The Princess Spy (30 page)

“I am not angry.”

“Good. Because I found you interesting, nevertheless.”

“Interesting?”

“Yes, of course. And when you went on and on about Lord Claybrook, saying he was a murderer, how your eyes did sparkle and grow dark! It was quite exciting. I have only seen them like that a few times since.”

“Even I am intrigued by me.”

“It’s true. And then when I saw you in the stable, after you were well again, I thought you quite handsome. I even thought about fixing you up with one of the maids, because, I will admit, I am a great matchmaker.”

“Fixing me up with one of the maids?” The idea might have made him sad if it were not so ludicrous.

“Oh yes, but don’t worry. I would certainly not do that now, not now that I know you are an English earl’s son.”

“You think me not good enough for one of your maids?”

“You are jesting.” She plucked some weeds and threw them at him.

He chuckled. Finally, staring into her eyes, he asked her seriously, “Who would you match me with now?” He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

“Now?” Her expression was sober, almost frightened. “Now . . . I would not presume . . .” Sounding breathless, she said, “You are too handsome for anyone I know.”

“Not too handsome for . . . you.” He should not say such a thing, but knowing he only had one more day alone with her made him reckless.

“Me? Why do you say that?” Now she looked as if she was holding her breath.

“Because you said you thought me handsome in my stable clothes, and we’ve already established that you are beautiful.”

She seemed to slowly recover her composure. “I did not agree, and therefore that is not established.” But a jaunty look came into her eyes.

“It is mutual, then. You think I am handsome, and I think you are beautiful.” He stood up and went to her, holding out his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. “I’ll carry Toby.” She stood only a few inches away, staring back at him. But as long as he believed she couldn’t care for him enough to leave her family, he should not be teasing her so flirtatiously. It was not wise, for many reasons.

She stepped back. With temptation out of reach, he bent to pick up Toby and continue their journey.

Margaretha had thought Colin might kiss her. But that was foolish. He was probably thinking of no such thing. He was honorable and good and would not kiss her, knowing they were not betrothed and were extremely unlikely ever to be so.

What was happening to her? Was she so carried away by his broad shoulders and intense blue eyes and thick, wavy black hair?

No. It was more the sweetness in his face, the gentleness in his movements as he picked Toby up off the ground, tenderly holding him in his arms until the child woke up and insisted on walking. It was the uncomplaining courage of continuing on, thinking first of her, of Toby, and of the needs of those back in Hagenheim, and not of himself. It was the knowledge that she could trust him completely, with her life . . . maybe even with her heart.

He would never hurt her, not deliberately. It was only her own stubborn heart that seemed set on dooming itself. Their playful conversation had stirred up thoughts and feelings that would have been better left buried.

Soon their journey would be over. Would he try to leave her in Marienberg and go riding off with her cousin and his men to save the world from Claybrook? Probably. But even if she did manage to convince them to allow her to ride with them back to Hagenheim, she likely would not get another chance to speak with Colin alone. And after all they had been through together, that thought weighed her down and warred with the peace she had about reaching Marienberg, and Hagenheim, in time to save her family.

When they finally lay down to sleep, it was another cold night, and again they placed Toby between them and rolled up in the blanket. But instead of falling immediately to sleep as he had before, Toby chattered on about all kinds of things. He said to Margaretha, “The goose girl who herds the geese for Master Steinbek kisses the stable boy on the mouth. Why don’t you kiss Colin? I have never seen you kiss him.”

Margaretha felt her face turn red, even though she knew Colin, who was lying on the other side of Toby, couldn’t understand Toby’s German, and Toby had asked the question innocently enough.

“He said something about me,” Colin said, eyeing her sus
piciously. “Translate, please. It is very dull listening to the two of you chatter on and not understand a word.”

Margaretha cleared her throat. “Toby wants to know why you and I don’t kiss like Master Steinbek’s servant girl and stable boy.”

Toby piped up and asked, “Is it because you and Colin are good friends, like brother and sister?”

“I heard my name again,” Colin said with a playful smile.

“This conversation is a little . . . awkward.” Margaretha tried to laugh her embarrassment away, but it wasn’t working. “Toby asked if it is because we are good friends and like brother and sister.”

“Well?” Colin raised his eyebrows at her. “Is that the reason?” He lost his amused expression, and his eyes turned serious and penetrating. “Are we like brother and sister?”

Margaretha’s throat was suddenly dry and she swallowed. She spoke to Toby in German.

“What did you say to him?” Colin demanded.

“I said, yes, we are good friends, but that I would ask you why we don’t kiss.” Her breath seemed to desert her, making her voice sound raspy.

He was facing the fire, which cast deep shadows over his features. He stared hard at her, but she couldn’t seem to look away. “We don’t kiss,” he finally said, speaking slowly, “because we are not betrothed . . . and because we don’t want to do something that we would later regret.”

