Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  Her mistress’s behavior was unreasonable. After all, Lord Rupert had been respectful and chivalrous so far. Yet, witnessing the piercing looks Frau Geruscha gave when Rose was with him, she always felt as if he—and she—were doing something wrong. She was glad Frau Geruscha couldn’t see him with her now.

  When the service ended, Lord Rupert leaned closer to her. “Keep praying,” he whispered.

  Most of the worshipers made their way through the long sanctuary to the back of the church and exited the building. In a matter of moments they were alone, except for a few people who were lighting candles near the altar. Rose kept her head bowed. Perhaps she should leave. Surely it was a sin to pretend to pray in order to be alone with a man.

  She glanced up at him. His gaze was so intent, his smile so knowing, she finally whispered, “What is it?”

  “I simply love looking at you.”

  She tried without success to think of something to say. Instead she stood, and he also rose.

  She opened her mouth to speak and he bent low, bringing his face to within a hand’s breadth of hers. “I don’t think you should come to Frau Geruscha’s chambers for me,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard, at the well.”

  “As you wish. I’ll meet you there at ten o’clock. But can’t we stay here for a few minutes and talk?” He motioned toward a bench that stood against the wall.

  “I don’t think we should.” Rose glanced around to see who might have already spotted them together. He stood so close that she cringed at the thought of the priest’s glare should he spy them. And what would other people think? They would assume Lord Rupert and she were having a sinful liaison, so far apart were their social positions.

  She gave him a smile and rushed out before he could protest.

  “Ten o’clock,” he called.

  Rose turned just long enough to nod at him.

  She’d left Wolfie at the castle, since she couldn’t bring him into church. It felt strange to walk alone, without her constant companion. She made her way down the street, feeling the hard, uneven cobblestones through her thin slippers. Breathing deeply of the morning air, she realized she was smiling to herself. How good it had felt to look up and see Lord Rupert beside her. How good he had looked, in his white shirt, his smile warming her to her toes.

  How good it felt to be loved.

  Rose kept her eyes on the cobblestones, not really seeing the road at all. When a shadow fell across her path, she looked up. A man, tall and angular underneath his long black robe, stood in her path. His eyes raked her up and down.

  Peter Brunckhorst.

  She stopped short, but he stepped forward and grabbed her arm. He started to drag her toward a narrow alley between two shoemaker shops.

  “Let go!” Rose started to scream, but he clamped his hand over her mouth, crushing her lips against her teeth, his fingertips digging into her face. Where was everyone? The street was deserted.

  Rose stared into his small black eyes. She had to get away. Her heart pounded painfully against her chest. His rotten breath huffed on the back of her neck. She tried to turn her head but his grip was too strong.

  Since he’d stopped just out of plain sight of the street, in the edge of the alley, she decided to bide her time and see what he planned to do. She could kick and claw him, but he was too strong. He would simply overpower her. And he might drag her down the alley where no one would be able to see or hear her struggling.

  His hand continued to crush her face. She tasted blood from her teeth cutting the inside of her mouth. Desperation and a compulsion to fight back swelled inside her. She breathed through her nose in order to stay conscious while she calculated how she could hurt him the most.

  “You think you’re the darling of the duke’s family now, do you?” He hissed in her ear. “Well, I’ve had my eye on you. Your pretty face gives you away.” The corners of his mouth curled back in a sneer.

  What was he talking about? He must be a lunatic. She started to feel dizzy as she struggled to breathe.

  “You won’t get away from me. And when you least expect it, I’ll come for you. You can’t escape the destiny I have planned for you.” His sinister grin grew, and he turned her, pulling her against his chest, still holding her by her face. He let go of her arm with his other hand and pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like a small pouch. He started speaking in a strange tongue, chanting in a strained, hollow voice. He opened the pouch with his teeth and sprinkled a gray-green powder over her head.

  He’d let go with one hand. This was her opportunity to act. She twisted her body as violently as she could, catching him off guard. Then she slammed her elbow into his throat.

