Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Rose, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, believe me.” He sighed. “But I have a feeling you are.”

  Rose’s heart tripped as she thought about what to say. “Forgive me. I suppose I’m a little uncomfortable, wondering what people are thinking.” And there’s the way you look at me sometimes, like I’m a stray lamb and you’re a hungry wolf.

  “People are thinking what I’m thinking—that you’re the most beautiful maiden they’ve ever seen.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Rose, please listen to me. I know you like to dance, so I hired the Meistersingers for you. If I’m doing something that makes you sad, please tell me. Let me make you happy today. That’s all I want…to make you happy.”

  He leaned toward her, his hair curling around the sides of his neck. His unique smell, mixed with fresh air and the lilac his laundress folded inside his clean clothes, wafted to her. His eyes were the pale blue of a shallow stream. At the moment they looked wide and innocent and sincere.

  “I want to believe you.” Rose drew in a quick breath as she realized she’d let the words slip out. She bit her lip.

  Rupert’s features softened. He leaned closer and lifted her hand out of her lap. “Then believe me, Rose.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, drawing it to his heart, pressing it against his chest and sending tingles up her arm. “The truth is, I’ve fallen in love with you. I want to be with you…forever.”

  He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it so tenderly, Rose’s heart stopped beating for a moment.

  “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you from that detestable cur. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

  He reached his other hand toward her cheek, and this time Rose did not pull away. He gently brushed his fingertips over the bruises. Rose closed her eyes and gave in to the warmth that flooded her from his touch. O Lord, I’m in trouble.

  Rose opened her eyes as Lord Rupert took both her hands in his. He focused on her lips, and she knew he was preparing to kiss her. She bent her head and let him kiss her forehead instead. His lips were warm. “So beautiful,” he whispered against her skin. He let go of her hands and his arms went around her back, pulling her close.

  Rose ignored the warning bells ringing in her head and concentrated on how good it felt to be held, close and tender and warm. His hand caressed her back in smooth, slow circles. Her insides melted like butter. She laid her head against his shoulder and watched the faint, rhythmic pulse in his neck, then closed her eyes and savored the sensations washing over her.

  He pulled away slightly. If she lifted her face, he would kiss her. Part of her wanted to let him, but she also felt as though his lip prints were already branded on her forehead.

  She took a deep breath and placed her hands on his chest. Gently, she pushed out of his embrace and stood up.

  Lord Rupert stood too and wrapped his hands around her upper arms. Rose was afraid that he would be displeased with the way she had avoided his kiss, but when she ventured a peek at him, his face held a strangely contented expression.

  “I believe I hear the music again. Are you ready, mein Liebling?” The endearment sounded so good and sweet. She was “his dear.”

  Rose nodded and let him slip her hand through the crook of his arm and lead her out into the waning sunlight of late afternoon, back into the noisy Marktplatz.

  Chapter

  14

  Rose fetched a bucket of water from the courtyard well and came back inside the chamber, setting the water beside the fireplace. Frau Geruscha walked in, worry lines wrinkling her forehead. She crossed the floor to stand in front of Rose.

  “I’ve just come from speaking with Bailiff Eckehart.” She frowned. “Rose, they couldn’t find Peter Brunckhorst. They don’t believe there is any person by that name in Hagenheim.”

  Rose felt the blood drain from her face. “How can that be?”

  “I know not.” Frau Geruscha wrung her hands. She sat on a wooden bench and leaned forward, then straightened, then stood up again. “Rose.” She fixed her eyes on her. “What did the man look like?”

  “He was tall, with black and white hair.”

  “How tall?”

  Rose raised her hand high. “About this tall.”

  “What else did he look like? Describe him.”

  “He doesn’t have any distinguishing features to speak of. He has black eyes and bushy eyebrows, brown teeth, and a pointy chin.” Rose shook her head and shrugged.

  Frau Geruscha’s expression grew even darker. “Who else knows him?”

  Rose thought for a moment. “My mother. He came to her months ago, asking to marry me.”

