Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1) (14 page)

“She has worked miracles. I am much improved thanks to her ministrations,” he replied, wondering what the purpose of this visit was. His instinct was to let them talk.

“I expect my father has already extended our family’s apologies for what happened to you on our lands,” Lute said formally.

Nose twitching, Kon scanned the chamber as if making sure he’d removed all his belongings. He wandered over to the fumitory. “Rosemary,” he remarked.

“
Ja
, on both counts,” Brandt replied. “Don’t worry, it won’t take long for the aroma to disperse once I am gone and you have your chamber back.”

Kon frowned. “I might keep it,” he replied. “Sweetens the air.”

Despite the rosemary, it occurred to Brandt that the odor of knitbone predominated, and probably sweat from his fevered body, but he held his tongue. These two hadn’t come to make small talk. “Sophia tells me you plan to enter the priesthood, Kon,” he offered.

The youth’s face brightened. “
Ja!
” But then his smile disappeared. “However, it seems I might not get my wish.”

Lute glared at his brother, but Brandt’s curiosity had been pricked. “Why is that?” he asked solicitously.

Seemingly emboldened, Kon sat on the edge of the mattress. “Father says there are plans afoot for Emperor Lothair to invade the lands King Ruggero of Sicily has occupied. He’ll need all the men he can get. I might have to go to war.”

A worm wriggled in Brandt’s belly, but he chose his words carefully, not wanting to reveal what he knew. Lothair’s forays into Italy had failed before thanks to a lack of manpower. “I’ve heard of the struggle for the Italian kingdoms.”

“Everyone is aware of the conflict for control of the Papacy,” Lute said, apparently warming to the subject. “The emperor backs Pope Innocent whereas Ruggero supports Anacletus.”

Brandt’s Duke Conrad had long ago proclaimed himself King of Italy as well as Germany. There’d been talk he’d abandoned his Italian claims when the Staufens reconciled with Lothair after the war, but Brandt’s father refused to believe the rumors.

“Over the last few years Ruggero has extended his control over the Norman kingdoms in southern Italy,” Kon went on. “Now he rules much more than Sicily. There’s Apulia, Calabria, Naples…”

“Innocent fears he’ll try for Vatican lands next,” Lute interrupted again. “He’s already encroaching. If he succeeds, he’ll put his puppet Anacletus on the papal throne.”

Brandt suddenly had the impression he was listening to a miniature version of Dieter von Wolfenberg, but this wasn’t the time to make mock. If Ruggero controlled the Pope, German influence over the Holy Roman Empire would be eroded. If the emperor marched on Sicily, Sophia’s happy-go-lucky brother would be obliged to fight with the imperial army. He knew first hand the sobering effect battle could have on a man’s sense of humor.
 

Would Conrad and Friedrich Staufen honor their pledge to the emperor or seize the chance to exploit disruption in Italy and claim the throne of the Holy Roman Empire? Either way, Brandt had a sinking feeling he too might soon be on his way to Sicily.

RUMORS OF WAR

Everyone waited in silence in the family dining room. Imperial envoys had arrived in the early afternoon. Whatever decisions had been reached in the meeting between them and Sophia’s father would have a profound effect on all of them, Brandt included.

The servants would not serve the evening meal until
Graf
Dieter arrived. It was unusual for her father to be late and Sophia sensed her mother’s nervousness as she folded and refolded her linen napkin.

Lute stared at the door. He was uncharacteristically quiet, though now she sensed it was apprehension dulling his wit, not ale.

Kon’s head was bowed in prayer, his hands clasped in his lap.

Her brothers were capable swordsmen, but not one had the heart of a warrior. Johann had inherited his father’s diplomatic abilities, Lute their mother’s joyful spirit and Kon—well, who knew where her youngest brother had found his studious bent and religious calling?
 

