Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  Rose could feel his pulse against her face. She inhaled his scent, masculine and warm, with a hint of cinnamon from the spiced drink he’d had at the feast. Did he notice that she was avoiding his question?

  “So when did you find out,” he asked, his voice gruff and deep, “that you were my betrothed?”

  “This afternoon. When I woke up I remembered you kissing me—and I started to cry.”

  He hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head.

  “Then Frau Geruscha told me. She knew I was your betrothed all along and had sworn an oath not to tell me until the day my parents came to reunite with me. I don’t know how she kept such a secret all these years. No wonder she didn’t like Lord Rupert coming around.” She shook her head. “My father, the duke, entrusted Frau Geruscha to come here to Hagenheim and find some unobtrusive family to take care of me and raise me as their own. The two dukes had even arranged to have Geruscha become the town healer so she could watch over me. No one else knew my whereabouts. Only your father was aware that Frau Geruscha knew. If something happened to Geruscha, there was a letter in your father’s strongbox that would have explained about me. Frau Geruscha said it made her very nervous when Duke Nicolaus died. No one else knew about the letter.”

  “You were right here, right where I could see you, and fall in love with you, all along. But you broke my heart when you refused to marry me.” His eyelids hung low over his eyes as he squeezed her waist. “I was very angry with you.”

  “But aren’t you glad I didn’t accept your marriage proposal?” she teased. “If you’d abdicated, I’d be betrothed to your brother right now.”

  He growled and poked her ribs just hard enough to make her laugh. But then she remembered the pain of that day and nestled closer to him. “I’m so glad we’re together now.”

  Neither of them spoke as he caressed her cheek. “It must have been a shock for you to find out you had two sets of parents.”

  “I found out by accident a few months ago. I overheard my mother talking. But I never suspected that I was your betrothed, because my birthday—or so I thought—was five weeks before Christmas and the Lady Salomea’s was eleven months earlier. I was a year too young. But Frau Geruscha told me that my parents began counting my birthday from the day I came to live with them—when I was eleven months old.” Tears sprang up at the thought of her birth parents sending her away as a baby to live with strangers, with a mother who may have never loved her.

  “So they didn’t know who you were?”

  “No. Frau Geruscha brought me to them and said it was best they didn’t know. I’m surprised they never wondered. But then, my parents are never ones to question. They do as they’re told and don’t ask why.”

  After a pause, Duke Wilhelm asked again, “The duke and duchess—they weren’t unkind to you, were they?”

  Rose was quiet, trying to sort out her feelings. Finally, she shook her head. “No. But it was an uncomfortable meeting. I’m their daughter, they’re my mother and father, but I don’t know them and they don’t know me. They sent Geruscha here to watch over me and make sure I was safe, but…” She didn’t want to think any painful thoughts, not now. “I’m happy that they’re my parents, because it means I’ll marry you, Wilhelm.” She straightened and looked up at him when she said his name, letting it linger on her tongue, relishing how good it sounded.

  “I suppose I shall have to start calling you Salomea.” He smiled teasingly.

  “I hate that name.” She surprised herself at the vehemence in her voice.

  “Then you’ll always be Rose to me,” he said firmly. He kissed her forehead. “If you wish it, no one shall ever call you Salomea.”

  Rose shook her head as the tears ran down her face. “It isn’t the name.” She tried to choke back the sobs, but it was no use. She pressed her face into his shoulder and wept, her shoulders shaking.

  He gently stroked her back, speaking soothingly next to her ear.

  She finally was able to control herself. “It’s merely that…they gave me away. They couldn’t have loved me.”

  He tightened his arms around her, stroking her shoulder. “I vow to you, Rose, that I will love you so tenderly, you will never feel unloved again.”

