The Captive Maiden (36 page)

“Now put your hand in this water—you will have to sit on the floor.”

Valten got down on the floor beside her bench, where he could lean his back against the wall. Bartel placed the bucket beside him and Valten dipped his hand in. The only evidence of his pain was his closed eyes, the tightness in his jaw where a muscle flexed whenever he clenched his teeth, and the creases of tension in his forehead.

“I wish I had some snow or ice,” Bartel said, “but the cold water will do almost as well. Leave it in until I come back.” And he left the room again.

Gisela scooted back on her bench until she was leaning against the wall beside Valten. She drew his good hand up to her lips. After discreetly kissing his knuckles, she held his hand in her lap and compared his massive fingers to hers. Many scars — some long, some short, some mere dots — covered his skin. But she thought his hand beautiful. His nails were clean and short, his hand wide and calloused, and she caressed his fingers, wishing she could take away the pain in his other hand.

Valten was looking at her like he wanted to kiss her. But alas, he couldn’t reach her lips sitting on the floor, and he was fairly immobile, with his hand in the bucket.

“Are you sure you want to marry me?” She wasn’t sure what made her ask him.

He looked a bit confused. “Why would you ask?”

Do I dare say it?
“You haven’t said you love me. It may be silly, but I want you to marry me because you love me, not out of a sense of duty or propriety.” She tried to look teasing and flippant, but she watched his face for his reaction.

A look came over his features — confusion or hurt, she wasn’t sure. “Haven’t I shown you I love you by my actions, by coming to rescue you? By kissing you and telling you that you were beautiful? Did I deal with you in any way that made you think I didn’t love you?”

The tears that she couldn’t seem to get rid of lately came rushing in. Her bottom lip trembled, and she clamped down on it with her teeth. She wasn’t sure what she felt — anger, embarrassment, pain. Was it so terrible that she wanted him to say the words? Perhaps her stepmother’s evil treatment had made it difficult for her to believe that anyone could love her. But hadn’t Valten shown her that he did love her? He’d risked his life to save her multiple times. What could be more loving than that? She felt guilty for demanding that he say it. And yet, she still wanted him to.

She let go of his hand and turned away as a tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away with her fist, wondering if he would decide he didn’t want to marry someone so teary-eyed and bothersome.

I am a dim-witted oaf.
He had no sense when it came to talking to Gisela and telling her what she wanted to hear. And now he had made her cry by making her feel bad for wanting him to say he loved her. “You are right,” he said. She didn’t turn her head to look at him.

Of course she would wonder if he loved her. When she’d confessed in the church tower that she loved him, he hadn’t told her he loved her in return. He’d been too intent on kissing her. He’d asked her to marry him, but he hadn’t said he loved her.

“I should have told you I loved you. I’m sorry.”

She was wiping her face, trying to hide her tears. “I understand if you don’t,” she said in a watery voice. “You don’t have to marry me if you don’t love me.”

Was she not listening to him? He closed his eyes, then sighed. To get angry with her would not help. He knew that from experience with his sisters. If he grew annoyed with them for crying, they just cried harder. Besides, Gisela was worth a hundred confessions of love.

He reached out and ran his hand along her arm until he caught her hand in his. She continued to wipe her face with her other hand and still wouldn’t look at him.

“Listen to me. I love you, Gisela.” He leaned toward her, as far as he was able. “I was falling in love with you almost from the moment I saw you, and had nearly made up my mind to ask you to marry me the night of the banquet.”

“Truly?” She turned her face to him, her mouth open and her eyes wide. Her lashes were wet with tears. “But why? I’m not
a duke’s daughter, or even a wealthy knight’s daughter. I’m only an orphan, and one who’s related to your worst enemy, at that.”

“Why would I care if you were a duke’s daughter, or wealthy?”

“I thought a duke’s son would need to marry someone whose status was closer to his own.”

Valten sighed as he looked into her deep blue eyes, made even bluer by her tears. “I don’t need prestige or wealth,” he said softly. “I need you, and I want you with me forever.” He looked at her lips just above him, so sweet and tempting.

Her bottom lip quivered and she captured it with her teeth.

Valten went on. “I want to marry you. I haven’t been able to think about anything but you, and I could barely keep my mind on the tournament because of it.” He pulled her hand closer, placing it over his heart, forcing her to lean over him. “I love you and only you.” He looked deeply into her lovely blue eyes. “I’ve always been a man of action. I’m not like my brother, Gabe, who seems to know the right thing to say. And if I didn’t have my hand in a bucket of water, I’d come up there and show you how much I love you.”

Her eyes went wide again. “What?”

He gave her a wicked smile, but when she looked alarmed, he said, “I only want to kiss you.”

She climbed down off the bench.

“Be careful of your ankle,” he said, as she knelt beside him and slipped her arms around his neck.

