Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1)

by Anna Markland

  Contents

  LOYAL HEART

  Dedication

  COPYRIGHT

  MADLY IN LOVE

  LOYAL HEART CHAPTER ONE

  FRUSTRATION

  MUT

  THE HUNT

  THE WATERFALL

  A HOUSE WHERE LOVE DWELLS

  RESTLESS

  SONG AND DANCE

  THUGS

  CAVALCADE

  NAGGING QUESTIONS

  CONFLICTING EMOTIONS

  HE CAN'T BE DEAD

  NEVER SAY NEVER

  WENDELIN

  ICE MAIDEN

  WOVEN ENCHANTMENT

  DIFFICULT INTERVIEWS

  INEVITABLE TRUTH

  THE BROTHERS

  RUMORS OF WAR

  FIRST KISS

  FRIEND OR FOE

  LOOSE LIPS

  SUMMONED

  LATE ARRIVAL

  A WAITING GAME

  THE LETTER

  LISTEN TO THE TOADS

  THE SUMMER HOUSE

  NEGOTIATIONS

  PEACOCKS

  HERCULES AND APHRODITE

  BEDDING

  EPILOGUE

  FOOTNOTES

  ABOUT ANNA

  MORE ANNA MARKLAND

  LOYAL HEART

  Von Wolfenberg Dynasty Book I

  Includes Series Prequel~Madly in Love

  By

  ANNA MARKLAND

  ©COPYRIGHT ANNA MARKLAND 2016

  All rights reserved

  COVER ART BY STEVEN NOVAK

  “Mankind's greatest gift, also its greatest curse,

  is that we have free choice.

  We can make our choices from love or from fear.”

  Elizabeth Kübler Ross

  For my grandson Jackson, the human dynamo.

  This story is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  All fictional characters in this story have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

  MADLY IN LOVE

  The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty~Series Prequel

  Estate of Count Dieter von Wolfenberg, Saxony, 1136 AD

  “I won’t allow my mother’s madness to taint our bloodline,” Johann insisted, though he regretted breaking his father’s heart. “She tried to murder you.”

  He refrained from mentioning the disturbing detail that his mother had come close to unmanning her husband during one of her frenzied attacks. It was a blessing for all concerned that Frederica von Wolfenberg had eventually taken her own life, and an even greater miracle that his father had subsequently met and married Blythe FitzRam.

  “You’re my heir,” his father replied wearily, staring into the cold hearth, both hands on the marble mantel. “Your stepmother and I expect you to do your duty. You must marry and sire children.”

  Johann shook his head. “Then why did you not betroth me to some titled woman when I was a boy?”

  “I wanted you to choose your own wife. Your mother and I were betrothed when we were children. I had no choice but to marry her though I had serious misgivings about the state of her mind.”

  Johann pinched the bridge of his nose, weary of the argument that never went away. Reluctantly, he deployed his ultimate weapon. “It’s my intention to renounce my right to your title, Papa. Luther will make a better Count.”

  His father turned away from the hearth to continue the argument, despair etched deeply on his face. He held his peace when a manservant entered to light the fire.

  Johann took the opportunity to flee, colliding with his happy-go-lucky brother in the hallway. He loved Luther, but the difference in their temperaments was all the proof he needed. Though they were sons of the same father, Lute had inherited his mother’s optimism, whereas Johann…

  “Whoa, bruder,” Lute exclaimed. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  Choking with emotion, Johann could only shake his head.

  His perceptive brother glanced quickly through the half open door and recognised the situation immediately. “Another argument about marriage?” he said in a low voice. “I know the feeling. Our parents have been haranguing me as well.”

  Every member of the family was aware that lunacy had destroyed Johann’s mother, but he hadn’t confided his concerns about inheriting the madness to any of his three siblings. As he softly closed the door, he realized it was time. “You’ll have no trouble finding a wife, Lute. Our sister’s best friend seems taken with you.”

  Lute eyed him curiously. “You’re mistaken. Kristina’s more interested in you than me.”

  Johann’s heart fell. He’d been in love with Kristina Halden for years. He’d watched Sophia’s childhood friend blossom from a little girl into a beautiful young woman. When male urges began to develop, he avoided her. One glimpse of her lovely face, golden hair and generous breasts was all it took to send the blood rushing to his groin. When she spoke to him, her sultry voice rendered him tongue-tied. It was impossible that she found him attractive.

  “As I’ve told Papa, I don’t intend to marry. I would never risk inflicting my mother’s madness on Kristina. You’ll need a wife. I’m stepping down as heir in your favor.”

  Mouth agape, Lute grasped Johann’s arm before he had a chance to escape. “I refuse. It’s not my birthright. The notion is lunacy. You’re not mad.”

  “It’s in my blood,” Johann replied.

  “What’s in your blood?” his stepmother asked as she came around the corner from the kitchens.

  His gut clenched. Blythe Von Wolfenberg had always loved him as her own son and he wished with all his heart she was indeed his mother. Arguing with her grieved him, but…

  “I am renouncing my title in favor of Luther,” he declared.