Johann and Kristina sat as close together as propriety allowed in the dining room. Sophia suspected they held hands under the table. Their physical union seemed to have gone well. Both looked different, though Sophia couldn’t say why. Kristina was no longer her playmate, she was Johann’s wife, and the serious half-brother she’d always loved was now a married man.

She longed to know everything about their sexual congress. What was it like to sleep naked with a male? To join your body to a man’s? But of course she would never ask. She’d discussed the theory of such matters with her mother, but intense private feelings and sensations had never been a factor.

Her thoughts went to Brandt. She hadn’t seen him since the previous day and wished he was present, holding her hand while they waited. Though he’d sent her away, an inner voice whispered that he loved her.

“We visited Rödermark earlier,” Kon said suddenly.

Lute scowled at him.

Sophia’s heart turned over. “Was he well?”

A pulse thudded at her throat. It was a silly question from a befuddled nitwit. How could he be well when he was likely in agony?

“He seems to be improving,” Kon replied. “Wendelin is pleased.”

Lute sulked. “He was wearing one of Johann’s shirts.”

Sophia’s throat constricted when she considered the effort it must have cost Brandt to don a shirt, but her wayward thoughts drifted to the lower part of his body. Was he still naked beneath the linen?
 

“An old one,” Johann explained, jolting her back from Brandt’s nether regions. “Wendelin asked me for it. I suppose I’m about the same size.”

“Thank you, Johann,” their mother said with a smile. “That was generous of you.”

Sophia wasn’t sure what to think when Kristina beamed a big smile and winked at her. Nevertheless, she murmured, “Thank you, Johann.”

“Why do you care?” Lute said rudely. “Still lusting for the
Franken
?”

“Luther,” his mother replied in a menacing voice she rarely used.

Sophia didn’t blame her chastened brother for his uncharacteristic behavior. “It’s all right, he is as worried as all of us,” she said.

Scant hours ago life had been carefree. They’d celebrated a wedding in a time of peace, though she suspected her father had been aware of the rumors of war and hadn’t wanted to cast a shadow over the celebrations. He and Lothair and Heinrich must have discussed Ruggero of Sicily.

When her stern-faced father entered the room and took his customary seat, it was as though a wizard had cast a spell of immobility. All eyes went to Dieter von Wolfenberg. No one breathed, or spoke. Sophia’s belly roiled.

He waved away the servant who stood ready to serve. “Later. Leave us.”

When only the family remained, he took hold of his wife’s hand. “The emperor has made his decision. The campaign against Ruggero of Sicily will commence in two months.” He clenched his jaw. “Duke Heinrich will accompany him. As the duke’s vassal I am obliged to commit men to the fight.”

Johann put an arm around Kristina’s shoulders when she sobbed aloud and leaned against him.

Lute gasped.

Kon raised his clasped hands to his twitching nose, but didn’t open his eyes.

A tear trickled down Blythe von Wolfenberg’s cheek.

Sophia had been thrown into the pit of despair. Her heart raged. She suspected even her father didn’t know which side the Staufens would support. Either way, it was likely Brandt would also be sent to Sicily. She stood to lose her brothers and the man she loved.

Useless to deny that the die had been cast when she first set eyes on him. Faced with that inescapable truth, Sophia suddenly knew the choice she’d made was the right one. If the obstacle of Dorothea Rittenhuis could be overcome, she would pledge herself to Brandt.

Her father coughed just as she was about to make her declaration.

“The emperor has suggested a meeting with the Staufens,” he said. “With their support there is more likelihood of victory.”

Sophia swallowed hard.

“He requests we invite Friedrich and Conrad here, since the Staufen envoy is already our guest.”

Sophia recognised, as did everyone else, that an imperial
request
couldn’t be refused, and that Dieter von Wolfenberg’s reputation as a diplomat was the reason for the choice of location. The dukes had more than likely forgotten whom they had sent to the wedding in their stead.

