Chapter 18
Margaretha
What on earth, Belinda? The passionate, illicit embraces of Beltenebros and his lady love, Oriana, fairly set the book on fire.
“Mistress Hatzfeld sends us more reading?” Friedrich’s query drew my eyes to him. Rather, to the French primer in his hand, for I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze with my cheeks aflame.
“No, this assignment is for me alone.” Thank the heavens. “I’m to study the romances favored in court.”
“Ah.” He tapped a finger on his lips. “And what sort of tale is it that makes your eyes widen so?” He pulled his chair next to me, his arm bumping against mine, and I had to school my shock that he would even be near me, let alone touch me, after his recent coldness.
Casting him a curious sideways glance, I closed the book lest he somehow decipher the words.
“’Tis only the dim light that makes my eyes widen.”
“You know, Margaretha, I’m starting to see why Hatzfeld went to such extremes to teach you to flirt.” He lifted a brow. “You’re quite the innocent.”
I dropped a frown. “And you’re full of experience?”
“I thought I already proved myself.” A smirk twisted his lips, and I threw him a withering glare. “You see, just there,” he said. “Though not an expert in courtly romance, I know that glower of yours would have more impact if you had actually met my eye.”
Reopening the book, I pretended to read. “I’m meant to be learning ways to attract men, not frighten them off.”
“Then you might want to soften your expression into something that isn’t wishing me harm.”
I answered with silence, but he hooked his finger over my book, pulling it lower until I couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Think, Margaretha. Isn’t this precisely what you’ve wanted from me all along? Lessons in flirtation?”
That was the second time today he’d called me by my Christian name. What was this sudden change, this excited energy that was frightfully near to charming?
His finger still hung on my book when he added, “I’m here now, ready to help. You may as well take advantage of it.”
He made a fair point. “Very well.” Working to force down my embarrassment, I rested my book in my lap and offered him my best attempt at a genuine smile.
“Beautiful,” he said, and my cheeks warmed. “It’s an innocent, shy smile, and it suits you very nicely. But it’s not very encouraging.”
The heat spread down my neck, making me check the time on the clock. Only ten minutes more. I could endure this mortification for ten minutes.
Friedrich stood, setting his primer on the mantel. “I can tell you, as a man, your expression is barely enough to convey interest, let alone love.”
“You expect me to feign love with half the court?” I scoffed. “Ridiculous.”
“Strategic. What could be more attractive than thinking a beautiful, intelligent woman is in love with you?”
My eyes went wide. He’d called me beautiful? Intelligent? What had prompted such a shift in behavior?
“Come. Try it on me,” he pressed on without hesitation. “Use your expressions to convince me you love me.”
Somewhere in the corner of my mind a distant bell rang a warning, but with my sudden nerves, I could hardly hear it, let alone trouble myself to decipher its meaning.
This was Friedrich. With him I was safe from everything except utter humiliation, which I was on the verge of now as I tried to understand the assignment.
How was I even to begin to communicate such a look?
But Friedrich was offering help with the very thing I most needed to learn, so I would try.
Sighing, I put the book on the chair behind me and drew near to him, narrowing my eyes and puffing out my lips in an effort to be serious and alluring at the same time.
“Is that your attempt?” he asked.
I nodded, and he let out a stifled chortle.
“Try again.”
Fighting another flush of heat, I went for a softer approach, forming a half smile with my eyes open wide.
“I’m afraid not,” he said.
I stared deeply and solemnly into his eyes.
“I’m uncertain whether you’re angry or disinterested.”
I tried several more alterations until Friedrich finally stopped me. “Have you really no experience to draw from, Margaretha? No time when you felt yourself falling in love?”
That warning bell sounded again, louder now, but I could only see the challenge in Friedrich’s eyes.
“I suppose not,” he said. When he turned toward his seat, I instinctively reached out and grasped his hand, pulling him to a stop.
“Let me try once more.” I hadn’t meant for the words to sound breathy.
His eyes were on mine as he curled his hand over my fingers, making that fluttering spring to life in my gut. Making me realize my boldness. I slipped my fingers from his grasp, slowly, for he seemed reluctant to let me go.
“Very well.” He sank into his seat, watching me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to focus my thoughts. For this to work, I had to make myself believe I was in love. Having spent no significant time around any man but Friedrich, I’d have to draw on my experiences with him.
This time the bell clanged in an almighty clamor, warning me it would be dangerous to proceed. Telling me that if I did this, I risked something momentous. But what?
Pushing the question aside, I set to my task, sifting through my history with Friedrich.
I let myself relive those moments when I’d felt admiration.
Attraction. I remembered the warmth of his arms around me, his breath tickling my ear as we rode to the mines.
My surprise when he’d gifted me the shooting gloves, betraying his quiet concern for me.
The smell of straw and cloves surrounding me as his trembling fingers grazed my skin to cut me loose from the thickets.
His gentle manner in caring for Ernst, and his sense of duty, defying Father’s laws to provide for his friends.
He’d been a brave child, leaving behind the security of the mines to find his own way.
And then again as a youth, living alone in the forest. It had shaped him into the man he was—disciplined, independent, unafraid of society or its judgments, and I admired him for it.
Then I remembered the day I’d confessed to using him.
