Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  Lord Hamlin sat forward. “I believe he will do something to hurt her, if he can find her.”

  “You believe in God and angels and miracles, don’t you?”

  “Yes. God still performs miracles, and the Bible says that angels are spirits sent to minister to us. I just don’t agree that every failed crop, every illness, every accident is caused by a demon.”

  “And you don’t believe they exist?”

  “I’ve never seen one.” Their eyes met and he smiled. “You aren’t trying to get me excommunicated with all these questions, are you?”

  Rose laughed. “I doubt I’m any safer from that than you.”

  “Oh? What damnable philosophies do you adhere to?” He lifted a brow at her as he smiled in amusement.

  “I’m a woman who reads the Bible. Isn’t that enough? It wouldn’t be wise to confess the rest.”

  “A woman is entitled to her secrets.” He stopped smiling and looked agitated, as if he suddenly remembered something. He was no longer looking at her. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth and pursed his lips. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

  He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. When he spoke, he still didn’t look at her. “Do you remember the boy I found stealing an apple in the Marktplatz on May Day?”

  She nodded.

  “I discovered who his parents are—or were. His father was a farmer, south of town, who fell to drinking and disappeared a year ago. The boy’s mother died shortly thereafter of a fever. Lukas had been sleeping in a ditch, or in the forest, or in whatever shelter he could find.”

  “Oh, the poor thing!” Rose cried. Her heart constricted as she thought about the boy who now helped clean the stables and ate his meals with her and Frau Geruscha in the kitchen. He often asked to pet Wolfie. “I can’t believe his father would leave him. So sad.”

  “It’s not uncommon, especially among the lower classes.”

  Rose felt a hollow place open in the pit of her stomach. The lower classes? “What do you mean by that? That poor people are less virtuous?”

  Lord Hamlin shrugged. “Most nobles believe so. Think of it this way. A wealthier family has more reason to uphold the family honor, more at stake. They’re expected to look out for the interests of God and the Church. It’s their duty. A poor family has no such duty.”

  “Every mortal soul has a duty to God. No person of nobility can take that from him.”

  “Forgive me if I offended you. It’s a much-accepted theory.”

  “I’m not offended, merely sorry that you hold to such a theory.” She clenched her teeth and tried to look cool and unaffected, but already she could feel the tears damming behind her eyes. She crossed her arms and struggled to contain the rush of emotions flooding her.

  He didn’t answer her.

  She could hardly believe Lord Hamlin…Of course, she knew this was the way the wealthier townspeople thought, always looking down on those who were poor. She had understood from childhood that people judged each other by their occupations, by their clothing, by their wealth or lack thereof. But Lord Hamlin? She had thought he was different.

  “So my friend Hildy, because her father died and her mother struggles to feed her family, is not as virtuous as a merchant’s child, who dresses in fine clothes and hurls insults at a beggar?” Her throat hurt from holding back the tears

  He didn’t answer, simply cleared his throat as though he was uncomfortable.

  She blinked furiously. These cursed tears! She turned her back on him to keep him from seeing them. What was wrong with her? How could she embarrass herself this way? She rubbed the salty drops off her cheeks.

  “But Rupert, he’s different. He doesn’t feel that way. He thinks everyone should be treated the same. He’s always felt that way.”

  Rupert? Why was he talking about Lord Rupert now?

  “I think I should go,” she said, still with her back to him. She called Wolfie, her voice cracking.

  “If anyone should go, it’s me.” Wilhelm hesitated, reluctant to leave, but waiting for her signal.

  What kind of boorish lout am I? He had made Rose cry. He could tell by the way her shoulders shook and she kept wiping her face. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might make her cry. He felt sick.

  “Rose?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Please forgive me. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, but I’m doing this for you. It was probably a good thing they were separated by the stream. He was tempted to leap across it and try to comfort her. But he couldn’t. He had to stay true to his betrothed, and the only way he could do that—and help Rose—was to convince her that his brother was a good person and that he wanted to marry her.

