asked.
“Pepin can’t help it.”
“You have a kinder heart than many ladies,”
Dominick said.
“Not really. I just don’t see any point in
blaming a person for something that isn’t his fault, that he’d
change if he could.”
Seeing the way Dominick was looking at her,
as if he wanted to put his arms around her right there in the hall
with all his people and his guests present, Gina decided to change
the subject promptly. Tearing her gaze from Dominick, she glanced
toward Pepin and his traveling companion.
“I don’t think the priest likes me,” she
said.
Before Dominick could respond to her claim,
Pepin left Father Guntram’s side and rejoined them. Gina noticed
the priest’s disapproving expression, and some imp of mischief made
her smile at Pepin with extra sweetness. She didn’t think many
women flirted with him, and she was delighted when he smiled
back.
“Will you be staying long at Feldbruck,
sir?”’ she asked him.
“Only one night,” Pepin said. “We are on our
way from Prum to Regensburg to see my father. It has been a long
and painful journey, and I want to end it as soon as possible, but
I could not come so far without stopping to visit Dominick.”
“If you are staying in Regensburg for more
than a few weeks, we’ll meet again there,” Dominick told him. “You
are always welcome at Feldbruck, but it is far out of your way.
Knowing how much you dislike travel, I wonder why you didn’t seek
me first at court and come here later if you didn’t find me.”
“Indeed,” said Father Guntram in a cold
voice. “That would have been the sensible thing to do, as I have
told you many times along the way, Pepin. Hear how your friend
agrees with me.”
“You are always sensible, Father.” Pepin
reacted with quiet dignity to the priest’s insulting manner.
“Whereas I am not the most sensible of men, as you so often remind
me. I conceived a great longing to sit far into the night with
Dominick, drinking his excellent wine and reliving our youthful
days together at the palace school.”
A most unreligious snort was Father Guntram s
response to Pepin’s remarks, followed by an angry lecture on the
virtue of exercising good sense on all occasions. Gina looked from
the darkly frowning priest to the almost angelically blank face of
the listening Pepin. It didn’t take a genius to see that something
was seriously wrong between the two of them. In hope of a clue as
to how she ought to react to the tension, she glanced at Dominick,
only to find that his usually expressive face was almost as devoid
of emotion as Pepin’s. Dominick’s bland silence further aroused her
suspicions.
“How far away is Prum?” she asked him while
Father Guntram was still ranting at Pepin.
“It’s west of Cologne,” he said, “and south
of Aachen. A long day’s ride from either place, and several weeks
from Feldbruck at the speed Pepin must travel.”
Gina tried to recall the map of Europe,
picturing where Feldbruck was and where Cologne was.
“That’s hundreds of miles from here!” she
exclaimed. “Ella told me that riding is difficult for Pepin, yet he
rode all that distance on a donkey.”
“And?” Dominick watched her closely, as if he
was waiting for her to reach a conclusion.
“Well, I’d say Pepin wants very badly to
speak with you.”
“So would I.” Dominick’s response was so soft
that Gina barely heard it. While she looked at him, noting the
frown that drew his brows together and wishing he’d reveal what was
on his mind, Father Guntram finished his lecture, and Pepin bowed
his head as if in complete acquiescence to what the priest had
said. But from the way Pepin’s hands were fisted at his sides and
the stiff manner in which he held his crooked back, Gina suspected
he was not as passive as he pretended to be.
That evening’s meal was not the usual simple
fare of bread, cheese, and cold meat left over from mid-day.
Hedwiga produced several hot, roasted chickens that Gina
“Pepin can’t help it.”
“You have a kinder heart than many ladies,”
Dominick said.
“Not really. I just don’t see any point in
blaming a person for something that isn’t his fault, that he’d
change if he could.”
Seeing the way Dominick was looking at her,
as if he wanted to put his arms around her right there in the hall
with all his people and his guests present, Gina decided to change
the subject promptly. Tearing her gaze from Dominick, she glanced
toward Pepin and his traveling companion.
“I don’t think the priest likes me,” she
said.
Before Dominick could respond to her claim,
Pepin left Father Guntram’s side and rejoined them. Gina noticed
the priest’s disapproving expression, and some imp of mischief made
her smile at Pepin with extra sweetness. She didn’t think many
women flirted with him, and she was delighted when he smiled
back.
“Will you be staying long at Feldbruck,
sir?”’ she asked him.
“Only one night,” Pepin said. “We are on our
way from Prum to Regensburg to see my father. It has been a long
and painful journey, and I want to end it as soon as possible, but
I could not come so far without stopping to visit Dominick.”
“If you are staying in Regensburg for more
than a few weeks, we’ll meet again there,” Dominick told him. “You
are always welcome at Feldbruck, but it is far out of your way.
Knowing how much you dislike travel, I wonder why you didn’t seek
me first at court and come here later if you didn’t find me.”
“Indeed,” said Father Guntram in a cold
voice. “That would have been the sensible thing to do, as I have
told you many times along the way, Pepin. Hear how your friend
agrees with me.”
“You are always sensible, Father.” Pepin
reacted with quiet dignity to the priest’s insulting manner.
“Whereas I am not the most sensible of men, as you so often remind
me. I conceived a great longing to sit far into the night with
Dominick, drinking his excellent wine and reliving our youthful
days together at the palace school.”
A most unreligious snort was Father Guntram s
response to Pepin’s remarks, followed by an angry lecture on the
virtue of exercising good sense on all occasions. Gina looked from
the darkly frowning priest to the almost angelically blank face of
the listening Pepin. It didn’t take a genius to see that something
was seriously wrong between the two of them. In hope of a clue as
to how she ought to react to the tension, she glanced at Dominick,
only to find that his usually expressive face was almost as devoid
of emotion as Pepin’s. Dominick’s bland silence further aroused her
suspicions.
“How far away is Prum?” she asked him while
Father Guntram was still ranting at Pepin.
“It’s west of Cologne,” he said, “and south
of Aachen. A long day’s ride from either place, and several weeks
from Feldbruck at the speed Pepin must travel.”
Gina tried to recall the map of Europe,
picturing where Feldbruck was and where Cologne was.
“That’s hundreds of miles from here!” she
exclaimed. “Ella told me that riding is difficult for Pepin, yet he
rode all that distance on a donkey.”
“And?” Dominick watched her closely, as if he
was waiting for her to reach a conclusion.
“Well, I’d say Pepin wants very badly to
speak with you.”
“So would I.” Dominick’s response was so soft
that Gina barely heard it. While she looked at him, noting the
frown that drew his brows together and wishing he’d reveal what was
on his mind, Father Guntram finished his lecture, and Pepin bowed
his head as if in complete acquiescence to what the priest had
said. But from the way Pepin’s hands were fisted at his sides and
the stiff manner in which he held his crooked back, Gina suspected
he was not as passive as he pretended to be.
That evening’s meal was not the usual simple
fare of bread, cheese, and cold meat left over from mid-day.
Hedwiga produced several hot, roasted chickens that Gina
Similar Books
