The Captive Maiden (27 page)

Was she being foolish? Perhaps. She only knew she wanted his undivided love, and she couldn’t bear him marrying her out of pity.

Ava had once told her, “Never let yourself fall in love with someone who doesn’t love you. Or at least don’t tell them you love them, whatever you do.” It had seemed like wise counsel.
A person who didn’t love you could use the knowledge of your love against you.

With Friar Daniel here, Valten would have no reason to marry her. She would tell him as soon as possible that she would not hold him to his statement if he was only being chivalrous.

She tried hard not to sniff and wiped her nose with her hand, hoping no one heard her crying, and closed her eyes to sleep.

Chapter
23

Gisela awoke to someone moving beside her.
She sucked in a quick breath and backed away. “Ow!” Her head hit something solid behind her.

“Are you all right?” Valten’s voice came from very close by, but now her head was throbbing.

Gisela stifled a moan; she’d apparently hit her head on the wall of the cave.

“Give me your hand.”

Gisela reached out and Valten helped her up. It was disorienting to be in the pitch-black cave. She lost her footing and stumbled face-first against his chest.

He put his arms around her and held her so tight she couldn’t have broken away from him if she’d wanted to. And resting her cheek against his warm chest, she most definitely did not want to.

She sensed and heard, rather than saw, Friar Daniel loading his things on his donkey’s back a few feet away from them.

Valten’s arms were gentle and warm around her shoulders. His breath fanned her hair as he whispered, “Why were you crying last night?”

“Oh. I wasn’t …” She wanted to say she wasn’t crying, but that would be a lie.

“Are you afraid?”

“A little.” Let him think she was simply afraid. She tightened her arms around him, allowing herself to imprint this moment of warmth and tenderness in her memory forever. He was so solid, so safe. And so far above her as the heir of Hagenheim.

She took a deep breath and plunged in. “I know you said you would marry me when we go back to Hagenheim, but I don’t want you to think you have to marry me.”

“What do you mean?” Valten’s hands went stiff. He pulled away slightly. “I didn’t say I
had
to marry you.”

Was he angry? She whispered, “I just don’t want you to feel
forced
to marry me.”

He pulled away even more. “I don’t feel forced. I want to marry you.” But the tone of his voice had an edge to it that didn’t sound like a person in love. She couldn’t see his expression, as it was too dark, but she was fairly sure he was wearing his rock-hard, square-jawed, lowered-brow look.

She let her arms drop and felt the tears well up again behind her eyes. Trying to keep them from flowing, she bent to pick up her blanket. She rolled it up then handed it to Valten, but he grabbed her arm. His voice came from mere inches away. “Are you sad because you don’t want to marry me?”

“Of course not. No, no.” She didn’t want him to feel hurt. Still, this was not the way she wanted him to ask her to marry him. But it was all so foolish of her! He shouldn’t be marrying her at all. He should marry the king’s daughter, or a duke’s daughter, not her.

“We shall speak of this again.” He took her hand and led her and Sieger toward the entrance.

When they were close enough to the entrance that she could see Valten’s face, she noted that he looked grave. “I think we need to stay close to the cave, as we are still near Ruexner’s camp. They may find us here, but if we leave, I think it’s even more likely they
will find us. If we stay a day and a night here, we might have a better chance of evading them.”

“Then I shall stay with you also.” Friar Daniel lifted his chin, as if he had just volunteered for a dangerous mission. Which he very well might have if Ruexner caught them.

Gisela didn’t think Valten looked happy, whether about the friar staying with them or about something else, she didn’t know.

Valten took several minutes to make sure no one was around before coming back inside. Gisela and Friar Daniel each went out, in opposite directions, to tend to their personal needs, but he instructed them not to go far. Then Valten took Sieger out for a drink and to fetch water from a small stream they’d passed last night on their way to the cave.

Back inside, Friar Daniel and Gisela were chatting away.

“Do you think God has a different purpose for every person,” Gisela asked, “or is his purpose the same for everyone?”

Friar Daniel wrinkled his forehead, not noticing that Valten was holding out his flask of water until Valten nudged his shoulder.

“Oh, thank you, brother knight.” Friar Daniel smiled up at him from his seat on the cave floor. The man was always smiling.

Friar Daniel went on. “Some things are the same for everyone. God wants us all to strive to grow more like Jesus, to become holy as he is holy, but God also has a specific purpose for each person. How could it not be so? Everyone in a village cannot be a baker, because who would then make the candles or shoe the horses or grow the food? God says we are like a body. ‘The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you.” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you.” ‘ “

“Does the Bible say that?”

“Oh, yes, and it says, ‘Now you are the body of Christ, and
each one of you is a part of it.’ Just as the villagers are part of a village and have different tasks, we all have tasks to do for the Lord God.” He smiled, looking rather foolish, with his round, cheeky face and the bald circle on his head.

