A worried wrinkle formed between the shepherd’s eyes as he stared at her geese, and Magdalen had that sudden thrill of wondering, again, if he was the Duke of Wolfberg. But how could the duke allow himself to dress like this and take care of animals while someone else took his place?
He could ask her the same question.
“You do not speak like a peasant or a servant,” he said.
“And who do I speak like?” She lifted a brow.
He had a rather large nose, and as she recalled, the Duke of Wolfberg also had a slightly larger-than-average nose. This man had a forehead much like the duke’s. His hair was dark brown with a pleasant wave on top. And this man had the same brown eyes as the duke.
“I don’t like geese,” he said, the wrinkle in his forehead getting deeper, giving him the same vexed look he’d had when she saw him in the dining hall. “The sheep don’t like them either.”
She sighed as he spoke to her as if she were a fellow servant, just like everyone else. She had been foolish to think he could be the duke.
“I shall allow my geese to go where they like.” She turned her back on him. “They want no part of you and your sheep.”
She walked over to the nearest goose, sat down, and started stroking its back. It didn’t even make a sound, just kept on eating.
“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be touching that bird.” His voice was different, high-pitched and nervous.
She turned to look at him. “There are only two or three ornery ones. I can attest to their bite.” She showed him her forearm where the bite was still scabbed over and healing. She wasn’t sure why she was speaking with him, except that she had been alone with no one to talk to every day for a week.
“Dastardly creatures!” The man scowled quite ferociously. “You should be careful that doesn’t fester.”
“Thank you for your concern. I shall.”
It was perversely enjoyable to speak in such an impertinent and saucy way to a young man, to not worry about being polite or well spoken. She sat on the ground, keeping her back to the shepherd. Finally, she lay down and gazed at the trees farther down the side of the hill, listening to the strange roaring sound in the distance.
He had said his name was Steffan. Too bad she did not know the given name of the Duke of Wolfberg. She might come right out and ask him if he was the Duke of Wolfberg, at the risk of him laughing her to scorn, but how could a duke who was forced to watch sheep possibly help her regain her place as a baron’s daughter?
“How close are we to the sea?” She turned in the direction where he sat, not even sure if he was still there.
He actually had a book in his lap, and she wished she had the courage to ask him where he got the book.
“The sea is just beyond those trees.” He nodded below them. “Are you not from Wolfberg?”
“No.” There didn’t seem to be any reason not to tell him. “I am from Mallin.”
His gaze grew sharper. “What brings you to Wolfberg?”
“That is a strange tale, and you would not believe me if I told you.” She stood. “Will you watch the geese? Only for a few minutes? I want to see the ocean.”
“Have you never seen it before?”
She shook her head.
He stood and tucked his book in a leather pouch. “I shall walk with you. There is a steep cliff just beyond the trees. If you aren’t careful you can fall over the edge.”
“Will the geese and the sheep be well if we leave them alone?”
“Truthfully, I know very little about sheep, and only slightly more about geese, besides the fact that they are fiendish creatures. But I can’t imagine they will wander off if we are only gone a few minutes. But I would understand if you do not trust me enough to go with me where you have never been before.” He bowed to her, a gallant and humble gesture.
“I have a gift for reading people’s intentions.” She looked him in the eye, searching his face. “And you, I believe, are an honest person without evil intentions.” Truly, she did not know if she had a gift for reading people’s intentions. But she wanted to say something equally magnanimous.
He bowed again. “You are safe with me, my lady.”
His words made her mind race back to the ball at Thornbeck Castle. She looked askance at him, but he was glancing back at the sheep and geese.
“Let us go. We shall return before they can have moved far.”
They walked down the hill and into the coolness of the thick stand of trees.
“The roaring sound is getting louder. I feel as though I might be walking to my doom.”
“The sea is no danger to you if you do not plunge into it.”
She had no intention of plunging into it, and she’d be sure to watch her step as they drew near to the edge of the wooded area. A bright patch of blue-and-white sky lay ahead, and something else quite blue. Was that the sea?
She walked carefully as they stepped on sticks and rocks under and among the leaves. Finally, they moved out of the trees onto a narrow strip of land.
“Oh.” A bright expanse of water stretched out before her, and . . . it never ended. It seemed to meet the sky a long way out, as if there were nothing else on the earth except sky and water.
“Be careful.” The shepherd extended his arm toward her. “The cliff is just ahead, as you can see, and it is a long way down.”
Her eyes devoured everything in front of her, and yet they did not seem any closer to getting their fill.
“To the left you can see that the cliffs curve around, and they are white where they face the ocean,” he said. “There is sand at the bottom, where it meets the water.”
