Firm of purpose, Nicholas approached the matter of Maxim’s lost love. “I’ve heard that Reland and Arabella vent to London a few days after the vedding and that she ordered a complete new vardrobe for her appearance at court. I’ve also heard it cost him a small fortune.” He smiled. “One that he vas vell revarded for, I’m sure.”
Elise lifted a finely arched brow to meet Maxim’s stare and delivered her reproach in a softly spoken comment. “At least Reland knows how to treat a lady.”
Maxim snorted in contempt. “ ‘Twould provoke you much, my dear Elise, if I were to imitate that clod’s manners.” A sneer grew on his lips as he continued. “I dare say the man would ride a maid down in a romantic frenzy, then demand her gratitude for his attention.”
“Do you declaim a man’s reputation in his absence, my lord?” Elise questioned in a guise of innocence. Though his comment was very much her own opinion of Reland, she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing such a confession from her lips. “Have you spied upon the man to know his failings, or are you so confident of your persuasive ability with women that you can set yourself as judge?”
Maxim laughed briefly. “I hardly need to spy upon a man to plumb the depths of his callousness, but as to the other . . . yes!” Bracing an elbow on the table, he leaned forward until his eyes met hers and, with unrelenting conviction, held them in the meager light. “Had you been witness to Reland’s boasts, fair Elise, you’d know he cares no wit for a lady’s pleasure, only his own. What man can boast if he leaves his love still yearning?”
Nicholas fretted as he watched a slight frown of bemusement touch the maid’s brow, drawing a smile from the other. It was obvious she had no idea what Maxim was talking about, and Nicholas worried that her naïveté would so intrigue the man that he would be wont to test her knowledge . . . or the lack of it.
Nicholas welcomed the distraction as large platters of meats and vegetables were laid out before them. The feast would have sated the most rampant cravings of a starving man, and the Hansa captain rubbed his hands together in deep anticipation, showing an enthusiastic impartiality for each and every dish. Not so the Marquess, whose attention never ranged beyond the auburn-haired girl.
“Come, Maxim,” Nicholas coaxed. “There is plenty for all.”
“To be sure,” Maxim agreed as he considered the feast. “But I would rather sup at home.”
“At home?” Nicholas’s brow jutted up in wide wonder. “Yu speak as if yu’re becoming attached to Faulder Castle.”
“ ‘Tis far better than some hovels I’ve sheltered in and no worse than many others. There’s a hearth to warm me, a secure bed, and enough of a roof to give me shelter.”
Elise coughed to clear her suddenly restricted throat as his words brought to mind the trap she had set for him. For an ever-so-brief moment her conscience tormented her far more than any discomfort he would likely experience, but her surge of compassion faded with the judgment that it was but a tiny portion of what he actually deserved. Beneath the questioning regard of the two men, she swallowed daintily and, with a smile, resumed her meal.
Nicholas went back to his argument to forestall any attempt Maxim might make to rush the girl through the meal and drag her away. “I shall be offended, my friend, if yu refuse my hospitality. Here now”—he handed Maxim a wooden trencher—“I bid yu enjoy vhat is before yu, and stop dreaming of vhat is far-off. There is far richer fare here.”
Maxim relaxed back into his chair and considered the other’s advice, reading more into it than Nicholas intended. It was not so difficult to forget what had been left behind in England when the sights were so appealing close at hand. “Your wisdom amazes me, Nicholas,” he stated. ‘Tis meet that I should enjoy the meal with you.” He took a slice of suckling pig on the trencher and extended the invitation he knew the captain was waiting to receive. “You will of course come and sup with us at Faulder Castle when you have time.”
“Of course!” Nicholas eagerly accepted the suggestion, adding to it an invitation of his own. “I shall be visiting my mother in Lubeck next month. As my mother vould deem it inappropriate for Elise and I to travel alone, I hope yu vill consider serving as our escort, as yu, Maxim, are the only likely choice.”
