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Blythe was a physical and emotional wreck when they rode into Köln after two days on horseback. Neither she nor her Black Knight had uttered a word about the encounter by the lake. Thinking of him as Count Dieter would completely shatter the memory that had kept her warm through the long winter in Trier.
They came to an impressive two-story house. Its stone façade was ornamented with statues of what she supposed were saints. The front wall seemed to soar to the heavens, tapering to a point topped by an ornate crucifix. She had never seen such an elaborately decorated façade in England. Two similar structures stood either side. In the far distance, the sun glinted off the Rhine and beyond it lay a fortified area.
The Black Knight nodded in that direction. “There, in Tuitium, lurks your friend, Heinrich.”
They rode under a curved arch into a large courtyard, leaving behind the bustle of the street. She opened her mouth to explain the emperor was nothing to her, but a dog barreled out of the house and leapt at the Black Knight as he dismounted. He bent to accept the joyous welcome of the black and gold dog, laughing and fondling its ears. It licked his face, ran around in circles panting, then licked him again. He fell over as the excited animal showered him with love, laughing like a small boy as the dog’s tail wagged ferociously.
“Ja, Vormund, ich bin es.”
When the panting dog calmed, the Black Knight came to his feet, his face flushed. She sucked her lolling tongue back into her mouth. She’d wanted to be the one crawling over him, licking his face, making him laugh. “Your dog loves you,” she murmured, immediately irritated she had even spoken to him.
Her belly clenched when he smiled. “Ja, Vormund is a good dog. He’s our watchdog. His name means—how do you say in English—Guardian.”
She was surprised. The relatively small dog did not appear fierce enough to be a watchdog. She reached out her hand. “He doesn’t look threatening.”
The dog growled and she withdrew her hand quickly.
Her captor calmed the animal. “He is a hovawart. They are excellent watchdogs. It will take him a while to get used to you, but then he will protect you with his life.”
A while? How long was a while? The intensity in the Black Knight’s eyes filled her with the fanciful notion that he too would lay down his life for her.
He put his warm hand on the small of her back and ushered her into the blessed coolness of the house, issuing orders to several servants who appeared as if by magic. He handed her over to a squat little woman with grey hair. “Anna will take you to bathe.”
She wished there was something she could hold on to as the opulent surroundings tilted around her at the mention of bathing. Would she ever forget the sight of him emerging from the lake? “But my clothes—I can’t—”
He cupped his hand under her elbow. “Don’t worry. Anna will take care of you.”
Feeling steadier, she trailed after the little maid, who spoke in rapid German, not ceasing when Blythe simply shrugged her shoulders wearily in a sign of incomprehension. The woman did not seem taken aback by the sudden arrival of an unkempt Englishwoman.
Anna took her to a well-appointed room where she assisted Blythe to peel off the ruined dress, hose and chemise, wrinkling up her nose as she did so. She barked an instruction to one of the other maids who were busily filling the metal bathtub. The girl left her task and reached up to unpin and unbraid Blythe’s hair. She should resist, but longed to have the tight braids gone. Relief surged when her hair sprang free and fell to her waist. She was impatient for it to be clean again.
Anna tested the temperature of the water with her elbow before she allowed Blythe to step in. “Gut,” she announced, handing Blythe the soap after assisting her into the tub. She swept from the room with a self-satisfied air, shooing out the other maids.
Blythe had never enjoyed a bath more. She soaped her aching body, then dunked her head and washed her hair. More relaxed, she lay back in the large tub and contemplated all that had happened.Thinking of the Black Knight sent warmth throbbing in a most private place and up into her belly. Her nipples hardened. She contracted her muscles, tightening her bottom. The movement sent pain radiating through her, an abrupt reminder of the soreness caused by her journey.
“Stop thinking of him that way,” she chided herself. “He has kidnapped you. He isn’t the honorable nobleman you thought. Don’t show him any weakness. He may intend to sell you.”
She struggled to her feet in the tub. “Holy Mother of God! Of course, that’s his plan.”
Fear washed over her, stealing away the pleasure of the bath.
Maman, pray for me. Pray for your little girl.
She would never see her beloved parents again, her fate sealed like those of young women in lurid tales, sold into slavery to satisfy the appetites of eastern potentates.
She sat back down and soaped her face quickly to hide the tears when Anna tapped at the door and entered, accompanied by several maids laden with dresses, chemises, hose and shoes. Anna fussed over the laying out of the clothing on the bed, while the maid who had unpinned her hair rinsed it with clean water. She assisted Blythe out of the tub, enveloping her in a luxurious drying cloth. Anna shooed the girl away and took over the drying. She was careful not to further irritate Blythe’s sore spots, soothing them with a cooling salve. Once her body was dry, Blythe examined the dresses, all of fine woven scarlet fabric—reds, whites, blues, and greens. The gowns were not new, but of the best quality. She would be much more comfortable in this wardrobe. The Black Knight had been very generous to his prisoner. How had he arranged all this so quickly? He must have sent word ahead.
She selected a green surcoat dress and a fine linen chemise and the maids helped her dress. Anna’s scrubbing with the drying cloth had fortified her and now the maid brushed her long hair until it was almost dry. It felt good to have the tangles out.
In her limited German, Blythe indicated she wanted crown braids, determined to keep the severe style she had worn to deter the men of Heinrich’s court. She did not want anything about her appearance to encourage the Black Knight. There was not much she could do about the décolletage of the dresses which she considered much too revealing.
When Blythe was ready, Anna beckoned her through the door, making signs to show she was taking her to eat. “Kommen.”
Blythe was hungry, having eaten only camp food on the journey, and not very much of that, since her stomach had been knotted with fear. She followed Anna willingly. The servant brought her to a large room where the Black Knight sat at an enormous wooden table laden with food. He too had washed away the evidence of their journey, though his hooded eyes betrayed his fatigue.
He evidently favored black clothing, just as he had when she’d first met him. Tunic, leggings, boots—all the same midnight color as his thick hair, blood red the only relief in the slashed sleeves of his doublet. Three dogs lay at his feet. Vormund got up when his master rose. The rottweiler and the greyhound raised their heads and studied her, tongues lolling. The greyhound yawned.
Her captor took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Ah, Lady Blythe, I see you’re refreshed.” His English was as perfect as his Norman French.
Her nipples tingled and pulsating warmth spiralled deep inside. She would have to stop reacting with such wantonness to his touch. She was a woman after all, not a silly girl. She bowed slightly, withdrawing her hand quickly. “Thank you for the gowns. I am sure I don’t know how you managed to find clothing to fit so quickly.”
He frowned and seemed uncertain of his answer. Then he smiled his enigmatic smile. “Sit and dine with me. I’m like a starving man after our journey.”