The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (26 page)

“Yes, of course, Lord Thornbeck.”

The margrave frowned, with scowling brows and hardened jaw. Was that what he had looked like in battle when he was a knight and the captain of the guard? “I cannot say the same,” he growled.

“You do not enjoy the music, my lord?”

“I just don’t like smiling and listening to everyone say how delighted they are with everything. People at parties are insincere, and we all just stand around talking.”

Jorgen couldn’t help smiling. “I understand that sentiment, my lord.”

“Fighting men say whatever they want, and it is never anything about being
delighted
.” He shifted his weight a bit and tapped his stick on the floor. “I came over here to ask if you would accompany us on a hunt tomorrow afternoon. At least that will give us something to do, and no one can go on and on about how delighted they are. They will be too busy chasing a stag or hind.”

Jorgen suppressed another smile and nodded. “Yes, my lord.” But then his heart sank at the possibility that they might not be able to find a deer to chase. The mysterious night poacher had killed so many that they were becoming harder to find. Such a thing would not sit well with the margrave, especially in the mood he was in.

“You should dance, Jorgen. You are young and able.” A flash of sorrow seemed to cross his face, then disappear. “I believe that beautiful white swan wishes to dance with you.”

Jorgen turned to his left to see whom the margrave was speaking of, and Odette was coming toward him, her white feathers swaying with her movements. As she drew near, the margrave was drawn away by his chancellor, and Jorgen focused all his attention on her.

“Shall we dance?” he asked.

She reached out and grasped his hand in answer, and he led her to the middle of the ballroom where another dance was about to begin.

She held on to his hand and caressed his arm. Was she trying to tell him that she did not regret their kiss?

They faced each other just as the dance began. They stepped toward each other—and she stepped quite close, lifting her face to his, making him wonder if she would kiss him right there in front of everyone.

His heart beat hard at the way her lips curved seductively. What was she trying to do to him? He had never seen her so . . . uninhibited. She almost seemed like a different person. Was it because of his kiss? What else could it be?

As she turned all the way around in the steps of the dance, her hips swayed—something he should
not
be noticing. All through the dance she continued to get closer to him than was necessary, hold his hand longer than normal, and behave in a way that made his heart beat faster.

When the dance was over, Odette clasped his hands between hers and leaned against him.

“Odette,” he whispered. “I . . . I do not know if you should let your uncle see you like this.”

She stared up at him, as if she was hanging on his next word.

He swallowed. “Do you want to walk out to the balcony again?”

She nodded and hugged his arm against her side.

Perhaps Odette felt his kiss was a proposal of marriage. But of course a maiden like her would not let him kiss her if she wasn’t willing to marry him. His heart pounded harder as they moved toward the doorway to the gallery and slipped into the darker, deserted room.

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Odette turned to him and kissed him. The kiss was over before he could respond, and she turned around and ran toward the balcony, holding up her skirt as she went.

He followed after her. He had never seen this side of her, and it felt strange. Had Odette been drinking too much wine? Even her hair looked slightly different, less full and less wavy. But it must be Odette, since she was wearing the same swan mask and headdress.

Once he reached the balcony, Odette stood at the far end, staring out at the night. As he walked toward her, she turned her head and smiled that seductive smile again. Then she turned all the way around to face him, leaning back against the railing.

“Odette.” He swallowed again as he gathered his courage. “I think you must have noticed how I take every chance to be with you, even though I know your uncle doesn’t think a forester is good enough for you. But I love you, Odette, and I will do anything to make you my wife.”

She stepped closer to him, grasped his shoulders, pressing close, tilting her lips up to his. How could he resist bending down to kiss her?

Just as he was about to do just that, she whispered in a strange, hoarse voice, “What did you say?”

“I said, I love you. I want to marry you. Please marry me.”

21

O
DETTE STAYED CLOSE
to the wall as she made her way through the ballroom. A few people noticed her and stared, no doubt wondering why she was not wearing a mask. She kept moving, thinking she saw Rutger up ahead.

The man turned. It was Rutger. She went toward him, hoping to catch his eye. But Mathis approached him and said something close to his ear, and then they both moved toward the gallery where she and Jorgen had gone before. They disappeared through the doorway.

Odette hurried toward the gallery and slipped inside. Softly she called, “Rutger.” But as her eyes became accustomed to the lower light, she saw him at the other end of the gallery, slipping out onto the balcony.

How frustrating. He probably didn’t even know where her mask was, but she didn’t know who else to ask or what else to do, so she kept going.

Someone was speaking out on the balcony. The closer she got, the more convinced she was that it was Jorgen. Was he asking Rutger for permission to marry her? Her heart beat out of rhythm, stealing her breath. What would she do if Rutger refused him? Her thoughts were in a tangle, like a patch of thorny vines.