  His stepmother frowned, laying a hand on his arm. “This is about your mother, isn’t it?”

  He clenched his jaw, determined to keep his resolve, but allowed her to draw him back into the parlor.

  Lute followed.

  Their father now stood with his back to a hearty fire, arms folded across his chest, seemingly oblivious to the hiss and spit of the pine logs. He glowered at Johann. “You are being unreasonable,” he growled once the servant had withdrawn.

  His stepmother rolled her eyes. “That statement doesn’t help matters, Dieter.”

  Lute flopped down into an armchair. “I refuse to accept the title and all the responsibilities that go with it, so if you’re determined, you’ll have to pass it on to Konrad.”

  Johann folded his arms, exasperation tightening his throat. “That’s not an option, and you know it. Our little brother is determined to enter the Church. He has aspirations to become a bishop.”

  Lute grinned. “Now, that’s lunacy if you ask me.”

  “Boys,” Blythe scolded, “don’t forget my brother was a monk.”

  Lute scoffed, a twinkle in his eye. “I hate to say it, Mama, but consider how long Uncle Aidan lasted in the monastery.”

  Johann was tempted to laugh at the perplexed expression on the faces of both his parents, but then his father smiled and it was relief to see his good humor return.

  “Lut
e is right,” his father admitted. “Aidan soon discovered he needed the love of a good woman.” He walked to his wife and put an arm round her waist. “Just as I did.”

  Blythe snuggled into her husband. Johann envied the deep and enduring love they shared, but it was his destiny to lead a solitary life. Perhaps he should be the one entering the priesthood. The notion sent chills rushing up his spine.

  He moved to the spot his father had occupied near the hearth.

  “If you could see yourself,” Lute remarked. “You look just like Papa standing there. A moment ago the two of you were like twins with your arms folded.”

  “It’s true,” Blythe agreed. “You are your father’s son, Johann. The first time I set eyes on you I saw it, though you were only three.”

  “But there are some who might suggest I was a little mad myself,” his father warned, “kidnapping the wrong woman and then falling in love with her.”

  Mention of the unusual way Dieter and Blythe had met always brought a smile to everyone’s face.

  The knot in Johann’s belly loosened a little. “It’s true I look like you, Papa,” he conceded.

  “And talk and walk,” Lute teased. “You’re like peas in a pod.”

  “Except my hair is greyer,” their father added.

  Johann understood what they were trying to do. “But the fact remains, my mother was mad, and madness runs in families. None of you can deny that. How can I inflict that on a woman who will expect to have children?”

  “Have you asked her?” Lute interjected just as Konrad wandered into the parlor.

  “Asked who what?” their youngest brother wanted to know.

  Their stepmother sent Johann a sympathetic glance. She too knew the studious Kon would pursue the matter like a dog with a bone. It was a relief when Lute came to his rescue. “Johann intends you to be the next count.”

  The lanky nineteen-year-old stopped abruptly, his brow deeply furrowed. “What?”

  “He’s teasing you,” their mother assured him.

  Kon brightened visibly and punched Lute’s arm before escaping to another armchair. He glanced around. “Why is everyone so glum?”

  Their father cleared his throat, locking eyes with Johann. “We’re having a discussion. Johann is worried Kristina will reject his proposal of marriage.”

  “No danger of that,” Kon retorted. “The girl’s smitten with him.”

  “Told you,” Lute said smugly, sticking out his tongue.