  Rose closed her eyes and let the words soak in. She listened to his heart beating, rhythmic and steady beneath her cheek. She had grown up as a woodcutter’s daughter, a nobody. Only Geruscha—and God—had known the truth, and God had made it so her whole world knew her to be Duke Wilhelm’s betrothed—someone, someone who had a rightful place in the castle, in the ruling family. It was as if she’d been transformed in the blink of an eye. No, not transformed. She’d been the daughter of a ruler, a princess all along. She just didn’t realize it.

  A sudden knock at the door made Rose jerk herself upright. Frau Geruscha walked in. Rose tried to stand but Wilhelm held her firmly about the waist, preventing her. Rose’s face heated at the picture they must present to her mistress.

  Frau Geruscha smiled. “I will take Lady Rose to her new chamber, ” she paused, “when she is ready.”

  His hand resting possessively around Rose’s waist, Wilhelm said, “One more moment, if you please, Frau Geruscha.”

  Frau Geruscha bowed and left the room.

  She sank back against his chest and sighed. “You are the best thing that could have happened to me.”

  “And you are the best thing that could have happened to me.”

  Rose breathed a prayer of thanks for the beautiful sunshine streaming through her window on her wedding day.

  She tried not to move as Hildy and several of Duchess Godehard’s maids helped her dress. Of the many fine gowns the duke and duchess had brought her, Rose picked out a lovely pale blue velvet one with elaborately embroidered gold-silk borders at the neckline, down the front, and along the hem. Tiny pearls shimmered in the fitted bodice. Over this gown the maids fastened a velvet robe of royal blue. They left her hair hanging loose, as was the custom for brides, brushing her chestnut waves until they seemed to glow with a light of their own. Then they placed a gold circlet on her head, entwined with white and pink flowers.

  They started to apply paint to her face.

  “What are you doing? What is that?” Rose baulked at the white powdery paint. Wilhelm had never seen her wearing cosmetics, and why should he be shocked today? She consented only to a little lip color.

  Next, they dabbed her with perfume, which smelled pleasant enough, a mixture of flower oils and spices from the Holy Land, they told her. Lastly, for good luck and prosperity, they tied a band of blue ribbon around her wrist.

  She ran down the stairs, happy to be free from so many ministering hands, and entered the Great Hall. Wilhelm stood near the door, his lips pursed, as though impatient with waiting. When he saw her, his expression changed.

  He crossed the room in long strides and took her hand. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, and kissed her fingers. He pulled her close to his side and gazed at her face as though he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  The joyous procession of family members—most she barely knew—led her and Duke Wilhelm from the Great Hall of Hagenheim Castle through the courtyard and into the cobblestone streets that wound toward Hagenheim Cathedral, where they were joined by throngs of towns people.

  The girls preceding Rose and Wilhelm wore and carried ribbons of all colors. The rainbow of ribbons danced merrily with their movements as the giddy maidens bounced and skipped their way to the church.

  Walking beside her soon-to-be husband, her hand warm in his, Rose hardly noticed the cold air on her cheeks. She couldn’t stop smiling. Wilhelm smiled too, but she noted the tension in the squint of his eyes and knew he’d be glad when the merrymaking was over. The thought made her laugh, remembering what Osanna and Rupert had once said about him not being able to relax and enjoy himself.

  Wilhelm squeezed her hand and eyed her suspiciously. “What’s so amusing?”

  “You could smile a bit more. You do
n’t look half as happy as your family and guests.”

  He leaned toward her until his forehead touched her temple. “No teasing. Or I’ll stop the procession right here and kiss you into submission.”

  And wouldn’t this crowd love that? She knew how weddings were. Should the couple actually kiss in front of them, the people would cheer and shout lewd suggestions, hoping to persuade them to kiss some more. Wilhelm was bluffing.

  She laughed again. Then she gave him a coy half-grin. “You could try. But I’d rather you waited until no one else was around.”

  He squeezed her hand hard, but the way he smiled showed he was pleased—and that he looked forward to doing just that.

  Soon they reached the door of the cathedral. The priest stood waiting for them. The merrymakers in front of them melted away and Rose and Wilhelm stood together before the huge stone church.