“It is perfectly miraculous. I never imagined it would look like this.” She pressed her hand against her chest, as if to prevent her heart from beating too hard. “The water is so . . . beautiful.”
Her life stretched out in front of her, just as this shimmering ocean did. She had left her childhood behind and was free of her mother’s suffocating control for the first time. Magdalen’s life could be used for so much more than trying to avoid her mother’s anger. Life could be beautiful, surely, could be worthwhile and inspiring, and she could accomplish good things, for herself and for others.
Steffan was watching her, a slight smile on his face.
“Now I see what is making that roaring sound.” She took another step toward the edge and looked down. “The waves crashing against the land.”
He nodded. His face was expressionless as he stared out at the vast waters.
She let her gaze roam over the white cliff faces and the sand below. Together with the powerful ocean waves, she suddenly felt as if anything was possible. Though she was in an unexpected and difficult situation, God would empower her to do things she never imagined when she was living a small, insignificant life.
Steffan said, “I have been blessed to grow up in a place where I am surrounded by both forests and the sea.”
“Mallin has only mountains and mines—empty copper mines. And we have lakes where the geese love to swim and live.” Absently, she said, “The lake waters must make them feel safe from predators. Too bad the geese at Wolfberg have no lake to swim in.”
“Speaking of geese, we should get back to our animals.” He took one last look below, then turned and they headed back through the trees.
His face was difficult to read, especially with that beard and the way his brows drew together. She was just about to tell him how much she loved the ocean and the cliffs when they came out of the trees and into the open meadow. The geese and sheep were intermingling, grazing peacefully together.
Steffan the shepherd groaned. “Evil birds. What are they doing among my sheep?” He raised his arms. “Shoo, you cruel little beasties.”
But instead of scaring the geese away from the sheep, his display seemed to spook the sheep who bleated and became even more commingled with the geese.
Steffan threw up his hands again, starting to walk away.
Magdalen laughed.
He turned wide eyes on her. “There is nothing funny about these vile creatures. What if they attack the sheep and send them running? They could all plunge off the cliff to their deaths.”
“That isn’t likely, is it?” Her stomach twisted at the thought. It was true, the geese could start flapping their wings and honking. They were rather frightening when they did that, and they could bite.
A grim look on his face, he stepped sideways, placing his body between the sheep and the trees and, ultimately, the cliff.
“Perhaps I can separate them.” Magdalen took her long, thin stick and moved cautiously so as not to frighten the sheep. She urged one of the geese to move, a bit at a time, until she had herded it away from the sheep. But twenty-nine more geese still infiltrated the sheep flock.
Gradually, painstakingly, she managed to coax all the geese out from among the sheep and into their own side of the meadow. Meanwhile, Steffan talked to the sheep.
“Do not worry,” he said in a soothing tone, “just keep eating your grass.” He kept his body between them and—to judge by his expression—certain death. “Stay where you are. No running off, now. That’s a good flock.”
“How long have you been tending sheep?” she asked as she separated the last goose from the sheep.
“I am an inexperienced shepherd. Is that what you are trying to say?”
“Not at all.” She shook her head, suppressing a smile. “It’s only that I don’t know much about sheep, but you seem to think them very timid creatures.”
“They are timid. It’s the geese you must watch out for. They are evil birds, bent on mayhem and cruelty.”
“They only wish to eat and be safe. They’re only birds, after all.”
“How can you say so with that fresh wound on your forearm?”
“I’d hardly call it a serious injury. The bird was simply frightened of an unfamiliar person.”
He grunted. “You should take care.”
Magdalen studied his profile. He did not appear to be in jest. He seemed to genuinely hate the geese. But why? He seemed to like the sheep and treated them with gentleness.
For the rest of the day they grazed their animals, making sure they stayed separate, and talked occasionally. Near the end of the day, as the sun was getting low, he put away his book.
“Where did you get that book?”
“Oh, this? It was . . . in my bag.” He obviously did not want to tell her.
“Well, if you have another in your bag, would you allow me to read it tomorrow?”
“You know how to read?” A suspicious light flickered in his eyes.
“Of course. I mean, I learned . . . when I was . . . younger.” A servant, especially one as lowly as a goose girl, should not know how to read. But then, neither should a shepherd.
“I see.” He shuttered his eyes, half closing them and turning away slightly. “I shall bring you something to read tomorrow.”
“Thank you. Do you happen to have paper and ink as well?”
He turned back toward her. “I do.”
“Would you bring me some?”
“In exchange . . .”
“Exchange for what?”
“For you telling me your name.”
“Very well. Tomorrow when you bring the paper and ink, I will tell you my name.”