Rutger would be released! Her shoulders relaxed as she let out a breath. And he wouldn’t be destitute. “I thank you, my lord.”
“I want to know”—he fixed Odette with a severe look—“why you were so determined to help the poor. Is this such a problem in Thornbeck that you, a young woman, would be bent on feeding them?”
She stared at the margrave. “Yes, my lord.” Odette blinked, trying to think how to answer the unexpected question. “There are orphaned children who live in rickety shelters they have built themselves just outside the town wall. They are forced to steal and beg and look through garbage heaps to keep themselves alive. I believe there are at least twenty or thirty of these children, besides the ones who live on the streets in town. They need our help. They are only children and unable to earn enough money to buy food or provide decent shelter for themselves. It is our Christian duty to help them, for anyone who is able to help them.”
“Odette teaches them to read a few days a week,” Jorgen said when she paused. “She also brings them food and helps them when they are sick.”
The margrave frowned again, his smile gone. “Jorgen has devised a plan whereby the people of Thornbeck might look after the poor orphan children of the town. I believe it is a plan you helped him with.” He glanced at Odette. “It is a feasible plan that might all but eliminate the problem of children stealing bread and other food from the vendors at the market, while the merchants exercise their Christian duty, as you say, to care for the poor widows and orphans. Jorgen has spoken to the Bishop of Thornbeck, and he has offered a certain portion of the church’s assets to this effort.”
Odette’s heart was in her throat as the margrave stared down at the parchment in his hands.
“Jorgen has some donors already secured from among our wealthier citizens. You have done a good job with this proposal.” He raised his brows approvingly at Jorgen. “I do believe that Rutger Menkels’s house, which is not far from the city center, will serve well as a home for orphans. What do you say, Odette?”
“Y-yes, my lord. I believe it would.”
“And as I have acquired Rutger’s storehouse near the north gate, I believe it may serve as a place for young widows to learn to work and earn money while their children are being cared for. What do you think, Jorgen?”
“Yes, my lord, I think you are right.”
The margrave cleared his throat and frowned. “Jorgen may have told you, Odette, that I discovered it was my chancellor, Ulrich, who had been trying to kill him. It is fortunate he is not as good with a longbow as you are.” Again, he looked pointedly at Odette. “Therefore, I have sent Ulrich to the dungeon and am in need of a new chancellor. Jorgen has shown that he is a man capable of great organization. He is intelligent and hardworking, as well as honest and trustworthy. Welcome to your new position, Jorgen.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Odette sucked in a breath. She reached out and squeezed Jorgen’s hand, smiling up at him.
“Now that you will be my new chancellor, I shall wish to have you living nearer to me. And since I have taken back the chancellor’s property, I would like to bestow upon you the manor house on Red Stag Hill, which you can see from this window.”
“My lord, I am grateful.” Jorgen bowed.
“A new husband and wife need a home. And now I insist you take to wife this lawless young woman as quickly as may be.”
Odette and Jorgen replied, “Thank you, my lord.”
Jorgen looked across at her, a glint in his eye.
How their fortunes had reversed. She had thought his position too far beneath hers a few days ago. Now she was poor, stripped of her home and her security, and Jorgen was the new chancellor of Thornbeck, the owner of a beautiful manor house, and the advisor to the margrave. Just minutes before, marrying Mathis seemed her only choice, and now she found herself being ordered to marry Jorgen. But somehow she didn’t mind.
“Jorgen,” the margrave said, “come back tomorrow when we can discuss your new duties, and think about who you might choose to replace you as forester. In the next few weeks we will have a lot of work to do to implement your plans for the orphanage and workhouse. Odette may also come and give her input, if she wishes. But for now, you both may go.”
Jorgen clasped her hand and they walked out of the margrave’s library. As soon as they were out of sight of the margrave, she turned to him in the dimly lit corridor, slipped her arms around his neck, and before she could close her eyes, he was kissing her.
31
JORGEN KISSED HER like a man dying of thirst and she was the only source of water. He took her breath away. Odette was transported to a place that was above the earth, above the clouds, floating higher and higher.
She was marrying Jorgen Hartman.
When he pulled away, he looked into her eyes, then kissed her again, as if he needed one more sip. But then he needed another, and another, his hands coming up to cradle her face. Soon she was quite dizzy. She held on tighter, choosing not to tell him she needed to sit down until her knees stopped shaking.
He eventually stopped kissing her and pulled her close, her cheek against his shoulder and his arms encircling her. There seemed to be so much to say, so much to take in, so much she could hardly believe. They stood still, their hearts beating close together, not speaking, waiting for their rapid breathing to slow.
As the dizziness subsided, she squeezed him tighter, breathing in the smell of pennyroyal mint coming from his freshly washed shirt, filling her senses with Jorgen. “Thank you for wanting to help the children, and for your plans to start an orphanage and to help the poor.”
He buried his hand in her hair and bent until his forehead touched hers. “I hoped it would please you.”
“It does. Very much.” His nearness, his touch, his smell, and the lingering feeling of his lips on hers all combined to make her heart soar. How was it possible to feel so free when she was about to be married, to belong to someone forever?