“I can think of nothing that might prevent my going,” Maxim replied. “Perhaps the trip would allow me to visit Karr Hilliard while I’m in Lubeck”
“How many lives do yu have left, my friend?” Nicholas queried in dubious wonder. “Yu’ve already crossed the valley of the dead once, and may I remind yu that it vas by the bare skin of yur teeth. How long vill yu scorn death before yu admit yu are only mortal?”
Elise laid down her fork, having somehow lost her appetite. It was impossible to believe she could feel any concern for a man who had caused her to be forcibly taken from her home, and yet the serious tone of warning in Nicholas’s voice filled her with an inexplicable dread.
Maxim chuckled softly and made light of the other’s concern. “Come, come, Nicholas, you spoil the meal with your gloom. We have much to be thankful for.”
“Ja, that is true. I am indeed a fortunate man.” His eyes settled on Elise with a warmth that Maxim did not miss nor mistake the significance of. It was obvious the captain was becoming increasingly enamored with the maid. Nicholas laughed and slapped his hand on the table. “And yu, my friend, are establishing a new vay of life here in Hamburg, and yu are obviously grateful to be alive. As yu say, ve have many reasons to be thankful.”
“And all is well,” Maxim mused aloud, thoughtfully regarding Elise. She had become introspective, and he wondered where her mind wandered, if it retraced the path of her capture or raced along on some other memory she held dear. “What say you, maid? Do you have cause to be grateful?”
The blue eyes came up to meet his, and there was a long moment of silence as she searched the dark, translucent green for the mockery she was sure would be there. It was not. Instead, she found an honest query and a quiet deference to her right to have an opinion on what mattered most to her. “I appreciate being alive,” she answered softly. “But living isn’t the sole reason for one being grateful; one can be miserable being alive. ‘Tis the heart that determines what value one places on the ability to breathe and live. The secret depends neither on the fame nor the fortune one has achieved. ‘Tis possible for the poor to be happy and content with their meager fare, while some who are rich seriously contemplate death as an escape. The secret is in the heart.”
“A veritable sage,” Maxim commented in wonder. He was amazed that one so young could have so much wisdom. It passed through his mind that in his courtship of Arabella he had never been profoundly touched or impressed by the vastness of her understanding. “And what burns in your heart, maid? What will you make of your life and where are you going?”
“I’ve a desire to find my father and set him free,” she replied quietly. “I’ll not rest ‘til that is done.”
“You do not mention your own desire for freedom,” he pointed out.
Strangely, her freedom had ceased to be the most pressing need in her life. It was only when she thought of rescuing her father that it became a goal that had to be reached. “I answered your question,” she said. “You already know my feelings on the matter.”
Nicholas was uncomfortable with the way the pair excluded him from their conversation, albeit unintentionally. It was almost as if they were becoming oblivious to his presence. He took a sip of wine, muffing various choices of topics to regain their interest, and cleared his throat sharply to draw their attention. “Ja, yu can bet this veather vill be changing come the morrow. It is not often this varm so close to the end of the year.”
Maxim remembered his manners and directed the subject to one wherein the captain could be more at ease. “What hear you from the sea captains, Nicholas? What do they report is happening in the world?”
Nicholas lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Vord travels slowly this time of year, my friend, but I have heard
that vith the fall of Antverp, Elizabeth has agreed to send a sizable company of men under Leicester to help the Dutch provinces. After the assassination of Villiam of Orange, Farnese has become a venging dragon for Spain and poses a threat to England. Elizabeth has refrained this long from declaring var on Spain, yet she continues to play her games vith Philip, setting her ships to snip his purse strings behind his back. Her Sea Dog vanders in search of Spanish vessels he can plunder, vhether near or far. Her recent treaty vith the Netherlands is bound to bring England and Spain into open conflict.” Nicholas chuckled as he continued. “The Spanish have reason to fear vith that voman on the throne of England. She is a crafty vench, to be sure.”
Thoughtfully Maxim traced the tip of his finger around the rim of his tankard. “ ‘Twould seem Philip will eventually grow tired of the struggle with the Dutch. The conflict has been dragging on for at least a score of years or better.”
“Ja, he and his Inquistitores tried to keep the Calvinists out of the Netherlands after his father gave him rule over the provinces. The Spanish reign has been a continuing battle there ever since, but daily the causes for var grow broader and more intricate.”
