Wolfie ran up, barking wildly, and planted himself between Rose and Lord Hamlin’s big black horse.
“Wolfie, stop that.”
The horse began to graze, as if to show that the dog was beneath his notice.
Lord Hamlin reached out a hand to Wolfie. The dog sniffed him then allowed Lord Hamlin to rub his shaggy head. Rose held her breath, fearing Wolfie would bite him. Instead, Wolfie relaxed under his touch, moving closer to him.
Rose shook her head at her dog’s unusual behavior. “He must like you. He doesn’t let people get that close.” Especially men.
Lord Hamlin stroked him behind the ears. Wolfie grinned up at him, saliva dripping from his tongue.
“I had a dog once,” Lord Hamlin said. “A good one too. Unfortunately, he got trampled by a horse and died.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” And she truly was. How sad to lose a beloved dog.
Lord Hamlin looked up and their eyes locked as his features softened. His earthy, leathery smell drifted over her, warm and pleasant. Aware of his close proximity, Rose’s heart beat erratically.
As though also conscious of their nearness to each other, he moved a couple of paces away. “My sister, Lady Osanna, told me you’re coming to the ball next week.” He sat down on the grass, one knee pointing toward the stream, and picked a tall weed. Staring at it, he twisted it between his fingers.
“Yes, although I’m sure I won’t know anyone.” Rose frowned, wondering if she should have revealed her insecurity.
“At least there will be music, and I know how much you like music.”
“Yes.” How did he know that? “I do love music.”
He smiled and twisted his upper body to face her. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his white shirt as he propped one elbow across his knee. “Do you sing?” he asked.
“A little. Do you?” She couldn’t believe she was asking personal questions of Lord Hamlin. Their whole conversation was unthinkable. Yet here he was, looking relaxed and quite interested in answering her questions.
Wolfie, on the other hand, must have grown bored, because he dashed off to chase a chipmunk.
“Osanna and my mother like my singing. I’m not sure anyone else could appreciate it, and I’m certain I don’t sing as well as you tell stories. You have the gift of storytelling. It is remarkable that you know how to read and write. Did Frau Geruscha teach you?” He fixed his eyes on her face.
Rose didn’t feel offended by his statement, as she knew it truly was remarkable. None of her friends knew how to read. “Yes. Frau Geruscha started teaching me when I was very young. She said she’d never seen anyone so eager to learn.” Rose felt a bit smug and then laughed at herself.
She met his gaze. He was smiling at her. His deep blue eyes absorbed the sunlight and sparkled like gems. His dark curls shifted in the breeze and brushed against his forehead.
Oh, but you are handsome.
Rose drew in a quick breath, shocked at herself.
At that moment Lord Hamlin stood and pulled something from the leather pouch that hung behind his horse’s saddle. It was a lute. He sat back down and smiled at her, the light dancing in his eyes.
“Will you sing for me if I play?”
Rose shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
She could hardly believe she was refusing a request from Lord Hamlin, even though she couldn’t imagine actually singing for him. But it could hardly matter what he thought of her. She could never hope to be anything to him except a servant, a healer’s apprentice working for him in his castle. Besides, he would never think twice about her when he had nobly born ladies around him like Lady Anne, who might even turn out to be his betrothed. Nonetheless, Rose was glad he didn’t seem angry at her refusal to sing. He simply stared down at the stringed instrument.
Her heart fluttered at the strange honor of Lord Hamlin playing the lute for her.
He strummed his thumb across the strings and a familiar tune emerged, the song of a maiden, fair and gentle, who walked alone, waiting for her lover to come to her. Rose listened, enraptured by the melody—and the sight of Lord Hamlin. She watched his hands, sunbrowned and strong, expertly evoking the song. And watched his face, his eyes half closed as he appeared to concentrate on his playing, sighing in spite of herself.
He looked up and caught her eye. Never had she felt so alive—alive to the sound of the music, alive to the sight of Lord Hamlin’s beautiful eyes gazing at her as though her soul was visible to his.