Hildy came to walk with Rose to the Marktplatz, since Frau Geruscha wouldn’t allow her to go by herself. The Marktplatz was alive with people milling about. The focal point of the square was the three-story Rathous, or Town Hall, one of Rose’s favorite buildings. It wasn’t ornately decorated like the Butchers’ Guild Hall on the opposite side, with its painted wooden carvings, but was magnificent in its own way. Rose marveled at its size and its gray brick fa?ade, decorated with triplet Gothic-arched windows. Pointed stone arches ran the length of the bottom floor, forming a canopy over the sidewalk. She and Hildy waited for Lord Rupert there.
Rose ran her hand over the tight, smooth braid down her back, drawing it over her shoulder. Hildy had come to visit her after the feast, and her friend had braided Rose’s hair in preparation for the dancing. While Hildy tugged and worked Rose’s strands of hair between her fingers, Rose described the awful incident with Peter Brunckhorst. Hildy cried, “If only Lord Rupert had come and saved you! That would have been so romantic.”
She listened absentmindedly to Hildy’s excited chatter. A lingering shiver of abhorrence ran through her at the thought of Peter Brunckhorst’s long fingers biting into her face and crushing her lips. Was he still inside the walls of Hagenheim? If so, he could be nearby. She looked about her but saw no one resembling the tall wool merchant. Besides, the duke’s soldiers were out looking for him, and perhaps even had him locked in the dungeon at this moment.
Excitement about the Midsummer Eve festival filled the air with extra noise and happier sounds than normal. The actual festival wouldn’t commence until twilight, when bonfires would be ignited all around the countryside. In the Marktplatz, there would be a ring of candles, around which people would sit and sing and eat St. John’s bread and destiny cakes. But first, Lord Rupert’s impromptu music and dancing would entertain everyone.
“Rose.”
She turned and saw Lord Rupert striding toward her.
Hildy squeezed her arm. “I will find you later.” Her eyes twinkled before she turned and hurried away, across the wide Marktplatz.
Lord Rupert’s face was lit by a broad smile. He stopped before her and lifted her left hand. His smile fled.
“You’re not wearing it.” His eyes narrowed. “Still afraid of Frau Geruscha?”
“I don’t want to excite her ire unnecessarily.”
“What about my ire?”
“Oh, I think I can manage yours.”
“Is that so?” Lord Rupert backed her up against the inside wall of one of the arches of the Rathous. Shadows surrounded them as the wall mostly hid them from the people milling around the Marktplatz. He propped his elbow against the arch above her head. His eyes danced with a tender light.
Her heart quickened. If she were the wife of Lord Rupert Gerstenberg, wouldn’t she be happy? How could she be otherwise? He was very handsome. Everyone thought he was quite a catch for any woman, rich or poor.
He leaned closer, his eyes already closing. If she simply stood still, he was going to kiss her in less time than it would take to say, “Halt. State your business.”
Rose ducked her head and slipped under his arm. “I suppose you remember that I wanted to tell you about something.” She turned around to face him. Trying to affect an innocent smile, she clasped her hands behind her back and stood on her toes.
He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with a frown of disappointment. His features, his hair, his clothes, seemed even more perfect in the dim light under the arches. He sighed. “I anxiously await the telling of it.”
“There is a man named Peter Brunckhorst who has asked to marry me.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re betrothed?” He uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the wall.
“No, of course not.” Rose frowned, ready to grab him by the throat and shake him if he wouldn’t be quiet and let her finish. “I am trying to tell you that this man, Peter Brunckhorst, has twice accosted me. The second time was this morning after I left the cathedral. He grabbed me by the arm and put his hand over my mouth. That’s how I got the bruises on my face.”
“The surly—” Lord Rupert’s features took on a threatening expression. “Our bailiff shall be notified at once. We’ll have the lout whipped for that.”
“Frau Geruscha has already informed the bailiff of the entire incident. He and several of his men have gone to find him.”
“Very good.” Lord Rupert cocked his head to one side, his shoulders relaxing. “Well, then, I’m glad I took care of that.” He grinned, stepped toward her, and draped his arm across her shoulders. “Not frightened anymore, are you, my pet?”
She opened her mouth to say that there was more to the story. Instead, she shrugged off his arm and bristled at being called his pet. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her. Perhaps it was because she was disappointed he hadn’t shown more concern over what had happened.
“No. I suppose I’ll simply strike him in the throat with my elbow again the next time he tries to wrench my face from the rest of my body.”
“Did you truly do that?” Lord Rupert drew back, his eyes growing wide. “You’re a maiden not to be trifled with, I see.”
She tried to look smug. “I’m glad you realize that.”