“You cannot be too fond of the Spanish with your mother being Dutch,” Maxim observed.
“Acb! My mother hates them! Seven and ten years ago her brother vas executed by Alba and his Council of Blood. It does not sit vell vith her that the Hansa continue to trade vith Spain.” He grinned lopsidedly. “If not for her love, I vould be an outcast in my own family.”
They finished their meal with only an occasional word spoken, and when Maxim pressed for their departure, giving the excuse that it would be far too dangerous to travel any later, Nicholas took charge of the situation. He ordered a pair of his men who sat at a nearby table to go along as escort. He would take no argument from Maxim and let it be known that his real concern was for Elise. Maxim could do naught but shrug in submission and follow along as the captain escorted his lady to the door.
Receiving their captain’s command, the pair of men went promptly to obtain mounts for themselves and to fetch the Marquess’s horses which had been left at a livery. They returned and were waiting with the animals when their captain and his lordship stepped from the inn. Elise paused at the door to contemplate the stiffening slush, once again faced with the prospect of ruined slippers. She did not glance up until Nicholas gave a low whistle of appreciation.
“Ja, Maxim, yu’ve got yurself a fine mare there . . . a real beauty, she be.”
A vision of the dumpy white steed came to the fore of Elise’s mind, prompting her to look up in some doubt of Nicholas’s sanity. To her amazement she found the two men admiring a dark liver-chestnut mare. Her faith in Nicholas was abruptly restored, for the beauty of the mare was immediately apparent. Large, expressive eyes were well-set in a gently contoured face, and beneath the flowing mane the long neck arched gracefully. She was a tall, high-headed animal with straight, fine-boned legs. To be sure, she was of a quality quite appropriate for any lady’s palfrey and a far cry from the dumpy white beast she had dubbed Angel.
Maxim took the reins and led the mare to Elise for her inspection. “It may please you to know I’ve sold the other horse and have bought this one for you to ride. She is a fit mount, do you not agree?”
“Truly, my lord,” Elise answered in wide amazement. She could not understand why he had sold the stocky little mare when it amused him so to see her riding it, but to buy such an elegant mount for her purposes seemed out of character. A new sidesaddle and accoutrements had also been purchased.
Elise lifted her gaze to his, unable to tap the wonder of his gift, and murmured with a smile, “I’m taken aback, my lord. I did not expect you to do such a thing. Thank you.”
Captivated by the beauty of her gentle smile, the first she had ever bestowed upon him, Maxim was reluctant to drag his attention from her, but as Nicholas moved forward to assist her in mounting, he stepped away, presenting his back to them. He adjusted his own saddle and slowly stroked Eddy’s neck as the low murmur of their voices reached him. His mind was bombarded with a score of visions of the man kissing her cheek or the slender fingers in farewell and looking into those wondrous blue eyes with the same adoration he had exhibited in the inn.
Of a sudden Maxim was motivated by a roweling desire to be on his way. Gathering the reins, he swung into his saddle and faced the pair, impatient to be gone.
Nicholas took the obvious prodding in stride and gently squeezed the small hand in silent adieu. Solicitously he tucked the cloak over Elise’s skirts before moving away. “Now yu keep a vary eye out for trouble,” he cautioned Maxim. “I vould see yu both again.”
Maxim lifted his hand in a casual salute of farewell and, with a light tap of his heels, nudged Eddy into a slow, high-stepping gait. The girl turned briefly to wave farewell to the lone figure standing in the street, and then settled herself for the long ride to Faulder Castle as his lordship fell in on her right.
The night was still. No slightest breeze stirred the air. It was as if the whole world held its frosted breath. A full moon rising above the hills gave the world a silvery hue dotted with black shadows in places where its light could not reach. Tall trees with thick boughs laden with mantles of white stood stock-still as the snow made a squeaking sound beneath the plodding hooves of the horses. Elise gathered her cloak close about her face and huddled in its warmth, aware that Maxim held the stallion in check beside the mare. That well-muscled beast was wont to prance and flag his tail like a randy cock in a courtship dance. It took a firm, steady hand to keep him under control, and yet Maxim did it with an ease which could have only come from a practiced skill.
