Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Nicolaus Gerstenberg, Duke of Hagenheim, hereby decrees that no man or youth beyond the age of accountability shall touch any woman or maiden who is not a relative or is not his betrothed. Touching a maiden is punishable by placement in the stocks. Death by hanging shall be the penalty if it is found that the woman’s virginity has been compromised. Punishment shall be meted out according to the judgment of Nicolaus Gerstenberg, Duke of Hagenheim, or his son, Wilhelm Gerstenberg, Earl of Hamlin. May God be glorified in all things forever, and amen.”

  Duke Nicolaus’s seal was stamped in red wax at the bottom.

  She stared. Could this decree have something to do with Peter Brunckhorst accosting her? But how could it?

  Hildy leaned forward and peered at her. “Well? Don’t you see what this means?”

  “No.” Rose shifted her pot of geraniums to her other arm, abruptly turning away from the decree.

  “Rose! Lord Hamlin must have seen the way Peter Brunckhorst grabbed you.”

  Rose’s breath stuck in her throat. She shook her head. “I hardly think it likely.”

  “Oh, Rose, I think it very likely! Everyone knows there’s already a law that no man can molest a woman. Why would they make a new decree about it unless the duke—or his son—had seen something that aroused his ire and made him think the law wasn’t being heeded?”

  “I know not.” Rose trudged toward the castle, wishing Hildy would talk about something else.

  “You want to know what I think?”

  “I think I know what you think.” Rose looked heavenward.

  “I think Lord Hamlin is smitten with you and wants to protect you—after what you did for him when he was wounded. It must have been so romantic.”

  “It wasn’t romantic at all!” Rose drew her eyebrows together, incredulous.

  “But I do have some bad news.” Hildy’s tone turned somber. They now stood in front of the castle gate. Hildy grabbed Rose’s arm, making her stop and look at her.

  “A lady is coming to stay with the duke’s family. She’s been boarding at Witten Abbey for the past ten years. Her father is a duke—or so it is supposed—from somewhere south of here, who spends most of his time with King Wenceslas.” Hildy leaned closer and whispered, “She’s eighteen. The same age Lord Hamlin’s betrothed would be. Rumor has it that she might be his betrothed, Lady Salomea in hiding.”

  “I’m sure that cannot affect me.” Rose said the words as much for her own benefit as for Hildy’s.

  “Well, it affects me.” Hildy sniffed. “I was hoping his betrothed no longer existed, that she died or something, and he would fall in love with someone else—like you, Rose.”

  Rose couldn’t help but smile. “That’s sweet, Hildy, but not realistic.” How could Hildy possibly even entertain such an idea?

  With a sudden burst of drama, Rose tilted her head and squinted at the early morning sun. “I strive to wish everyone well, even Lord Hamlin’s betrothed. As for me, I only hope that one day I shall be as independent as Frau Geruscha—no obligations except the ones I choose.”

  She was surprised that her words didn’t elicit a laugh, or at least an amused smile from Hildy, as she had intended.

  “There’s probably no man worthy of you anyway.” Hildy’s voice was unusually quiet.

  Rose felt a stab of regret. Was her cynicism finally taking a toll on Hildy’s outlook? “That doesn’t sound like my Hildy. After all, we’re seventeen and in the prime of our beauty. Any day now two chivalrous men will sweep us onto their noble steeds and take us to their castles—or cottages, or whatever it may be—where we shall live happily forever after.”

  Hildy’s shoulders drooped. “It’s seeming less and less likely, even to me.”

  Rose stood on a stool while the Lady Osanna’s own seamstress measured her for a new gown. Things had happened so fast over the last few days, she hadn’t even had time to tell Hildy about all the new developments.

  A lovely young lady had approached the entrance to Frau Geruscha’s chambers the day before and asked if she could enter. Lady Osanna introduced herself, smiling with her lips and her eyes. Barely sixteen, she had recently grown taller and thinner, and Rose scarcely recognized her. The young noblewoman asked after her health, made a comment about the weather, then said, “I enjoyed your story, Rose. We all did. I do hope you are writing more.”

