The iron gate to the rose garden hung ajar. Shadows stretched long as the sun hung low in the west. Her heart fluttered. She opened the gate and walked in, shutting it behind her.
Lord Rupert stood in front of a huge red rose bush, the vines of which covered the wall behind him, studding the gray wall with dark red roses. His eyes glinted. A jaunty smile on his face, he stepped forward, took her hands, and led her to the iron bench.
He spoke with fervor, gazing into her eyes. “Rose, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Her heart jumped inside her. His ice-blue eyes held her prisoner in the glimmer of twilight.
“You see,” he said, turning her hand over and playing with her fingers, “the Bishop of Hagenheim died two days ago.”
“Oh?” What does that have to do with us?
Lord Rupert stared down at her fingers. “My father has granted me what I’ve always wanted, Rose.” He looked up. His pale blue eyes pleaded with her, giving Rose a strange feeling of foreboding.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m asking you to become my wife, Rose, in spirit, because we won’t be allowed a legal wedding. My father has appointed me to be the new bishop.”
In spirit? Rose instantly understood his meaning. The breath rushed out of her. She jerked her hands out of his grasp.
He spoke quickly, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “But we will be no less married, Rose. You know as well as I do that the Church’s doctrine against priests marrying is unfair and unbiblical. Rose—”
She recoiled from him, leaning back against the armrest of the bench. Her stomach twisted in horror. It was as though a curtain had been pulled and she now saw him as a vile, traitorous snake instead of the tender lover of mere moments before.
“Rose, truly, no one will think of you as anything other than my wife. You will be respected—”
“Stop it.” Rose’s voice came out raspy and foreign, even to her own ears. “I will not be your mistress. Never.” She stood, clenching her fists in defiance. “I will not be anyone’s mistress, do you hear me?”
“Rose, listen to me!” He stood toe to toe with her, grasping her arms hard in his hands. “I’ll make you happy. You shall have all the music, all the beautiful clothes, everything you could want. You can run the household, read books—”
“Let go of me.” Her body went rigid. She could barely see. Tears of rage blurred Lord Rupert’s image. She glanced down and her eyes focused on the bracelet he had given her, glinting on her arm. Her face burned as she grasped it and ripped it off. She threw it at his feet. “You think I’m a nobody, nothing. How dare you ask me to live in sin?”
“Stop saying that and listen to me! It isn’t like that, Rose!”
“It is! It is! And you know it is.” Rose suddenly hated him, hated his detestable fingers gripping her arms. She had to get away from his voice. She couldn’t bear to listen to another word out of his mouth.
Rose violently twisted her upper body and wrenched herself out of his grasp, throwing herself backward. He made a wild grab and caught her sleeve. She heard the fabric rip as she landed on the ground on her left hip. Cool air brushed her shoulder. Her right sleeve was torn and hung awry across her upper arm. She grabbed it and held it up in a feeble attempt to cover her exposed shoulder as she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the hand he offered her.
“You’re being unreasonable—”
“You stay away from me.” Rose gave him her fiercest look, determined to scratch his eyes out if he touched her. “Don’t ever come near me again. Do you hear me?”
She turned and ran out of the rose garden, leaving the gate swinging on its hinges. She skirted behind the castle, across the courtyard, and through the castle gate, keeping her head down as she made her way out of town and then ran across the meadow toward the forest.
She ran as fast as she could, until her chest burned as though her heart were on fire. She reached the beech trees and turned to make sure Lord Rupert wasn’t following her. Then she plunged into the evening shadows of the forest.
Tears coursed down her face and she panted for breath. Not caring where she was going, she kept running, only wanting to get far away. She came out on the other side of the trees, into the waning sunlight, and started toward the beech tree at the top of the grassy hillock.
Her shoulders shook with her sobs. She could barely see where she was going as she stumbled up the hill and sank to the ground under the tree.