  “Good. I’ll go tell the bailiff.” Frau Geruscha flew out the door.

  But later that day, when the bailiff came to talk to Rose, he said that her mother had not been able to provide any helpful information, having no knowledge of where Brunckhorst came from or of his family. The man who called himself Peter Brunckhorst had met her on the street and mentioned an interest in Rose, so Rose’s mother had invited him to her home, where he made an offer of marriage. Seeing his expensive clothes, she gave her consent and promised to try to procure her daughter’s. She also admitted to his giving her a small bag of coins—a secret gift, he had said.

  “I know nothing else about him either,” Rose said.

  Bailiff Eckehart looked puzzled. He abruptly ended their conversation and left.

  Rose’s heart took a long swim in the pit of her stomach for the rest of that rainy day. Not only had they not found Peter Brunckhorst, there was no Peter Brunckhorst. She sat by the window, listening to the steady fall of the raindrops.

  But the man who had accosted her was real. And he’d filled her with a very real terror.

  Rose imagined herself dressed in chain mail and heavy metal armor, like she had seen Lord Hamlin and his knights wear once during a tournament. She imagined the armor protecting her against Peter Brunckhorst and his schemes, keeping her safe, as she fought him off with her sword and shield.

  It was a silly thought. Women never wore armor. She must think seriously. If Peter Brunckhorst tried to harm her again…she had no control over what the man would do next. Perhaps she would be able to fight him off again. But what hope did she have against a grown man like him? He was stronger and bigger than she was. She’d been fortunate to have gotten away from him this time. She didn’t think she would be so fortunate if there was a next time. Please, God, protect me. Don’t let him get me.

  She refused to think any more ugly thoughts. She let her mind wander to more pleasant memories, to the tender and respectful way Lord Rupert had behaved for the rest of Midsummer’s Eve. At the end of the festivities in the Marktplatz, he had walked her back to the southwest tower. Rose had heard Wolfie scratching from the inside, letting out a bark and probably waking Frau Geruscha.

  “Thank you for the Meistersingers, Lord Rupert. I enjoyed dancing with you.”

  Rupert brought her hand to his lips, then straightened. “You are welcome, my beautiful Rose.”

  “Good-bye.” Rose put her hand on the door, inching away.

  “Farewell, my love.”

  Rose went inside and bent down to rub her dog’s head. She petted him and echoed Lord Rupert’s words, “My love.” She sighed. “Well, Wolfie, how would you like to move out to the country, to a manor house?”

  The next morning, sitting in front of the window with the rain pouring down, Rose suddenly wondered if Lord Hamlin was safe and warm and if he had found and captured Moncore. She no longer felt angry at him, she realized, about the words he’d spoken that last day in the forest. He couldn’t help his upbringing, after all, any more than she could help hers. So she decided to pray for him. Taking up the prayer beads that hung from her waist, she clasped her hands tightly in her concentration and prayed silently.

  Someone touched her back and Rose jerked away. She turned and saw Frau Geruscha.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Rose. I ha
ve something to tell you.”

  “Yes?”

  “I think it’s best if you not leave the castle courtyard, at least for a while.”

  Rose stared. “Why? Wolfie always keeps me safe. I only left him here that day because I was going to church.”

  “I know.” Frau Geruscha frowned, something she did quite often these days. “I’ve received permission for you to attend the chapel with me so you don’t have to go to the cathedral. I want you to be safe. It’s only for a few weeks. You don’t mind so much, do you?”

  “I suppose not.” At least she would have a good excuse not to visit her mother, who still hadn’t forgiven her for refusing to marry the supposedly wealthy wool merchant. She shuddered whenever she thought of Peter Brunckhorst—or whatever his name was—out there somewhere.

  Rose now saw Lord Rupert every morning at prime, when she went with Frau Geruscha to the chapel for prayers. He also came to Frau Geruscha’s chambers once a day, if only for a minute. He often brought Wolfie a bone he had pilfered from the kitchen, meat still clinging to it. He hadn’t tried to kiss her hand since Midsummer’s Eve, but if Rose read his looks correctly, his feelings for her had not waned.

