Page 30 of Heart of Snow
I blew out a long breath. “Not often.”
“He could have you discharged,” she said. We ducked our heads as the horse stepped under a low branch. “Even whipped or hanged.”
“Do I detect concern?” Though it was only a jest, I couldn’t dampen my curiosity to hear her answer.
“It would take a great deal of work to find myself another hunting tutor.”
My shoulders drooped, but I scolded myself for wanting anything more from the countess. Already I’d let Ernst’s words sway me until I was imagining things that weren’t true. She wasn’t leaning into me, letting me wrap my arms tighter aroundher. Her heartbeat pulsing against my chest didn’t beat quicker when I pressed myself closer. No, it was witless to think the countess would ever care for me, a servant. But the real question was, why did I suddenly want her to?
I tried to force the thought from my mind, to distract myself, but only an utter fool could ignore what was becoming frighteningly clear: my feelings for the countess were shifting. My anger and resentment seemed to have crumbled around me until I stood in the rubble of my carefully constructed barriers, bare and exposed and unable to deny that somewhere along the way I’d started to admire the countess. To care for her as more than a friend.
Thrill and fear warred inside my gut, and I balled my hands into fists at the countess’s stomach. How had I let this happen? I was disciplined, practical. I knew her to be mountains above me in station and rank. Where had all my reason gone? Had those blasted dreams done me in? The time spent in her company during lessons? Her repeated attentions and kindness?
No. It did no good dwelling on past failures. What was done was done. I knew my weakness now and would simply need to rely upon my strength of will to fight this irrational attraction.
Just then Margaretha’s—the countess’s—head drooped, falling to her chest until she woke with a start. When it happened a second time, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“Countess?”
She straightened, sucking in a quick breath. “Yes, what?” Her voice was thick and muddled.
“You’re falling asleep.”
She puffed a short, embarrassed laugh. “Apologies. I was up late preparing herbs.”
“I can lead the horse,” I offered, but she shook her head.
“No, I’ll manage. Perhaps conversation will keep me alert?”
“What should we talk about?”
She paused. “Why don’t you tell me which pagan goddess I remind you of?”
For the second time that night, my ears grew hot. I looked behind me, making sure Mistress Hatzfeld was far enough back to not overhear as I answered, “Aweiße frau.”
“What is aweiße frau?” she asked drowsily.
I kept my voice soft as I spoke. “Theweiße frauenare elvenlike enchanted spirits who live in forests. Sometimes they bathe in streams or sun themselves on rocks as they brush their hair. A halo—” Did I dare admit the rest?
“Yes?”
Her sluggish speech coaxed me to continue. “A halo of light hovers around them, their unearthly beauty luring mortal men to either doom or ecstasy.”
The memory of Margaretha in the woods shaking her braids loose was impossible to forget, the sunshine lighting the golden waves spilling over her porcelain throat. It didn’t take much imagination to see her as an elvish spirit haunting the forests. Even now I felt her pull and the promise that she would bring me to either rapture or ruin.
The countess was quiet, only answering with a contented hum, and in a few short minutes, her head nodded again. When it dropped back against my shoulder, I froze, sitting stiffly while her head bobbed against me with each clop of the horse’s hooves. I shouldn’t have, but before I could stop myself, I lifted my hand to her cheek and guided her head against my neck, safely tucking it beneath my chin to hold it steady. She nestled into me, making my heart drum faster.
I rolled my eyes. So much for my strength of mind. When it came to Margaretha, I was all weakness.
Slipping the reins from her hands, I led the horse through the inky woods as the rest of the ride became an exercise in self-control. When I was tempted by the errant desire to breathe inher lilac scent, I focused on how I could improve my shooting stance. When she stirred and I reflexively held her tighter, I made myself count the horse’s hoofbeats into the thousands. By the time we’d reached the clearing, I was exhausted from my efforts.
“Countess,” I whispered into her hair. She didn’t move. “Margaretha, it’s time for me to get down.”
“Hmm?” She sat forward, blinking her eyes like she was trying to make sense of her surroundings. “What time is it?”
“It must be nearing midnight.” I gave her time to wake up before prodding her again. “I need to dismount.”
“But we’re nowhere near the castle. Will you be all right walking in the dark alone?”
