by Kristen Reed
Ingrid’s Engagement
How A Beauty Tamed A Beast
Kristen Reed
Ingrid’s Engagement: How A Beauty Tamed A Beast by Kristen Reed
Copyright © 2017 Kristen Reed
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
Front Cover Photo Credit: © kharchenkoirina / Adobe Stock
Other Tiles by Kristen Reed
The Fairetellings Series
The Jilted Bride: A Footnote to Cinderella’s Happiness
Eirwen’s Dream: Inside Snow White’s Sleeping Mind
Ingrid’s Engagement: How A Beauty Tamed A Beast
Salvation by the Sea: The Tale of the Innkeeper’s Maid
The Beginnings Series
Out of the Garden
Five Nights With Pharaoh
The Clara Robinson Series
The Way of Escape
Chapter 1
When the King of Villriket’s devastating war reached Anselm that frigid December, no one was more prepared than Edmund Kappel. The Count of Anselm became intimately acquainted with combat’s destruction and uncertainty ten years before when he saved his king’s life during their last war with the Villriketians. As a reward for his gallantry on the battlefield, King Ansgar promoted Edmund from landgrave to count. The ruler also gave him the wealth, land, and responsibilities that came with his new title. In spite of all his riches, Edmund had something far more precious than his sprawling estate to protect that winter.
His three beloved children.
Ansgar’s unabated abhorrence for his neighbor to the north had come back to haunt him and Edmund’s family as Villriket’s vengeful king, Viggo, invaded Schlagefilde and drew perilously close to the castle where he and his cherished children resided. Despite Edmund’s past loyalty to King Ansgar, the ruler didn’t lift a single pampered finger to defend the people of Anselm from Viggo.
Instead, he ordered every able-bodied man under fifty in the kingdom of Schlagefilde to defend his palace. This egregious act left the commoners and any noblemen who didn’t live at court utterly defenseless. Depriving his people of protection from a foreign army was the latest in a long line of offenses committed by the profoundly selfish king. Unfortunately, Edmund’s family was mere hours away from suffering the retribution Ansgar had inspired with his relentless thirst for Villriketian blood.
“Is visiting the Villriketians’ camp yourself truly necessary?” the count’s eldest daughter, Ingrid implored, wringing her porcelain hands. “Can’t you send a messenger or guard to contend with the king?”
“I could, but a warrior like Viggo will never respect a man who won’t speak with him eye to eye. Dietrich tried to communicate with him through an emissary only to receive his rejected offer ripped to shreds with greater demands from the king,” Edmund said. “Facing the man may not be ideal, but King Ansgar abandoned us. Dealing with Viggo myself is the only way to save the men and women God has placed in my care.”
Ingrid lowered her hazel eyes to the floor and fought back the torrent of tears threatening to burst forth. When her mother, Carina, passed away five years ago, she grieved deeply and still lived with the pain her untimely death inflicted. Albrecht and Doris were too young to remember their mother, but each room in their home held both joyful and painful memories of the kindhearted countess that haunted Ingrid daily. If Viggo expressed his dislike for her father’s terms by ripping his body open with a bayonet or dagger instead of ripping up a mere message, living in the beautiful castle without him would be unbearable.
After fastening the shiny buttons of his scarlet military jacket, Edmund finally looked at his flaxen-haired daughter, and the sight of her despair made his heart ache. The count took her hands in his and she met his gaze, a stray tear snaking down her flushed cheek.
“I will come back to you,” he swore. “You have nothing to fear today.”
Ingrid nodded, too afraid of unleashing the sobs she struggled to hold back if she spoke. Edmund gave her a kiss on the forehead and pulled her into his arms. Though he prayed for the Lord to give her strength and comfort in his absence, he knew the gravity of his departure weighed heavily on her tender heart. Since her childhood, the young beauty always giggled at the tickle of his moustache, but laughter had abandoned her long before that melancholy moment.
Instead, Ingrid pulled away and blotted her glistening eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief while she walked to the dresser and picked up her father’s Pickelhaube. After placing the black and gold spiked helmet over his graying blond locks, the nineteen year-old maiden kissed her father’s cheek.
“I’ll be praying for you, Papa.”
Before Edmund could respond, his rambunctious twins came tearing into the room to wish their father farewell. Ingrid envied their blissful blindness to the chaos surrounding them. Nevertheless, she greeted her brother and sister with a smile while they clung to their father’s legs to prevent him from leaving. Alas, their sweet, innocent faces failed to chase away the sinking sensation in her stomach that none of their lives would ever be the same again.
♦ ♦ ♦
For the next six hours, Ingrid paced back and forth in their foyer, her eyes watching the old grandfather clock and her hope waning with every resounding chime. In the event that the vicious Viggo proved to be as beastly as the rumors said and the bloodthirsty king killed her father in a fit of rage, Ingrid would be the new Countess of Anselm. For all her years observing Edmund’s hard work and leadership, she was no more ready to take up her father’s mantle than she was to assume her mother’s
Furthermore, her position wouldn’t be secure until she found a husband to oversee the county with her. Few men would respect her as the county’s leader without a man by her side, but she couldn’t think of a single man in Anselm who she could bear to spend her life with … or one who would tolerate her.
