Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  “You don’t look at all pitiable anymore.”

  He raised one black eyebrow, the side of his mouth twisting downward. “Thank you. A man always prefers not to look pitiable, if possible.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insulting. I only meant that you look . . . good.” It would require a special kitchen maid indeed to be a match for him now.

  “Are you healed? And what are you doing working in the stables? Did Frau Lena say you were well enough?” She felt her face turn red. What must he think of her? After she had completely ignored his pleas to come back and visit him, after she had deserted him for three days, he must hate her. And worst of all, he must realize that she had not fulfilled her promise to speak to her father on his behalf.

  She fidgeted with her sleeves, shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for him to reproach her.

  He started toward her, then walked past, entering the stable and heading for the room where the horses’ saddles and tack were kept. “I was assigned to work in the stables only yesterday because I refused to leave Hagenheim until I had spoken to Duke Wilhelm.”

  Was his mind healed? It seemed to be so at the moment.

  “I know you must be angry with me for not speaking to the duke as you asked me to. Truly, after the first couple of days, when you were too weak to talk to him yourself, I had no chance to speak to him. He was called away on urgent business. Lord Claybrook has been away as well.” She cringed as she said the name that had elicited such an extreme reaction from him before. But he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he leaned down and lifted a sidesaddle from its place near the wall.

  “I am not angry about that.”

  His voice sounded deep and strong, not at all weak anymore. Staring at his back, she felt a little shiver race across her shoulders.

  He faced her, the heavy saddle in his grip. “Which horse would you like me to saddle?”

  “Oh. Yes.” She turned and pointed to the new black stallion’s stall. “That one.”

  He looked at the horse, then fastened his dark blue eyes back on her. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I want to ride that horse, the black one with the white patch on his forehead.”

  He didn’t move. “I do not believe you should be riding that horse. Is he the one your father told you not to ride because he was dangerous?”

  “Oh, he isn’t dangerous with me.” Margaretha motioned carelessly with her hand. “He likes me and is always gentle with me. It is nothing to you which horse I ride, although I do appreciate your concern for my safety.” She smiled to soften her words, but she was the duke’s daughter and was not used to the servants speaking to her in such a manner. Perhaps her sitting by his bed when he was so ill and ministering to his wounds had caused this young man to assume a familiarity with her that was not proper.

  He snorted, then rolled his eyes toward the ceiling of the stable — actually rolled his eyes at her! — and started toward the stallion. She, Margaretha, was speechless.

  He stopped when he got to the stall door. She might have hurried forward to open the door if it had been one of the other stable boys, the ones who treated her with respect and deference, but not this churlish man, who dared to snort and roll his eyes! She let him struggle with the heavy saddle, holding it with one hand and half propping it on his knee while opening the stall door with his other hand.

  He lifted the saddle onto the horse’s back. The stallion snuffled angrily and turned his bared teeth toward Colin and tried to nip his shoulder. Colin muttered under his breath, then led the huge black horse out into the sun to finish strapping on the saddle.

  Putting on a saddle usually only took a few minutes, but the way he was fumbling around, it might take him all morning. Just when she thought he was getting along better, the saddle slid all the way off and onto the ground.

  “Have you ever worked in a stable before?” She might as well talk to him. Perhaps it would cover up his embarrassment at being so unskilled at his job.

  He turned to face her with raised brows and a frown. “I am the son of a wealthy landed lord in England.” He picked up the saddle and put it back on again. “Saddling horses and shoveling manure were not among my activities. But I might as well be a penniless beggar here. I have no choice if I want to stay here and stop a murderer from accomplishing whatever plan he is scheming.”

  The son of a wealthy landed lord? Was he telling the truth? His mind certainly seemed healed, and he looked well physically. She must at least believe in the possibility.

  “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

  “I must admit, it does appear someone tried to kill you, or at least attacked you. Also, you must be telling the truth about being from England. You could not speak English so well if you were not. But you are hardly older than I am — ”

  “I am twenty years old.”

  “Precisely, and it seems a bit unlikely to think that a wealthy lord’s son would come all the way here after uncovering some sort of plot by Lord Claybrook, of all people. Lord Claybrook simply seems too timid to plot murder. The man hardly — ”

  “Which is the exact kind of man who plots murders — a cowardly, seemingly timid person who is so deceptive, no one suspects him.” Colin’s eyes flashed, his whole body tense as he gripped the horse’s reins and slapped his own leg with the horse’s riding crop.

  Just then, the black stallion turned his head and nipped Colin’s arm. Too late, Colin jumped out of reach.

  “Did he draw blood?” Margaretha stepped forward to look at his arm, but he pulled away from her.

  “It’s nothing.” He rubbed his arm, the lids hanging heavy over his eyes.

  “I must say, Colin, that look on your face seems far more dangerous than any I’ve ever seen on Lord Claybrook’s.”

  Colin turned back to test the horse’s saddle, making sure it was secure. “Time will reveal who is telling the truth, who is dangerous, and who is trying to protect you.”