  Three weeks after Midsummer’s Eve, a man stumbled into the healer’s chambers clutching a cloth to his head. Thank the Lord of heaven, Frau Geruscha was there to tend to his injury. His ax head had slipped off its handle and grazed his temple. Frau Geruscha examined the wound and proclaimed the man quite blessed to still be alive. A little closer to the skull and he would be dead. As it was, the cut was shallow and would not require stitches. She reached for the roll of bandages in Rose’s hand.

  A timid voice called to her from the door. “Rose, are you busy?”

  “Hildy.”

  “I don’t need you right now, Rose, if you want to go talk to Hildy,” Frau Geruscha said, not taking her eyes off her patient.

  Rose stepped outside the door to where Hildy was standing. Her eyes were red and puffy, as though she had been crying. Rose’s heart filled with dread, and Hildy’s hands trembled as she reached out to her.

  Rose squeezed Hildy’s hands. “What’s wrong?”

  Hildy swallowed then whispered, “Can we go upstairs? I have to tell you something.”

  “Of course.” Rose looped Hildy’s arm through hers and walked to the stairs. Her heart tripped nervously as she wondered what could be the matter.

  Once they were inside Rose’s tiny room and she had shut the door behind them, Hildy began to cry—a soft, high-pitched sound.

  “Arnold Hintzen tried to hurt me.” She bent over, sobs shaking her whole body.

  Rose pulled Hildy into her arms and let the horrifying words sink in. Arnold Hintzen was the young man who had always prodded her to go places with him. He’d always made her shudder, with his mean eyes and persistence. Rose patted Hildy’s back and stroked her hair while she cried. Her blood boiled with anger, but she would stay calm, for Hildy.

  “Will you tell me what happened?”

  Hildy made an effort to stop crying and lifted her head off Rose’s shoulder. She took several jerky breaths, wiping her face with her apron. “Last night I went to the privy.” Her voice quavered with every word. “When I came out, someone stepped out of the dark and grabbed me.” She started to cry again, but soon controlled herself enough to go on. “It was too dark to see, and I didn’t know who it was. He pushed me down on the ground and told me if I screamed he would cut my throat. He flashed a knife in front of me.”

  Hildy trembled all over, even though Rose held her tight.

  “He got on top of me and tore my dress. I told him that if he didn’t stop I would tell Lord Hamlin and he would have him hanged. He said, ‘You can’t. You know not who I am.’ And that was when I just suddenly knew. I suppose I recognized his voice. I said, ‘Yes I do, Arnold Hintzen, and I will see you swinging from a noose.’”

  Tears slid down both cheeks. She looked pale and weak.

  “He slapped me and punched me in the stomach. Then he got up and left.”

  Rose felt hollow and sick. “Oh, Hildy. I’m so sorry. But thank God he left.” Tears slid down her own cheeks as she closed her eyes and let the horror sweep over her at what her friend had suffered—and how much worse it could have been. It made her incident with Peter Brunckhorst seem mild.

  “Have you told the bailiff?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?” She thought of the bailiff’s expression the last time she’d seen him. What if he thought she had made up her incident with Peter Brunckhorst? Rose’s heart sank. Bailiff Eckehart might not trust Rose anymore. How horrible for Hildy if he were to question her honesty after such a horrible event. “Or Frau Geruscha would go with you.”

  Voices echoed up the stairs, and Rose got up and opened the door.

  “Rose!” Frau Geruscha’s voice called her from the bottom of the stairs. “Can you come down?”

  “Yes.” She turned to Hildy. “I’ll be back.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Gunther stood waiting, his face flushed and his eyes flashing.

  “Rose, may I speak with you?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  Gunther motioned for her to precede him, and they walked outside into the courtyard.

  “Rose, have you seen Hildy today?”

  “Yes, she’s upstairs in my chamber.”

  Gunther’s jaw went rigid as he stared across the courtyard. “From the way I see things, there’s no need to tell the bailiff about this.” He turned his eyes on Rose. “Hildy’s brother and I will take care of it.”