“Odette,” he breathed. The masculine rumble of his voice sent a shiver across her shoulders.
“Are you sure you want to marry me?” Odette asked.
He tilted her face up and kissed her again. “Yes.”
Her heart was racing. Might someone be watching them from down the long corridor? The heat in her cheeks intensified and she whispered, “We should go before someone sees us.”
He stared into her eyes before breaking away and helping her walk toward the front door of Thornbeck Castle. As she held on to him and leaned against his side, she couldn’t seem to stop sighing. Or smiling. Or reliving his kisses.
He stopped her halfway down the corridor and kissed her again.
How had she not always known she loved Jorgen Hartman? And how had God worked everything out so she could marry him? After all she had done—poaching the deer that it was his job to protect, deceiving him, and after her uncle had spurned him because he was a forester—to be ordered by the margrave to marry Jorgen seemed the greatest of ironies . . . and miracles.
Jorgen helped Odette down from the horse. She was so focused on him that she was surprised to see Mathis standing just behind Jorgen.
“Odette,” he said quickly, “I know your uncle is in the dungeon, but I assure you I am working to get him out as soon as possible.”
“That is not necessary, Mathis. Lord Thornbeck has already agreed to set him free.”
“Oh. That is very good.” Mathis stepped closer to her, but so did Jorgen, putting himself between them. Mathis glanced up at Jorgen but then kept talking to Odette. “I still want to marry you, no matter what the margrave says or does—”
“The margrave has taken my uncle’s house and will turn it into an orphanage. And he has ordered you to repay Uncle Rutger’s goods that you stole, double, with interest.”
Mathis blanched and clutched at his throat. “But I . . . It was only a joke. I was going to give it back to him.”
“The margrave was not amused.”
Mathis
stammered, “I . . . I . . . but I—”
“And the margrave also knows about the little joke you played on Jorgen and me when you tricked him into thinking another woman was me.”
Mathis, still pale, just stared at her with his mouth open.
“I will not marry you, Mathis. But Lord Thornbeck has approved my marriage to Jorgen Hartman. And now you may go. I do not wish to see you again.”
Odette grabbed Jorgen’s hand and led him inside her house—soon to be the orphanage—without saying another word.
Once inside Odette’s former house, Jorgen said, “You certainly set Mathis Papendorp straight. I almost felt sorry for him.”
She slipped her arms around his back. The invitation in her eyes was too much to resist. Pulling her closer, he kissed her.
Oh, but she was sweet and mysterious and almost too good to be earthly. He had to rein himself in and cut the kiss short. After all, they had a lot of planning to do, a lot of moving, and a lot of decisions to make. He couldn’t spend all day kissing her, no matter how much he wanted to.
She nestled against his chest in the sweetest way, making his breath hitch in his throat. He hugged her close, brushing his cheek against her silky hair.
“When can we marry?” She sounded breathless.
Was she so eager? His breath hitched again. “The margrave said I should take my lawless young woman to wife as soon as possible.”
He squeezed her tighter and she laughed, a soft sound.
“Are you sure you are able to keep me from being lawless?” She pulled away and looked up at him.
“I believe I am.”
There was a dangerous glint in her eye. “I hope you do not start talking like the margrave now that you’ll be working so closely with him. ‘Take to wife this lawless woman,’ ” she mimicked in an approximation of Lord Thornbeck’s gruff voice.
“No wife of mine is allowed to mock the lord of the land.” Jorgen looked down at her, trying to feign a stern expression.
She grinned and pulled his head down for another long, satisfying kiss.
Marriage. Yes, how soon could they marry? “I suppose it will take three weeks to cry the banns.”
“Three weeks,” she breathed, then pushed him away. “You had better go see the priest, then.”
He touched her cheek, then squeezed her shoulder. “I will leave one horse here, in case you need it.”
He leaned down and kissed her, harder than he meant to, and when he pulled away, her eyes were still closed, as if she hadn’t wanted the kiss to end. His heart skipped.
Three weeks. Just three more weeks.
32
AFTER TWO WEEKS, Jorgen was pleased to report to Lord Thornbeck that Odette already had a dozen children living in the former Menkels home. Their cook had stayed on, and Kathryn had also moved in to help and seemed to enjoy taking care of the younger children. His own mother was helping, and she had never seemed happier, as she now had many children to care for.
“Odette will be staying at the house for one more week, until our marriage, and she will help with managing the women’s workhouse at Rutger’s old storehouse. We are still trying to get that set up since the storehouse needed to be cleared out and made a bit more comfortable.”
“Excellent,” the margrave said. “I shall come and inspect it and the orphanage when all the work is complete. And I hear the townspeople are being generous, but I shall not allow anyone to outgive me.” Lord Thornbeck gave a half smile.
“Yes, my lord.”
And now that things were working out so well, Jorgen was more and more preoccupied with getting the chancellor’s manse ready to bring Odette home as his bride.
