Page 42 of Heart of Snow
Margaretha
What on earth, Belinda? Thepassionate, illicit embraces of Beltenebros and his lady love, Oriana, fairly set the book on fire.
“Mistress Hatzfeld sends us more reading?” Friedrich’s query drew my eyes to him. Rather, to the French primer in his hand, for I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze with my cheeks aflame.
“No, this assignment is for me alone.”Thank the heavens.“I’m to study the romances favored in court.”
“Ah.” He tapped a finger on his lips. “And what sort of tale is it that makes your eyes widen so?” He pulled his chair next to me, his arm bumping against mine, and I had to school my shock that he would even be near me, let alone touch me, after his recent coldness. Casting him a curious sideways glance, I closed the book lest he somehow decipher the words.
“’Tis only the dim light that makes my eyes widen.”
“You know, Margaretha, I’m starting to see why Hatzfeld went to such extremes to teach you to flirt.” He lifted a brow. “You’re quite the innocent.”
I dropped a frown. “And you’re full of experience?”
“I thought I already proved myself.” A smirk twisted his lips, and I threw him a withering glare. “You see, just there,” he said. “Though not an expert in courtly romance, I know that glower of yours would have more impact if you had actually met my eye.”
Reopening the book, I pretended to read. “I’m meant to be learning ways to attract men, not frighten them off.”
“Then you might want to soften your expression into something that isn’t wishing me harm.”
I answered with silence, but he hooked his finger over my book, pulling it lower until I couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Think,Margaretha. Isn’t this precisely what you’ve wanted from me all along? Lessons in flirtation?”
That was the second time today he’d called me by my Christian name. What was this sudden change, this excited energy that was frightfully near to charming?
His finger still hung on my book when he added, “I’m here now, ready to help. You may as well take advantage of it.”
He made a fair point. “Very well.” Working to force down my embarrassment, I rested my book in my lap and offered him my best attempt at a genuine smile.
“Beautiful,” he said, and my cheeks warmed. “It’s an innocent, shy smile, and it suits you very nicely. But it’s not very encouraging.”
The heat spread down my neck, making me check the time on the clock. Only ten minutes more. I could endure this mortification for ten minutes.
Friedrich stood, setting his primer on the mantel. “I can tell you, as a man, your expression is barely enough to convey interest, let alone love.”
“You expect me to feign love with half the court?” I scoffed. “Ridiculous.”
“Strategic. What could be more attractive than thinking a beautiful, intelligent woman is in love with you?”
My eyes went wide. He’d called me beautiful? Intelligent? What had prompted such a shift in behavior?
“Come. Try it on me,” he pressed on without hesitation. “Use your expressions to convince me you love me.”
Somewhere in the corner of my mind a distant bell rang a warning, but with my sudden nerves, I could hardly hear it, let alone trouble myself to decipher its meaning. This was Friedrich. With him I was safe from everything except utter humiliation, which I was on the verge of now as I tried to understand the assignment. How was I even to begin tocommunicate such a look? But Friedrich was offering help with the very thing I most needed to learn, so I would try.
Sighing, I put the book on the chair behind me and drew near to him, narrowing my eyes and puffing out my lips in an effort to be serious and alluring at the same time.
“Is that your attempt?” he asked.
I nodded, and he let out a stifled chortle.
“Try again.”
Fighting another flush of heat, I went for a softer approach, forming a half smile with my eyes open wide.
“I’m afraid not,” he said.
I stared deeply and solemnly into his eyes.