  His grip loosened. Rose jerked forward, freeing herself. She grabbed her skirt and ran out of the alley. Her heart beat so hard it hurt her chest but she didn’t slow her pace. She tried to listen for footsteps behind her. But she could only hear the pounding of blood in her ears, keeping time with her feet on the cobblestones.

  Chapter

  12

  She ran until she passed through the castle gate, across the courtyard, and into the chambers of the southwest tower, slamming the heavy door behind her. Gasping for breath, she sank, trembling, onto a nearby bench, then to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself. She sucked in the stale air like someone who had just survived drowning.

  “O God, thank you for saving me…O Jesus…O God.”

  “Rose?” Frau Geruscha’s voice seemed dim and far away. “Rose, what in the world—”

  She felt hands on her arms and looked up. Dazed, she concentrated on Frau Geruscha’s face. “He grabbed me. But he didn’t hurt me. I’m not hurt.”

  Frau Geruscha lifted her and helped her sit on the bench. “Who? Tell me everything. What happened?” Frau Geruscha’s voice sounded tight.

  Rose took a deep breath. “I was walking from the cathedral after the service and Peter Brunckhorst was standing in front of me.”

  “Peter Brunckhorst? Who is that?”

  “The wool merchant my mother wants me to marry. He was standing in front of me and grabbed me.” Rose’s voice began to quiver. “He put his hand over my mouth and dragged me into the alley.” A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Her hands trembled like a butterfly’s wings. “I hit him in the throat with my elbow and ran away.”

  “Oh, my dear.” Frau Geruscha wrapped her arms around her. “You’re safe now. We’ll take care of this, don’t you worry. The duke does not let incidents like this go unpunished.” She said the last sentence with extra feeling and pulled away to look in Rose’s face. “I’m so proud of you for getting away.”

  Rose blinked back tears. Her mistress was proud of her. “Thank God he didn’t hurt me.”

  Frau Geruscha stared at her hard. “Where did he grab you? Was it here?” She touched Rose’s face.

  “Yes.” She had a terrible thought. “There isn’t a bruise, is there?”

  “Three fingerprints.” Frau Geruscha’s face grew taut. Fury flashed from her eyes.

  Accompanying Lord Rupert to the feast, sitting beside him with bruises on her face. How embarrassing.

  “I could kill him with my bare hands.”

  Rose stared at Frau Geruscha in shock. If Frau Geruscha felt that way, how would Lord Rupert react? She would have to tell him, she supposed, to explain the bruises. Would the same look of fury come over his face? Did he care enough about her to be that upset?

  She tested her jaw by opening her mouth, feeling the soreness, remembering for a moment the raw fear that had swept over her when the man grabbed her. The memory of his black eyes boring into her caused a shudder to pass through her. What had he wanted? His words hadn’t made sense.

  “I shall speak with Duke Nicolaus’s bailiff this moment. And the duke himself, if possible.” Frau Geruscha stood. She started toward the door, then looked back at Rose. “You stay here.”

  Rose waited anxiously for Frau Geruscha. It was nearing
ten o’clock, but she couldn’t leave to go meet Lord Rupert until her mistress came back. She rubbed her arms up and down and tried not to think about the man’s face. But his cold eyes and twisted mouth appeared whenever she closed her eyes.

  What would be done to him? A common punishment for violent crime was hanging. Could Peter Brunckhorst be hanged for what he had done to her? Probably not. Perhaps they would banish him from the region. She would never have to see him again.

  Just as she began to pace the room, Frau Geruscha stepped in the door. “Well, that will be well taken care of, I have no doubt.” She sighed and sank on the bench. “I spoke to Bailiff Eckehart. He doesn’t know a Peter Brunckhorst, but he promised that he and his men would find him. They will imprison him in the dungeon until he can be sentenced by the duke.” She crossed her arms with a satisfied look on her face.

  “Thank you, Frau Geruscha.” Rose hugged her.

