The Princess Spy (4 page)

“How unfortunate that his injuries have him so addled,” Margaretha whispered.

“Perhaps he will recover his senses in a few days,” Frau Lena answered.

Margaretha set back to work, dabbing at his bloody head wound. Lena leaned over to examine it and said he needed stitches. “But I’m afraid to try to stitch him up. He might wake up and injure himself further.”

Might he not also injure Frau Lena?

A few minutes later, he awakened again, groaning.

“Now will you tell me where you hurt?” Margaretha frowned down at him, wondering if he would try to get up again. What made him so frantic?

He only blinked at her. “Where am I?”

“You are at
Hagenheim Burg
, Hagenheim Castle.”

“Thank God.” He blinked, then licked his swollen lips. “Who are you?”

“I am Margaretha, the oldest daughter of Duke Wilhelm, and this is Frau Lena, our healer.” Margaretha indicated the thin, red-haired woman behind her. “You must listen to her and do as she says, for she is trying to help you.”

“When might I be able to speak to Duke Wilhelm?”

Margaretha shook her head at his boldness. “You have not told me who you are.”

“I do not want to endanger you. I need to speak to your father first.”

“You are in no condition to have a meeting with the duke.” Margaretha smiled indulgently as she tucked the blanket around him. “If you lie still and answer Frau Lena’s questions, I will try to arrange for you to meet with my father when you are feeling better.”
And looking and smelling better.
“You did not answer my question about where you hurt.”

His jaw clenched. He seemed to try to take a deep breath, but he winced, then took several shallow breaths. “I am grateful for your help to me, Lady . . . What did you say your name was?”

“Though you refuse to tell me yours, I shall tell you mine again. It is Margaretha.”

“Lady Margaretha. Forgive my lack of manners.” He spoke slowly, as he was obviously in pain. “And please tell your healer I am grateful to her as well. But the man who tried to kill me would come after me again if he knew I was still alive. I must bring him to justice, and I will need Duke Wilhelm’s help.”

“So you know who tried to kill you?”

“Yes. But I cannot tell you his name. It is too dangerous.”

“Very well, very well. We can talk about all that when you are better.” Best to placate him for now, but the idea that she, Duke Wilhelm’s daughter, could be in danger seemed preposterous. “Now you must tell me where you feel pain so Frau Lena can help you.”

He looked rather sullen, but finally said, “My head throbs, it hurts to breathe, and I feel like I’ve been trampled by a horse. Other than that, I feel very well.”

Margaretha smiled. “How humorous you are.” She turned to translate to Frau Lena.

Humorous? There was nothing humorous in his situation. He probably did seem lacking in sense, as he was murmuring to himself and telling a duke’s daughter that he couldn’t tell her his name or she would be in danger. But his head hurt so much, it was hard to think straight. Another moan slipped, unbidden, from his throat.

After speaking in her language to the healer, she turned back to him with a cup and a small loaf of bread. “You must eat and drink something.”

He took the cup from her and drank more of the bitter herbal concoction. Then he took the bread and ate a bite. It was the best bread he had ever tasted. He began to feel better instantly. Even his pain seemed dulled.

He watched the beautiful Lady Margaretha as she took a clean cloth and new bowl of water from the healer. He continued to eat and watch her as she wet the cloth and started dabbing at the cut on his head. He liked the way she smelled as she leaned over him — like flowers and fresh air and feminine warmth.

“Frau Lena needs to” — she motioned with her hands, mimicking sewing with a needle and thread — “your head closed so it will heal more quickly.”

He should have known the sweet moment wouldn’t last.

“Will you promise to stay still and let her close your wound?”

She spoke to him as if he was slow-witted. “Of course. I’m not a child.”

“No, of course you aren’t.” She smiled in the exact same way she might smile at a child — a very small child.

She was hurting his head with the way she was dabbing at it, and he certainly didn’t want her around when Frau Lena sewed up his head. But he felt drowsy . . . so drowsy he almost stopped chewing the bread that was in his mouth. He wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t been poisoned, but he was too sleepy and warm and full to care.

Colin awoke to a sharp pain in his head and remembered that Frau Lena had stitched the wound there. She’d sent Lady Margaretha away, for which he was grateful. He didn’t want the beautiful duke’s daughter to witness him in pain. Had he cried out? His memory of it was blurry.

He seemed to be alone in the room. The light was gray through the window, but he couldn’t tell if it was morning or twilight. The walls around him were of gray stone and curved, as if he were in a round tower. His stomach growled over the faint noises coming from outside. The lady had told him he was at Hagenheim Castle.

He’d demanded to see Duke Wilhelm, but she’d refused. Lifting his head, he could see why. He surveyed his condition — horribly skinny and in need of a bath. His clothes were dirty, stained, and torn beyond repair.

Just lifting his head off the pillow made him dizzy, so he sank back.