Some distance away Fitch settled his bulk in a niche between the well and the stone watering trough about halfway between the main gate and the door of the keep. Earlier he had watched the long winter twilight deepen until the sky became a tapestry of star-bejeweled black velvet. An orange moon had risen eerily above the hills and had paled as it climbed the ebon ether. It was a time he had dreaded most, the coming of night and the rising of the spirits from their graves.
On the matter of ghosts Spence had accepted the premise that if they existed at all, they were limited to the keep, and so he had wrapped himself in secure innocence and snuggled beneath a pile of furs in the stable quarters. He was soon reaping timber with sawing snores that challenged the mightiest, but not so Fitch. That one had drawn the evening watch, and his thoughts plowed a slower furrow of reason as he pondered a wealth of tales that drifted up from his memory to haunt him. Anxious to vacate the keep after Herr Dietrich retired, he had hurriedly banked the fire in the hall, secured the doors, then upon venturing outside had seized an oaken branch as tall as himself and as thick as his forearm. Patrolling the courtyard, he had seen no wraiths or shades. Still, his imagination had thwarted his attempts to remain calm and stalwart in the face of the ever-elusive foe. Elongated shadows, cast by the brilliant moon, stretched across the courtyard and his hackles prickled with the idea that in each a specter could be lurking. He glanced up at the stone structure of the castle keep that towered over him like a dark giant and, with a shudder, gathered several pelts close about his shoulders. Whether his quaking was attributable directly to the cold or some inborn fear, he could not say, but he kept a wary eye upon the portal to see if anything unseemly issued forth.
The night was crisp, but the covering warm. Fitch’s eyelids grew heavy as the night aged. His head nodded, jerked erect, then sagged again to stay as the staff slowly fell across his lap. His sleep was uneasy, his dreams filled with all manner of wraiths evoked by childhood stories and overheard recountings of much-exaggerated tales.
Torches were set in sconces on either side of the door, and they cast forth a welcoming light into the night, guiding the returning party into the compound. The clip-clop of hooves was muffled by the cushioning snow until they reached a point near the well where water had frozen over the ground, leaving the way slick and tr
eacherous. There, the sharp crunch of Eddy’s massive hooves breaking through the icy crust echoed in the courtyard, sounding much like the cracking of bones.
Fitch’s eyes snapped open at the sound, but his mind was still encumbered with the dregs of Stygian dreams. Four cloaked and hooded wraiths astride night-hued steeds loomed before him like some evil horde emerging from the bogs of hell. Their long shadows reached out over him and wavered eerily in the torchlight. Certain that he was about to be seized and slain by the ebon sprites, he let out a wail of pure terror and heaved himself to his feet. Caught between the well and the trough, the forgotten staff resisted the sudden upthrusting movement for a space, then popped free and sailed high into the air as Fitch’s feet clawed at the frozen ground. His rapid effort to run yielded amazingly little progress until he tripped and measured his ponderous bulk on the ice in a grunting slide. The descending staff rattled to the frozen ground directly in front of Elise’s startled steed, then rebounded in a bouncing, zigzagging advance upon the mare. The animal danced away in wide-eyed panic, jerking the reins from Elise’s hands, and though the slender hands grasped the flying mane, the frightened mare was ready to fly.
Barking out a sharp command that brought Fitch to his senses, Maxim whirled the Friesian about and pressed him close against the mare, forcing her to yield ground. Her front hooves left the ground as she began to rear, and he swept out an arm and, with effortless strength, plucked Elise from the saddle. The mare pitched and bucked her way to freedom until one of the guards caught the trailing reins and led her back, soothing her with softly spoken words.
Maxim caught Elise close against him, feeling her tremble as she looped her arms tightly about his neck.
The fragrance of the auburn tresses filled his mind, and for a brief moment he yielded to an urge to savor the tantalizing scent more fully by turning his face into her hair.
“Are you all right?” he whispered, moving his lips closer to her ear.
So Worthy My Love Page 24