  Johann slumped into a chair. “It has nothing to do with a particular person.” But a small inner voice questioned if perhaps he did fear Kristina’s rejection and his mother’s madness was simply an excuse.

  ~~~

  Kristina and Sophia curtseyed prettily in response to the ancient maestro’s overly formal bow. Once the elderly gentleman had shuffled out of the music room, they collapsed onto the couch in a fit of giggles.

  “I don’t know how I keep my face straight when he breaks wind,” Sophia said hoarsely once she caught her breath.

  Kristina wiped her eyes with a kerchief, then pinched her nose. “He doesn’t realize he’s doing it. You’d think he’d notice the odor,” she said nasally.

  Still chuckling, Sophia retrieved her lyre and carefully returned it to its shelf. “It happens every time he bends his knees in time with our playing. Like he’s a wind instrument.”

  Hilarity gripped them again.

  “Then he scolds when my hammers hit the wrong wires on the dulcimer,” Kristina choked out with a grin.

  It was all wonderfully comfortable and familiar. She and Sophia had been making fun of one music teacher after another since they were children, though they agreed this latest Russian was definitely the most comical.

  The best part about the lessons was that they took place on Friday afternoons and Kristina was allowed to stay at the Von Wolfenberg estate for the weekend. It was a welcome respite. Her parents squabbled constantly, or pointedly ignored each other. The count, in contrast, treated his wife with warm regard and it was evident they were still in love despite being married more than twenty years.

  An only child, Kristina relished being included in the boisterous but good-natured quarrels of Sophia and her siblings. She and her friend were like sisters and she thought of the boys as her brothers—except for Johann. Her feelings for him had changed as she’d grown. A little’s girl’s shy crush had turned into a young woman’s awkward infatuation. She became tongue-tied and gauche in his presence. He probably deemed her a clumsy adolescent.

  Sobering, she asked, “Where does your papa find these teachers?”

  Sophia calmed too, smoothing her skirts. “I don’t know, and speaking of Papa, he and the others are no doubt waiting for us.”

  The Von Wolfenbergs gathered in the parlor every evening before dinner. Even the dogs were included. Sophia’s father was a renowned breeder of hovawarts, though only two were kept as family pets. Sophia had told her the story of a hovawart named Vormund saving her father’s life long ago during Cologne’s revolt against Emperor Henry.

  Kristina looked forward all week to the gathering, basking in the back-and-forth banter of her friend’s family.

  Once the dulcimer had been covered to protect it from dust, they made their way arm in arm to Sophia’s chamber. They washed their hands and checked each other’s hair for wayward strands. Collapsing onto the couch in fits of laughter tended to play havoc with a girl’s coiffure.

  Sophia suddenly frowned. “Let’s make a pact,” she said, taking hold of Kristina’s hands. “We must promise to remain friends after we marry.”

  Kristina’s throat tightened. The ongoing argument in the Halden household was over a choice of a suitable husband for her now she was seventeen. She swallowed hard. “Have your parents made arrangements for you?”

  “Nein,” Sophia replied. “They are allowing me a say in whom I marry.”

  “You’re lucky,” Kristina whispered.

  Her friend shrugged. “It’s all to do with Johann’s mother. My father was forced to marry her because they were betrothed as children. I told you she was mad, didn’t I?”

  Kristina’s heart went out to Johann. “Ja. It must be difficult for him.”

  Sophia eyed her. “It does seem to preoccupy him more and more these days, though I’m sure he has no memory of her.” She winked. “He needs a loving wife to take his mind off it.”

  Heat rushed up Kristina’s neck and she feared her face must be as red as a winter beetroot. “Ja. Will he be at dinner tonight?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she tucked a wayward lock of hair into place.

  Sophia squeezed her hand, a peculiar glint in her eye. “If you married Johann, we would be true sisters.”

  Kristina studied her feet, lest her friend discern her dismay. “He doesn’t even like me.”

  “You don’t see it, do you?” Sophia asked softly.

  “See what?”

  Sophia put her hands on her hips. “Johann is four and twenty. He has always been the most mature and thoughtful of my brothers—confident, intelligent, well-spoken. Much like Papa in fact.”

  Kristina looked into her friend’s eyes. “I agree, so—”

  “He is all those things, until you enter a room. Then he turns into a stammering idiot.”

  A spark of hope flickered to life in Kristina’s heart. “Do you think he likes me?”

  Sophia shoved her. “You’re not listening. Johann is in love with you, just as you are in love with him.”

  Thrown off balance, Kristina opened her mouth to protest, but what was the point? Sophia knew her too well. “Is it so obvious?”

  “For a long time,” her friend replied. “But you have to tell him how you feel.”

  “I never know what to say. I start to sweat. Most unladylike, and, worse still, I want to throw myself at him.”

  “My mother would say that’s a sign of alchemy between soul mates.”

  Kristina gaped. “You discuss such things with your mother?” />
  “Of course. My second given name is for my grandmother Agneta FitzRam, who drowned in the White Ship disaster sixteen years ago. She was very open in discussing such things with her daughters, and my mother has made sure I know what to expect when I marry.” Her face reddened. “She’s told me ways to please a man, for example, er—in the bedchamber.”

  Kristina grinned, suddenly filled with an urgent desire to learn how to please Johann. He was well muscled, broad shouldered and tall. She had grown up without brothers, but had often conjured vague images of Johann without clothes. She feared she’d never be woman enough for the man of her imagination. “I might have to come to you for advice.”

  Sophia beamed back, a finger pressed to her lips. “It will be our secret!”

  ~~~

  Johann paced the hallway outside his sister’s chamber. He teetered on the verge of leaving several times, his gut churning. He might be condemning Kristina to a life of torment. The sound of female laughter eased his misgivings, but they returned in full force when the door opened and two red-faced females halted abruptly, gaping at him. His mind went blank except for an overwhelming compulsion to tuck the errant blonde curl behind Kristina’s ear.

  I’m possessed.

  Sophia was the first to recover. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her sly grin letting him know she was fully aware of the reason for his presence outside her chamber. Even his little sister recognised his infatuation.

  Kristina’s blush deepened, so perhaps it was of no importance that his own face was on fire. In fact his entire body burned. What was it about this woman?

  He stiffened his shoulders. “I came to escort you ladies to the parlor,” he said lamely.

  Sophia eyed him as though he were an imbecile, which he conceded was appropriate. “I don’t need my brother to escort me to the parlor in my own home,” she replied, “though it’s only good manners for you to accompany Kristina. I can’t imagine why it has taken you so long to think of it.”

  She swished off in a flurry of silk skirts, nose in the air.