It would take him a day or two to get at least a modicum of his strength back before he could confront Duke Wilhelm, not to mention his enemy — that deceitful lump of pond scum whose men had killed John. But he was alive, and he would not give up until he found Claybrook.

Chapter
4

Margaretha couldn’t stop thinking about the
poor young Englishman who had been brought to Frau Lena’s chamber. He seemed desperate to talk to Father about whoever had tried to kill him. But why couldn’t he simply tell her? Why did he think it would endanger her to know who his attacker was?

She was sitting in the Great Hall when Lord Claybrook entered carrying a whole armful of flowers after his ride with her father and brother. Lord Claybrook presented them to her with a charming smile.

“They’re lovely!”

A kitchen maid scurried to find a vessel to put them in while Margaretha took them from him. The profusion of color from the different types of flowers made her nearly giddy.

“They are so bright! Are they selling these in the market? I didn’t know the geraniums were blooming already.” Instead of prattling on about the flowers, Margaretha brought herself up short and remembered to ask Lord Claybrook how his ride had been and what he had thought of Hagenheim.

“It is such a charming place.” Lord Claybrook went on to compliment her father’s leadership skills, as well as the peace and lawful atmosphere of the town. He praised the strength of the walls and the gates and gatehouses around the town. He spoke of the friendliness and cheer of the people, as well as their cleanliness and the beauty and upkeep of the buildings.

While he talked, Margaretha arranged and rearranged her flowers in the large pottery jar. The pink flowers looked pretty next to the lavender, and the daisies set off the geraniums perfectly. Perhaps she could take a small bunch of them to the healer’s chamber. They would brighten up the room so nicely, and the English boy, whatever his name was, could enjoy them while he was getting well. The poor thing had looked so pale when Frau Lena was about to stitch him up. Her presence in the room seemed to be disturbing him, and Frau Lena asked her to leave, but she wondered if he was feeling better. Maybe she could sneak away later and see if he —

“Lady Margaretha.”

“Oh, yes, Lord Claybrook.”

He smiled at her with narrowed eyes, then he made a “tsk-tsk-tsk” sound with his tongue against his teeth. “You were not listening again.” He shook his finger at her.

“I was listening. You were telling me all about the town and how much you liked it and the security of the gates and — ”

“And then I asked you what you would do tomorrow while I am out hunting with Duke Wilhelm.”

“Oh, well, I shall find something to do, I am sure. I never have trouble keeping myself busy.” Margaretha smiled at him.

“I have another gift for you.” Lord Claybrook pulled something from a pocket inside his surcoat, and while holding it behind his back with one hand, he held out his other hand to her.

Margaretha reached out, palm up, to receive it. “I am not at all sure you should be giving me so many gifts.” She almost said,
since I have not accepted you
, but she was sure he understood she hadn’t agreed to marry him yet. At least he was making the effort to woo her. And what girl could resist gifts?

Lord Claybrook took her hand in his, then pulled his other hand from behind his back and deposited a small purple velvet pouch in her palm.

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

Margaretha pulled open the mouth of the tiny drawstring bag and upended it into her hand. A ring tumbled out. It held a large ruby in the center, encircled by sapphires and diamonds.

“Oh my! It is much too extravagant a gift. I mustn’t accept it.” But Margaretha held it up and let it catch the rays of the late afternoon sun that were streaming in the windows. The precious stones seemed to wink at her and spark with inward flames. “It is beautiful.”

The ring would perfectly match the beautiful ruby, diamond, and sapphire bracelet her grandmother, the Duchess of Marienberg, had given her as the oldest girl in the family. Perhaps it was a sign from God; Claybrook had given her a ring that matched the bracelet that was a family heirloom.

Before she knew what he planned to do, Lord Claybrook took the ring from her and slipped it on her finger. It fit perfectly.

“It is yours, my dear,” he said in a deep, low voice. “You have only to accept my suit for you as my wife.” He stared into her eyes, leaning close.

“Oh. I don’t know if I am ready yet.” Margaretha laughed nervously, pulling her hand out of his grasp and taking a step back. She slipped the ring off her finger.

He grabbed her hand to stop her. “Please. It is a gift and I do not want it back, even if you choose not to marry me.” He looked into her eyes again.

“I should not accept the ring.”

“But I insist. For putting up with my clumsy attempts to woo you.” He smiled, as if he didn’t believe his wooing was actually clumsy at all. There was something almost feline in the curve of his lips. She began to feel uncomfortable, and looked over his shoulder in hopes that someone else might be entering the room.

“Very well. I will keep it for now.”

“And wear it?”

“I suppose. For now.”

He kissed her hand again. Apparently, he thought it was attractive to stare into her eyes as if he couldn’t look away, for he was doing it again. Margaretha had a nearly uncontrollable urge to giggle.

“Excuse me, but I must go and see what my sister needs.”

“Is she calling for you? I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh, no, but if I don’t go to her, she may start.” Margaretha’s excuse was awkward, but it was enough to break away from him.