Although, Kristina looked slightly amused.
~~~
Brandt clenched his jaw, irritated that he’d acted like a green peasant lad smitten with the first flush of love.
Not love—lust.
Lust was drawing him to Sophia. Plain and simple. But lust could lure him to the brink of disaster, like the sirens drew sailors to their doom.
He glanced across at Johann, relieved to see he’d turned his attention back to his bride. He held out his hand and guided Sophia to a flat rock near the water’s edge. Still blushing fiercely, she averted her gaze as she sat.
They stared into the babbling brook for long minutes. He avoided looking down at her glorious hair, otherwise his arousal would never subside. No woman had inflamed him like Sophia. He’d lost control of his body, and he prided himself on his self-control. It was what sustained a man through…
“Close your eyes and listen to the water,” she said.
He inhaled deeply and did as she bade. She was right. The tension soon drained from his body. He’d been blind to the beauty of the trees, deaf to the cleansing sounds of water rushing over rocks.
Though he couldn’t see her, he became even more aware of her presence. Her brother sat close by, but in his mind’s eye there was only him and Sophia in a magical glade. “I have never met anyone like you,” he rasped.
When she didn’t reply, he opened his eyes. She was looking up at him. Women had lusted for him before, but he feared he might drown in the longing in Sophia’s green eyes. Yearning for what he could never have welled up in his throat. He should tell her about Dorothea. But that was the least of the obstacles that stood between them, so he said nothing.
She returned her gaze to the water. He imagined her as a child swimming in the deep pool at the foot of the falls, laughing, enjoying being teased by her brothers.
His bleak childhood was something he’d rather forget. He gritted his teeth, resolved to blink away a vision of swimming naked with Sophia, laughing, stroking, suckling, touching and being touched. “We should make our way back,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not yet. Sit with me.”
~~~
It was folly to ask Brandt to sit beside her. The flat rock was a place Sophia had sat many times, but it was barely big enough for two. His thigh pressed against hers and she was suddenly sitting next to Nebuchadnezzar’s fiery furnace.
Her riding gown felt like armor. It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest they take off their clothes and go for a swim. Johann might have something to say about that!
“I love this place,” she whispered in an effort to take her mind off his closeness.
“I can see why,” he replied.
He sounded wistful, so she confessed, “I’ve never been here with any one other than family. Except Kristina of course, but she’s been my best friend forever.”
“I’m honored,” he said.
She wanted to tell him she was glad she’d brought him, that sharing this special place with him was important, though she wasn’t sure why. She held her tongue. He’d think she was being forward.
“You are lucky to have siblings,” he said hoarsely.
The loneliness in his voice touched her heart. “You have no brothers?” she asked.
He shook his head, staring at the water. “Nor sisters.”
Compelled by an urge to dispel his melancholy, she put a hand on his knee. He covered it with his own. She stared at it, tempted to trace a fingertip along the dusting of dark hair on the backs of his long fingers. “Your hand dwarfs mine,” she murmured.
“We shouldn’t touch, Sophia,” he said, pressing her hand against his knee. “Your father wouldn’t approve, and your brother is scowling again.”
An unreasonable pang of jealousy clouded her thoughts. “Johann has no reason to scowl. He’s going to marry his soul mate.”
She instantly regretted the words, but Brandt didn’t withdraw his hand. “He’s a fortunate man,” he said.
~~~
It might have been only minutes that he and Sophia sat side by side, though to Brandt it seemed like hours—a lifetime in fact. Being with her somehow eased the torment of a lonely boy who’d tried without success to earn the love and regard of a harsh father, and finally given up the effort.
He recognised he’d become cynical, steeled himself to feel nothing. Feelings led only to pain. As he stared into Sophia’s waterfall it numbed him to realize he was becoming increasingly like his father.
This Saxon girl had breathed life into his desire to love and be loved, to play and tease and enjoy life. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun. “Do you believe in soul mates?” he asked.