But first . . . He and his mother had prepared a basket of food, and Jorgen left Thornbeck Castle, bound for the orphanage. He found Odette playing a game with several of the younger children. When she saw him, her eyes widened and she smiled. She left the children to play with Kathryn and walked toward him.
The children were making a lot of noise, so when she came near, he figured it would be safe to say quietly, “I wish I could kiss you. Would you think it improper if I did?”
“Yes, I would.” Her cheeks turned a gratifying pink.
“Then will you go on a picnic with me? I have not been able to talk with you alone since the day you agreed to marry me.”
Her lips curved deliciously, and she leaned toward him. “That sounds lovely.”
He waited while she went to tell Kathryn that she was leaving, and after giving some instructions to those in the kitchen, they were on horseback and headed to his favorite spot by a small stream, deep in Thornbeck Forest.
“I don’t think I have ever gone on a picnic.” She smiled at him from atop her horse.
“Never?”
“Never alone with a handsome young man.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. If she was trying to be flirtatious, she was doing a worthy job.
They reached the spot, and she jumped down from her horse before he could help her. He unstrapped the basket from the back of his horse and carried it to where she stood with the blanket still folded under her arm.
“This is beautiful. Look at the blue flowers there, and the pink ones. And the stream sounds peaceful.” She spoke in a hushed voice. “I have never seen this place . . . well, not in the daylight, leastways.” She spread out the blanket on the ground and he set down the basket.
She was quiet as they set out the food, sat down, and began to eat. Perhaps she was listening to the birds or the stream gurgle over the rocks, but he got the feeling that she was thinking, hard, about all the things that were still between them. Or maybe that was only because that was what he was thinking about.
When they had eaten their fill of the bread and cheese and drunk some water he had brought, she took a handful of walnuts and raisins and picked them up one by one with her fingertips and put them in her mouth. A strand of blond hair fell loose from her braid and waved against her cheek. He longed to brush it back, imagining how it would feel against his palm.
But that was not why he had brought her here.
“Odette?”
She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Then her face sobered. “What is it?”
“I want to know, honestly, how you feel about marrying me. I would have asked you to marry me anyway if Lord Thornbeck had not practically ordered you to. That is not the way I would have wished to have done things.”
She gave him a half smile. “I meant what I said to the margrave. You are the best man I have ever known, and I love you.” Her tone sent a shot of warmth through him.
They were seated a little too far apart for him to touch her. He should have brought a smaller blanket.
“But I keep wondering, what must you think of me?” She looked away, then down at her hands. “I know you were very angry with me, and rightfully so, when you realized you had been telling me about your struggles to find the poacher, and all along I knew exactly who the poacher was. You cannot deny you were furious with me. Why would you want to marry me?”
Jorgen stood and held his hand out to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. The pained-but-hopeful look in her blue eyes made his heart expand and fill his chest. “I wanted to avenge my father’s death so much that I wanted to shoot the poacher. But I only wanted to wound him, not because I had mercy on him, but so he could suffer execution for what he had done to my father.”
He closed his eyes a moment. When he was able to speak again, he went on, determined to say it. “When you were bleeding, and then again when your leg turned septic, I thought it was my fault . . . because of my hatred for the man who had killed my father.”
He brushed back the strand of hair that had escaped her braid, letting his fingers linger on her soft cheek. “And then when you saved my life by shooting Ulrich . . .” He looked into her eyes to convey the truth of his words. “It was not difficult to forgive you.”
Odette’s warm smile sent an ache through his chest.
“And I forgive you. You did not know you were shooting me, and you were only doing your job.” She placed her hand on his shoulder.
“You could have died. And you almost did.”
“But I didn’t die. And it was my own fault, anyway.” After a pause, she said, “I am glad we found out that it was Ulrich trying to kill you, but I’m sorry you still have not captured the poacher who killed your father.”
“Perhaps someday we will. Even though I do still want to capture him, it no longer seems to matter as much.” He thought for a moment. “You know, I would not be marrying you if you weren’t such a good archer.”
“How is that?”
“Because if you had not been so good at poaching, Rutger might have convinced you to marry Mathis months ago.”
“Very amusing.”
“I love you, Odette.” In case she was still wondering, he made it very clear. “Even though I did feel hurt when I realized you were the poacher, it was not difficult to forgive you. I love you too much to stay angry with you for long.”
“Good.” She nestled her face against his neck. “I do not think I was able to forgive Rutger that quickly. But he has suffered too. I am thankful the margrave allowed him out of the dungeon after three days. He found a small house near the south gate. Did you know?”
“Yes.”
She sighed, her breath warm against the base of his throat. “I keep thinking how everything has turned out, how everything is the reverse of how it began . . . the opposite of what I thought would happen.”
He rubbed the back of her shoulder, wondering when he might kiss her again. “I know.”
They stood like that for several moments. Then Odette lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “I am so overjoyed to be marrying you. I hope you don’t change your mind.”
She was looking at his lips. He kissed her but purposely kept it brief.
One more week. Just one more week.
Odette awakened with a sense of anticipation, a bit of crispness in the late-summer air.
A Melanie Dickerson Collection Page 26