Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1) (6 page)

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.

Sophia had taken part in a few of the
reigen
, holding hands with others in the circle and chanting the refrain along with everyone else.
 

She swallowed a yawn, uncertain as to the reason for her fatigue. Perhaps too much sunshine and worry over Mut had drained her spirits. She’d looked forward to this Maiden’s Banquet for weeks, now she was…

Bored
.

The admission was unsettling. She didn’t notice her father approaching and was startled when he sat down beside her. “
Liebling
, why are you sitting here alone?”

She shrugged, wishing she knew the answer.

He put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll find the right partner,” he whispered.

She leaned into him, thankful for a father who instinctively understood her disquiet.

“Johann mentioned you had a long conversation at the waterfall with Duke Conrad’s envoy,” he said after a brief silence. “What’s your impression of him?”

She didn’t blame Johann. Indeed his actions demonstrated his concern for her, and there was no censure in her father’s voice. She risked a glance at his face, but he continued to watch the revellers. Perhaps he saw more than she imagined, more than she was willing to admit.
 

What to say? His beauty took my breath away? I can’t stop thinking about him? His voice enthrals me? I think we are soul mates. He makes me warm in places…

“He is…handsome,” she stammered lamely.

Her father chuckled. “He is that. And a man who knows horses.”

He’d thrown her a lifeline. “
Ja
. He is very taken with Mut.”

He tightened his embrace. “I don’t think that’s all he is taken with, Sophia.”

The room seemed to tilt, the pulse at her throat ran wild, someone must have lit a roaring fire, voices boomed in her ears. She grasped the crucifix pendant at her neck, seeking reassurance. “I don’t know what…”

He patted her hand. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, coming to his feet. “You’re a sensible girl. I trust you.”

Sensible
!

The word echoed in her head as she watched him walk away to rejoin the fun. She didn’t want to be
sensible
. She wanted to be loved by a man in the way her father loved her mother. Recklessly, passionately. Surely he of all people understood that?

Yesterday she’d jested about living her life as a spinster. Now she was beset by a wanton desire for a man with whom she had a fleeting acquaintance, hoping against hope he might emerge from the darkness outside at any moment.

She must have inhaled some noxious substance in the forest that had brought on this malady.

~~~

Brandt lay on a camp bed, staring into the shadowed peak of the pavilion. Standard torches flamed throughout the encampment, chasing away the darkness.

He never had any difficulty falling asleep, but now sleep eluded him. Mayhap it simply wasn’t dark enough.

He folded his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles, doubting too much light was the reason.

Perhaps he was concerned for the lame horse.
 

He turned onto his side, almost laughing out loud at that absurd notion. It wasn’t as though Mut was at death’s door, and he could hear Vidar speaking softly to the beast not far away.

He sat bolt upright when the reason for his restlessness became clear. He’d failed in his duty as Duke Conrad’s envoy. The faint strains of music coming from the manor house indicated the festivities were still underway. The emperor was likely there, as well as the hated Duke Heinrich of Saxony. There had probably been many snide remarks about the absence of Conrad’s envoy.

He got out of bed and shook awake his squire. Drogo startled, nigh on falling off his cot. He regretted waking the lad, but time was of the essence. “Get my clothes, I’m going to the manor house.”

His squire scrambled to his feet and retrieved the clothing, yawning widely as he helped get the shirt over his master’s head.

Within five minutes, the faithful servant had him dressed and booted. “You’re a good squire, Drogo,” Brandt told him, realizing he didn’t praise the boy enough for his efficiency and loyalty.

Drogo tried hard not to yawn. “I’ll wait up for you, my lord.”

Brandt shook his head. “
Nein
. Go back to bed. I won’t be long. I’ll pay my respects to the emperor and be back before you know it.”

Even in the half-light he saw Drogo’s eyes widen. “You’re going alone? This is enemy territory.”

“The men are probably asleep. It’s a wedding. I’ll be safe walking to the manor house.”

He opened the canvas, stepped outside, then closed the opening behind him as Drogo regained his cot.

The air had cooled slightly but he looked forward to the walk.

Vidar, still perched on a stool beside Mut, came to attention, but Brandt waved him away. “I’ll be gone half an hour. Just to the manor house.”

“I’ll escort you,” Vidar insisted.

“
Nein
. Stay with the horse. He needs you more than I do.”

Vidar frowned, then seemed to appreciate the jest and smiled—a rare event, but Brandt deemed it best not to remark on it.

He strode off across the field in the direction of the house still ablaze with light. As he got closer he detected a sweet perfume on the warm breeze. Honeysuckle maybe. He inhaled deeply, the aroma filling his mind with images of Sophia von Wolfenberg. Her lovely face tilted to the sun, the incredible blonde hair, the breasts that looked just the right size to fill his hands, the tempting smile. A woman who cared about horses.

He paused and looked back to the field of tents and pavilions, narrowing his gaze to take better advantage of the vision dancing behind his eyes. Sophia naked…