She tilted her head, mimicking him. “My mother and father are soul mates,” she replied.
“I look forward to meeting your mother.”
“You’ll like her. Everybody does.”
He pictured an older version of the enticing creature next to him. No wonder the count seemed a happy man.
“So are Johann and Kristina,” she declared.
He looked across the stream. The lovers were preparing to leave. “I think you are right,” he said.
“But my parents refused to acknowledge for a long time that they loved each other,” she said softly. “And it took the family’s meddling to get Johann and Kristina to admit their feelings.”
He came to his feet and proffered his hand. “Why do you think that is?” he asked.
She let him pull her up from the rock. “People guard their hearts,” she replied, “because they are afraid to be hurt.”
“You are wise beyond your years, Sophia,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her hand, wishing he could gather her into his embrace.
A hunting horn wailed in the distance. Then again.
“The signal to return to the manor-house,” she explained.
Hand in hand they made their way back to their horses. “I don’t want to leave this place,” he admitted. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He helped her mount and led both horses away from the stream. Once they reached the trail, she slid off her palfrey. “Something is definitely wrong. I think you are right that one leg is bothering him.”
Brandt gently ran his hand over Mut’s left front leg. “It’s inflamed. This has been the problem. We’ll have to share Löwe.”
Tears welled in Sophia’s eyes. “I should have listened to you. I’ve compounded his pain.”
Brandt privately agreed, but he was more concerned that riding with Sophia in his lap would make the pleasant stirrings at his groin a whole lot worse. He wanted to kiss away the tears and could barely keep his hands off her as it was. He was relieved yet disappointed when Johann and Kristina appeared out of the trees.
“Mut has gone lame,” she lamented to the newcomers.
“Kristina can ride with me, and you take her horse,” her brother replied without hesitation.
Grinning, Kristina slid from her mount in the blink of an eye. Smiling broadly, Johann hoisted her into his lap.
Nothing for it but to agree. As he lifted Sophia onto Kristina’s horse, he might have caught a glimpse of his own disappointment mirrored in her eyes.
~~~
On their return they passed huntsmen from the estate stringing up a young buck in one of the trees behind the house. “Looks like the hunt was successful,” Brandt said.
The women looked away. “It’s sad to think an hour ago the buck was running free,” Sophia replied.
“Men must eat,” Johann retorted.
“Don’t worry,” Brandt offered. “In this weather they won’t keep him hanging long.”
They discovered the stables were crammed with overheated horses, over-excited men and harried ostlers.
Sophia’s father frowned when he noticed Mut was riderless.
“He’s gone lame,” she explained. “Brandt warned me, but I wouldn’t listen.”
Her father arched his brows, evidently surprised she’d used his give
n name.
Brandt cleared his throat and addressed her father. “It’s an inflammation. Difficult to detect, but common in this kind of heat. Rest won’t be enough. I recommend further treatment.”
Her father tapped the toe of his boot with his riding crop. “I must warn you. The ostlers and stable lads have their hands full at the moment.”
Sophia deemed it unlikely the perpetually grouchy ostler would carry out any instructions he deemed unnecessary, even if he wasn’t overwhelmed with dozens of extra horses. She was about to protest that whatever needed to be done to help her beloved Mut, she would do it, but Brandt spoke first. “Compresses should be applied to his leg, hot followed by cold. Then a liniment, and a mustard poultice. To be kept on all night.”
Sophia clenched her fists. She wanted to help her horse, but tonight was the Maiden’s Banquet, on the morrow the ceremony in which she was to play an important role as the bride’s best friend and sister to the groom. Then there was the wedding feast. There’d be scant time to…
“With your permission, Herr Graf,” Brandt said to her father. “I will make sure the horse is well taken care of.”
She wanted to rain kisses of gratitude on his sensuous mouth, but her father’s frown reminded her that this man wasn’t a stable boy. During their talk at the waterfall she’d come to think of him as more than a guest. But they’d been forewarned he was to be watched. Assassinations weren’t unknown. “I couldn’t expect that of you,” she murmured lamely. “You’d miss the festivities.”