“Yes. Exactly.” He was perfectly right and reasonable in what he said, so why did his words make tears come to her eyes — tears of longing?

She translated what he said to Toby, who still looked wide awake.

“What is betrothed? What is regret?” he asked.

“Betrothed is when you have agreed to marry someone, and regret is feeling sorry you did something and wishing you had not done it.”

“Why aren’t you and Colin betrothed?”

Colin said, “Translate, please.”

“He asks why we aren’t betrothed.” Margaretha’s stomach had tied itself into a knot before she even finished her sentence.

Once again, Colin fixed her with that intense gaze of his. Margaretha bit her lip to make sure it didn’t tremble.

“We aren’t betrothed because — ” He stopped.

What was he about to say? If only he would finish his thought! She was afraid of what he would say, but also longed to know what he was thinking.

“Because I am an Englishman and must return to England.”

Was it her imagination? Or did he say the words as if they wrenched his heart? He could have said they weren’t betrothed because they weren’t in love, or because he could hardly wait to leave the Holy Roman Empire and marry an English girl. He could have said many different things.

He swallowed. “And because Margaretha loves her family and would miss them horribly if she left and went with me.”

So he thought he knew her feelings on the subject. Margaretha translated for Toby.

Toby yawned. Good. Perhaps he would soon fall asleep and stop asking these questions.

Instead, Toby asked, “Doesn’t Colin think you’re pretty? Doesn’t Colin want to stay here and marry you?”

She knew Colin would insist she translate, so she went ahead and did so. Once again, all the air seemed to get sucked out of her throat and she couldn’t say the words without sounding embarrassingly out of breath.

His expression softened, but his eyes were still intense. “I think Margaretha is beautiful. But if I stayed in Hagenheim and worked as a stable boy, I don’t think her father would agree to our marriage.” He reached out and softly stroked her cheek with his fingers. “But there is a part of me that very much regrets that. Very . . . very much.” He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead.

Margaretha felt a thrill of pleasure at his touch. Thank goodness Toby was there. But she suspected Colin wouldn’t have said what he did if Toby had not been safely tucked between them, forming the perfect little-boy barrier. She glanced down at Toby. His eyes were closed and he was asleep. Uh-oh.

Colin hadn’t seemed to notice. He said, “But perhaps Margaretha doesn’t feel the same way.”

She could discern no hostility in his eyes, only questions. Her heart beat so hard it hurt her chest.

Colin touched her forehead with two knuckles, running them over her temple. He pulled his hand back and tucked it underneath him. “You told me about those suitors that you rejected. If I were your suitor, would you have rejected me?”

“I . . . I rejected those suitors because . . .” The realization came over her like something that had been right in front of her, but she was only now seeing. “They didn’t love me. They didn’t like that I talk too much. They looked at me as if they didn’t think I could have anything worth saying. Or as if I was a lack-wit. They were annoyed or preoccupied or didn’t care. And I want to be loved. I want to love and be loved, and to be respected. I don’t want someone to love me simply because I am a duke’s daughter. I don’t want a disinterested husband. I want someone who loves me passionately. And you, Colin . . . I think . . .” Once again, her breath betrayed her and she had to pause, her heart pounding in her ears. “I think whenever you marry . . . you will love your wife . . . with great passion and respect. That’s what I want.”

There. She hoped she hadn’t said too much. But she was more afraid she would say too little. Now if only they could both fall asleep, and if only he would not reject her in his reply.

Chapter
28

Colin’s heart leapt into his throat at what she
was saying.

He probably sounded like a lovesick boy, but he couldn’t stop himself from replying, “You deserve every bit of love and passion and respect that you desire.” What did she want him to say? And what did
he
want?

He had one more day with her. Would it be enough? Or would he go back to England and forever wonder what might have been?

Her eyes locked on his, and she whispered, “
Gute Nacht
, Colin.”

He wasn’t sure he’d sleep at all tonight, but he whispered, “Good night, Margaretha.”

The next morning, when the sun was beginning to lighten the sky, Margaretha left Toby asleep in the blanket. Colin was already up and getting a drink from the stream. Margaretha went deeper into the woods to have a few minutes of privacy.

She enjoyed early mornings. What could be better than listening to the first songs of the birds and seeing the squirrels scurrying through the leaves on the ground? It was peaceful.

Today was the last day of her walking journey with Colin, if God so willed it. Her feet were sore and tired, she had not had a decent bath since she left Hagenheim, but she would miss being with Colin. And she hoped he would miss her.

But she didn’t want to think about that.

She turned around to head back to Toby and Colin, but every direction looked the same.

She stared hard at the trees. Nothing looked particularly familiar. She searched for signs of where she had walked, broken branches or trampled leaves, but she could find no evidence of which direction she had come from. Her heart began to pound.