  “The anger and resentment in your voice makes me sad. But I daresay you are right.” Margaretha rubbed the side of the stallion’s head to distract and calm him.

  He kept his back to her as he dodged another attempt by the stallion to bite him.

  “I like the name Colin. It suits you.”

  “I would prefer you not allow anyone to hear you call me that. My life, and yours as well, would be in danger if Claybrook knew I was here.”

  “Lord Claybrook is away with my father.”

  “But he will return.” He spun around to face her. “Do you know when they will return?”

  “No, but Mother said she thought Lord Claybrook might return before Father. He could come back tomorrow.”

  Colin straightened and his eyes widened. “Does he have a guard named Reginald?”

  “Yes, Reginald is the captain of Lord Claybrook’s guard.” The fact that he knew Claybrook’s captain’s name sent a chill through her.

  “I need you, once Claybrook returns, to spy on him and Reginald.”

  “Spy? Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I would be good at spying on anyone.”

  He gave her a hard look.

  “I don’t know if I could spy on Lord Claybrook and the captain of his guard. How would I even do that? I’ve never deceived anyone.” She stopped and drew in a quick breath. “No, that isn’t entirely true. I am very good at matchmaking between our servants, and when I am matchmaking, I do temporarily neglect to tell them something, sometimes, in order to — ”

  “All I ask is that you listen to his conversations with his captain without him knowing it, and to tell no one except me what he says.”

  “You want me to purposely and secretly listen to a conversation and then tell you — and no one else — what they said.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What if I make a mess of it? What if I’m found out?”

  He gazed across the distant meadow, beyond the town wall. “Yes. Perhaps you are rig
ht. It would be too dangerous for you.” He turned away so she couldn’t read his expression.

  “I didn’t say it was too dangerous.” She suspected he was only baiting her, but she suddenly didn’t want him to think she couldn’t do it. “I’m sure I could spy for you. But I still think you must be wrong about Lord Claybrook. He would never hurt me.”

  He turned to stare at her again with those intense blue eyes of his. “He killed my sister’s friend, and she was every bit as young and innocent-looking as you. Although in her case, looks were deceiving.” A grimace of pain flitted over his face. He cleared his throat. “No, I don’t want you to do it. I would never forgive myself if he hurt you. I am sorry I mentioned it. Let us not speak of it.” His voice was quiet and resigned.

  He seemed sincerely concerned for her. But before she could respond, he went inside the black stallion’s stall.

  Colin took the horse’s reins and began to lead him out of the stable. “Are you sure you want to ride this horse?”

  She still wanted to pursue the matter of spying on Claybrook and his captain, but she didn’t want to waste the opportunity to ride the new stallion. “Of course. He is completely gentle with me.”

  Colin looked doubtful. “I hope I don’t get into trouble for saddling this horse for you.”

  “Oh, you won’t get into trouble. I will tell them I forced you to do it.”

  He pointed his finger at her. “So I was right. You aren’t supposed to ride this horse.”

  “I never said that. I only said you won’t get in trouble. And earlier you said you weren’t angry about me not speaking to my father about you. But you are angry with me.” Her guilty conscience seemed to demand that she extort some sort of rebuke from him. Besides, she was desperate to distract him from the subject of the horse, since she was horribly close to admitting she wasn’t supposed to ride him.

  He took the horse’s reins, ducking out of the way of his nipping teeth, and led the animal into the stable yard. “I was angry that you didn’t believe me.” After a pause, he added, “And that you didn’t come back.”

  The hurt look on his face, which she only caught a glimpse of as he turned away, sent a stabbing pain through her chest. An angry rebuke would have been preferable.

  “I am sorry. I should not have left you alone when you were a foreigner and without a friend to help you.”

  “I did have someone,” he said quietly, not looking at her. “The priest speaks English. He came and translated for me and convinced the stable master to allow me to work in the stable in exchange for food and a place to sleep.”

  “I am glad.” Margaretha drew closer to him. “I truly am sorry I did not follow through on my promises to you. Will you forgive me?”

  He looked down at her, a softer expression on his face. “I forgive you. But I was not only angry with you. I was worried about what Claybrook might do to you. He is a craven weasel, but also cruel and dangerous.”

  Examining the serious look on his face, she was convinced again that he at least believed what he was saying. However, she still wasn’t sure if she believed it herself.

  He stared at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “But he is not here, so we need not be afraid of him now. Are you ready for your ride?”

  “Yes.”

  He bent and held his hands at knee level to help her mount the horse. She quickly placed her foot in his hands, before he should change his mind about letting her ride the stallion. In a moment she was sitting high in the sidesaddle, higher than she had ever been, since the stallion was so much larger than her mare. Her heart galloped, but she smiled, hoping she looked at ease on the powerful beast. She sat still a moment to let the horse get used to her — and said a little prayer that he wouldn’t throw her. Then she nudged him forward with her knee.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the stable master rushing toward them from the other side of the stable yard, his mouth hanging open.