The sound of a door opening distracted Ingrid from her frantic thoughts two chimes after the clock announced the twelve o’clock hour. The young maiden whipped around to greet her father only to see one of his men instead. While the aged former soldier looked unharmed, the panic in his wide brown eyes stirred more apprehension in Ingrid’s thundering heart.
“Your father is on his way with King Viggo to sign off on the terms of their truce. They will be here in five minutes,” Franz wheezed. “He wants you to take the twins into the tunnels and not to come out until he says to.”
“Thank you, Franz.”
Ingrid picked up her skirts and sprinted to the twins’ playroom, where their nurse, Gerda, watched over them.
“Is Papa home?” Doris asked.
“Not yet, but let’s play a little game until he gets back,” she suggested with a smile. “Have you ever played in the tunnels before?”
The twins shook their heads.
“Well, when you play in the tunnels, the goal is to be as quiet as possible. If we play the game exceptionally well, we’ll force Papa to come find us when he returns! Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“Yeah!” Albrecht exclaimed.
“I want to play,” Doris adde
d, abandoning her doll as she climbed to her feet.
“Great! The game starts now, so don’t make a peep and walk as quietly as possible,” Ingrid whispered.
Ingrid placed her index finger to her lips then took her siblings’ hands while Gerda gathered her belongings … including the gun Edmund gave her before his departure. Upon leaving the playroom, the foursome crept down the hall to the library. Once inside, Ingrid glided over to the bookshelf to the left of the roaring fireplace. She slid the miniature bronze globe on the third shelf to the right until the tell-tale click reached her ears.
The bookshelf moved forward two feet, and Ingrid pushed it to the left to reveal the dark, chilly passageway. After seizing the two lanterns hanging from the back of the bookshelf, the young maiden lit them and handed one to the nurse.
Gerda ushered her charges into the tunnel and Ingrid filed in after them, turning the crank in the wall until the bookshelf slid back in place. Without the fire’s warmth to chase away the winter cold, the four began to shiver, but Doris and Albrecht remained silent. A fierce determination to win the game spurred the children on as they set off down the stone tunnel. Though the dank corridor descended below the estate and led to the old, unused well several yards outside its walls, they stayed within fifty feet of the entrance.
For five minutes, the twins played a game during which they took turns trying to slap each other’s hands while their nurse made sure they didn’t giggle too loudly. Pacing mere inches from the entrance to the tunnel, Ingrid eagerly waited for her father or some other messenger to come bearing peaceful news.
When the low grumble of masculine voices reached her ears, Ingrid’s eyes widened and she strained to listen to their conversation. Once the speaking became louder, she recognized her father’s voice and determined that the accented growl mingling with his belonged to King Viggo. While most people from Villriket tended to over pronounce certain consonants if they learned English through the written word, Viggo’s pronunciation was perfect. Alas, neither his fluency nor his deep, velvety voice comforted the count’s daughter as she eavesdropped on the men’s exchange.
“I’m sorry we don’t have more to welcome you with, Your Majesty. We were preparing for war not a royal guest,” Edmund said.
“I don’t need a wasteful banquet or dancing. As soon as we’ve settled everything, I’ll be on my way to that coward’s palace in Bjartyra,” Viggo seethed.
Ingrid heard the rustling of papers as the men began discussing the terms of their agreement. The people of Anselm would not stand in Viggo’s way as he traveled to the capital. In return, Edmund would pay him tribute after the Villriketian king triumphed over Ansgar. If Viggo lost the war, Edmund would burn the agreement lest King Ansgar discover their truce.
Once Edmund finished penning the document, he read it aloud to ensure he accurately recorded every detail they discussed, but Viggo interrupted him halfway through the reading.
“What a beautiful painting,” the king said, his voice softening a bit. “Is she your wife?”
“No. Now, you’ll receive three hundred—”
“So she’s your daughter?”
Several moments of uneasy silence passed between the two men before Edmund answered curtly.
“Yes. Three hund—”
“What is her name?”
“Ingrid.”
“Ingrid is an excellent name,” he approved. “Has she been claimed by someone?”
Edmund hesitated.
“Well … I—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Viggo snarled.
“The king’s youngest nephew mentioned courting her, but nothing is set in stone.”
“She’s far too exquisite for one of Ansgar’s sniveling kinsmen,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll take her.”
Ingrid nearly stopped breathing, but she leaned closer to the wall, determined not to miss a single word of the conversation.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Keep your money, land, and harvest. Give me Ingrid’s hand in marriage, and I will spare your county.”
“Your Majesty, I doubt she would consent to marrying you.”
“Then command her to do it!” he roared. “You are the master of this house, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but my daughter’s happiness means the world to me. I won’t force her to marry a strange man from a foreign land.”