His eyes widened. “My pavilion is a short walk away. The ostler must have horse liniment. If instructions are left with the kitchen workers for the compresses and the poultice, I will leave Mut in the capable hands of my men. Vidar will know what to do while I am at the festivities.”
He was teasing her. She knew it from the glint in his eye and the way his mouth edged up at the corners with a hint of a smile. Yet there was something else in his expression. Wistfulness? Sadness? Resignation?
It was unlikely he’d come to the wedding willingly, a lone Franken trapped in the midst of a celebration deep in Saxon territory. He wasn’t yet a count, and must be keenly aware of the insult Duke Conrad had offered in sending him. He probably couldn’t wait to leave. If anyone was in danger of being assassinated…
She’d seen an unexpectedly vulnerable side of him at the waterfall, and her throat constricted at the ghastly thought of this beautiful man lying dead in a pool of blood.
She swatted away a pesky horsefly, grateful nevertheless that the buzzing insect had jolted her back to the stable. Her father tapped the riding crop against his palm. “Sophia, perhaps you could inform Cook that soldiers will be sent to fetch the items necessary to help your horse?”
She nodded like a puppet, her feet fixed to the dirt floor as she watched Brandt lead Mut away, murmuring soothing words to the animal that cocooned her agitated heart in a blanket of warmth.
A HOUSE WHERE LOVE DWELLS
Still preoccupied with thoughts of Brandt and the waterfall, Sophia watched the maidservant put the finishing touches to Kristina’s hair. The Haldens were a noble Saxon family who lived on Wolfenberg lands. Every Friday for as long as either could remember the girls had received instruction in playing the lyre and dulcimer from a succession of music masters. Poking fun at the various maestros kept them amused. Sophia had no sister, so Kristina was allowed to stay at the Wolfenberg estate for the weekend.
They were more like sisters than best friends, and when Kristina confided her fear that she knew nothing about being a married woman, Sophia was comfortable offering to pass on some of the things her mother had told her about pleasing a husband—including in bed.
It seemed natural to share the knowledge her liberal-minded mother had provided. However, every time she thought to broach the subject with Kristina, visions of Brandt Rödermark danced in her head. Discussion of private male and female parts seemed innocent and natural with her mother. Put a handsome man in the picture and Sophia suddenly understood what desire was as it spiralled its way into those intimate places.
Once the servant stopped fiddling with Kristina’s hair, they would make their way to the main hall for the Maiden’s Banquet. It was now or never. She took the comb from the maidservant’s hand. “I’ll finish. You can go.”
Kristina eyed her curiously. Chewing on her bottom lip, Sophia waited until the girl had left, then said, “I promised to talk to you about…you know…husband and wife matters.”
Kristina rose from the padded bench, smoothing out the silk skirts of her pink gown. “Don’t worry,” she replied, her face reddening. “I had a long talk with your mother.”
Relief flooded Sophia. “I might have known she would take you under her wing.”
“Well, my parents spend most of their time arguing with each other and barely acknowledge my existence. They talk of nothing else other than the fact I’m marrying a count’s eldest son. I cannot imagine having the conversation with my mother that I had with yours.”
Sophia hugged her friend, tamping down an unreasonable twinge of jealousy. “We can thank my grandmother. Agneta FitzRam believed her daughter should be prepared for the delights of the marriage bed.”
Kristina laughed. “According to my mother’s brief advice there is no delight, only pain and forbearance.”
Sophia pondered the notion. “I suppose it depends on a woman’s experience. My grandmother must have enjoyed sexual congress with my grandfather, otherwise why would she…?” She stopped, noticing the blush creeping over Kristina’s face. She too was feeling overheated. “I’m sorry. Here I am talking like a married woman, when in reality I know nothing.”
