She raised the glass to her lips, but paused as Klaus interrupted.
That had been very well played.
“Lucrezia, are you out of your mind?”
She laughed delightedly and with a single, graceful move, moved onto the bed before him. Her hand slid delicately along his jaw. “Oh, you’re so sweet,” she said. She then sharply slapped him, and began to breathe a bit faster. “I knew you’d take it hard.” She bit her lower lip and looked into his eyes.
She had amazing eyes. Green, deep and oh, so dangerous. “But I’m going to do it. I’m going to renounce my father’s work and join up with the ‘Good Guys.’”
Before Klaus could reply, she’d spun about and leaned back against his broad chest. This afforded him both the fragrance of her hair, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and carbolic acid, and a magnificent view of her cleavage. That was so like her. Lucrezia would never play only a deuce when she had a death ray as well.
Klaus closed his eyes. This didn’t really help. “Oh, and I don’t count?”
She shrugged against him. “Oh, Klaus. You may work with them—but you have far too much of a dark side of your own.”
Klaus tried to analyze this. Thinking was always so... difficult with this woman around. “Oh?” he squeezed her shoulders gently. “So do you.”
She laughed delightedly, spun about again and was kneeling in his lap, one hand gently tousling the back of his head. “Oh, I certainly do! But that’s what you like about me, isn’t it?”
His eyes flicked down momentarily. They both smiled. “One of the things,” he conceded. His arms tightened around her.
She made a small movement with the hand holding the goblet. He loosened his grasp. She daintily placed the drink—
the still untouched drink—
on the bedside table, and then suddenly, she was on the other side of the mattress, just out of his reach, coyly looking at him over one exquisite shoulder. The light was perfect.
Had she planned that?
“Now Bill knows that I’m bad, but he thinks I can change.”
Klaus snorted. “He’s wrong. They think that about everybody. I know you too well. You’ll soon be bored out of your mind, and you’ll try something.” He had a sudden moment of realization. “In fact, this is probably all one of your schemes right now, isn’t it?”
That had thrown her. Klaus knew he had been one of the very few people who could do that, which probably explained everything. Had it been too late, even then?
She looked at him seriously, no doubt for the only time that entire day.
“No, Klaus. This isn’t a game. I am determined to change. I do love him. It should be enough.” A brief look of frustration flickered across her face. “Besides, they always win. There must be something to their philosophy.”
There. Then. That was when he should have gotten out of bed. Commandeered a coach, or an airship, or anything. Left town and gone back home. Locked himself in and got to work in his long-neglected laboratory on something... anything that didn’t involve tearing across the countryside with bombastic heroes and their barking mad enemies and their enemies’ beautiful daughters... instead, he’d been weak, fool that he was. Instead, he had simply leaned forward and fixed her with a stern look.
“This isn’t about philosophy,” he growled. It came out louder than he had intended. “Bill is my friend. I won’t let you—”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Is that how you plan to change my mind?” she whispered, “By shouting at me?”
And then her mouth was under his lips, her body locked in his arms, and he in hers...
Much later, the lights of the village below still gleamed in the darkness as they collapsed for the final time. Klaus lay back, breathing deeply, the sweat drying from his skin. Lucrezia opened her eyes and languidly rolled atop him. Klaus’s eyes opened wide in disbelief, but she merely began to gently tease her fingertips along the great scars that covered his chest.
Klaus relaxed and sighed in contentment, then reached out and snagged the goblet that Lucrezia had oh-so-casually placed next to him. He gratefully drank it down. The liquor was sweet and crisp, with an unfamiliar tang.
Lucrezia watched him with heavy-lidded satisfaction, then a wistful smile spread across her face. “Oh Klaus,” she whispered. “I will miss you. But I’m afraid I simply can’t have you around complicating things.” She ran her fingertip along his shoulder. “If only by being such a temptation.” She sighed and snuggled against him. “I’m afraid you really will have to go,” she said in a small, sad voice.
Klaus had smiled. “Hah!” he chuckled, “Anghowr d’jer thirg yg—”
He paused. That statement hadn’t come out as he’d expected. He’d stared at the empty goblet in his hand. The goblet Lucrezia had filled hours ago. The goblet she hadn’t drunk from. The goblet she’d—
“My dring,” he enunciated as clearly as he could. “Hyu pzind by dring.”
Her face swam into focus. She must’ve crawled right up to stare directly into his face—watching him with a charming scientific interest. “Not poison, silly,” he heard her chiding him from a thousand kilometers away, “I’m one of the Good Guys now, remember?” She leaned in and chastely kissed his nose. “Goodbye, darling.”
He reached for her as everything collapsed into blackness...
No, this was pointless indulgence. He had years ago realized that his grave mistake had not been made that night in the castle in the mountains. No, it had been made long before that, made when he had first known what Lucrezia was, and yet allowed himself to fall into a delicious, dangerous romance, instead of running for the hills as any sensible person would have done. Well, Sparks were not known for being sensible, but Klaus had liked to think he was above all that...
Baron Klaus Wulfenbach made an exasperated noise as he resurfaced from the memories that had held him captive. He shifted his weight trying to sit up, then grit his teeth in pain. At the foot of the bed, Doctor Merrliwee, a trim, serious-faced woman, glanced up from the machine she was adjusting and made a quick, no-nonsense gesture before returning her attention to her instruments.
The doctor’s assistant bustled over and adjusted Klaus’ pillows. “Please try not to move too much while the doctor is working, Herr Baron.” Klaus ignored her and glared at the golden locket in his hand, the beautiful face of Lucrezia smiling back at him from the frame. Set facing her, in the other half of the locket, was a matching miniature of Bill Heterodyne—his old friend—so young—smiling happily. The painter had captured their likenesses with breathtaking skill.
Lucrezia had married Bill, as she said she would, and by all reports, been happy, for a time. He had been glad to hear that. But... what had happened to them? Where were they? Lucrezia had done such a good job of putting Klaus out of the way... it had taken him years to return home. And when he had...