Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(8)

She was as nimble now as in the past and darted out of the basin and down into the shrubs, practically running away from me. But I was quick too. In fact, I’d sharpened my muscles and speed over the years that I’d served as one of the king’s knights. She made it only to the trail fork before I snagged her arm and drew her to a halt.

She strained and struggled against me for several seconds before holding herself motionless and stiff, apparently concluding she was no match for my strength.

“You are clearly determined to say your piece. So, say it.” She stared straight ahead, her dainty chin lifted, her pert nose turned up, her exquisite lips pursed into a line.

I wanted her to turn and look at me so I could stare into her eyes and watch the brown take on speckles of gold or green. But she kept her focus on the trail ahead, to the rugged outcroppings of rocks.

What should I say first? How could I convey my sincerity? “Do you love him?” The moment the question slipped out, I wished I could summon it back. Why was I making such an issue of Frans? I ought to be encouraging her union with him, not undermining it.

She snapped her eyes to me, and the brown churned, dark and stormy. “My feelings for Frans are none of your concern.”

“If you loved him, you would have wedded him by now.”

“If Frans hadn’t been forced to hand over every last coin of his savings to pay for fire damages, we would be able to get married this spring. But now he cannot afford the bride price.”

I had never agreed with Bernhard’s methods of governing his subjects, especially his policy about requiring his bondservants to gain his permission and pay a fee in order to marry someone of their choosing. Already, life was difficult for so many of them, never having enough to feed and care for their families. If they happened to find love, that shouldn’t be denied them.

“Then you would marry him if he could pay for you?” I persisted.

“Yes. Of course I would.”

“If you tell me that you love him and mean it, then I shall give him the money he needs.”

Her lashes swept up, and for the first time since I’d returned, she seemed to truly look at me. She made a trail around my face, starting at my forehead, then stopping at my cheek, chin, and nose, before turning her attention to my lips and lingering there.

Was she thinking about the kiss we’d shared last time we were out here together? Though the connection had lasted but a few seconds and had been the softest, gentlest of touches, it had knocked into me with the power of a siege engine boulder. I had never experienced a kiss either before or after that had affected me so powerfully.

Even now, my gaze dropped to her mouth, drawn there against my best judgment. I couldn’t—absolutely wouldn’t—think of kissing her again. Doing so would only cause more hurt and confusion instead of clearing it up.

“Tell me you love him,” I whispered.

She captured her bottom lip between her teeth.

The very motion captured me, drew me up like prey caught in a snare. There I hung, breathless with anticipation, not wanting her to release me, but also knowing she had to set me free. Or I would be forced to do it myself.

Except I didn’t want to be free from her. From the moment I met her, even as a child, I’d only and ever wanted to be hers. Clearly, neither time nor distance had changed any of my feelings, except perhaps made them stronger.

“I don’t know.” Her whisper was barely audible in return.

“What don’t you know?” I had no idea what we were talking about anymore. And somehow, I found myself standing mere inches from her. Had I closed the gap between us, or had she?

At the crackling of brush down the trail, my hand slipped to my belt and to my knife, my weapon of choice. I had it unsheathed and ready to throw before I could make myself look away from her.

A bear-sized man halted in the middle of the path. His concerned gaze bounced back and forth between us as his thick eyebrows rose.

“Frans.” I gave him a curt nod. “Good to see you again.”





Chapter

4





Mikaela


“Frans. What are you doing here?” I hopped away from Gunnar as though we’d been caught doing something unseemly. We hadn’t even been touching, and I had no reason to feel guilty, so why did I?

“I was worried and came to check on you.” Frans stood with his feet apart and his shoulders angled like a buck about to charge and clash antlers with his competitor.

I put another arm-length of distance between myself and Gunnar, not daring to look at him, too afraid of revealing how Gunnar affected me.

What was wrong with me? Gunnar was my mortal enemy. But here I was, talking to him rationally and considering his offer.

How could I not? He’d proposed a generous solution to our dilemma. All I had to do was tell Gunnar I loved Frans, and he would pay the bride price. Frans wouldn’t have to labor hard for another year to save. I wouldn’t have to worry about the earl making advances toward me or choosing someone else for me to marry—someone I might not know or like.

At least with Frans, even though I might not feel sizzling sparks the way I did with Gunnar, I would be safe and content. My amiable feelings would likely someday develop into more. Even if they didn’t, I could ask for no better man.

Frans’s brows dipped into a deeper scowl. With his face covered in a scruffy beard, I couldn’t see his mouth well, but he seemed to be pinching it closed, as though he was keeping himself from saying something he might regret.