  Rose’s eyes swam as she stared at the priest, the man who would declare them wed. His expression was solemn and his voice commanding. He asked, “Does anyone present know of any impediments to this marriage?”

  His ominous words dried her tears immediately. She held her breath. What if it was all a mistake? What if she wasn’t really Lady Salomea, Wilhelm’s betrothed? What if the real Lady Salomea suddenly came forward and declared Rose an imposter?

  Silence reigned. The priest cleared his throat, preparing to speak.

  “Do you, Duke Wilhelm Gerstenberg, agree to take this woman, Lady Salomea Godehard as your wife?” Rose began to breathe again. She forced her mind to concentrate on his words.

  “I do,” Wilhelm said.

  “And do you, Lady Salomea, accept this man, Duke Wilhelm, as your husband?”

  More tears flooded her eyes but she quickly blinked them back, glancing at Wilhelm. “I do.” How perfect he looked in his white, gold-embroidered sleeves and blue doublet, which deepened the blue of his eyes.

  “I now bless this union by the authority of God and in the presence of these witnesses.” He looked pointedly at Wilhelm. “You may present her the ring.”

  Wilhelm turned to her and reached for her hand. She held it out and he slid the shining silver band onto her finger.

  It was done. They were married. Wilhelm clasped her hands.

  In a daze, Rose allowed him to pull her along behind the priest. They entered the church.

  After celebrating mass, the whole procession headed back the way they came, as lively as they were before, obviously anticipating the feast and celebration awaiting them in the Great Hall.

  Once they were seated at the tables and the feast began, Rose was able to see her parents—Thomas and Enid Roemer—and her sisters and brother sitting nearby. Tears of joy again filled her eyes as she realized she would be able to provide for their needs, to improve their lives, all of their days. Rose also caught a glimpse of Hildy and Gunther, and her friends looked almost as happy as Rose felt.

  And Lord Rupert sat a few seats away with Lady Anne. They were smiling at each other. Only last night Lady Anne’s father had given his consent for them to be married. Rose sighed, thankful that everything had happened as it should have. She prayed they would be happy together, and that Lady Osanna would also be happily wed some day. And of course Duchess Katheryn was beaming. Her older son was marrying his betrothed and her younger one was marrying a wealthy duke’s daughter. She even seemed to have completely forgotten that Rose had been raised by a woodcutter.

  Rose’s birth parents, the duke and duchess, sat talking with Duchess Katheryn, Rupert, Lady Anne, and Osanna. They all looked happy.

  The entertainment included minstrels, jugglers, acrobats, and contortionists, but Rose hardly noticed any of it. So many people came forward to offer their well wishes and expressions of joy on their marriage that Rose hardly had a thought for anything except the guests.

  But the men continued to drink and began to grow rowdy. Wilhelm nudged her elbow. He leaned down until his lips were almost touching her ear. “Shall we sneak away?”

  Her stomach flipped excitedly. “A wonderful idea.”

  While a group of acrobats performed in the center of the tables, raising cheers and shouts of astonishment from the crowd, Wilhelm and Rose slipped out a side door. Hand in hand they hurried toward the stairs and the life that had been planned for them since before they were born.

  The Merchant's Daughter

  To Joe, Grace, and Faith

  Author’s Note

  Researching for a historical novel is always an adventure, and this book was no exception. I am very grateful for the wonderful research books that are widely available in my library and online bookstores, written by many knowledgeable scholars. I am especially grateful to Frances and Joseph Gies, who wrote, among other works, the fascinating and helpful Life in a Medieval Village. I learned a wealth of information from this book about the judicial system in place in England during the Middle Ages. Often this information came from actual surviving documents quoted by the Gieses. Their meticulous research was just what I needed to piece together my own fictional hallmote and trial, events that are as authentic as I could make them. But any inaccuracies are solely the fault of me, the author of this fictional work.

