Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1) by Anna Markland

home.
    “His name is Drogo,” Brandt rasped unexpectedly, causing her to almost drop the trencher. His husky voice echoed in her bones. She dithered near the door, tempted to thrust the food into Drogo’s hands and flee.
    The lad seemed to recover his wits and soon had more candles lit. Sophia wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. She had three older brothers and was aware men and women were made differently, but she’d never seen a well-muscled adult male in bed with naught to cover him but a linen sheet molded to his body.
    She suspected he’d pulled the sheet over his chest, but his feet lay uncovered as a result. She fixed her gaze on his elegant toes, resolved to keep her eyes off his long legs.
    Balancing the bowl of tea in one hand, Wendelin yanked the sheet over Brandt’s bare feet. “I know you’re hot, my lord, but you must keep covered,” she chided.
    He bent his knees slightly, his jaw clenched.  
    She definitely shouldn’t have come. However, fleeing wasn’t an option. She was a von Wolfenberg who didn’t intend to make a fool of herself in front of two peasants and a foreign spy.
    She was about to offer the food when Wendelin thrust the bowl at Drogo and barked another order, this time at her. “Give the trencher to the lad and help me get our invalid into a sitting position.”
    Sophia froze like one of the snow sculptures the servants fashioned on the icebound Elbe each winter. If she spoke it was doubtful coherent words would emerge, but she couldn’t touch him. “I…”
    “Hurry,” Wendelin said, one arm already hooked around Brandt’s. “The tea’s getting cold.”
    Sophia passed the plate into Drogo’s outstretched hand and walked with as much dignity as she could muster to the bed. To her surprise Brandt’s scowl had softened into a wry smile and she was relieved he looked better than the last time she’d seen him.
    “We must be careful,” Wendelin warned. “Take hold of his arm and we’ll ease him up slowly so I can bolster him with the pillows. You’ll have to help, my lord.”
    He nodded. “I understand.” Then he glanced up at Sophia, his blue eyes full of longing. “Be gentle with me.”
    The ice maiden melted as fire rushed through every vein, every pore. She’d never been looked at that way. Her heart raced as she grasped his bicep, awed by the strength in his arm, the heat of his skin.
    “Put the other hand on his shoulder,” Wendelin advised softly.
      She obeyed.
    Brandt sucked in a breath as they eased him up then back onto the pillows the healer pummelled into place.
      “Thank you,” he rasped with a wink that sent a thousand winged creatures fluttering in her belly.
    She couldn’t take her hands off his body. She longed to confess he drew her like a lodestone. Instead she whispered, “I was glad to help.”
    He glanced down at her hand, still gripping his arm.
    She withdrew quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you discomfort.”
    “You didn’t,” he replied.
    The sheet had pooled around his waist when they’d sat him up. She gazed at his chiseled chest, fascinated by the dusting of dark hair, but appalled at the swollen red bruises across most of his torso.
    Wendelin made a tsking sound and drew the sheet over his nakedness.
    Brandt smiled at Sophia, as if he knew his body had affected her.  
    She felt her face redden when Drogo coughed. Wendelin took the tea from him and gave the bowl to Sophia. “Help him sip this,” she said. “Then he can eat the vegetables. I’ll be back.”
    Panic surged. “Where are you going?”
    “Just to the kitchens for more hot compresses. Don’t worry, Drogo is here.”
    She scurried away before Sophia could protest.

WOVEN ENCHANTMENT

    Brandt was afraid Sophia might scald him with the tea. “I can manage,” he said, tempted to laugh out loud at the relief obvious on her lovely face when she handed him the bowl with trembling hands. But laughing might have painful consequences.
    She clasped