But wasn’t that foolish? Once he found out she was the poacher . . . Was she not being childish in wanting something she could never have? Wouldn’t it be kinder to marry Mathis and let Jorgen find someone else?
Another tear flowed down her cheek, and she didn’t bother wiping it away.
Jorgen and the gamekeeper rode just behind the margrave on the hunt the next day, in order to advise him of the best hunting spots. All of his highborn guests who were staying a few days at the castle were along for the hunt. Unfortunately, they were having difficulty finding any deer at all. The margrave was scowling.
Jorgen sat on the brown gelding, searching the undergrowth for signs of a deer and praying that a deer would jump out of the bushes. If not, he might lose everything.
He had already lost Odette.
A heaviness filled his chest, the same heaviness that had settled there when Odette saw him kissing another girl. If only he could go back. If only he had realized the woman was not Odette. If only he had not kissed her and declared his love for that imposter.
There had to be some sinister reason that woman had stolen Odette’s mask. What it was, he could not fathom, but he had a strange suspicion that Rutger had something to do with it. Could he so object to Odette falling in love with and marrying Jorgen that he would send a woman to trick him? Rutger was the person who had led Odette into that small room near the food and drink. That must have been where Odette had taken off her mask and it had been stolen. That was the last time he had seen her with it.
Rutger must be behind it.
Jorgen was not sorry he had kissed Odette. But he supposed it was that kiss that had led him to kiss the other girl. His mind had been clouded by his desire to make Odette love him the way he loved her . . . by desire for Odette. It was at least partially—mostly—his own fault. How could she ever love him now?
I will not give up, God. So do not let her fall in love with anyone else. And raise me up, somehow, in her eyes.
One of the men in the party lifted a bow and aimed it at the ground, then shot. “Got it!”
“What was it?” someone asked.
“A hare. If we cannot find deer, we can at least kill something.”
Jorgen’s neck burned. He felt responsible for everyone’s dissatisfaction. I pray, O Lord, let me catch that poacher. Please.
22
THE WIDE-EYED FACES of the children outside the town wall as they listened to her teach her lesson lifted Odette’s heart a bit from where it had sunk. She kept glancing up, looking for Jorgen, as the lesson progressed. But when the lesson was over and he still had not come, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach again.
She could still close her eyes and feel his lips on hers. But remembering him kissing that other girl dispelled the pleasant sensations and sent a jolt of pain through her chest.
What had she been thinking to allow him to kiss her? But what she really longed to know was, would he ever kiss her again?
Odette gave out the usual hugs to those children who always seemed to crave her attention and affection. But her thoughts were on Jorgen. Would he avoid her now?
“You sent for me, Lord Thornbeck?” Jorgen joined the margrave in the banqueting hall of Thornbeck Castle.
“Sit down, Jorgen.” The margrave had a tense look on his face, which made the boulder in Jorgen’s chest even heavier. “I am sure you remember how disastrous our hunt was yesterday. Even the dogs were unable to scent a deer.” He leaned forward. “I need you to find out who is poaching the king’s deer. If you cannot do this one task, I will be forced to find someone who can.”
The margrave sank back in his chair. “I have sent for someone who is excellent at tracking. He should arrive next week. In the meantime . . .” He fixed him with a hard stare. “This poacher would shoot you if he thought he could get away with it, I have no doubt. It is time to put him and his black market out of business. I want you to find this poacher, and I want you to have no qualms about shooting him.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The next morning Odette was awakened by Heinke coming into her room. “Mistress Odette. There is a little boy named Hanns here to see you.”
“Hanns?” Odette raised herself to sitting, forcing her eyes open.
“Yes. He is crying and begging to see you.”
Odette grabbed a roomy underdress, pulled it over her head, and scrambled out of bed. She hurried down to find little Hanns standing at the back door and wiping his face on his ragged sleeve.
“Hanns, what is wrong?”
“Mama is sick. She says she thinks she’s dying.” Another tear slipped down his dirty face. “She has not gotten out of bed in two days, not even to go to the privy.” His hands were trembling, and his cheeks were pale and sunken.