Odette stepped out onto the balcony, but Jorgen was not with Rutger. He was standing with a woman, standing extremely close to her, and she was wearing Odette’s mask!

Jorgen leaned down to kiss her. Odette felt ill, her stomach twisting. Then Jorgen said, “I love you. I want to marry you. Please marry me.”

Who was he saying these things to? Who was this woman? As soon as Jorgen said the words, the woman threw her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. And Jorgen was kissing her back most enthusiastically.

A strangled noise left her lips as she forced herself not to scream. Then she saw Rutger and Mathis standing a few feet away. Rutger must have heard her because he turned and looked at her.

Jorgen must have heard her as well. He broke away from the woman and his eyes met Odette’s.

His eyes widened. “Odette?” he gasped and turned back to the girl he had been kissing. “Who are you?”

Was he pretending? Did he truly not know that the woman he had been kissing was not Odette? Had the woman tricked him by wearing her mask? And where had she found a dress so similar to her own? None of it made sense.

Suddenly the woman started running toward Odette, laughing in a high-pitched voice. She ran past Odette, through the doorway, and to the gallery. As she passed by, something touched Odette on the shoulder, then clattered to the floor. Her mask. She bent and picked it up.

“Odette.” Jorgen took a few unsteady steps toward her. “I . . . I thought she was you.”

But all Odette could see as she looked at him was him kissing that other woman. “Do you expect me to believe that you could not
tell she was not me?” Perhaps she was being unfair to him, but . . . Her stomach twisted again.

“Come, my dear.” Rutger stood before her and took her by the arm. “This man and his love affairs are not our concern. We will leave him to his folly.”

She followed Rutger to the gallery, letting him place her hand on his arm.

“Wait, Odette, please.”

The anguish in Jorgen’s voice made her turn and look at him.

“The woman tricked me. I did not know. I thought she was you.”

The lost look in his eyes made her stomach sink even lower. Her eyes burned with tears, and a searing pain stabbed her like a knife, but Rutger urged her on, through the gallery.

“Odette.” Jorgen was following them.

“Who was she?” Odette turned and faced him, in spite of Rutger urging her to keep going forward. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“It is a complete mystery to me. Please believe me. I could never love anyone but you.” His voice was strained.

Odette’s heart stopped. He loved her? But how could he not know that other woman was not her? It hurt that he could mistake someone else for her and actually kiss that other person.

“I hope you do not believe this, Odette.” Rutger again pulled gently on her arm. “Let us go.”

“Odette . . .” He held his hand toward her, palm up, in a gesture of supplication. “Please.”

She still could not rid herself of the image of him kissing the other woman. It rose up every time she blinked. “I do not wish to speak of it anymore.”

“We shall go at once,” Rutger said as they continued down the long gallery toward the ballroom. “I shall send for the carriage.”

Odette said nothing, feeling numb all over except for the ache in her heart and the burning sensation in her nose as she struggled to hold back tears.

She heard no more from Jorgen as she passed through the rest of the gallery, through the ballroom, and into the front hall to wait for Rutger’s carriage.

“God, why?” she whispered. Why must she be in love with a man she could not marry? And now she had this painful memory of him kissing another woman and declaring his love for her. A flood of pain washed over her.

The despair in Jorgen’s heart turned to anger. Someone had deliberately tricked him. But why? He rushed out the door and into the ballroom.

He glanced around. Where was that woman, the one who had so brazenly pretended to be Odette? He must find her. He must force her to admit the truth of who she was, of what she had done. He must force her to confess in front of Odette before she left.

He started through the crowds of people, searching everywhere. She had been wearing a dress like Odette’s, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. He went from one end of the ballroom to the other. He looked everywhere he could, but she obviously didn’t wish to be found.

It seemed there would be no outlet for his anger. But didn’t Odette understand that he had been tricked? He never would have knowingly kissed another woman. But the truth was, he
had
kissed another woman, and in front of Odette.

The thought of it made him sick. The memory would forever
be in Odette’s mind. And the pain in her eyes would forever be ingrained in his.

He stared out at the joyful dancers and the people talking to each other as if Jorgen’s hopes had not just been crushed. And what of Odette? What must she think of him? First he’d kissed her, and then he’d kissed someone else, like some unbridled cur.

Somehow he had to show her that he did not go around kissing women indiscriminately. He just had no idea how.

The carriage was dark as pitch, even with the lamp attached just outside. Odette could cry, as long as she was quiet, and Rutger wouldn’t know. She propped her elbow against the side of the carriage, her hand resting against her cheek, so she could wipe the tears away without drawing attention.