  Rose gaped at the duke’s daughter, whose quiet grace she had always admired, and the praise washed over her heart like cream over strawberries.

  “I wanted to ask you to please come to the feast we are giving for our new guest. Perhaps you have heard that Lady Anne, the daughter of Duke Alfred of Schweitzer, has come to us.”

  Rose forced herself not to stammer. “Yes, I heard she was arriving soon.” Was Hildy’s theory true? Was she only being passed off as Duke Alfred of Schweitzer’s daughter? It would make sense that they would want to keep Lady Salomea at Hagenheim Castle, where she’d be safe.

  “We want to invite you and Frau Geruscha. It’s to be a week from tomorrow, with much music and dancing.”

  A ball! Rose couldn’t possibly go. She had little idea of how to conduct herself at such an occasion. Several months before, as part of grooming Rose to be her apprentice, Frau Geruscha had made Rose take lessons to learn the dances of the nobility. But Rose wasn’t sure she remembered them. Besides that, she could hardly expect to know a single soul there.

  Lady Osanna added, “The scribes and their families are invited, as well as the guild presidents.”

  Which wouldn’t include any of Rose’s acquaintances. “That’s very gracious, I’m sure,” she murmured. How should she respond? She couldn’t be impolite.

  “I also wanted to thank you for what you did for my brother, Lord Hamlin.” Osanna smiled sweetly. “Our family is very grateful. His leg is healing well. Wilhelm was quite impressed with your skill.”

  Rose’s face burned and she knew she was blushing. “I’m thankful I was able to help.”

  “I hope you like the fabrics I picked out for you. The gold silk would make a nice gown for the ball. Our seamstress, Cecily, could make it for you. I’ll send her to take your measurements.”

  Rose opened her mouth to refuse, but she didn’t know how.

  “You must come. You’ll be my personal guest.”

  Her mouth went dry as she heard herself say, “It would be my pleasure.”

  Chapter

  4

  Two days later Rose left Frau Geruscha’s chambers to take a walk and clear her head of thoughts of the coming dance. With Wolfie by her side, she exited the town gate. The bright sun warmed the top of her head, and her cheeks stung as the wind lashed her face with her hair. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fresh spring air, and strode up the hill to her favorite spot between the stream and the big beech tree.

  Wolfie dashed past her, barking and snapping at a butterfly. He stopped and paced with his nose to the ground, stalking something in the grass. Suddenly, a hare dashed out of its hiding place and leaped away. Wolfie jumped straight into the air before racing after it.

  Rose laughed and the sound made its way around the nearby trees as it was snatched away by the wind.

  She stood gazing at the tall tree’s spreading branches. How much she had enjoyed climbing it as a child. A lovely view of the stream and surrounding meadow always rewarded her. If she were to climb it now she could see if everything looked the same.

  It truly was the perfect climbing tree, with branches and crooks in just the right places. As she studied it, she tried to recall exactly where she could place her feet. Almost before she knew what she intended, she grasped a limb and hoisted herself up.

  As a child, her skirts had been short—not as cumbersome as the voluminous, full-length ones she now wore. Rose stepped on her hem and then had to kick it aside while she searched for a crook in which to place her other foot. She held on with one hand while she shifted to a higher branch, reaching up with her free hand.

  A sound
like the snort of a horse came from below her. Her heart jumped. As she turned her head to see who was there, her foot slipped and her fingers lost their grip. She scrambled frantically, her fingertips scraping loose bark. Before she could even scream, she landed on her back on the ground.

  Air forcibly escaped her lungs. Darkness shot through with tiny bursts of light filled her vision.

  “Are you hurt?” A masculine voice, laden with concern, entered her consciousness a moment before his face came into view above her.

  Lord Hamlin.

  After the longest moment of her life, Rose drew in a gasping breath. Rolling to her side, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. O God, let this be a dream. But when she opened her eyes again, he was still there, kneeling beside her, worry creasing his brow.