  He cleared his throat. He might as well go through with the rest of his plan and get it over with. “I want to talk to you about Rupert.”

  Rose looked up in surprise. Her eyes looked red and puffy. Guilt stabbed him again, but he plunged into his prepared speech.

  “I can understand why you would be wary of him, why Frau Geruscha may be a little suspicious of his attentions to you. But he isn’t a bad fellow. Even though he’s young, I believe he’s made up his mind about who he wants to marry.” He stopped and considered how to proceed. Absently, he rubbed his chest, trying to get at the pain there.

  Rose stared. “Are you trying to warn me away from him? I know his mother must have an idea who she thinks he should marry—”

  “No, no. I’m talking about you, Rose. He swears he will love no one else but you.”

  Rose’s eyes widened, then she looked down again. He couldn’t see her face, as a thick strand of hair fell across her cheek. She shook her head. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Yes, why am I? He wasn’t doing it to help his brother, even though he’d come to Wilhelm and asked for his help. He was doing it for Rose, to turn her heart toward Rupert. Rupert could protect her, love her. “I thought you would want to know. Rupert spoke to me yesterday and said he didn’t think you trusted him.” He closed his eyes, feeling like a fool. “But you must judge him yourself, of course. I simply wanted to let you know that I now believe his intentions to be honorable.”

  “Now?” Rose looked up at him, lifting her eyebrows.

  He shrugged. “I know my brother well, and he hasn’t always behaved as honorably as…I didn’t intend to let him trifle with you.” He looked down at his boots, scuffing a tuft of grass with his toe. In character Rose was far above his brother, but what did that matter when Rupert was her best hope for a husband who could take care of her and provide a better life for her?

  He looked up and let his eyes meet hers.

  He had come searching for her, and when he had found her sitting beside the waterfall with her eyes closed and looking so beautiful, he’d nearly decided to forget his plan. Her lips were parted and her hair fell in a golden brown cascade behind her, shimmering in the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. He’d had to remind himself of his prayer from the night before. He’d vowed to help Rupert win her over, and so perhaps God had led him here now so that he could speak these things to her.

  “You said you were going to search for Moncore. How long will you be gone?” Her voice sounded muffled.

  “A few weeks at least.”

  “I hope you find him. I’ll pray for your success.”

  His breath caught in his throat. After he had hurt her with his callous, insensitive words, making her cry, she was still willing to pray for him. He had to swallow before he could speak. “I would appreciate your prayers very much.” He was a louse.

  Rose moved to a tree and sat, keeping her eyes down.

  A memory flashed before him, the look on her face when she saw his gashed-up leg, the determination in her voice and actions. Her look of compassion and her heartfelt prayer. Another memory—the way his heart stopped beating and his knees went weak after he watched her fall out of that tree. And another—the touch of her hand as they danced together. Gazing at h
er now, he couldn’t imagine her married to Rupert.

  It was a good thing he was leaving. Perhaps he could contrive to stay away for quite some time.

  Feeling the need to talk about Lady Salomea and his betrothal—that had been part of his plan, after all—he thought of the note that came an hour earlier. Mentioning that would at least turn his mind away from dangerous memories.

  “Even if I don’t find Moncore, it looks as though my betrothed, Lady Salomea, will be coming here in a few months.”

  “Oh?”

  “I got a letter today from her father, Duke Godehard of Marienberg. He still intends to bring his daughter out of hiding on her nineteenth birthday, two weeks before Christmas. He’s tired of waiting for Moncore to be caught.” He cringed at his own words, that old feeling of failure rising inside him.

  “I see. Will you be getting married soon after?”

  “Yes. One week after.” He wondered if Rose was thinking about the fact that he would only know his bride for one week before marrying her. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him how he felt about that.

  She frowned as she seemed to remember something. “It seems strange, but Frau Geruscha also got a letter today from Duke Godehard.”

  Wilhelm stared at her. “Frau Geruscha? Are you certain?”

  “Yes. I saw the seal.”