“Do I look like some common merchant’s son? I’m a king, and I want her to be my queen,” he insisted. “If you’d rather keep her happy and save her charms for someone who will likely be dead before the week’s end, go ahead. However, I won’t promise to show your little county mercy if she isn’t by my side.”
“Your Majesty, I—”
“Wait,” Ingrid shouted, frantically turning the crank and opening the tunnel wide enough to slip back into the library. “Please don’t hurt any of our people. I’ll marry you.”
Ingrid’s heart boomed louder than a steam engine as Viggo turned his glare from her father and gave her the full weight of his icy blue eyes.
Even though he kept his long, dark mahogany locks back in a low ponytail, she still found the foreign king’s age impossible to discern. Viggo’s unkempt, graying beard, which stopped an inch above of his uniform’s third brass button, obscured most of his face. The king’s wild facial hair would have held her rapt attention if not for a long-healed scar, which split his left eyebrow in two. The little Ingrid could see of his face was peeling and sunburnt from spending countless days waging war in the merciless winter sun. While she couldn’t tell whether the king was handsome or not, the wild look in his eyes sent a chill down her spine that had little to do with the drafty tunnel behind her.
Edmund clenched and unclenched his jaw, fighting the urge to berate his daughter for placing herself in such a precarious position. Of course, he couldn’t chastise her with the scornful King of Villriket standing a yard away, so he remained silent.
“I guess you don’t know your daughter as well as you thought. She clearly realizes it’s better to be a foreigner’s queen than a countryman’s duchess.”
“I’m not marrying you because of your title, Your Majesty. My people’s safety is my only concern.”
“Well, at least you’re honest. That’s more than I can say for King Ansgar.”
“Am I to come to the palace after you capture it?” she asked, her voice trembling more the longer she bore the weight of Viggo’s unflinching stare.
“No, you’ll leave with me now.”
“A respectable lady like Ingrid doesn’t belong in a war zone. Her accompanying you now is neither proper nor convenient,” Edmund broke in. “She needs accommodations fit for a woman of her caliber, and you would sully her reputation if you forced her to travel with you unsupervised before your wedding.”
“Then you’ll come as well. I won’t have you going behind my back and putting her on a ship to Eusebia as soon as I leave,” the king decided. “One of my men will supervise you in my absence, so pack whatever you need. I’ll send additional escorts to bring you to the camp after sunset.”
When neither the count nor his daughter could muster up a single word to say in response, the gruff royal turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway until he slammed the front door shut moments later.
“Ingrid Carina Kappel, what were you thinking?” Edmund shouted.
“I’m sorry, Papa. I couldn’t let him hurt you or anyone else. Please don’t be cross with me.”
The count shook his head, berating himself for lashing out at his inconveniently selfless daughter.
“I’m sorry. I’m angry with myself, not you,” he sighed. “I should have lied to him when he asked about your painting. Now, if he’s victorious, you’ll be married to that beast for the rest of your life.”
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Ingrid said with a slight smile, flicking a bit of dust off his shoulder. “A man who recognizes Ansgar’s corruption must value uprightness and just
ice to some extent.”
“Yes, but Viggo is not known for having an agreeable personality. He has a frightening temper and a vengeful spirit. This isn’t what I wanted for you.”
“But it’s the hand God dealt me. Besides, don’t you always tell me that what others mean for evil, God frequently uses for a much greater good?”
Gerda and the twins emerged from the passageway before Edmund could reply. Ignoring his breaking heart, he crouched down to greet Doris and Albrecht with kisses and smiles when they ran to him.
“Is it true, Papa? Is Ingrid getting married?” little Doris asked. “I heard you talking in the tunnels.”
Edmund blew air out of his nose and his chin quivered as grief suddenly overwhelmed him. Thankfully, Ingrid spoke on his behalf and spared him the pain of having to confirm the distressing news.
“Yes, you’ll both have a new big brother soon,” she beamed, turning her eyes back to her father. “I’m going to help the staff pack our belongings. Please let me know if you need anything.”
The count nodded and further explained their family’s future to the twins while Ingrid left the library with a soul too burdened by her fear of the future to muster up the hope she so convincingly feigned to assuage her guilt-ridden father’s conscience.
♦ ♦ ♦
When Viggo’s men reached the castle moments before sunset, Edmund and Ingrid had been packed and waiting for hours, silently counting the minutes until their arrival. Asking the Lord for strength, she stopped biting her nails—a detestable childhood habit that reemerged hours before—and jumped to her feet. The taciturn father and daughter departed their estate and boarded the carriage, both praying they would have the chance to see the their beloved home and family again.
The ride from the Count of Anselm’s home to Viggo’s camp on Castle Hill lasted an hour. Ingrid used the time to scrutinize the passing countryside with new eyes. She searched the forest for any indication that King Ansgar’s men were lying in wait for their enemy rather than appreciating the majestic old trees and the cloud-shrouded mountains in the distance. As the camp came into view, Ingrid couldn’t decide whether or not she was relieved that her self-seeking king hadn’t somehow intervened and ended her marriage before it could begin. Edmund’s mind, however, was focused on the younger king.