Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1) (13 page)

The decision became clearer when she caught sight of Vidar rounding up a string of horses, her own palfrey among them. She lifted her skirts, thrust her nose in the air and strode off towards him. These were her father’s lands after all, as far as the eye could see, and beyond.

She was hot and bothered by the time she came face to face with him, relieved he’d shortened the distance by walking towards her leading the dozen or so horses.

He bowed. “
Guten Tag, Fräulein
von Wolfenberg,” he said politely, “Mut is glad to see you.”

Her worries about Brandt leaving seeped away as she kissed her palfrey’s nose, then examined his leg. “He looks better,” she said. “Thank you.”

“He is much improved. I brought him to our camp,” Vidar explained. “Forgive me, but your ostler…”

Sophia rolled her eyes. “I know.”

“Mut and my master’s horse get along,” he remarked, smoothing a hand over Löwe’s neck. “Two courageous steeds.”

She wondered if her feelings for his master were written on her face. Was he trying to tell her something? “You’re departing?” she asked with what she hoped was a nonchalant gesture towards their camp.

“
Nein
,” he replied. “I deemed it wise to move closer to the house. Drogo and I will be better able to serve our lord, and we can stable our mounts now most of your guests have left.”

She perceived from his manner of speech and forthright nature that he was well-spoken, confident and intelligent. She suspected he could tell her a great deal about his master. Anxious though she was to learn more, this man was a servant nonetheless and most likely a loyal one. That he’d been trusted to accompany Brandt on this risky expedition spoke of his standing in the Rödermark household.

Vidar seemed to sense her hesitation. “May I visit my master this morning?”

She didn’t know what to make of the curious look in his eyes. It was as though he felt sorry for her. “I am certain he will be glad to see you,” she replied. “I haven’t seen him myself yet.”

“I will wait until after your visit, then,” he said. “Will you do me the honor of walking to the stables with me?”

She took Mut’s reins and led the way, trying to dispel the nagging suspicion he knew something she didn’t.

They reached the stables at the same time as her frowning father. Her heart sank when he drew her aside and said, “Walk with me to the house.”

Before they entered, he turned to her. “I have spoken with Brandt Rödermark.”

Her belly churned, though his voice held no censure.

“It’s my impression he is a good man.”

She couldn’t begin to imagine the conversation, but her spirits lifted.

“However, I think there is something he has not told you.”

INEVITABLE TRUTH

Brandt saw the uncertainty on Sophia’s face as she stood nervously at the foot of the bed, and he knew. “You’ve spoken with your father.”

She nodded, picking at the linen with one finger, avoiding his gaze. “He thinks there is something you should tell me.”

He inhaled deeply. “He’s a perceptive man.”

She looked up then, anger flashing in the green eyes. “So you lied,” she spat, her lip trembling. “You don’t care for me.”

He leaned forward and held out a hand, the pain in his ribs nothing compared to the ache in his heart. “Don’t be angry with me, Sophia. Come, sit by my side.”

Pouting, she obeyed.

Still holding her hand, he intended to embark on the speech he’d rehearsed over and over. However, certain things had to be made clear first. “Look me in the eye.”

She lifted her indignant gaze.

“I am not a liar,” he said softly.

She frowned slightly.

“You can believe me when I tell you that if I wasn’t injured, you’d be lying beneath me in this bed, naked.” He studied her reddening face. Did she know what he meant? He decided to risk it. “And we’d be making sweet love.”

She pressed her lips together and tried to pull her hand from his, but he held on. “If I could pledge myself to you at this moment, Sophia von Wolfenberg, I would have no hesitation. You are the woman I want.”

He watched her struggle to understand what he had said. Soon her eyes widened, and filled with tears. “But you are betrothed to another,” she murmured.

He clenched his jaw. “
Nein
. However, there is a woman named Dorothea from Frankfurt. Our parents made an arrangement when we were children. We were supposed to sign the betrothal documents a few days ago, but Duke Conrad despatched me here.”

“Dorothea,” she whispered.

“Dorothea Rittenhuis,” he replied, praying she would understand.

She lay her free hand atop their joined ones. “Do you love her?”

He let out a long slow breath. “She isn’t what I would call lovable. She’s probably haranguing my father and the duke about the postponement.”

“She loves you if she wants so badly to be your wife.”

“Dorothea is in love with the idea of being
gräfin
.”

Sophia stared at their hands. “Perhaps she’ll be good at it.”

He snorted, then immediately wished he hadn’t when his ribs protested. “You will make a better
countess
, Sophia,” he rasped.

“
Gräfin
Rödermark?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye that caused a stir in his loins. But then he sobered. It was cruel to give her false hope. “There are other obstacles,” he reminded her. “Our families are on opposing sides in a conflict between powerful men. I am heir to my father’s title, an obligation I cannot abandon.”

She let go of his hand. “It’s your birthright. I would never expect you to turn your back on it.”