Valten felt a twinge of envy that the friar seemed so sure of his purpose. To envy the man was absurd. But when had Valten ever felt as if he was doing what he was supposed to be doing, that he was fulfilling a purpose? He had once thought his purpose was to train to be the best at jousting and sword fighting and all kinds of combat. But it had been a long time since he’d thought about what God might want him to do. He’d been so focused on being the best, on winning recognition for himself.

He rubbed his face, feeling the itch of three days’ growth of beard. He didn’t want to dwell on such things, to realize he’d lost his usual confidence. With no weapon except a crossbow and no real plan, nothing to do but wait, his mood grew darker, especially with Gisela telling him he didn’t have to marry her. What did she mean by that?

“My dear,” the friar was saying to Gisela, “I’m sure God has a purpose for you. You must realize that God loves you and that He places great worth on you. Do not doubt it. If you ask for it in prayer, I am sure God will give you direction and a purpose.”

A purpose for Gisela? Valten wasn’t sure when it had started, but he had begun to imagine her married to him, having his children, and living at Hagenheim Castle with him. But what if God had another purpose for Gisela, one that didn’t include him?

Why did the friar have to stir up these disturbing thoughts?

Friar Daniel stood and drew something out of his saddlebag. “I wish to share with you. ‘Such as I have, I give you.’ “ He handed Gisela and Valten a small roll of bread. “I must say my prayers, for I never eat until I’ve prayed at least half an hour.” Still smiling, the friar made his way farther into the cave and disappeared in the darkness.

Gisela looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. She looked sweet enough to … kiss, but he probably shouldn’t, not with the way she kept telling him he didn’t have to marry her. Did she not want to be his wife?

He sat down in front of her and let her smile lift his spirits a little.

“Thank you for the water.”

He nodded. “I think we should rest as much as we can today and then start toward home when it gets dark. If we travel at night, we have a better chance of getting away.”

Gisela nodded, taking a bite of her roll. “That makes sense.”

Moments later Valten was taking the last bite of his bread, thinking about going hunting for some game, when Gisela suddenly gasped. She was staring down at something, then she grabbed his right hand.

Gisela couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to look at Valten’s right wrist. She had noticed several times the somewhat untidy state of the splint on his left hand, but hadn’t paid attention to his right. Of course it would be bloody after he’d struggled so long to get the rope off. Dried blood plastered the piece of cloth to his skin, and there were rope burns on the back of his hand.

She sucked in a breath as she examined his strong, broad hand and the damage to it. “You must let me take care of this. We should go to the stream and wash it.”

“You can’t go to the stream. It’s too dangerous. Ruexner may follow the stream looking for us.”

“At least hold still and let me wash it.” She held his hand over the grass. She poured water from the flask over his bloody wrist and the abrasions on his hand. When the bandage was soaked through, she carefully worked it loose. As she stared at
his poor hand, she had a sudden urge to kiss it, so strong it made her heart slam against her chest.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “It will heal.”

She poured some more water on it, trying to clean enough blood off so that she could see how bad it looked. She swallowed. “Perhaps Friar Daniel will have some clean bandages I could use.” Her voice wavered.

She turned his hand palm up and admired the structure of his fingers. Her face heated and she wished she had something to dry his hand off with, just so she’d have an excuse to keep holding it. She let go and raised her head. He was looking at her so tenderly. Was he feeling the same way?

“Your cheek isn’t swollen as much anymore. That’s good.” But his left eye was still bruised purple and blue below and above his eye. The stitches over his eye seemed to be holding well, and that cut looked like it was healing. Her gaze wandered from his eye to the growth of hair on his face. She’d always thought he looked dangerous, but he looked even more so with the short stubble on his face.

His eyes met hers, and it seemed as if she could see a longing in the intensity of their gray-green depths. She felt as if she could never stop caring about him, as if he had captured her and she would never escape … would never want to. A terrifying thought. Her heart pounded even harder, especially when his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips. He moved closer as his head bent toward her.

“There is nothing like communing with God first thing in the morning.”

Gisela sat back on her heels as Friar Daniel emerged from the dark cave.

Trying to recover her composure, Gisela jumped to her feet and asked, “Friar Daniel, do you have any clean bandages?
Valten — I mean, Lord Hamlin, has some wounds on his wrist and hand —”

“Of course, my dear.” Friar Daniel turned to look through the supplies on his donkey’s back. He brought forth a roll of clean cloth.

“Thank you so much.” She turned back to Valten, who was also standing. Feeling a bit awkward now that Friar Daniel was watching them, she took Valten’s hand and carefully wrapped it with the bandage, tying it securely.

Friar Daniel sat eating some bread and no doubt watching them. Not trusting herself to look up at Valten, she turned away.