Knight of Love (17 page)

According to the plot she'd hatched with his cousin, Becker was to arrive tonight, near midnight. She had only a half day remaining to find allies within the castle, unlock the postern gate, find and free Wolfram, and get him to Becker's men, all without arousing Kurt's suspicion or alerting any of the castle guard.

It seemed impossible. Yet, if she failed, Wolfram would surely die. And Kurt would have her in his power, perhaps for good. He'd be unlikely to allow another escape.

“Why are you doing this?” Becker had asked her. “You hate Wolf and disavow the marriage. He set you free and put you on a path to home. Why not follow that path to safety? Why did you return?”

She'd squirmed at his questions. “I don't
hate
Lord Ravensworth,” she said. But the questions were hard to answer. Why indeed? “It is true that I disavow the marriage, but I accept that he believed his actions to be for the best. He did what he understood his honor and duty called him to do under the circumstances. And he did save my life at the Ingolbronn crossroads. I am beholden to him for that.”

Wolfram's cousin stared at her for a long pause. “If I may ask, Lenora, what are your feelings for Wolf?”

“My feelings?” She pulled back with a start. “I don't know what you mean.”

“The man is in some sense your husband.” Becker spoke gently, his gaze not leaving her face. “You are risking your life to save his, in an attempt from which I cannot apparently dissuade you. I can only surmise you have some deep feelings for him.”

She shook her head. “It's simply that I have an obligation of honor to discharge. I will not allow Lord Ravensworth to martyr himself on my behalf, at the hands of a common enemy.”

“What you propose is very dangerous,” Becker warned. “Once we separate, I can't protect you nor promise that I can get to Rotenburg with enough men to help in time. Wolf could be dead already or too wounded to offer you any assistance.”

“I can handle Kurt.” She prayed God that might be true. She feared instead that it was bravado of the worst kind.

But she had to try.

Becker sighed deeply. “I shouldn't allow this. I'm afraid that I'll live to regret it. But I doubt that I can stop you, and you're right—you might just have a chance. I love Wolf like a brother—more than I do my own blood brother, God forgive me. He is a good man, far too good for this hopeless ragtag rebellion. He might, in fact, be just the mate for a woman as brave as you, if you could accept his love and offer your own in return.”

She slammed shut the gates of her heart to foolishness. “There is no time now for such nonsense. We've a lost knight to rescue.”

And so here she was—walking back up to a castle to which she'd sworn she'd never return, in order to offer herself to her enemy. Outside the town of Gruselstadt, she stopped a boy chasing ducks in a farmyard and sent him ahead to the castle with news of her arrival and a message for His Excellency.

Lady Lenora Sherbrooke, penitent runaway betrothed, was pleased to inform Prince Kurt of her return.

Chapter 11

K
urt stood at the
Schloss
gate when Lenora walked through its ancient stone arch. Surprise widened his eyes. “It really is you,” he said. He raked her with a glance, taking in her dirty clothing and disheveled appearance.

She raised her chin, assumed her best daughter-of-a-duke demeanor. “Indeed. I judged it time to return,” she replied to him as he addressed her, in the German they always spoke to each other. She held out a hand for him to kiss, even smiled at him. “You are looking well,
Prinz
. Have you passed an agreeable few weeks since I had to take such an abrupt leave of you?”

The lies multiplied, of course. In truth, Kurt looked a wreck—thinner, his face taut with anxiety. But after a moment's pause, he seemed willing, even amused, to play along. He took her hand and bowed over it as she made him her curtsy. “Yes, I've kept quite well,” he replied. “Rather busy, you know, what with these outlaws gadding about, but we nobles mustn't complain about the obligations of duty befalling our rank.”

She laid her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her through the castle forecourt. “You always carried out your duty, Kurt, with the utmost respect for tradition. I have come to appreciate that devotion in my weeks away from Rotenburg.” She turned her head toward him as they strolled by groups of gaping servants and townspeople. “I understand you much better now, and I have returned to make you a deal.”

He barked out a laugh. “I admire your gall, my dear, but you seem in little position to bargain. I have you now, as well as that traitor who blasphemes the role of your husband.”

“You are quite correct, Kurt.” She smiled up at him, fighting hard to make it look genuine. “You do have me now. I presume you would like to keep me, free and clear. I am prepared to renounce and annul my association with Freiherr von Wolfsbach.”

But then her knees almost buckled at the sight ahead.
Dear God, there he was!
Wolfram—tied to the lashing post. Dark-purple bruises covered his bare torso. His shoulder wounded in the skirmish at Ingolbronn was a bloody mess. Lash marks striped his back. Blood caked his hair and face. One of his eyes was swollen shut.