  I would also like to note that at the time of the setting of this story, mid-1300s England, the only translation of the Bible in wide use was in Latin. I chose to use the NIV translation in the scenes in this book, since the NIV most closely mirrors the way I have my characters speak, and also because I don’t understand Latin and I assume most of my readers probably don’t either.

  I have always loved the classic Beauty and the Beast story in which the characters fall in love with each other’s inner beauty in spite of outward appearance. I also wanted to explore how it would feel to desperately desire to read the Bible, and to finally get the opportunity to read it for the first time. I explored concepts of discrimination, of unfair treatment based on a person’s appearance, and the interesting concept of owing respect and honor to an earthly lord, as well as a heavenly lord. When I write a book, ideas and issues come into play during the development of the story that I hadn’t planned, and that was certainly the case with The Merchant’s Daughter. So I pray this work of fiction not only entertains you but makes you think — especially about the nature of true love and true beauty.

  God bless.

  Chapter

  1

  August 1352, Glynval, England.

  Annabel sat in the kitchen shelling peas in to a kettle at her feet. A bead of sweat tickled her hairline while only the barest puff of warm air came through the open door.

  “Annabel!”

  Her brother called from the main house. As she hurried to finish shelling the pea pod in her hand and see what Edward wanted, the pot over the fire began to boil over. She jumped up, banging her shin on the iron kettle on the floor.

  Snatching a cloth from the table, she used it to pull the boiling pot toward her and away from the fire. But as the pot swung forward on its hook, the cloth slipped and her thumb touched the lid. She jerked back. Spying the bucket of water she had used to wash the peas, she plunged her hand into it.

  “Annabel!” Edward yelled again.

  He thinks he doesn’t have to help with the work, but I should abandon my task and come running whenever he calls.

  She blew on her burning thumb as she hurried from the kitchen.

  Edward stood propped against the wall in the spacious front room of their stone house, scraping under his fingernails with a sharp stick. When he lifted his head, his green eyes fixed her with a hard look. “Mother was summoned this morning to appear before the hallmote.”

  “I know that.” The manorial court, or hallmote, was being held today, and a jury of twelve men from their village of Glynval would decide the penalty for her family’s neglect of their duties.

  “The new lord is coming to Glynval. Even if the hallmote is lenient, I’ve heard he is far from forgiving. What will happen to us? To you?” He thrust the stick at her face.

&nb
sp; Annabel bit back annoyance at her brother’s derisive tone. For the past three years he had stood by, just like the rest of her family, refusing to do any of their required work in the fields, putting them all in this situation.

  “I’ve decided to help with the harvest this year.” She crossed her arms as her brother moved closer to her. “We should all help.”

  “Do you want to end up sleeping in ditches and begging bread? Help with the harvest? It’s too late to start doing your share now, little sister.” He flung the words at her, jabbing his stick in her direction with each phrase. “If you are wise, you will try to think whose bread you need to butter to see that you have a home after today.”

  Annabel’s back stiffened, and she prepared for whatever offensive thing her brother would say next.

  “We have to fend for ourselves. You’re seventeen years old now and well beyond the age of accountability. Maybe you know of someone who might marry you. Do you?”

  “Nay, I do not.” She glared back at him, wishing she could think of a scathing retort.

  He began rolling the stick between his fingers, smirking at it. “But there is someone. Someone who is prepared to smooth over our trouble with the new lord and pay the fines so we don’t have to work in our lord’s fields.”

  Her brother wasn’t concerned about her, she knew — he wanted to solve his own troubles by throwing her to the wolves. But which wolf was he planning on throwing her to?

  A pleased smile spread over Edward’s thin lips. “I am speaking of Bailiff Tom.”

  Bailiff Tom? “He’s as old as Father!” Annabel’s face burned at the notion. She tried to think of some dignified reply, but the words tumbled out. “If you think … for one moment that I — “ She clenched her jaw to stop herself.

  “He has been widowed these three years. Surely you’ve seen him look at you with the eye of one who is looking for a wife.”