Page 31 of Heart of Snow
“I’ll be fine. It’s better if we don’t return too close together,” I answered. “But are you awake enough to guide the horse?”
“I’m well rested now.” She chuckled.
Hatzfeld’s horse padded into the clearing behind us, and my smile faded. Gripping the pommel, I slid to the ground.
“The reins, please.” Margaretha held out her empty hand.
As I returned the reins, my hand covered hers, and—curse my weakened resolve—I didn’t immediately let go. Our eyes met, and the moment stretched out with her hand in mine, the warmth of my skin building until it reached a fevered heat. I finally forced myself to release her.
“Goodnight, Friedrich,” she whispered. Was her breath unsteady?
“Goodnight, my lady.” I bowed, holding my hand behind my back, squeezing it into a fist, then flexing my fingers out wide and straight; anything to end the burning. I could still feel the heat of her even after she and Hatzfeld turned their horses toward the castle, and I knew I had to stop this foolish fascination. The countess must be a friend, nothing more.
But the longer I paced, the stars surveying my unsettled tread, the more I feared it would be impossible to bury my newly discovered regard for the Countess von Waldeck.
Chapter 13
Margaretha
From the moment I enteredthe clearing, I sensed the shift. Friedrich stood in the shadows of the trees, his eyes holding that same guarded look they’d had when I’d first approached him with my proposal for hunting lessons. Though he wasn’t back to the prior, aloof Friedrich, it was still a change from his friendly demeanor of last night.
Belinda inclined her head in response to his bow, her eyes dark from her restless sleep. The nightmares were troubling her again, though she wouldn’t admit it. I gave her an encouraging nod as she left to pick herbs, then took a step toward Friedrich.
He folded his arms across his chest. “Did you get any rest after our travels?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“A little.” I smiled back. “And you?”
“Ulrich had me up early with the dogs, but I’ll be well. Shall we begin?” He waved me toward the shooting line, effectively ending the conversation.
I picked the bow off the ground, catching a bit of dirt beneath my nails that made me shiver with the memory of my dream. The narrow, black tunnels. The red-eyed monk. His laughter as the dirt tumbled around me, covering my face—its taste spreading over my tongue and its scent filling my nostrils.
Another shudder rumbled through me, but I pushed the suffocating panic aside, reminding myself it was only a dream. That I would never be in a dark mine. That I would never be buried alive. I needed my mind sharp now. Every day brought me closer to when I would leave for Brussels. I was nowhere near ready.
Straightening my spine, I forced my voice to sound light. “I’m glad you took me to meet your friends. They were lovely. I admitit felt like an adventure, traveling dark woods and dressing up as a serving girl.”
Friedrich’s voice held humor when he answered. “No doubt the thrill of playing the peasant would wear off quickly if it were your lot in life.”
“Well, I won’t pretend to be sorry for my fine clothes and plentiful food, if that’s what you mean.” I turned to him. “But there are obligations accompanying a noble’s life that I’d rather do without.”
“Really? Such as?”
Such as the odiousness of my current task.
“I don’t wish to marry for advantage,” I answered, absently twisting the tip of an arrow into the dirt. “I want to choose a man I admire and respect, not just one who’ll provide financial or political gain.”
Friedrich unfolded his arms and took a step toward me, his expression momentarily open, curious. Then he blinked it away as he dropped his shoulder back against his tree. “You want to marry for love? That’s a rather modern idea for a noblewoman.”
“True.” Though the freedom of mind brought about by the Reformation had spread through the lower classes, letting men and women decide on their own love matches, women of rank were still obliged to marry for advantage. “And as it is my duty as the daughter of a count to benefit his interests, I’ll be expected to make a match helpful to that cause. Under the queen regent’s approval, of course.”
Friedrich reached up and snapped a twig from the tree, then ripped the leaves into halves over and again. “So what’s the trouble? There aren’t any men worth loving in your mob of suitors?”
I laughed. “Having no suitors at all, I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
“Perhaps you’ve set your expectations too high. A man writes a poor minnelied and you send him on his way.”
I tilted my head, watching him to know if he spoke in jest. “Should I ever have the good fortune to attract a man of honor, I certainly won’t be put off from him because he fails to write a heartsick poem or dance the galliard.”
Friedrich tossed his pile of torn leaves to the ground while the impression of a smile played on his lips.