Her fingernails cut half-moons into the palm hanging at her side, although she forced herself to keep the hand on Kurt's arm relaxed. “Ah, a fine example of your devotion to duty, as we speak. Is this the dog I met on the road after I left you?”

Kurt stopped in front of the lashing post to stare at her. “What game is this you play, Lenora?” He took her chin in his hand and pinched hard, his earlier amusement gone. “Tell me truly: Why have you come back?”

Earlier, before her time with Wolfram, she had been afraid of Kurt and cowed by his threats and air of violence. Now she slapped playfully at his wrist and twisted away. She almost laughed at the look of puzzled surprise on his face as she broke free. “I play no game, Kurt. I wanted to return to you and Rotenburg.”

Wolfram lifted his head, the effort visible in the grimace that creased his face. “Let her go, Kurt. You've got me. She means nothing to the protesters. She won't help you end the revolution.”

“No.” The prince stepped up to Wolfram, glowering. “But she might amuse me in other ways.”

“Surely you don't want my leavings?” Wolfram taunted.

Wolfram's insults disturbed her not; she knew what he was about, trying to protect her even when his battered body had suffered such abuse. Her chest squeezed painfully at the sound of his labored breathing and wheezed words. The man must be in agony. She would get him out of here, she swore to herself—no matter what.

“Throw her out of the castle,” Wolfram continued, “before you defile your pride by taking her back.”

Kurt backhanded Wolfram viciously across the face. “Silence, traitor!”

Lenora barely suppressed a scream as Wolfram's head snapped back and slammed into the wooden post. She stepped up to lay a soft hand on Kurt's chest. “My betrothed, do not concern yourself with this upstart. He is clearly jealous of your power and your possessions. I, however, am honored to count myself among those possessions.”

The prince turned from Wolfram to look at her through flinty eyes. “Why would you wish to be my
Prinzessin
again when such did not please you earlier? And why would you return when you must know I will punish you severely for your betrayal?”

She forced herself to ignore the nausea that roiled her stomach at his words. “I've grown up in the last month, Kurt. I'm clearer about what I want and what I'm willing to do to get it. I wish to rule Rotenburg-Gruselstadt with you. It's the richest principality in this part of Germany and provides a fit territory for someone of my breeding. I simply have a few ground rules of my own this time. And instead of my punishment, I have an idea about something you will enjoy more.”

“This is my
Schloss
—I make the rules. And I decide on the punishment.” Kurt stood close to tower over her. She remembered the trick, his attempt to intimidate her with his height. It had worked before. This time she just reached up to pat his cheek.

“Of course you do, my prince. I accept your leadership. You are a man, are you not? It is your role to make the rules, and mine to obey. Don't worry: you'll like what I have in mind. I know better now what you need for our marriage union to be a happy and productive one.”

“Our marriage union? Yet here I was under the impression you'd gone and married this traitor dog,” he said, sneering.

“This pitiful pretender?” She waved a hand airily in the direction of Wolfram, who lifted his head to cast a bleary eye on them. “Simply some nonsense on the battlefield when I needed time to think. I'm sure the few words that were spoken do not constitute any binding marriage.”

She calculated rapidly. The sun was already past its zenith. No time remained for the original plan she'd hatched with Becker. Her part had been to scout the castle garrison for sympathizers to the revolution while unlocking the postern gate to allow Becker and whomever he could drum up to storm the castle for a rescue effort. She'd have to change the plan. There was no way for her to get to the gate by midnight.

But Helga could.

“Kurt, what have you done with my wardrobe?” She forced petulance into her tone. “My mother spent a small fortune on that trousseau. I've been in rags for weeks now. I want something proper to wear for my homecoming.”

“Your wardrobe? I have no idea.” He looked increasingly bewildered. Under other circumstances, were Wolfram not so badly beaten and both their lives in jeopardy, Kurt's confusion would have been gratifying.

“Men never give such things a thought, do they?” She beckoned to one of the servants attending Kurt. “Have Helga Stanfeld meet me in my rooms. She helped maintain my wardrobe and knows it well.” She turned to Kurt. “My rooms are still available, aren't they? I have a plan to present you with, Kurt. This isn't the place to discuss it, and I'm much too dusty. One must perform a proper toilette to appear before a nobleman of your consequence. But allow me to refresh myself and then let us sit together. We can go over the documents that will allow my return and enjoy a good dinner together, with a bottle of your best Riesling.” She stepped close to him. “In fact, let's make it a private dinner. In your chambers.”

She watched distrust, anger, and curiosity flit across his narrow face. He wanted her in his power again; she knew that much. It should be enough—pray God, it was all she had—to stage the scene she had in mind.

He nodded slowly, and she released a shaky breath.

