He would like to think Rupert’s intentions were honorable and he was only angry because his older brother didn’t trust him. But Wilhelm suspected Rupert’s anger arose from the fact that he had come too close to the truth.
Certainly if Rupert chose a wife without a sizeable dowry, Wilhelm could, and would, make sure Rupert’s life was comfortable. And if Rupert fell in love with a respectable maiden like Rose, perhaps he would be willing to settle down at the manor house that rightfully belonged to him and live a comfortable life in the country. At least, that was what Wilhelm had always hoped for him. Rupert certainly wasn’t the right man to lead the Church.
Despite his hopes, he found it hard to imagine Rupert settling down. After all, he was only twenty-one years old. And hadn’t he proven himself licentious and immature during the past two years while they were away in Heidelberg?
But Rupert’s interest in Rose aroused Wilhelm’s anger more than he dared explore. She was not one of the dissolute wenches Rupert frequently spent time with. Surely Rupert realized that. If he didn’t, Wilhelm vowed he would impress the fact on his brother in terms he could not mistake.
He sighed and turned in the direction of the southwest tower. It was time to have his stitches taken out. And time for him to stop thinking about Rose. Past time. He should never have allowed himself to dwell on her beauty, her unaffected manners, her sweet but determined temperament…
Wilhelm shook his head. He was doing it again.
Rose turned the crank on the side of the stone well. Water sloshed in the bucket at the end of the rope. As it neared the top, the handle turned slower and she pulled harder. Finally, the full bucket came into view, and she unhooked it from the windlass. Wrapping both hands around the handle, she hefted it off the short stone wall of the well. She made her way across the castle courtyard toward the southwest tower, inching along and sloshing water on the ground around her feet.
A shadow crossed her path and she glanced up. Lord Hamlin stood three steps in front of her.
“May I?” He took the bucket from her, wrapping his big, sunbrowned hand around the handle.
“Thank you.”
He started in the direction of the tower without looking at her, carrying the bucket easily with one hand.
Rose pushed the hair out of her eyes. She couldn’t help but contrast the way she must have looked the night before—her curls elegantly piled on top of her head, her colorful silk dress gliding across the dance floor—with how she looked today. This morning her hair trailed over her shoulders and down her back in a disheveled mass, and she wore the same ugly green kirtle she’d worn the day she sewed up his leg. She had scrubbed the blood stain until it was so faint she didn’t think anyone would notice.
“I was just on my way to Frau Geruscha’s chamber to get my stitches out.” Lord Hamlin stared straight ahead.
“Oh.” Today?
“I was supposed to come yesterday.”
“Frau Geruscha is here. It won’t take her a moment.” Thank goodness I won’t have to do it.
They reached the door and Lord Hamlin stood back to let Rose go in first. Rose tried to take the bucket from him, but he pointed into the storage room. “Do you want this in there?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Rose watched as he set the bucket on the floor, his shoulder muscles straining against his white linen shirt. He looked around. “You have a lot of herbs in here.”
“Yes, Frau Geruscha knows everything about medicinal herbs.”
Frau Geruscha must have heard their voices, because she called from the second floor, “I’ll be down in a moment!”
Lord Hamlin and Rose wandered back into the main chamber.
“What is this?” Lord Hamlin strode over to the desk by the window.
“The Bible.” Rose stopped in the middle of the room, several steps away. “It belongs to Frau Geruscha, but she lets me read it.”
His face softened and his eyebrows quirked upward. “The Bible? That’s my favorite book.”
He did that thing with his eyes again, exchanging wordless information with her own. He seemed to say, “It pleases me to know you read it.” An inexplicable happiness flowed through her.
Uh-oh. Her imagination was doing a Hildy again.
“Frau Geruscha taught you to read Latin as well as German?”
Rose nodded.
“Lord Hamlin.” Frau Geruscha’s voice caused Rose to jump. “You’ve come to have your stitches removed, I presume.”
Frau Geruscha stepped into the room from the dark stairwell. Her starched wimple covered her graying hair. “Sit here on the bed and stretch your leg out so we can have a look.”
Lord Hamlin sat down on the bed and pulled off his boot. He was wearing footless hose and pulled them up until they exposed his stitches.
“Oh, my.” Frau Geruscha leaned over his leg. “You healed faster than I anticipated. Some of the stitches have become a touch embedded. But that’s no matter. Come here, Rose.”
Rose hurried to Frau Geruscha’s side.