Her Unforgettable Royal Lover(44)

“Except,” Natalie said, squeezing his arm with hers, “he wasn’t the last Grand Duke.”

For once Dominic didn’t grimace or shrug or otherwise downplay his heritage. He couldn’t, with its very dramatic remains staring him in the face.

“I’ve told the duchess she should come back for a visit,” he murmured almost to himself. “But seeing it like this…”

They stood with shoulders hunched against the wind, Dom thinking of the duchess and Natalie searching the ruins for something to jog her memory. What had drawn her here? What had she found among the rubble that propelled her from here to Győr and onto that damned boat?

It was there, just behind the veil. She knew it was there! But she was damned if she could pull it out. Disappointment ate into her, doubly sharp and bitter after her earlier excitement.

Dom glanced down and must have read the frustration in her face. “Nothing?” he asked gently.

“Just a sort of vague, prickly sensation,” she admitted, “which may or may not be goose bumps raised by the cold.”

“Whichever it is, we’d best get you out of the wind.”

Dejected and deflated and feeling dangerously close to tears, she picked her way back through the rubble. She’d been so sure Karlenburgh Castle was the key. So certain she’d break through once she stood among the ruins.

Lost in her glum thoughts, her eyes on the treacherous path, it took a moment for a distant, tinny clanging to penetrate her preoccupation. When it did, her head jerked up. That sound! That metallic tinkling! She’d heard it before, and not long ago.

Her heart started pumping. Her mouth went dry. Feeling as though she was teetering on the edge of a precipice, she followed the clanging to a string of goats meandering along the overgrown lane in their direction. A gnarled gnome of a man trailed the flock. His face was shadowed by the wide brim of his hat and he leaned heavily on a burled wood staff.

“That’s old Friedrich,” Dom exclaimed. “He helped tend the castle’s goats as a small boy and now raises his own. Those are cou noirs—black necks—especially noted for their sweet milk. My grandfather always stopped by Friedrich’s hut to buy cheese when he brought Zia and me back for a visit.”

Natalie stood frozen as Dom forged a path through the goats to greet their herder. She didn’t move, couldn’t! Even when the lead animals milled inquisitively around her knees. True to their name, their front quarters were black, the rest of their coat a grayish-white. The does were gentle creatures but some instinct told Natalie to keep a wary eye on the buck accompanying them.

A bit of trivia slipped willy-nilly into her mind. She’d read somewhere that Alpine goats were among the earliest domesticated animals. Also that their adaptability made them good candidates for long sea voyages. Early settlers in the Americas had brought this breed with them to supply milk and cheese. And sea captains would often leave a pair on deserted islands along their trade routes to provide fresh milk and meat on return voyages.

Suddenly, the curtains in her mind parted. Not all the way. Just far enough for her to know she hadn’t picked up that bit of trivia “somewhere.” She’d specifically researched Alpine goats on Google after… After…

Her gaze shot to the herder hobbling alongside Dom, a smile on his wrinkled walnut of a face. Excitement rushed back, so swift and thrilling she was shaking with it when Friedrich smiled and greeted her in a mix of German and heavily accented English.

“Guten tag, fraülein. Es gut to see you again.”





Eleven

Natalie had spent all those hours soul- and mind- and computer-searching. She’d tried desperately to latch on to something, anything, that would trigger her memory. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that trigger would consist of a herd of smelly goats and a wizened little man in a floppy felt hat. Yet the moment Friedrich greeted her in his fractured English, the dam broke.

Images flooded the empty spaces in her mind. Her, standing almost on this same spot. The goatherd, inquiring kindly if she was lost. These same gray-white does butting her knees. The buck giving her the evil eye. A casual chat that sent her off on a wild chase.

“Guten tag, Herr Müller.” Her voice shook with excitement. “Es gut to see you again, too.”

Dom had already picked up on the goatherd’s greeting to Natalie. Her reply snapped his brows together. “When did you and Friedrich meet?”

“A week ago! Right here, at the castle! I remember him, Dom. I remember the goats and the bells and Herr Müller asking if I was lost. Then…then…”

She was so close to hyperventilating she had to stop and drag in a long, hiccuping breath. Müller looked confused by the rapid-fire exchange, so Natalie forced herself to slow down, space the words, contain the hysterical joy that bubbled to the surface.