Ulrich looked daggers at him, but Jorgen kept his gaze on Odette. She nodded and he swept her away. They joined the circle that was snaking around the entire first floor.
“I am afraid that man, Ulrich, is angry with you.”
Jorgen smiled. “He hasn’t liked me since we were boys. I never mind it.”
Odette was pleased to have been rescued from Ulrich, and she let herself enjoy the dance, turning and clapping, sidestepping and turning again.
She glanced around but didn’t see the chancellor. She pictured Jorgen and Ulrich getting into a fight, like in their boyhood days. They were grown men now, and she did not wish to invoke jealousy or contention between them.
She couldn’t seem to stop staring at Jorgen and his blue-green eyes. He made her feel so safe and protected. She couldn’t ever remember feeling that way with anyone else. It seemed especially strange, considering his position.
When the dance ended, she turned to Jorgen. He stood very close to her side in the crowded room, which made him seem even taller. She could see the stubble on his jaw and the small dent in the center of his chin. The tilt of his head as he bent to hear what she was saying made her heart alternately skip a beat and thump against her chest. “I will sit down for a while now.”
“Are you well?”
“Only a little tired.” She still had to go hunting tonight, and she needed to conserve her strength. “You may dance if you like while I rest.” She moved toward an unoccupied bench against the wall.
Jorgen walked with her to the bench, then was called away by Rutger and a couple of other men who seemed to want to talk to him.
Odette sat and watched as Peter whisked Anna onto the floor. Several other couples were taking advantage of the musicians and dancing every dance. Perhaps she should have continued dancing, for now she was watching everyone else enjoying themselves. Who could she talk to? She glanced around. Where was Jorgen?
There. He was sitting with one of Rutger’s friends, a man with a bulbous nose who seemed to be telling Jorgen a story. His eyes were locked on Jorgen’s face, and he was leaning forward, hugging a goblet of wine to his chest.
She caught Jorgen’s eye. He looked restless, and she motioned with her hand for him to come and sit with her.
Just then, the older man who was talking to him sat back and yelled at a passing servant, thrusting his goblet at him. Jorgen took the opportunity to excuse himself and strode over to Odette.
“Sit and talk with me. I’m rather tired of dancing. And now that I think about it . . .” She probably shouldn’t, but, “Would you accompany me to our little garden? It would be so much easier to talk out there, without the noise.”
He held his arm out to her and she took it, allowing him to lead her out the back door. She hoped no one would gossip about them being alone in the garden together.
7
THE NIGHT SKY was clear, and the sun’s rays had not completely disappeared from overhead. Fortunately, they were not alone, as a few other people were strolling in the garden or sitting on one of the benches.
“I hope you are enjoying your birthday.”
“Oh ja, I am.” She walked over to the iron bench and sat down, leaving plenty of room for Jorgen. “It was so loud inside. I thought we could continue our conversation better out here.”
He did not sit beside her but continued to stand.
Perhaps this was a mistake. She had not thought this through. If she did not want to be alone with him—and she should not—or to make him think she was showing a preference for him, then she should not have asked him to come out to the garden.
“Do you want to go back inside?” she asked.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head.
He sat down at the other side of the bench, leaving two feet between them. “Tell me about you. I know you like to teach the poor children to read and write. What else do you like to do?” A thick lock of his blond hair fell across his right eyebrow, and the dimple in his chin was accentuated by the shadows of the falling twilight.
“I . . .” I like to hunt. She couldn’t tell him that. “I like to study.”
“Your friend Anna mentioned that you like to study and that you have a tutor. What do you study?” He reached out and picked a leaf off the bush behind them and stared down at it in his hands.
“Brother Philip mostly brings me theology books. We have some lively debates sometimes, but I don’t tell anyone about that.” She bit her lip. Would Jorgen disapprove? Her heart seemed to stop beating as she waited to see what he would say.