  “Are you hurt?” Lord Hamlin repeated.

  “No.”

  He studied her face, as though trying to make sure she was telling the truth. Then he grasped her arm and pulled her into a sitting position. She leaned limply back against the tree.

  He released her, and her arm tingled where his hands had touched her.

  Her back ached and her chest had a painful, hollow feel, but she wanted to show him she was not injured. Instead of smiling in reassurance, however, she stared at her lap, too embarrassed to raise her eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt? I’ll go fetch Frau Geruscha.”

  “No, no, I am well.”

  “Do you climb trees often?”

  Rose couldn’t help but peek at him. His eyes were wide, as if he was amazed at her.

  “Why not?” She threw the question at him, feeling suddenly reckless.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I should think you’d stop climbing them after such a tumble.”

  “If you hadn’t distracted me, I wouldn’t have fallen.”

  She could hardly believe she said it. No one of her station should speak in such a way to Lord Hamlin. But there was something liberating in saying exactly what she thought, instead of making the humble, deferential replies expected of her.

  “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I’m thankful you didn’t injure yourself.” A slight smile tugged at his mouth. “But perhaps I saved you from falling from an even greater height.”

  Rose folded her arms across her chest. “I could easily climb this tree. I’ve climbed it many times.” She wanted to add, when someone wasn’t sneaking up on me, but managed to muster a bit of self-possession.

  Lord Hamlin ducked his head, but Rose saw the smile he was trying to hide.

  “You don’t believe me.” She suddenly wanted to prove to him that she could do it. However, climbing a tree while wearing a dress, with a man below her, did not seem wise.

  “No, no, I believe you. I of all people know that you are a maiden of many talents.”

  Wolfie ran up, barking wildly, and planted himself between Rose and Lord Hamlin’s big black horse.

  “Wolfie, stop that.”

  The horse began to graze, as if to show that the dog was beneath his notice.

  Lord Hamlin reached out a hand to Wolfie. The dog sniffed him then allowed Lord Hamlin to rub his shaggy head. Rose held her breath, fearing Wolfie would bite him. Instead, Wolfie relaxed under his touch, moving closer to him.

  Rose shook her head at her dog’s unusual behavior. “He must like you. He doesn’t let people get that close.” Especially men.

  Lord Hamlin stroked him behind the ears. Wolfie grinned up at him, saliva dripping from his tongue.

  “I had a dog once,” Lord Hamlin said. “A good one too. Unfortunately, he got trampled by a horse and died.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” And she truly was. How sad to lose a beloved dog.

  Lord Hamlin looked up and their eyes locked as his features softened. His earthy, leathery smell drifted over her, warm and pleasant. Aware of his close proximity, Rose’s heart beat erratically.

  As though also conscious of their nearness to each other, he moved a couple of paces away. “My sister, Lady Osanna, told me you’re coming to the ball next week.” He sat down on the grass, one knee pointing toward the stream, and picked a tall weed. Staring at it, he twisted it between his fingers.

  “Yes, although I’m sure I won’t know anyone.” Rose frowned, wondering if she should have revealed her insecurity.

  “At least there will be music, and I know how much you like music.”

  “Yes.” How did he know that? “I do love music.”

  He smiled and twisted his upper body to face her. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his white shirt as he propped one elbow across his knee. “Do you sing?” he asked.

  “A little. Do you?” She couldn’t believe she was asking personal questions of Lord Hamlin. Their whole conversation was unthinkable. Yet here he was, looking relaxed and quite interested in answering her questions.

  Wolfie, on the other hand, must have grown bored, because he dashed off to chase a chipmunk.

  “Osanna and my mother like my singing. I’m not sure anyone else could appreciate it, and I’m certain I don’t sing as well as you tell stories. You have the gift of storytelling. It is remarkable that you know how to read and write. Did Frau Geruscha teach you?” He fixed his eyes on her face.