FIRST KISS

Brandt gripped the mattress in an effort to steady his breathing before attempting to get back into bed. The short walk to the
necessarium
to take care of his needs was as exhausting as a pilgrimage to Rome. Drinking copious amounts of tea was all very well, but how did Wendelin expect him to get through the night?

The well designed indoor facility was impressive, a feature he intended to add to the manor house in Rödermark at the earliest opportunity. Enough of outhouses and chamberpots.

Had he been asleep he might not have heard the door open and close softly. There was no light in the chamber, but his eyes had already become accustomed to the dark. The same evidently couldn’t be said of the person who hesitated with her back pressed to the door.

Even if he hadn’t been able to see her, he’d have known it was Sophia. The fumitory was no longer lit, but a faint trace of rosemary hung in the air. Sophia brought with her the heady perfume of honeysuckle.

He would never inhale the scent of honeysuckle blossom again without being reminded of her.

His body also knew it was Sophia and reacted predictably. He drew the linen over his arousal.

However, an unmarried maiden should be abed in the middle of the night, not entering the chamber of a half naked man. It was his duty—to Dorothea, to his host, to his duke, to his father—to make her aware he’d seen her, tell her to leave, quash all hope of a relationship between them.

But he craved her with an intense longing that stole away his will to speak. This young Saxon woman had roused hopes and feelings he’d long ago buried under the weight of duty.

She took a tentative step toward him, peering into the darkness, then inhaled deeply. “I know you are sleeping,” she whispered, “but I have made my decision.”

Another step forward.

He stopped breathing. Had she come to tell him that family loyalty and fealty to the emperor overrode any feelings she had for him?

“I pledge myself to you, Brandt,” she whispered.

His heart turned over in his chest.

“I have fallen in love with you.”

The yearning in her voice echoed his own longing.

“If there is any way for us to be together, I will leave my family and my country and follow wherever you lead.”

She sniffled.

An urge to kiss away her tears filled him. “Come to me, Sophia,” he growled.

There was a sharp intake of breath. She looked back at the door. He feared she might flee and he was powerless to stop her. Gritting his teeth, he got to his feet, grasping the linen as it threatened to slip to the floor. He braced himself against the bed and held out his hand. “Come to me,” he said again.

She came immediately and to his immense relief took his hand. In that touch of flesh on flesh an unbreakable bond formed. The truth of it calmed his raging heart. “No matter the obstacles, I will make you mine,” he pledged. “You have brought light to my dark life.”

Her tear-filled eyes sparkled in the gloom. She leaned closer. “Kiss me,” she whispered, her voice full of the need and longing and love that coursed through his veins. But, if he bent to kiss her, he might topple over. “I have to sit,” he rasped, pulling her with him as his legs gave way and he sank back onto the mattress. Only the broken ribs prevented him lifting her on top of him.

Their lips met. Softly, gently, tentatively. “You taste of sweet wine,” he whispered.

She traced a thumb across his lower lip. “You taste of Solomon’s Seal.”

The swell of her breasts soothed the pain in his ribs, but intensified the ache in his shaft. She kissed him again, coaxing his lips open with her tongue. It was at once erotic and innocent, something she’d obviously never done before, but…

He sucked her tongue into his mouth, feasting, breathing with her as she keened her contentment. She put her arms around his neck and melted into his embrace. He delved his tongue into her mouth, elated when she sucked—hard. He widened his legs, cupped her bottom and pulled her closer.

“I’m going to hurt you this way,” she said into his mouth.

He was about to protest that it was a pain he would willingly endure, but then she whispered, “Let me.”

His erection turned to granite, rendering him speechless when warm fingers gently explored him, only the linen between his rigid flesh and her hand.

“I was right,” she teased. “You are naked under the linen.”

A troubling thought niggled in the back of his head. Perhaps Sophia wasn’t the innocent he believed her to be.

“Your
rute
is bigger than I expected,” she said, pressing her palm against his length. “Can I move the covering away?”