Wilhelm’s hope was bolstered when he noticed that the Duchess of Marienberg was a handsome woman. Did he only imagine a resemblance to Rose? If only he could see the color of her hair, but it was completely covered by a wimple and jeweled circlet.
Now here he waited, alone in the Great Hall, all the food having been cleared away and the trestle tables removed by the weary servants. They’d toiled hard all day, ever since the announcement of the Duke of Marienberg’s unexpected arrival. He’d reward them with several days off at Christmas.
He’d sat through the interminable feast. Now he had to wait for her parents to talk to her first. Parents who had been too weak, too afraid, or too indifferent to protect their child themselves, having sent her away as a baby.
A cold feeling oozed through his stomach.
He could burst into the room and let them know he was tired of waiting. What could they do?
The clock chimed the hour—ten o’clock. He tried to pray, to calm his nerves, but the only thing he could say was, “O God, let it be Rose.”
He heard footsteps coming down the corridor toward him. It was probably only a servant, but he couldn’t resist going to the doorway and peering out.
It was Frau Geruscha. She curtsied to him.
“Your betrothed is in the library. You may go to her now.”
He brushed past her, striding briskly down the corridor.
His heart thundered against his chest. He reached out his hand and pushed open the library door. He stepped inside.
Four large candelabras lit the windowless room. A woman stood with her back to the door, wearing a dress he didn’t recognize. Her hair was gathered up on the back of her head and covered by a gold caul.
He took a step toward her. She turned around, a tentative smile on her face.
His beautiful Rose.
He sank to his knees and raised his hands over his face. “Thank you, God. You’re so good to me.”
Chapter 28
Rose’s heart fluttered when her eyes met Duke Wilhelm’s. She waited for him to come closer, to say something. Then he sank to his knees and covered his face.
Should she go to him? She ventured closer, trying to make out what he was saying.
“Thank you, God, thank you. My Rose…God is good…God is so good.”
He slowly lowered his arms. The look on his face reached out and wrapped her in a warm embrace of love. He got to his feet and held out his hand.
She closed the gap between them and buried her face in his chest. His arms enfolded her.
“Thank God, it’s you.” His voice was ragged, and his chest rose and fell with each breath.
“I love you.” It felt so good to say the words. How warm and comfortable she felt, pressed close to him. She could hardly believe she was standing here, in Duke Wilhelm’s arms.
His hands touched her hair. One of Lady Osanna’s maids had twisted it into a bun on the back of her head. He lifted the wire net off the back of her head, dropping it on the floor with a clatter, which was soon accompanied by the plink-plink of metal hair pins hitting the stone tiles. He unwound her hair and sank his fingers in it as it spilled down her back. Gathering the long tresses up to his face, he breathed deeply.
He opened his eyes, and they shimmered in the candlelight. She gazed into them, and a dozen scenes seemed reflected in their depths, especially her last hazy memory of him bending over her and pressing his lips to hers. His every feature was highlighted by the flickering candles.
“You are the most beautiful sight,” he whispered. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
She leaned into him, her whole body melting.
His lips moved to her temple, then her cheek. Finally, they slipped down and found her mouth. He kissed her slowly, reverently, his hands resting on the sides of her head, his thumbs lightly touching her cheekbones.
His kiss intensified, sending warmth through her whole body. She slipped her arms around his neck and held on as though she were falling. Her legs turned to mush but she didn’t want him to stop. She kissed him back and he responded, taking her breath away.
He finally ended the kiss, pulling her closer. “Oh, Rose. God is so merciful to me.”
His deep voice sent a warm shiver down her back. His lips caressed her temple. Then they traveled across her cheekbone to her mouth again.
Rose’s knees were so weak, she was afraid she would sink to the floor. “I need to sit down.”
With one swift motion, he slipped his arm beneath her knees and picked her up.
Rose giggled. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. He carried her to a cushioned chair as big as a throne in the corner of the room. He sat down, holding her on his lap.
She laid one hand on his chest, over his heart, and sighed.
“Are you tired? You don’t have to do anything but rest for the next week, until we’re wed.”
Until we’re wed. “That sounds so good.” She closed her eyes, unable to suppress her smile.
“What did you think of your parents, the Duke and Duchess of Marienberg?”
Rose sighed again, but not from contentment this time. “I suppose they are fine, elegant people.”