“Jorgen,” the margrave growled, “what reason can you give for not telling me who this poacher is?”
A trickle of sweat slid down the center of Jorgen’s back. “My lord, I . . . I can give you no satisfactory answer, except to say that this poacher thought she was doing the right thing, that the deer she was killing were going to feed poor people who were starving.”
“That is no excuse,” Ulrich sputtered. “No excuse for breaking the law and killing the king’s deer.”
The margrave lifted his hand to silence his chancellor. His brows lowered and came together in a crease. “You said ‘she.’ Do you mean that the poacher is . . . a woman?”
“Yes, my lord. She did not know that the meat was being sold in the black market.”
Ulrich let out a snort.
“Jorgen,” the margrave said, “is the poacher someone you know? Someone you want to protect because you have tender feelings for her?”
He bit the inside of his mouth. Finally he said, “Yes, my lord.”
“Am I to believe that you feel more loyalty to this poacher than you do to me?”
The air seemed to thicken as no one made a sound. “No, of course not.” But even he didn’t think he sounded convincing.
“Tell me who is responsible for selling the meat to the black market. You must at least tell me that much, Jorgen, or I shall wonder if you are not telling me the truth at all.”
“I would rather wait until I have more evidence. But whether I can give you the irrefutable evidence or not, I will tell you soon, in the next few days.”
The margrave did not look pleased. His eyelids hung low as he said, “You have two days. I am not a patient man, and I want to know who has been breaking the law. Two days, Jorgen.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Jorgen had managed to avoid her all day, staying busy with his work after meeting with the margrave, taking his midday meal in the castle kitchen with the servants so he wouldn’t have to come home. But when his mother met him at the front door with a worried look on her face, he was seized with fear.
“Did something happen to Odette?”
“She is well, but you need to let her tell you about her uncle’s visit earlier today.”
He forced himself not to run toward his bedchamber.
“I will have supper ready soon,” his mother called after him as he reached the doorway.
Odette sat propped in bed, sewing up a seam in a pair of Jorgen’s hose.
“You should not be doing that.” He closed the distance between them.
She pulled the fabric close to her chest, as if she thought he might snatch it away. “I need something to do all day while you are out doing your work and your mother is doing hers. Besides, she ran out of peas for me to shell.”
She was so beautiful when she smiled, but now was not the time to tell her so. “Tell me what happened when Rutger came to see you.”
“Yes, of course. But sit first. You look tired. You have been working all day. Please.”
He sat down, his eyes locked on hers. Although his gaze did stray to her lips, if he was honest with himself, and he did think about kissing her. But then he locked on to her eyes again.
She laid the mending in her lap. “Rutger came in the front door after your mother went out to tend the garden and the geese.”
She proceeded to tell him what Rutger had said. “I tried to tell him I didn’t think we could avoid punishment, but to be honest, I was a bit frightened by his response. I’ve never known my uncle to look at me or speak to me that way.”
“He might try to harm you, Odette. He is obviously afraid you will tell the margrave about his role in the poaching and the black market.”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “He is my uncle. He would not do that. He believes he will probably not be punished because . . .” Odette looked as if she might cry.
“What is it? What do you not want to tell me?” When she still seemed to be fighting tears too much to speak, he said, “If it is about you marrying Mathis, I already know.” He tried to sound cool and unaffected, but he had to stand and turn his back on her. He folded his arms across his chest. “I do not blame you, Odette. I know you have to marry him. You would be a fool not to marry him. His money will protect you and . . . give you all the things you want.” All the things I cannot.
She didn’t say anything.
When he had control of himself again, he turned back toward her. Tears were trembling on her lashes. She ducked her head and wiped her eyes. “I know it does not matter now, but I want to say again how much I regret kissing that other woman. I thought she was you, but I—”