“I have business, and it isn’t with you,” the girl retorted. “Move out of my way.”
“A feisty one.” Ruexner looked around at his companions, and all three laughed, continuing to block her way to the side street. He looked her up and down, then muttered something to his companions.
Valten stepped out and strode toward them. “We do not allow anyone to accost maidens in Hagenheim, Ruexner.”
The smile left Friedric’s dark, brutish face. “Valten Gerstenberg.”
“The girl isn’t interested in whatever you’re offering.”
From the corner of his eye, he could see her looking from himself to Ruexner and back again.
Ruexner focused on the girl. “I will fight you for this one.”
“No. You will leave her alone, or you’ll pay the consequences.”
Indecision played over Ruexner’s wide brow; he was obviously trying to decide his next move. Finally, he chuckled. “Too bad you came along when you did. The good knight and his good deeds.” He turned his head slightly toward his companions. “Valten keeps a close eye on his townspeople—when he happens to be here.”
Valten crossed his arms while he waited for their scoffing laughter to die down. “For once you are right.”
Friedric Ruexner leaned toward Valten, his upper lip curled in menace. “I will be here for the tournament, and there I shall defeat you, once and for all.”
Valten gave him stare for stare. “We shall see who defeats whom.”
Ruexner turned to the girl and ran his hand down her cheek. Her hand flew up and slapped him, the sound echoing off the buildings on either side of the street. He raised his fist. Her horse reared.
Valten stepped forward and caught Ruexner’s forearm and wrenched it behind his back. The horse’s hooves pawed the air mere inches from Ruexner’s face, causing his eyes to go wide and his friends to jump back. Valten let go of his arm, and Ruexner and his lackeys edged away. When they were twenty feet down the street, Ruexner called, “This will be your last tournament, Valten. For every blow you’ve ever given me, you’ll get double. I swear it.”
Valten made sure Ruexner and his friends kept walking, and waited to move until they were out of earshot.
When he turned around, the girl was staring at him.
No wonder Ruexner had noticed her. Her eyes were a clear blue, without a hint of gray or green. Her features were bold and generous — long, thick eyelashes, a straight, proud nose, a full brow, a gently squared chin, and high, prominent cheekbones. Her skin fairly glowed, and he had to remind himself to breathe.
She seemed to be studying his face too. “Thank you.” She abruptly turned away and continued on her way as if nothing had happened.
He stood stunned. Should he call after her? He only knew he couldn’t let her walk away, so he followed her.
As she turned down the narrow street to the blacksmith’s, she looked over her shoulder. “Do you want something, my lord?” She added the last phrase with a bit of slyness in her voice, it seemed. She must realize who he was.
Never good at making conversation with maidens, he ransacked his brain for something appropriate to say. Another way Gabe had been better than him — talking with women. His brother always knew what to say, and it was always something charming or clever. Valten’s experience was much different. He’d had little time for women due to his travels and training, and most of the ones he’d met he’d only spoken to briefly. Their fathers had paraded them before him at balls given for the tournament knights, but he’d never known them long enough to feel comfortable. He had not been ready to marry, and therefore he had no interest in showing them how lacking he was in the art of conversation.
He hoped he didn’t sound like Ruexner as he said, “A fine destrier you have. He looks very much like my horse, Sieger.”
She turned and gave him her full attention. He marveled at her self-reliant expression, a unique trait in a woman, especially one who was less than twenty years old and obviously poor. Or maybe she was only eccentric, wearing ragged clothes to disguise herself, as he was doing.
“Thank you. He is a great horse.” Then she turned and continued walking.
He still wasn’t ready to let her go.
Chapter
2
He should look like your horse, Gisela almost said. The two are brothers. But it was best she didn’t tell him. He wouldn’t remember her, wouldn’t recall that it was her father who had sold him the horse ten years ago — and had been dead almost that many years.