Ysabeau was standing with her mouth open, as if she had stopped mid-stride. And Sir Oswalt was just behind her.
“Forgive me,” she said.
“What is it, Ysa?” Princess Elyce’s cheeks were pink as she turned to face her servant.
“Your horse stood up. I thought you would want to know.”
“Yes, thank you.” She gave him the briefest glance before turning to walk toward Ysa and her horse.
Eighteen
Gerard followed behind her and reached his hand toward hers, wanting to take hold of it, but he let it drop back to his side.
That kiss had not been planned, but he didn’t regret it either, though he might later. What would Princess Elyce think of him, kissing her after he’d avoided her for days? She probably wouldn’t understand. How could she understand when he didn’t? He only knew he cared for her and wished . . . wished things were different.
They found her horse standing on its feet. The princess rubbed his nose and patted his foreleg while lavishing him with compliments, telling him he was good and strong and brave.
Again, he had the strange feeling of being envious of a horse.
“Are we ready to go?” Sir Oswalt asked, a smirk lifting one corner of his mouth.
Gerard took his time answering. Princess Elyce was still patting the horse and Ysa fidgeted with her hands.
“Tell everyone to mount up.”
Sir Oswalt turned to go, but the smirk was still there.
He had no right to laugh at Gerard. Oswalt had talked half the night with Ysabeau at the king’s feast, choosing to sit with her instead of with the noblemen.
“I still would like you to ride my horse,” he told Princess Elyce. “Let this one rest a bit.”
She nodded, her eyes locking on his. “Thank you.”
Would he ever have the right to kiss her, to hold her in his arms, to whisper in her ear how he felt about her?
“I’ll take him to the other tethered horses.” Ysa took the reins and walked the horse back the way she’d come.
Princess Elyce focused her attention on Gerard’s horse, talking to him and rubbing his cheek. Gerard forced himself to turn away.
“All right, I’m ready.” The princess stood beside the horse, prepared to mount.
Gerard bent, fingers locked, to let her place her foot in his hands. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder and the other hand on the saddle horn as he boosted her into the saddle.
Their eyes met again, and she covered her mouth and shook her head, her eyes shining as if amused.
“What?”
She shook her head. “What must Ysa and Sir Oswalt think of us?”
He didn’t see much humor in the situation, but at least she was no longer crying. “They won’t say anything, will they?”
“I suppose not.”
She held out her hand to him. He took it and kissed it. He heard her breath catch and let his lips linger on the delicate skin.
“I wasn’t . . . That is, I just wanted to hold your hand for a moment.” Her voice was low and breathy.
He squeezed her hand and let go. Then he led her out of the small clearing to join the others.
He was in deep now. How would this end? Not well, without a miracle. And why was it that he seemed more worried than she did? Was she naive enough to think they would be able to marry? She certainly did not seem coldhearted enough to treat this as a flirtation with which to entertain herself.
They were both in trouble, but he was done with ignoring her. Avoiding her did nothing to lessen his feelings. He’d just have to deal with the consequences later.
* * *
Elyce did her best to hide her smile for the next two days, and she refused to discuss the kiss with Ysa. No longer did Sir Gerard avoid her. He spoke to her every time they stopped to rest the horses, every evening when they stopped for the night. They did not get another chance to be alone, but at least she could comfort herself with the thought that he was not disgusted by her tears, not the way her father and her aunt had made her believe everyone would be.
She went over and over his words in her mind. “There is nothing wrong with crying honest tears . . . No one should be shamed for showing honest emotion.”
Her heart swelled every time she recalled them. And his kiss . . . How long might they have stood there kissing if Ysa had not interrupted them?
Now they were so close to Württemberg they could see the gate tower in the distance. Her heart was light at the prospect of the Count of Württemberg helping them. How could he not, with the letter from King Wenceslaus and the show of alliance the king had made with her?
The moment they arrived at Württemberg Castle, the guards glared at them and made them wait for nearly an hour. Finally, Count Eberhard’s chancellor came and said, “The count will speak with you.”
They followed him down a long corridor to a room even larger than King Wenceslaus’s throne room. A man sat at the other end. He had an enormous bushy beard and looked quite imposing, especially when he stood and came toward them.
“My men tell me that you claim to be the Princess of Montciel.”
“I am Princess Elyce of Montciel.” Elyce tried her best to look haughty and dignified, but her heart was beating fast. “And I have a letter here from King Wenceslaus.” She held out the rolled-up piece of parchment, which was sealed with the king’s seal and colored ribbons.
The heavily bearded man inclined his head toward a guard, then flicked his hand in Elyce’s direction. The guard came and took the letter from her and brought it to him.
Count Eberhard stared at the seal. Then he broke it and unrolled the parchment, perusing it for several moments, long enough to have read it twice, surely.
Sweat tickled Elyce’s armpits. Sir Gerard’s expression was rock hard, and his hand, which hung by his side, was clenched in a fist. He did not move.
“I will have to consider this, as it is not a small thing. You are asking that I support you, a young princess, against her own father, and against a neighboring kingdom.” He paused, then said, “This man is the captain of your guard?”
“Yes. That is . . . he is Sir Gerard of England.”
Count Eberhard started talking before she was finished. “What is he doing here?”
Sir Gerard’s face was red. “I am here to help Princess Elyce protect her people from King Claude of Valkenfeld.”
“Did King Richard send you?”
“No, but he has been informed about my mission here.”
“And what is your lineage?”
“I am the second son of the Earl of Dericott, and my older brother, Edwin, recently inherited the title upon the death of our father. I am here with the earl’s blessing.”
The count’s expression seemed to change subtly. He regarded them both for a moment, then said, “I will consider your request. In the meantime, you may stay in the castle.” He flicked his hand at the nearest guard. “Have Frau Louisa show them to two rooms.”
“Thank you, Lord Württemberg. We appreciate your help.”
“I will consider it. Good day.”
The guard hurried them out, and Elyce held her head high, her breath nearly coming in gasps at the coldness of the count’s treatment of her.
The guard left them while he went to fetch a house servant, and Elyce whispered to Sir Gerard, “We need to speak about this in private.”