  “Now don’t let this frighten you too much, Rose. You go ahead and attend the Midsummer’s Eve festival tonight. I’m sure Hildy will be with you.”

  “Yes, she will.” Rose hesitated for a moment. “And Lord Rupert has invited me to join his family for their St. John’s Day feast.”

  Frau Geruscha gave her a sharp look. After a momentary silence, she said, “What do you think about Lord Rupert and his attentions to you, Rose?”

  Rose thought carefully before speaking. “At first I didn’t believe he was sincere. But now I think he is. He told Lord Hamlin that he loved me. Lord Hamlin believes his brother wants to marry me.”

  Frau Geruscha’s mouth fell open and her brows came down in a way that made Rose’s stomach twist into a knot. Frau Geruscha turned away and walked to the window. After standing there for several minutes, she began to shake her head back and forth.

  “Oh, please don’t disapprove of Lord Rupert, Frau Geruscha. Surely you see that he is the best thing that could ever happen to me. I’ll be able to help my family if I marry him.”

  Frau Geruscha turned from the window and faced her. Was she angry—or sad? Rose couldn’t tell.

  “Oh, my precious Rose. Please believe me when I tell you that Lord Rupert is not part of your future happiness. I want to help you, but you must make wise decisions and not try to take matters into your own hands.” She crossed the room and laid her hands on Rose’s shoulders. “Promise me.”

  “Promise you?”

  “Promise me that you won’t make rash decisions when it comes to Lord Rupert, that you won’t allow yourself to succumb to his persuasiveness to do something you might later be ashamed of. Ask God to lead you in this matter.”

  Something I might be ashamed of? Rose tried not to feel offended at Geruscha’s insinuation. “I promise.”

  “All right, then.” She let go of Rose’s shoulders. “I hear the cathedral bells striking ten o’clock. Go on now and enjoy yourself.”

  Rose quickly changed into her new dress and hastened to the well. She wished she weren’t on her way to a feast, about to face a crowd of people. She smiled when she saw Lord Rupert approaching.

  He looked distracted, glancing around the courtyard. He took in her new dress in one swift glance. “You look beautiful. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He started to look away then his eyes snapped back and settled on her cheek. He frowned. “What happened to your face?”

  Her smile disappeared. So it was noticeable. She hadn’t wanted to tell him about it while standing in the castle courtyard where people might be watching.

  He looked away, scanning the courtyard again.

  No one was near, so Rose began, “Something happened after I left the cathedral this morning. A man—”

  “Hey, Gebehart! Ludwig!” Lord Rupert shouted, staring past her. He motioned with his hand and two men started toward them. “Where are the rest?”

  Lord Rupert took a couple of steps away from her to converse with the two men. He motioned toward the castle, and the men started off in that direction. He turned back to Rose.

  “Now what did you say? Something happened?”

  He reached a hand toward her face, but she pulled back, not willing to let him caress her cheek in public. “Can I tell you about this later?”

  “Of course.”

  With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she followed him toward the door at the center of the castle. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from him—perhaps some concern?

  She took a deep breath. She would tell him later, when he wasn’t distracted. After he had heard her story, he would be furious that someone had done such a thing to her. She imagined him overcome with emotion, vowing to keep her safe from this day forward.

  The Great Hall was even more ornately decorated than it had been for the last feast. Colorful banners hung from the rafters, and flowers bloomed in every available space. The room buzzed with activity. Servants stood just inside the doorway holding the pitchers and bowls of herb-scented water for the guests to dip their hands into. Lukas, who apparently had been snatched from his stable duties to help with the feast, stood with a towel to dry their hands.

  They took their places, Lord Rupert leading her to the seat beside him. As she watched the rest of the guests find their way to their places, she felt small. She almost wished she were in her bed, curled up under the covers. Peter Brunckhorst’s horrible face kept thrusting itself into her thoughts. Maybe no one would talk to her. Or better yet, perhaps Lady Osanna would sit beside her again. Rose might even tell her what happened. Lady Osanna would be properly horrified and perhaps would say something comforting and sympathetic.

