I imagine that will be easy to arrange. The Prince has several orchestras planted within his garden hedges so that the guests may spin along under the stars.”
“You are joking.”
“Not at all. He’s also built several mock-classical temples to honor Mars, Athena, and Apollo—and hired Emilia Bigottini, the famous ballerina, to stage a special performance around them.”
Kate blew out a long breath, trying to imagine the spectacle.
“Vienna is a city known for its decadent parties, but this one promises to be truly memorable,” finished Marco.
“Yes, well, let us hope that our quarry has not changed plans and decided to add the murder of a monarch to the pageantry,” she murmured.
The remark didn’t elicit a smile. She had never seen him look so deadly serious.
Marco added a folded knife to his pocket, then suddenly turned and pulled her into a fierce hug. “From here on in, we must set personal feeling aside, cara,” he said after crushing his mouth to hers in a swift kiss. “We have a job to do.”
A parade of fancy carriages filled the streets, the gleam of their gilded trappings near blinding in the setting sun.
“Let’s get out and walk,” said Marco. “I’d like to make a last survey of the side streets.” The vast gardens of Prince Metternich’s villa were screened from the street by high walls and hedges, but he made careful mental note of the various gates, just in case the primary plan went awry.
“Where will you have a vehicle waiting to transport Grunwald to a safe house?” asked Kate softly.
“Actually, I’ve arranged for two—one at each end of the grounds. We can’t be too careful, Kate. He must not be allowed to assassinate the king.”
He quickened his step, feeling restless and on edge. To his relief, Kate seemed to sense his need to stay focused on the mission and didn’t try to distract him with conversation.
The line of guests waiting to enter the villa snaked down the Rennweg, the white and blue ballgowns punctuated by the martial splendor of the various uniforms. Even the men in plain evening dress sparkled with medals and silver-threaded sashes. Precious jewels glittered all around—it looked as if the stars from the heavens had fallen to earth for one magical night.
He caught Kate’s expression as she surveyed the crowd. “Behold the crème de la crème of the Continent,” he murmured. “How does it feel to be part of the elite, Lady Ghiradelli?”
She muttered a rude word under her breath. “I’m not, and never shall be. If you wanted a wife to display in a gilded cage, you made the wrong choice.”
Choices, choices. His heart began to pound against his ribs. Was he wrong to let her dance into danger with him? He had been part of enough missions to know that Fate could take an ugly turn at any moment.
The thought of losing his bold, free-spirited bride sent a blade of fear knifing through his gut.
Shading his eyes to hide his doubts, Marco surveyed the festive lawns. Colored lanterns burned brightly along the graveled paths, and the strains of lilting music wafted through the evening breeze. The lush plantings were echoed in the look of the ladies, many of whom had a profusion of olive and laurel leaves—the symbols of peace—woven into their hair.
“It’s like a fairy tale come to life,” breathed Kate, watching the elegant guests stroll among the strutting peacocks.
“This way,” said Marco gruffly, turning down the central walkway. “Let us see if we can spot Grunwald.”
The constant blare of trumpets from the main gate announced the steady arrival of sovereigns—emperors and kings rubbing shoulders with princes and archdukes. Never before had there been such an impressive gathering of titled aristocrats in one place. And yet, from what he could see, security was lax.
Which suited his purposes, thought Marco grimly.
Twilight colored the sky with streaks of orange and pinks that darkened to purple as it dipped into the shadows of the trees. Refreshment tents dotted the manicured grounds, the white damask walls billowing in the breeze. Champagne flowed, along with Mosel and Tokay wines. Toasts to peace rang out, punctuating the general mood of merriment and good cheer.
Tightening his hold on Kate’s hand, Marco abruptly veered off