  “What do you mean?” But Rose knew already.

  “Tonight, we’ll see that justice is done. There’s no need to humiliate Hildy—again.”

  “Are you certain, Gunther? Perhaps it’s best to allow the bailiff to handle this.”

  Gunther smiled a strange, cool smile, sending a chill up Rose’s arms. “I am resolved. Don’t mention this, not even to Frau Geruscha. There’s no reason for anyone to know. David and I will take care of Arnold Hintzen.” Gunther was silent. After a few moments, he looked her in the eye. “But you must promise me—not a word to anyone.”

  Rose took a deep, shaky breath. She glanced away then back again. “Are you certain, Gunther?”

  “Yes.” His shoulders relaxed and he looked like himself again. “Don’t worry. Men have been taking care of their women for thousands of years. It’s instinctual.”

  Rose shook her head. “Does it matter that I’m against it?”

  “No.” He smiled again. “Remember, no worrying. Tell Hildy she’ll never have to give another thought to Arnold Hintzen.”

  “You won’t kill him, will you?” Rose’s eyes grew wide at the thought.

  “No, just punish him a bit, give him a taste of what it feels like to be helpless.”

  “Please be careful.”

  “I will.” Gunther turned and walked away. Rose went back inside to Hildy.

  Hildy seemed pleased with the idea that Gunther intended to personally punish Arnold for her. Rose had to admit, the thought was somewhat satisfying to her as well. But after Hildy went home and Rose was alone with Frau Geruscha, she began to feel uneasy. Was it wrong, even dangerous, to keep Arnold Hintzen’s attack a secret from the duke’s bailiff? The thought of them taking the man’s punishment into their own hands smacked of vengeance, and the Bible said vengeance belonged to God. It was tempting to speak to Frau Geruscha about it, but she ignored the urge.

  Chapter

  15

  Lord Rupert came by the next afternoon and diverted Rose’s attention with a story of a mouse the servants had been trying all day to catch. It had led them on a merry chase, resulting in a broken stool, a sprained ankle, and the upset of a pot of frumenty.

  When Frau Geruscha was out of earshot, he whispered, “Is the old woman treating you well?”

  Rose squirmed at his referring to her mistress that way.

  He had made other derogat
ory comments, accusing Frau Geruscha of trying to control Rose’s thoughts. Although far from agreeing with his suggestions, Rose still couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Frau Geruscha’s disapproval of Lord Rupert was ill-motivated.

  A tiny sprout of resentment had sprung up within Rose. Whenever Frau Geruscha pursed her lips at seeing Lord Rupert, Rose felt an urge to defend him, loudly and firmly. But she could never be so bold with Frau Geruscha, who had always been so good to her, taking a special interest in her when she was a little girl, declaring that she was unusually intelligent, educating her, and finally, apprenticing her. If Frau Geruscha had not favored her so, Rose would still be living in her parents’ hovel, working hard in the fields and the forest, or worse yet, married to someone she didn’t love.

  Even if Frau Geruscha’s attitude toward Rupert was ill-motivated, Rose could never be disrespectful to her or believe that her mistress wished anything other than what was best for her apprentice.

  Two days after Gunther told Rose about his plan to punish Arnold Hintzen, Gunther came again to talk to Rose. He pulled a stool close to Rose’s chair and said quietly, “David and I took care of Arnold Hintzen. He’ll never come near Hildy again.”

  “You didn’t kill him, did you?” Rose whispered.

  “No, of course not. But we made him sorry. We became his missing conscience, I’d say. He’ll think twice before hurting another woman.”

  He changed the subject and said he had been hired by Duke Nicolaus for his illumination skills. He would be illustrating the books the scribes were copying. “My first project will be a new Psalter for the duchess.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful, Gunther!”

  “Now that I am employed, I’m looking for a house. When I find one—or build one—I’ll be wanting a wife. Do you think Hildy would accept me?”

  Rose smiled. “Yes, and I hope you won’t make her wait too long.”