Steffan’s heart was still pounding after he decided at the last moment to kiss her cheek instead of her lips. Magdalen had pushed him away after he embraced her. Wise girl.
He hurried to pack their belongings on the horses. Magdalen helped by strapping the first bag to the back of her horse’s saddle.
He’d always been told, by his priest, his tutor, his grandmother, and even by Jacob, that he should never kiss a maiden. The only woman he should ever kiss was his betrothed on their wedding day. Kissing, they said, was for senseless, indiscreet men, for wayward sinners, and for the poor, who had few pleasures in life.
He had been sorely tempted several times in the last several hours, especially seeing how Magdalen had clung to him after he saved her the night before and after her nightmare. Not that it was her fault. He had wanted to comfort her. But to feel her breath on his neck . . . and then this morning, to see her stare at his lips and then close her eyes. He wouldn’t be breathing if he had not been tempted.
What would Magdalen think if he tried to kiss her? He was fortunate she had not slapped him for kissing her on the cheek. Did she think of it as a brother kissing a sister? He shuddered. That would be worse than getting slapped.
He ran a hand over his face. If there were a stream nearby, he’d go dunk his head in it. Maybe the cold water would clear his thoughts.
Together they finished readying the horses.
“I don’t think anyone will recognize me if I pull the hood of your tunic up over my head,” she said, stuffing her hair into it.
He nodded. “It is a good disguise.”
As they rode into the village, they did not speak to each other, and Magdalen kept her face mostly covered while he procured supplies for their journey.
He let his gaze scour the men milling around the marketplace for Lord Hazen and his soldiers, and he was certain Magdalen was doing the same. Just as they were about to leave, he spotted two of his uncle’s guards asking questions of a group of villagers in the middle of the street.
He kept his head down while he stowed the last of the provisions in his leather saddlebag. Magdalen pulled the hood as low as possible.
Soon they were on their way back to Wolfberg.
By midafternoon the next day, they came to the path leading to Rosings Abbey.
“We will stop here for a meal, and you need to rest.” Steffan didn’t like the look of exhaustion in Magdalen’s eyes and the way her shoulders drooped.
“I don’t want to slow you down to take care of me. I’m afraid Lord Hazen will catch up to us.” Her pretty green eyes glistened with impending tears.
“Listen.” He leaned forward, drawing his horse alongside hers, and took her by the wrist. “It doesn’t matter that we are traveling a bit slower. We have at least a week before the guests arrive in Wolfberg.” He caressed her wrist with his thumb. “And secondly, I like taking care of you.”
She shook her head and made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a snort.
“You took care of me, remember? And I let you. And now you have to let me take care of you.”
“Your swollen lip is better.” She smiled. “The cut over your eye is almost healed.”
“Now, don’t worry. We will eat our food and sleep, and in the morning you’ll feel better. If God so wills, Lord Hazen would not find us even if we stayed at Rosings Abbey for a week.”
When they reached the abbey, the nuns sent Steffan to another part of the convent. They gave Magdalen a hot bowl of rabbit stew and showed her to the same room where she had slept on her way to Wolfberg, before Agnes and her father forced her to change places with her.
With her stomach full from the stew and some wheat bread and butter, Magdalen lay back in her narrow but comfortable bed and read from the Psalter that one of the nuns’ young servants had brought her. She had not seen her own Psalter since Agnes took her things.
As she read the familiar psalms of David, she was suddenly jealous that Steffan had read the entire Bible. What secrets and knowledge and wisdom did he have that she did not? He did seem rather more patient and gentle than other young men—not that she’d met many young men.
A knock came at her door. “Come in.”
A middle-aged nun entered looking quite sober, her brows drawn together. She sat on a stool next to Magdalen’s bed.
“My dear, the other nuns tell me that you are traveling with a young man who is not your husband, just the two of you.”
“It is true.”
“There are many things that can happen to a young woman traveling alone with a man who is not her husband. I would like to set you on your guard.”
“I thank you for that. If I were with almost any other young man, I might have cause to be alarmed or even afraid. But you see, this young man, whom I shall call Stoffel, is very . . . noble-minded, and not the kind of young man to take advantage of anyone, and he knows I have no intention of allowing anyone to take advantage of me. I shall not marry except for true love, and neither he nor I are in love.” She smiled to show that she was in no way being oppressed or coerced. But as she said the words, a twinge of pain stabbed her heart.
“Are you sure he is not in love with you?” The woman squinted and tilted her head as she stared into her eyes. “I was there when he was told he would have to separate from you. The look on his face—”
“Oh, I can assure you that you are mistaken. We are only friends, like brother and sister.” So why did tears threaten and sting her eyes? Steffan was not in love with her, but she . . . she could certainly see the wisdom of this woman’s words. It was unwise for a young woman to travel alone with a young man—especially a young man like Steffan—because she was in danger of falling in love with him.
But she did not feel the need to share that information.
“I sense that you are troubled. Is there anything I can help you with?” Only the nun’s face was visible, and from the slight wrinkles around her eyes, Magdalen guessed she was probably a little younger than Magdalen’s mother’s forty years.
“I don’t think so. I am trying to get something back that was taken from me. But I don’t think there is anything you could do to help, although I thank you for your willingness to offer.”
“Sometimes we must wait on God for help, and I believe God wants you to wait on Him now, for true love as well as getting back what was taken.”
Magdalen smiled. “Thank you. I’m sure you are right.”