She stared at him in a way that made him glad he was alive …
very
glad. Then she closed her eyes and the gap between them and pressed her lips to his so fervently it made him thank God again for protecting him so many times. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her just as fervently, hoping she could hear “I love you” loud and clear in his actions. But if the
words “I love you” had this kind of effect, he could imagine himself saying them quite a lot in the years to come.

She pulled away, holding his face in her hands. “I used to sit at my window, when I felt alone, and stare at the towers of Hagenheim Castle and wonder about you—where you were, what you were doing. I wondered what it would be like to see you again. It feels like a dream to hear you say you love me.”

Touching her cheek with his fingertips, her skin was softer than silk. He slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her in for another kiss.

“I will always love you, and you will never be alone again.” He touched his forehead to hers. “When my brother asked me to break my betrothal to Sophie, I was angry. But now I’m grateful. I know God planned all along for me to find you and marry you.” Gisela was
his
damsel in distress, and she loved him. Even if he wasn’t good at thinking of charming words, now that he knew how she felt about “I love you,” he would say them every day. For the rest of their lives.

Chapter
31

She took a deep breath to keep the tears of joy
from flowing. When had she become such a weepy person? Her stepmother had said horrible things to her, hurt her physically, and yet Gisela had rarely ever cried.

Gisela was grateful to Valten’s brother too. “I shall have to remember to thank both Lord Gabehart and Lady Sophie.”

Valten brushed his thumb over her cheek.

She sat on the floor beside him, letting him gather her to his side, and rested her head against his chest. She’d never felt happier, but thoughts of her stepmother invaded, and even though she’d rather just keep kissing Valten, Bartel would probably be back at any moment.

“What will become of my stepmother and stepsisters when we go back to Hagenheim?”

“What do you want to become of them?” He squeezed her tighter.

She thought for a moment. In spite of the fact that she had often hated them, especially her stepmother, she found she didn’t really like imagining her in the dungeon. It must be a terrible place. But she did hope her stepmother and Irma and Contzel were thinking about how badly they had treated her and were wishing they had been kinder. She hoped they had trouble sleeping at night. She hoped they shuddered at the thought of
Gisela getting revenge on them, now that the duke’s son loved her and was marrying her—now that
she
had power over
them.

No, that was wrong. The priest had told her once, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” It was wrong for her to hate her stepmother and stepsisters, no matter what they had done to her.

Gisela sighed. “I don’t want to get revenge on them. And I want to forgive them, but I don’t ever want to see them again.” She rubbed her cheek against his shirt. The men must have brought supplies, because his tunic was new, and he smelled better now that he was clean. “My father’s house rightfully belongs to my stepmother. But do you think it would be acceptable to move my father’s horses to Hagenheim Castle’s stables?”

He gave her another squeeze. “Yes, I think that will be the least your stepmother can do. The horses shall be her wedding gift to you.”

“Whether she likes it or not.” Gisela giggled. But she suppressed her delight in imagining Evfemia’s discomfiture.
Don’t be vengeful.
It was enough to know she would no longer be under her stepmother’s control, that she was finally loved. It was what she’d always longed for.

Gisela was lying on the bench with her foot propped up per Bartel’s orders that night. Valten sat beside her, in a chair this time, with his hand again in a bucket of cold water for the second time that day, sneaking kisses from her whenever no one was looking. Three of the seven men were playing musical instruments, while the others tapped their feet or clapped their hands. A more pleasant night Gisela could hardly imagine.

Bartel came toward them. He took Valten’s hand out of the bucket of water and dried it carefully, then took off the splint. After his hand had fully dried, he put on another splint and wrapped it tightly.

“We shall repeat this twice a day while you are here.”

As soon as Bartel left the room Roslind burst out, “Sophie and Gabe are here!”

Gisela took her foot down from the bench and sat up straight. Valten stood too and sat down beside her on the bench.

He whispered, “Now you’ll get to meet my brother and Sophie.”

Gisela was too nervous to reply. She looked down at her dress. Roslind had washed her beautiful ball gown, but it still looked the worse for wear, reflecting the rough days and nights spent sleeping on the ground, in a cave, and hurrying through forests. Perhaps she could explain and Lady Sophie wouldn’t think too little of her. But she had heard that Valten’s former betrothed, though she was a duke’s daughter, had grown up with a cruel stepmother who made her work as a scullery maid — not so different from Gisela’s life. She was excited to meet her.

The front door opened and two people swept in. The man was tall, although not as tall as Valten, and smiled as he took the cloak from the lady’s shoulders. His hair was darker than Valten’s, but from his profile, she did see a slight resemblance between them. His lady greeted the seven men, clasping the hands of each one and bidding them to rise, as they had all fallen to one knee in front of her. Her voice was high but pleasant, and she laughed good-naturedly. She stood with her back to Valten and Gisela. Valten rose and walked toward them. Gisela stood and waited.