  Rose didn’t feel offended by his statement, as she knew it truly was remarkable. None of her friends knew how to read. “Yes. Frau Geruscha started teaching me when I was very young. She said she’d never seen anyone so eager to learn.” Rose felt a bit smug and then laughed at herself.

  She met his gaze. He was smiling at her. His deep blue eyes absorbed the sunlight and sparkled like gems. His dark curls shifted in the breeze and brushed against his forehead.

  Oh, but you are handsome.

  Rose drew in a quick breath, shocked at herself.

  At that moment Lord Hamlin stood and pulled something from the leather pouch that hung behind his horse’s saddle. It was a lute. He sat back down and smiled at her, the light dancing in his eyes.

  “Will you sing for me if I play?”

  Rose shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

  She could hardly believe she was refusing a request from Lord Hamlin, even though she couldn’t imagine actually singing for him. But it could hardly matter what he thought of her. She could never hope to be anything to him except a servant, a healer’s apprentice working for him in his castle. Besides, he would never think twice about her when he had nobly born ladies around him like Lady Anne, who might even turn out to be his betrothed. Nonetheless, Rose was glad he didn’t seem angry at her refusal to sing. He simply stared down at the stringed instrument.

  Her heart fluttered at the strange honor of Lord Hamlin playing the lute for her.

  He strummed his thumb across the strings and a familiar tune emerged, the song of a maiden, fair and gentle, who walked alone, waiting for her lover to come to her. Rose listened, enraptured by the melody—and the sight of Lord Hamlin. She watched his hands, sunbrowned and strong, expertly evoking the song. And watched his face, his eyes half closed as he appeared to concentrate on his playing, sighing in spite of herself.

  He looked up and caught her eye. Never had she felt so alive—alive to the sound of the music, alive to the sight of Lord Hamlin’s beautiful eyes gazing at her as though her soul was visible to his.

  Rose tried to quiet her heart. She should not be thinking about Lord Hamlin this way. But if she believed in the songs that spoke of love, or believed what his eyes seemed to be saying to her…no, it was wrong to even think that she could be anything to Lord Hamlin, that he could find her in any way as interesting as she found him. It was simply the music playing tricks on her, making her feel strong emotions that didn’t apply to the situation.

  As the last note drifted away, she cleared her throat. She should speak of something, anything, to distract herself from her reaction to the music. “That was beautiful. I suppose you have to practice a lot to remember all the songs…all the notes.” She was babbling.

  “
I play for my family a lot.”

  Rose nodded, searching her mind for something to say. He was smiling at her in a way that made her even more nervous, so she picked up a chestnut from the ground and studied it.

  “I noticed a new boy helping out at the stables.”

  “You mean Lukas. I found him in the Marktplatz stealing an apple, so I put him to work.”

  “Just for stealing an apple?” Rose heard the dismay in her voice. Part of her said to be quiet, but another part was indignant that he would punish a young child for such a minor offense.

  “He seems to be an orphan. He says his mother is dead and he doesn’t know what happened to his father.”

  “The poor thing.”

  “He’ll make himself useful in the stable.”

  “But he’s only a child. Will you force him to work with those rough men? Who will look after him, take care of him?” Rose knew she should hold her tongue, knew that boys often were put to work at a very young age, but she didn’t like it. Where was the justice in forcing a child to do dirty, hard work, merely because he had no parents to take care of him?

  Lord Hamlin said nothing for a long moment. He stared into the trees across the stream bank.

  Rose’s throat tightened. Perhaps he was angry at her ranting. Certainly she had spoken far beyond what her status allowed.

  “You’re right. I myself shall make sure he isn’t worked too hard and has a few hours every day to romp with the town children. I’ll assign one of our matrons to look out for him, and I’ll make sure he has a comfortable, safe place to sleep with the women servants.”

  She let his words sink in.

  “Does that satisfy?”

  She examined his face but found no hint of resentment. A bubble of joy expanded in her chest. He had actually listened to her.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  His expression was unreadable. “My father needs an advisor like you. The region would be a more compassionate place, I dare say.”