Valten — Lord Hamlin — followed her. But Gisela pretended not to notice, hoping to disguise how seeing him thrilled her and made her heart pound.
It was evident she was a stranger to him, though she would have recognized him even if that disgusting foreign knight hadn’t called him “Valten Gerstenberg.” His hair was shorter than she remembered and was more of a dark blond. He bore numerous small scars on his face, and his nose was crooked, no doubt from being broken in one of his many jousting tournaments. But his ruggedness, his height and breadth and confident swagger—even his scars — only added to his appeal. And the way he had come to her aid, the kindness and respect that shone from his eyes when he looked at her, made him the most handsome man she had ever seen.
And he’d not been the least afraid of that bully he called Ruexner.
She, on the other hand, had been terrified when the man blocked her way, though she knew better than to show fear. Spitting fire and giving a man the evil eye usually intimidated him enough that he kept his distance. But this man had two large friends to embolden him.
When Valten appeared by her side, she was so relieved — and thrilled just seeing him—that her knees went weak. But she was also unnerved by her reaction. The response made her feel vulnerable, and she hated feeling vulnerable. So she kept walking, never turning back, when all she really wanted to do was look at him and ask him what his life had been like the past nine years — what he had been doing while she’d been dreaming about him in her desolate room, staring out her cold window and wondering where he was.
She could hear and sense him behind her as she approached the blacksmith’s. Did he want to talk to her? What could he possibly want to say? Even if he remembered her as that little girl from so long ago, he certainly hadn’t thought about her the way she’d thought about him. Besides that, she was a nobody now, disowned by her stepmother and stepsisters and without family of any kind.
The blacksmith, a burly man covered in soot, turned from his forge as she walked up.
Gisela forced any sign of emotion from her face and focused on her task. “My horse has thrown a shoe. How long to get him fitted with another?”
“One hour. This one’s ahead of you.” He pointed to a palfrey standing patiently on the tether.
After haggling a price with him, she lifted her arm to take the money from her moneybag, which she kept close to her side. She placed the sum in the blacksmith’s sooty palm. Gisela removed Kaeleb’s old, ragged saddlebag and stuffed it into the new one hanging over her shoulder, then whispered soft words in the horse’s ear while she attached a tether to his bridle.
She turned to leave and found herself face-to-face with Valten, who was still standing behind her. He was so close she could see the flecks of brown in his green eyes.
“I will escort you … until your horse is ready.”
Gisela stared at him a moment before saying, “I thank you.”
She was unsure what to do next. Did he want her to take his arm? She walked toward him, trying not to look nervous, and together they started down the street.
Gisela suppressed the smile that tugged at her lips. She was walking beside Valten, future Duke of Hagenheim. She was considered slightly tall for a female, but even so had to look up to see Valten’s face.
He looked down and met her eye. “Where would you like to go?”
“I have no more business, except to wait for my horse.”
They meandered along a main street in the general direction of the Marktplatz, encountering people leaving the market with their purchases.
Where could they go? She and Valten needed a destination, something to do. Abruptly, Gisela said, “I would like to see your horse.”
She couldn’t tell if he was surprised, but he looked at her askance from his gray-green eyes. “You like horses?”
“More than people sometimes.” She sensed, by the way he was looking at her, that he felt the same way.
Their arms brushed as they passed through a tight crowd.
“We can go to the stable. Sieger expects me to visit him at least once a day.”
“I’d like to see him.”
Did Valten often meet women in the street and then offer to take them anywhere they wanted to go? She was determined to be on her guard. Could it be that he simply wanted to watch over her until she could return to the blacksmith’s shop for her horse? There was something in his eyes, such a look of chivalry. Though the rest of him had transformed and matured since that day when he was fourteen, his eyes had not changed. Even then, he’d had trustworthy eyes.
“How long have you been away from Hagenheim?” She already knew, but she wanted to hear him speak.
“Two years.”
“Your family must have missed you.”