Kristina shook her head. “No, I think you are right. Your parents are obviously still in love. I often wonder if mine ever cared for each other.”
“That’s the reason they have allowed me to choose my own suitor,” Sophia said softly. “You know about my father’s dreadful experience with his first wife, Johann’s mother. He wants me to marry for love.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “He’s always wanted the same for Johann, and here you are, not just a loving wife for my brother, but a sister for me.”
Tears welled in Kristina’s eyes.
“Goodness,” Sophia exclaimed, “we mustn’t appear at your banquet looking like we’ve been weeping.”
They laughed, but stopped abruptly, startled by a tapping at the door. “Komm,” Sophia said.
Johann and Lute entered together, both smiling.
“I have come to escort my bride,” Johann crowed, puffing out his chest.
“And I’m stuck with my sister,” Lute added with a mock pout.
Kristina accepted her groom’s arm.
Sophia stuck out her tongue at her brother and linked her arm in his, stifling the urge to retort that though he was handsome, he wasn’t her preferred escort either.
A certain Franken was.
~~~
Vidar patted the mustard poultice fastened around the palfrey’s leg. “That should hold, my lord,” he declared.
Brandt’s adjutant was probably the only person who knew more about horses than he did. A compulsion to touch the stricken leg nearly overtook him, but he didn’t want the man to think he didn’t trust his judgement. “Good work,” he said, stroking Mut’s nose. “He’ll be as good as new.”
“The compresses have already done wonders,” Vidar conceded. “He’s a fine beast. Well loved.”
As his second-in-command strode off towards the meal tent, it occurred to Brandt that Vidar rarely spoke more than a word or two at a time, and certainly never shared opinions.
He glanced over to the manor house in the distance. The summer sun wouldn’t go down for another hour or so, but they’d lit candles and the place glowed like a welcoming beacon in the evening light.
He leaned his forehead against Mut’s. “You’re lucky,” he whispered to the horse. “Someone loves you.”
On the breeze came the sounds of music—a shawm,
and a lute mayhap. The festivities were underway.
His thoughts went again to the time he’d spent with Sophia von Wolfenberg. She was everything a man could want in a wife; beautiful, intelligent, educated. She’d stirred his body and his soul.
She was in that house, laughing, mayhap dancing, enjoying the feasting. He should put in an appearance for the sake of protocol, but it was more than probable he’d be shunned again as an ally of the Staufens. A shiver crept up his spine at the prospect of Sophia treating him as a enemy. He craved the warm smile that had melted his frozen heart at the waterfall.
The arrival of his squire jolted him out of his reverie. What was he thinking? He was to marry Dorothea, though they’d yet to sign a formal agreement, possible now she was about to come of age. It was an understanding between their parents, agreed upon when he was five and she a newborn. Yet here he stood, holding on to a sick horse, hoping to feel even a trace of the attention Sophia lavished on the beast.
Drogo cleared his throat. “Don’t you want the food now, sir?”
He looked down at the trencher of victuals the lad held out to him, then let go of the horse and accepted the food. “Of course,” he replied, resolved to stop acting like a lovesick fool. A good night’s rest was what he needed. Tomorrow he would attend the wedding ceremony and feast, as was expected, then be on his way home to Rödermark and Dorothea.
RESTLESS
Sophia’s parents were providing the calibre of hospitality they were famous for. The food at the Maiden’s Banquet surpassed everyone’s expectations, thanks to her mother’s close supervision of the extra cooks taken on for the wedding.
She sat amid a throng of people celebrating boisterously and was genuinely happy for her half-brother and his bride-to-be.
Yet a feeling nagged that something was missing.
Perhaps it was simply the prospect of losing the closeness she and Kristina shared. Mayhap laughing at her brothers’ antics had worn her out. Lute seemed determined to be the life of the party, and Kon tagged along as usual. Johann was taking the ribbing well and Kristina’s rosy cheeks glowed with happiness.
Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1) Page 4