  Wilhelm rubbed his jaw. Why would the Duke of Marienberg be sending missives to Frau Geruscha?

  Wolfie crashed through the brush. He splashed across the stream and sat on his haunches in front of Wilhelm, who rubbed the dog’s head.

  “I should be going,” Rose said, “before it gets dark.”

  “Let me walk with you, to make sure you get back safely.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I walk here a lot. You go and enjoy your last ride. Farewell.” She turned and headed through the trees, not waiting for Wolfie.

  He watched her go. The next time he saw her she could be married to Rupert. The pain in his chest grew so intense it took his breath away. So this is what a broken heart feels like.

  Chapter

  11

  Rose burst out of the trees and into the meadow near town. Wolfie came running by, finally catching up to her. Rose walked faster, anxious to get home.

  She clenched her fists. Lord Hamlin was no different from other nobles. She should have known.

  Perhaps Lord Rupert was the one who was different. Could he truly want to marry her? Lord Hamlin might be arrogant, but he wouldn’t lie about such a thing. After all, he’d practically written a proclamation that all men should stay away from her. Now he was trying to convince her that Rupert loved her and wanted to marry her.

  She took a deep breath, contemplating this. Was such a thing possible? Lord Rupert so in love with her that he was willing to give up wealth and prestige? He was handsome, and the way he looked at her and spoke to her made her feel beautiful. If he truly wished to marry her, if he truly loved her…To be loved, truly loved, by the handsome son of a duke…It didn’t seem possible.

  When Rose reached the town gate, she turned to look for Wolfie. There he was, walking beside Lord Hamlin.

  So Lord Hamlin had followed her.

  She expelled a burst of air. I don’t need you, Lord Holier-Than-Thou. Go marry your Lady Salomea, a woman you’ve never even seen.

  The ungracious thought brought on a pang of guilt. After all, he’d been a good friend to her, and she had promised to pray for him to find the conjurer. Well, she would stay angry at him for a little while, but she would get over it. Then she would pray for him.

  Lord Hamlin went away. And for the two weeks preceding Midsummer’s Eve, Rupert came to Frau Geruscha’s chambers almost daily to speak to Rose. He even contrived to take her on another riding lesson, teaching her how to slow her horse gradually to a stop. Every time his face appeared in the doorway, her heart would trip excitedly. But Frau Geruscha didn’t make it easy for her to enjoy his visits, with her glowering looks and unfriendly stares.

  One day he found her alone, as Frau Geruscha had just left on an errand. Rose suspected he’d been watching the door, waiting for her mistress to leave.

  He came inside and seized her hands, an excited glint in his eyes. “I have something for you.” He reached inside a small purse that hung at his waist and pulled out something shiny and silver. Her heart thumped against her chest as he draped the chain around her wrist and fastened the clasp.

  “It’s beautiful,” Rose breathed. The bracelet gave her arm a delicate, feminine look and felt cool and smooth against her skin. The beautifully crafted silver rings of the bracelet caught the light. Her first piece of jewelry.

  “Do you like it?” he asked softly.

  “I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

  He still held her hands. His eyelids closed as he bowed low and pressed his lips against the bracelet. He then kissed the back of her hand. His lips lingered. Rose’s heart skipped erratically.

  She had never been kissed before, not even on her hand. She knew Rupert’s actions were very inappropriate, but her face tingled and her mind registered how good and soft and warm his lips felt.

  If Frau Geruscha should come in now and see them, Rose would be in deep trouble. She wasn’t sure what her mistress would do, but it would certainly be unpleasant. Things had already changed between them. Frau Geruscha’s manner had cooled toward her since Rose had not heeded her advice to tell Lord Rupert to stay away.

  Rose took a step back, and Rupert looked up, still holding onto her hand. He drew her palm against his chest, pressing it over his heart. His eyelids drooped, darkening his light blue eyes. “Do you feel it? My heart beats for you, Rose.”

  Rose frowned at his drama, even as her cheeks burned. She gently pulled her hand away and retreated a couple of steps, trying to calm her racing heart.