He clenched his jaw, his gut in knots. “And you must remain loyal to your family. I’ll be well enough to ride in a few days. Better we not see each other again.”

~~~

Blinded by tears, Sophia hurried to her own chamber. It was mere steps away, yet it was a journey of a thousand miles.

She climbed onto her bed and buried her face in the pillow. She’d known Brandt only a day or two, but the prospect of never seeing him again turned her limbs to lead, her heart to ice. She feared she might be sick. The deep love she’d craved was a torment.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d lain there sobbing when she became aware someone was stroking her hair. She knew instinctively it was the one person she could confide in without being judged.

“He has sent me away, Mama,” she said hoarsely. “He doesn’t wish to see me again.”

“I don’t think that it true,” her mother replied. “I recognised the love in his eyes when he watched you dancing and singing.”

The bitter truth roiled in Sophia’s belly. “But there is someone else.”

The stroking ceased. “He is betrothed?”

Sophia sat up. “
Nein
. They haven’t signed an agreement.”

Her mother gave her a kerchief. “I see. A union arranged when they were children.”

Sophia blew her plugged nose. “Apparently she’s a harridan.”

Blythe von Wolfenberg frowned. “Your father could tell you a thing or two about being obliged to wed a shrew.”

Long minutes passed. Sophia recalled what she’d been told of her father’s first marriage to a madwoman who’d tried to kill him—Johann’s late mother. An icy hand squeezed her heart at the prospect of Brandt being condemned to such a life.

However, there was a bigger obstacle. Perhaps if she gave voice to it, the problem might not seem so insurmountable. “If war breaks out again between Emperor Lothair and the Staufens, our families will be on opposing sides.”

The ensuing silence was nerve-wracking. Apparently her mother was considering her reply.

“Long ago,” she finally began, “I was a lady-in-waiting carried away by mistake in your father’s failed attempt to kidnap my mistress, the Empress Matilda. You know this story, but perhaps there are things about it you aren’t aware of.

“My loyalty lay with the Imperial side, not with the rebels from Köln. I was an Englishwoman. My mistress was the daughter of my English king. Your grandfather’s family, the Montbryces and the FitzRams, were loyal supporters of King Henry.”

Sophia curled up with her head in her mother’s lap, aware Blythe von Wolfenberg still found it difficult to speak of her parents though it had been sixteen years since they’d drowned in the White Ship disaster.

“I pouted, I sulked, I treated my captor with disdain and hostility. I even plotted escape. However, my heart soon convinced me I had fallen in love with him and in the justice of his cause.”

Sophia had indeed heard the story many times. It was part of her family’s lore, but now it held new meaning. “I never truly understood your predicament,” she admitted.

“My father and twin brother travelled from England in the belief Dieter planned to ransom me. Your uncle Aidan was ready to kill him for kidnapping me. However, my father recognised my feelings and gave his blessing to our union, though it meant we were on opposite sides of the struggle for control of the city.

“Fortunately, the emperor died not long after. Your father’s Saxon Duke Lothair became King of Germany and eventually Holy Roman Emperor. The widowed empress returned to Normandy, married Geoffrey Plantagenet and is challenging her cousin Stephen for the throne of England now her father is dead.”
 

Sophia snorted. “A woman? Queen in her own right?”

Her mother bristled. “Why can’t a woman be queen? She is Henry’s only legitimate child, though he sired countless illegitimate sons and daughters. Mind you, I didn’t care for Matilda when I was her lady-in-waiting. She was a spoiled child, married at twelve to a man of twenty-eight years.”

Sophia sat up. “Another example of the folly of arranged marriages.”

The familiar tale of her parents’ meeting was comforting. However, an inevitable truth remained. “But if the Staufens challenge Emperor Lothair again for the throne, my father and brothers could meet Brandt on the battlefield one day.”

Her mother took a deep breath. “Yes,” she replied sadly.

THE BROTHERS

“You’re a better physician than I gave you credit for,” Brandt said to Wendelin the next morning. In an effort to erase the sour expression from her ugly face, he added, “but I hope my skin won’t be permanently green.”

The
hexe
eyed him as she cleansed the knitbone off his chest. “Look at these muscles,” she chortled, having evidently decided to ignore his jest. “Your injuries might have dispatched a weaker man. You’re strong, healthy and young. You have a lot to live for.”

He pondered her words as she went about finishing her task, humming off key. What did he have to live for? Rödermark was a sizeable
grafenstand
, one of the most scenic
earldoms
in the valley of the river Main, though his father had done little to make it prosper. Brandt had plans to improve the cottages of the peasant farmers, and the manor house needed a great deal of work. Sophia would have tackled the challenges with relish, but he’d banished her from his life.

Yet he kept his eyes on the door, hoping she would appear.

“Given your progress, we’ll try to wrestle you into this,” Wendelin announced. He hadn’t noticed she’d produced a linen shirt. It wasn’t his, but looked about the right size. She looped it over his head then helped him raise each arm in turn and slide it into the sleeve. To his consternation sweat broke out on his brow with the simple effort.

She fussed over tying the laces at the neck, then produced the tincture. “Open,” she commanded. He obeyed, nigh on choking on the drops when she said, “
Fräulein
Sophia is out walking her horse.”

How did she know what was in his heart?

He swallowed hard, but she shuffled off to tend to the flame under the fumitory before he could reply. The pleasant aroma of burning rosemary tickled his nostrils.
 

She came back to the bed, pounded the pillows and helped him sit up. “That’s it. Inhale the fumes. Good for the bones. We’ll soon have you back on that fine beast of yours.”

And then I’ll be on my way home
, he thought as she waddled out of the chamber with her bowl of sodden compresses.

The future without Sophia loomed like a bottomless abyss. He closed his eyes, conjuring an image of her riding the fields of Rödermark atop Mut, charming a smile out of his ill-tempered father, inspiring the respect of his servants, lying naked in his bed, her glorious hair arrayed across his body.

The sound of the door opening drew him back from his reverie, but he was disappointed and puzzled to see Lute and Konrad enter the chamber. He pressed his fists into the mattress and eased himself up a little. “My thanks for the use of your chamber, Konrad,” he said.

The shy youth’s smile and nod of acknowledgement proved he’d been right in his assumption. “Call me Kon,” the boy said. “I prefer it.”

Brandt’s spirits lifted. The Wolfenbergs were a courteous and honorable family and he was glad he seemed to have made a friend among them.

Lute on the other hand wasn’t smiling. “Wendelin informs us you are on the mend,” he said gruffly, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands behind his back.