  Rose’s heart sank when Lady Anne sat beside her, separating her from Lady Osanna, who sat on Anne’s other side. She forced herself to smile and greet her. Lady Anne responded in kind, then turned to Osanna. A glance in another direction showed Duchess Katheryn glowering at her. The duchess immediately looked away.

  Serving girls filled their tankards with wine, and two servant boys carried in a large boar on a platter. The animal was complete with head and tusks, its skin decorated with designs painted in red dye. Spicy gravy was served with the meat, along with honeyed rice pudding. Other servants offered sliced chicken and pheasant and an assortment of cooked fruit in thick sauces. Rose accepted the food offered her, even though she wasn’t sure she would be able to eat it. She was still feeling too nervous from her incident with Peter Brunckhorst.

  Lord Rupert didn’t seem to notice that she wasn’t eating. He pointed to the boar. “I wonder if this is the beast who ripped into Wilhelm.” He chuckled.

  Rose felt weak at the thought. She wanted to rebuke him for the comment. Instead, she looked away.

  “Oh, Rose, I was only jesting.” He took a long drink of wine. “A note came from Wilhelm yesterday. He thinks he’s on Moncore’s trail, and he may be away for several more months, until the onset of winter.”

  Rose nodded, trying to look properly interested without showing too much concern. But the news made her feel even more like running away to be alone.

  At the end of the first course, the servants brought out a subtlety in the shape of a castle. Everyone clapped and shouted their approval of the sculptor’s skill. After it had been paraded around for all the guests to get a close look, Lord Rupert said, “I will get a piece for you.”

  “I don’t like marzipan.”

  “Oh, come. Eat some. It’s the festive thing to do.”

  The servant brought the marzipan castle—an exact replica of Hagenheim Castle, perfectly proportioned, with its five towers—around to their table again. It seemed a shame to destroy something so intricate, but Lord Rupert took the knife and sliced off the biggest tower.

  “For you.”

  Rose took it from his hand. He looked like Wolfie when he’d killed a rabbit and laid it at her feet. She smiled and took a bite to please him.

  “Now you’re ready for my surprise.”

  A group of men and women entered the minstrels’ gallery at the opposite end of the hall. Th
ere must have been over a dozen people, each holding a musical instrument—a lute, harp, recorder, viol, drum, or hurdy-gurdy. The noisy conversation in the Great Hall ceased.

  So this was her surprise—professional musicians performing for the guests. She recognized two of them as the men Lord Rupert had been talking to in the courtyard just before the feast.

  He smiled down at her, so obviously proud of his gift to her.

  She smiled back at him, genuinely impressed and pleased.

  Lord Rupert leaned down, his lips close to her ear. “The first song I requested especially for you.”

  The song was a ballad, the music slow and sweet. The words were in Italian, of which she only understood a smattering.

  Lord Rupert translated. “You see beauty and gentleness joined together,” he whispered, his breath causing wisps of her hair to brush against her ear, “and adorned with virtuous manners.”

  He paused while they sang the next verse.

  “She moves her eyes in a face that proves heaven exists.”

  Rose could feel his gaze fixed on her, but she locked hers on the musicians, a blush suffusing her cheeks. He continued with the next verse, his voice deeper.

  “And makes me a faithful subject of love. I enjoy sweet service more than freedom.

  For when I come before her face I place all my desire in pleasing her.

  I feel all unworthiness perish in my heart and virtue awaken there.”

  Rose risked a peek at him. His expression was so intense it made her heart pound against her chest. He leaned very close. His gaze raked over her face, and Rose was glad the light was too dim in the Great Hall for him to notice again the bruises, or the blush infusing her cheeks. She forced herself to turn away from him, with the thought that others were probably watching.

  The song ended and everyone applauded. Rose felt a warm hand on her back and realized it was Lord Rupert’s. She turned her eyes to his and gave a little shake of her head. Kissing her hand in private was bad enough, but touching her in public was too bold.