  Neither of them spoke or even moved. After several moments, Lord Rupert broke the silence. “Midsummer’s Eve is tomorrow and I’ve planned a surprise for you.”

  “Please, sit down.” She swept her hand toward a wooden chair in the corner. Perhaps if he was seated she could force him to keep his distance.

  He picked up the chair and carried it to her desk, placing his chair next to hers.

  She leaned away and tried to sound lighthearted. “So what is my surprise?”

  “Oh, I can’t tell you all of it. Just that you must sit with me at the feast tomorrow. Then you must go with me to the Marktplatz for the festival fires and dancing.”

  “Must?” Rose stared him down.

  Lord Rupert placed his hand over his heart and sighed. “Will you please accompany me tomorrow”—he lowered his voice to a husky whisper—“my dearest, sweetest, most beautiful Rose?” An intense light glowed in his eyes.

  “Yes.” She gazed into his face until she realized she was staring at his lips and he was staring at hers.

  “What’s this?”

  Rose jumped to her feet, a guilty, prickly sensation washing over her at seeing Frau Geruscha enter the room. She remembered the bracelet and stuck her hand behind her back.

  “Frau Geruscha, good morning. How are you this fine day?”

  Rose marveled at Lord Rupert’s calm greeting. Frau Geruscha’s disapproval never ruffled his cool demeanor.

  “Well, I thank you.” Her voice sounded icy.

  Although both Lady Osanna and Lord Hamlin seemed to have changed their minds and now approved of Lord Rupert’s attentions toward her, he certainly hadn’t won Frau Geruscha over. Her arms full of yarrow root, she turned abruptly and disappeared into the storage room.

  Lord Rupert leaned toward Rose and whispered, “I’ll come for you at ten o’clock in the morning for the feast.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a quick kiss. With a wink, he strode across the floor and out the door.

  She slipped off the bracelet and dropped it into her apron pocket.

  Rose woke early to attend the special St. John’s Day service at the cathedral. Participating in the Midsummer Eve festivities always m
ade her feel guilty unless she first went to church to celebrate John the Baptist.

  She stared at the new dress hanging in her room, the one she’d had made, using the salary she was receiving as a healer’s apprentice. It was damask, a beautiful shade of emerald green, trimmed with a wide band of gold silk at the hem. More gold silk formed a feminine collar that widened at the shoulders. The sleeves were fitted, as was the bodice, and the skirt contained so much material she had to hold it up to walk. She longed to wear the new dress, but she put on her old crimson one instead. She would change later, before attending the feast at the castle.

  An hour later Rose entered the Hagenheim Cathedral and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Gradually, the flickering candles illuminated the long, high-ceilinged hall. She crossed herself and genuflected, facing the crucifix. Rose found her family members, who were kneeling in their usual spot, and bowed her head in prayer.

  A slight shuffling noise to her right caught her attention. She glanced up. Lord Rupert was coming toward her, quickly closing the gap between them. He knelt beside her, then winked.

  What was he doing here? Rarely did any of the duke’s family members come to the cathedral to worship. They attended their own chapel within the castle courtyard.

  Lord Rupert seemed determined to make his feelings for her known. She couldn’t help thinking that if Lord Hamlin had the misfortune to fall in love with a woodcutter’s daughter, he would be too proud to publicize it. No, he’d rather marry the daughter of a duke, someone of his own class.

  But why was she thinking about him? She mentally shoved him away.

  Lord Rupert moved a fraction closer and Rose smiled. Could it be true, what Lord Hamlin said? Did Lord Rupert intend to marry her? From his behavior, how could she doubt it? But whether he was in love with her or not, she shouldn’t have accepted the bracelet from him. Frau Geruscha would be shocked at such a lapse. Her conscience pricked her.

  Rose tried to concentrate on the priest’s words, but with Lord Rupert’s tall frame looming so near, her mind wandered. What would his promised surprise be? She hoped whatever it was, it wouldn’t upset Frau Geruscha.