  The horse started forward, then reared. Margaretha clutched the reins, grabbing a fistful of mane along with them. The horse reared again as Colin tried to grab the horse’s neck — and the horse’s pawing hoof came within a finger-width of striking him in the head.

  Somehow Margaretha managed to hang on and stay in the saddle. When he pounded his hooves to the ground, Margaretha’s teeth slammed together so hard she hoped they didn’t break.

  The horse immediately bolted. Again, she was hard-pressed to keep from falling off as her bones seemed to rattle at the violence of his gait. The stallion’s hooves pounded faster and faster, heading straight for the stone well where the horses’ water was drawn.

  The roaring in her ears nearly drowned out all other sound. Her heart pounded in rhythm to the horse’s hooves.

  Was this the end of her life? Why hadn’t she listened to her father? Even Colin had warned her that the horse was dangerous. O God, I don’t want to die. How dishonorable it would be to die this way. Her father would be so disappointed in her, and poor Colin would be blamed for it. O God, help me!

  The horse thundered at an amazing speed, never wavering from his path toward the stone wall around the well. She held on to the horse’s mane with all her strength. Somehow she’d lost her grip on the reins. If they became tangled around the stallion’s legs, he would surely tumble head first and kill them both.

  Still, he continued toward the well. Just when she was certain he would crash into the four-foot-high wall around it, he turned and headed back the way they had come, toward the stable, at the same breakneck speed. The stable master jumped out of the way, but Colin came toward them, raising his arms and yelling at her, “Jump! I’ll catch you!”

  He must be insane to offer to rescue her this way. Still, it was her only hope to be saved from this horse that seemed bent on killing her. As soon as he was almost close enough for her to jump, the stallion changed his direction so that Colin was on the opposite side, making it impossible for her to leap from the sidesaddle into Colin’s arms without landing upside down.

  The horse headed back toward the well again, galloping faster than ever, ignoring her shouts for him to stop. He drew closer and closer to the four-foot wall — it seemed inevitable that he would break his forelegs against the well. At the last moment, he halted.

  Only Margaretha kept going. She braced herself as she landed on her back on the ground a hand-breadth from the well.

  Chapter

  9

  She couldn’t breathe. She rolled over onto one side, and after a long, horrible moment, the breath came back into her lungs.

  As she clutched at her chest and gulped the air, sharp pain shot through her left arm and shoulder. Someone ran toward her, then fell to his knees at her side.

  She blinked hard.

  Colin leaned over her. “Are you hurt? Lady Margaretha, can you hear me?”

  She blinked again. The black stallion grazed placidly several feet away, beside the well where he had stopped. She shuddered. The horse’s wild plunge toward the well had jarred every bone and tooth in her body. A few more inches and she would have cracked her head open on the wall.

  She moaned.

  “Where are you hurt?” Colin leaned even closer, bringing his face more into focus.

  “I must have landed on the back of my shoulder.” Her shoulder hurt, but it would hurt more if any bones were broken. She hoped.

  “I’ll go get Frau Lena.”

  “No! Please don’t. I think I am well. Only help me sit up.”

  Colin leaned even closer as he slipped his arm underneath her back and lifted her into a sitting position. She gasped at how easily and swiftly he lifted her, then at the pain in her left shoulder. She cradled her left arm close to her stomach.

  “Is it broken? Are you in much pain?”

  “No, no, I am well. I’ve fallen off horses before, and I don’t think any bones are broken.”

  “Are you certain?” Colin still knelt in front of her. “I think you should see Frau Lena and let her look at you. I will car
ry you.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Perhaps if I could just stand, maybe have a drink of water . . .” She kept her left arm close to her side and let him lift her by her right elbow. Her left hip was sore, but her legs held her up, and her left arm hurt, but at least she could move it. She leaned on the well and drew a ladle-full of water out of the bucket.

  He hovered over her, making sure she was steady. She moaned again. What a disgrace she was. “Please promise you won’t tell anyone about this.” The bones in her legs seemed to have turned to water, but it was only from fear. “If I rest here a moment, I’ll be well. But I don’t want my father to know how foolish I was. Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “I won’t. But what about the stable master?”

  “He won’t tell. He is a man of few words and not a person to make trouble. But if my younger brothers found out . . .” She glanced around to make sure no one else had seen. “They would never let me forget it, and then my father and my mother might hear of it and be angry with me.”

  “I should think you would be more worried about whether or not you are injured.”

  Staring down at her wrist, she realized it was bare. “Oh no. I’ve lost my bracelet.” Her heart sank. She looked at the ground around her feet but didn’t see it. “How will I ever explain losing that bracelet? It was my great-grandmother’s. My mother will be so disappointed in me.” Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them back so she could better see as she searched the ground.

  “I’ll help you look for it,” Colin said. “If it fell off between here and the stable, we should be able to find it.” He began searching the ground just as she was doing.

  Du!” someone yelled. It was the stable master, pointing at Colin. “You! Frog boy!” he said in German. “What do you think you’re doing, putting the Lady Margaretha on that devil of a horse?”

  Colin merely looked at him, shook his head, and kept searching the ground for the bracelet.