There’d been a fire in his gaze before he’d closed his eyes and leaned toward me, his breath coming faster when he’d moved to kiss me.
I let my imagination toy with the memory, Friedrich no longer stepping back to tease me, but actually coming closer, pressing his lips to mine.
What if he’d wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him?
What would it feel like to let myself kiss him, to let myself love him?
Something in my chest warmed, spreading heat through my veins, driving back the cold as a glimmer of hope flashed through me.
Fear made me tamp it down before I could grasp hold of it, analyze it, face it.
Instead, I focused on the numbness, letting it expand, cool and familiar, over my heart until the bells of warning had all but disappeared.
In their place was an emptiness that left me rubbing a hand over my nose, fighting back the tears pricking my eyes as I whirled away from Friedrich.
Why on earth was I crying? Of all the ridiculous—
“Margaretha?”
I sniffed discretely but couldn’t face him. Not yet. “I’m afraid I’m not up to the challenge.” I barked an awkward, forced laugh.
Friedrich’s hand slid over my shoulder, his body so close the heat of it warmed my back. Wiping my eyes, I twisted out of his grasp.
“My tutor will be waking soon. I must go.” I knelt to collect my things from under the chair.
I felt Friedrich watching me, his posture tense, but then he let out a sigh.
“Mistress Hatzfeld will scold me for keeping you from your reading, no doubt.” He lifted my book from the chair, sifting through the pages.
“Is this story of yours full of the usual intrigues? Unsanctioned loves? Abandoned children? Magics? Future telling?”
“Just so.”
When I reached for the book, he pulled it back, catching my hand in his empty one and lifting me to my feet. I kept my gaze on the rug.
“You know, I’ve a little experience with that.” His thumb slid over the back of my hand, stealing my breath.
“With what?” I squeezed out the words.
“Future telling, like in your romance. Shall I tell you your future, Margaretha?” In one swift movement, he discarded my book and flipped my hand over, staring into my wide, surprised eyes. “It is not fated. What I see is only a prediction of what will come if you keep on your current life path.”
I nodded without hearing. My thoughts were on the warmth of his calloused hand gently chafing beneath my smooth knuckles. He raised his other hand to my palm, tracing the crease just below my fingers and sending a subtle shiver rolling from my neck all the way down my spine.
“I see a past weighed down by years of sadness. And here, a flash of great pain.” His finger settled on a slight circle within the crease. “A crisis born from a moment of decision.”
I stiffened. Did he somehow know about the healer? Was this his way of drawing me out?
He continued, not seeming to notice my worry. “Your lifeline makes a sharp curve, showing a sudden shift in behavior as your once open nature became reserved and hesitant to trust others.”
“Perhaps because the world is full of charlatans like yourself.” My attempt at levity was sabotaged by my raspy voice. “You promised to tell me my future, not make up stories about my past.”
“Patience, Margaretha. I’m coming to that.” Dropping his eyes back to my hand, his lips turned down. “I see a future of many lovers. And a chance for wealth and glory, though it will mean loneliness.”
“Loneliness? Where have all my lovers gone?”
He muttered something that sounded very much like an oath with regards to where exactly my lovers could go, then he added, “A married woman can still be lonely if she makes the wrong choice. And this”—his finger hovered near the scar of my palm—“this is a point of crucial decision. Your fate line is soft and unsettled, but in it I see another path. A future of quiet happiness. It all comes down to this moment.” His thumb rested on the burn, covering it from view. “Will you make the right choice?”
My breath hitched in my throat, and I looked up to find him watching me. He stepped so close his shoe tips touched mine, while his thumb began grazing back and forth over my skin, the intensity of his eyes sending my stomach into a volley of flips.
I swallowed. This was all just nonsense anyway. Magics and fortune telling were not to be believed. “You’re not even looking at my hand,” I said, my voice wavering.
He kept his steady gaze on my face as he turned my hand over and brought my knuckles to his lips, his mouth parting to bestow a gentle kiss.
Though men had kissed my gloved hand in the past, their touch was nothing to the intimacy of Friedrich’s lips on my skin. I felt weak and exhilarated, heady and focused, simultaneously thrilled and terrified, and I wasn’t sure how to break myself away. Or that I even wanted to.
“Friedrich, I think—” Another swallow caught my words, and Friedrich took advantage of my silence, pulling my arm toward him and resting three soft kisses on the inside of my wrist.
“I-I had b-better go.”
“Am I not doing it right?” he asked, an impish grin betraying that he knew very well the effect he was having on my equilibrium. “You wanted me to teach you to woo. I’m only doing my duty.”
This was more than I’d bargained for. “I think it best we avoid anything so . . . serious.”
He reached up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “What if I am serious?” His gaze smoldered, making my head swim.
“Friedrich, I—”
The door sprang open, dumping icy reality down my neck. Friedrich and I quickly pulled apart, but the scrutinizing look on Belinda’s face told me she’d seen enough.
“We must go now, my lady.” She addressed me, but her eyes were on Friedrich.
I picked up my books from the chair, stepping past Friedrich as I hurried toward Belinda. Just before she ushered me out the door, I cast a backward glance to find Friedrich meeting Belinda’s stare with a steely gaze that looked much like a challenge.