“Good. Then release him, will you?” She flicked a careless hand in Wolfram's direction. “We can have him brought to your rooms later.”

“Why would we want this dog to be present?” Kurt aimed a hard kick at Wolfram's shackled legs.

Lenora bit the inside of her cheek to hide her wince at Wolfram's grunt. “Why, we need him to sign the annulment documents, of course! If you would notify your secretary and solicitor, they can prepare the paperwork this afternoon. We'll need a minister to witness the documents as well. And let's get this one cleaned up.” She cast a look of disgust at Wolfram, wrinkling her nose. “We don't want questions raised later that he wasn't of sound mind whilst he signed the papers. Have him bathed and his wounds cared for. Some strong beef soup and a rest this afternoon should restore him sufficiently for the task. And he'll need a decent set of clothing to wear.”

“We can attend to such matters later in the week, Lenora. I want to learn more about this change of heart of yours.”

“No, it must be tonight.” If Kurt locked Wolfram back up in the dungeon, she didn't know how she could get him out again. In truth, she was loath to let Wolfram out of her sight, not until she knew he was safe. Too late, she heard the desperation in her voice.

The prince bristled. “It is not your role to dictate to me.”

Careful, Lenora.
“I would never dream of trying, my betrothed. I merely want to be freed, legally and in all ways, from this brute, as quickly as possible. He is right—I do defile your pride and your castle if I stand before you in any way linked to this false knight. If we draw up and execute the documents today”—she laid a hand against Kurt's chest again, looking up at him with what she hoped was coyness and not the loathing that burned within—“then you and I will be free to take up where we left off.”

He considered her a moment. “You sing a very different tune, Lenora. I find this change strangely abrupt.”

She gave a little laugh, swallowing back an edge of hysteria. “Is it not a woman's prerogative to change her mind? One of the foibles of our weaker sex, I'm afraid. Trust me—it will be amusing for you to have him hear what I have to say.” She forced herself to go on, to drop her voice into a deeper register. “Amusing for you to make him watch what I wish to do, in amends for my childish disappearance.” She looked at Kurt and licked her lips. “I want to make it up to you.”

She watched Kurt's eyes darken as his suspicion turned into lust. Dear God, how could she hope to control and distract this vicious man until Becker arrived? How could she keep Wolfram safe? And what if Becker wasn't able to bring help? Her heart hammered until she was sure both men must hear it. But she couldn't give in to the fear eating at her insides; far too much lay at stake. “I know my mind now, Kurt. This excuse for an imperial knight is the one who did me wrong.” She stepped up to Wolfram to stare at his battered face as she spoke, injecting all her hate and revulsion for Kurt into her words. “I want a true prince. I want a real man who rules with an iron fist, not a false hero who prattles about love.”

Wolfram frowned, and his labored breathing hitched to a stop. She caught his whisper: “Lady?”

But she'd already turned away, walking with Kurt into the castle.

When Lenora delivered the note to Helga written by her father, Herr Weisstagen, the head maid read it quickly. Serving women bustled about Lenora's old chambers to lay out her bath and a selection of gowns. The activity provided good cover for a private conversation by the fireplace as Lenora stripped off yet another set of the boy's clothing she'd worn for her return to Rotenburg.

Helga hesitated only briefly before ducking Lenora a curtsy. “It will be my honor to assist you,
meine Dame
. What Prince Kurt did to you was a wicked sin. After a lifetime of such misdeeds, you can be sure he has little loyalty among the servants. Even the soldiers of the garrison are ashamed to serve a prince such as him. If
der Wolfram
's allies can infiltrate the castle, it wouldn't take much to get the garrison to lay down their arms.”

“What about Frieda?” Lenora asked in a low voice, peeling off her filthy breeches and jacket. With a glance to ensure the serving women weren't looking, she drew her sheathed dagger from her jacket pocket and hid it for later. If her former lady's maid formed any suspicion of what they were up to, Kurt would be the first she'd inform.

A hard glint entered Helga's eyes. “Don't worry about her,
meine Dame
. That woman tried to report my Winfried on charges of overpruning the quince trees. As if a master gardener such as Winfried Blumthal does not know how to prune a fruit tree! I'll ensure Frieda is needed on an urgent matter in town. That postern gate will be unlocked, with no one the wiser.”

“Can you be absolutely sure to have it open before midnight tonight?” Lenora whispered. “You must wait for Lord Becker, then lead him straightaway by the back stairs up to the prince's chambers with no one seeing you. I'll keep the
Freiherr
there, with the prince, so that you and Lord Becker will be able to find us. So much and so many lives depend upon it.” The danger of their situation twisted her insides into a sick knot. Not only Wolfram's life, but her own, those of Becker and his men, and now those of the loyal servants as well all depended on the success of their plan.