The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(17)

She spun on her heel and faced Lord Thornbeck. “What are your duties to the king, my lord? I know you are charged with keeping the border safe and defended from invaders, but what about preventing attacks on other castles in nearby regions? If you don’t mind my asking.” She bowed her head to soften her pointed questions.

When she glanced up, he was staring into her eyes in a way that made her heart stutter and stammer. He seemed to have no idea how good he looked, which made him even more attractive.

“I am a knight. Even if I were not the Margrave of Thornbeck, I would come to the aid of any ally who was being wrongfully attacked.”

Any ally, he said. She hoped he considered the Earl of Plimmwald an ally.

“I am pleased to hear that.”

“Why do you ask such a question?”

“Oh, well, I . . . I was thinking of . . . of my father, the Earl of Plimmwald. I’m afraid he has reason to fear that someone might try to take over Plimmwald and its castle.”

“And who might this someone be?”

Her heart skipped another beat, but this time at the severe look on his face. “The Duke of Geitbart, my lord.”

A moment went by, then he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. He took a deep breath as he moved closer, staring out over the wooden railing at the wild ravine below. “The Duke of Geitbart’s daughter, Lady Fronicka, is my guest here, and the duke will be arriving before the final ball.”

Her stomach sank. Was he trying to tell her he considered Geitbart a closer ally than Plimmwald?

“Therefore, Plimmwald is safe for two weeks at least.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, one brow quirking up. “I do not approve of anyone wrongfully trying to take Plimmwald. However, your father sent a letter to the king accusing me of murdering my brother. Is there some reason I should not look the other way when the Duke of Geitbart decides to seize Plimmwald?”

Her heart jumped into her throat. She swallowed hard. “I do not know—that is, I’m sure my father did not accuse you. Perhaps he merely mentioned the rumors . . .”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Perhaps.”

How could she convince him not to hate the Earl of Plimmwald? To consider him an ally worthy of helping, should Geitbart attack?

“You are shivering.” His brows lowered in that severe way of his. “Let us go inside.”

She hadn’t even noticed how cold she was. They made their way back through the gallery and into the ballroom, with its high ceilings and decorative banners and frescos on the walls.

As they were walking across the ballroom, Lady Fronicka appeared at the top of the stairs. The duke’s daughter narrowed her eyes at them.

They soon passed out of sight of Lady Fronicka, and Odette led them around the rest of the main floor, including Lord Thornbeck’s library, where he and his chancellor conducted business, Odette explained. The margrave allowed Odette to do all of the talking, to the point of awkwardness. He stayed silent as she explained that his business included writing letters and documents and keeping all sorts of records and ledgers.

Odette gave Lord Thornbeck a pointed look, and he cleared his throat.

“Do you enjoy corresponding, Lady Dorothea?” he asked.

“Oh . . . yes . . . when I have someone pleasant to correspond with.” It was the first thing that came into her mind and seemed like something Dorothea might say. Avelina wrote stories, not letters. She had no family but her father and younger brother and sister. She also had few friends, and none that knew how to read or write.

Lord Thornbeck was moving toward the bookshelves. “I have a few books you might be interested in reading. You are welcome to take whatever you fancy and read them while you’re here.”

“Oh, that is very generous of you.” And thoughtful. Her heart stirred strangely inside her as she looked up into his warm brown eyes. What would it be like to be married to this man?

No. She absolutely could not let her thoughts turn in that direction. But she couldn’t seem to stop her heart from fluttering as her eyes were still locked on his.

You are only a servant. He would never look at you with interest in his eyes if he knew that. It was enough to make her turn away from him, her hand shaking as she reached out for a book on the shelf. Besides, she did not like gruff men.

But at least for now she would have access to all these books. There were so many, her eyes hungrily took in all the leather-bound spines. She ached to read them all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Odette inclining her head in Avelina’s direction.

Lord Thornbeck reached past her shoulder. “Here is a favorite book of mine. The Song of Roland.” He took a book off the shelf and showed her the cover. “It’s an epic poem about a battle during the time of Charlemagne.”

“Oh yes. I have heard of it. I always wanted to read it.” Avelina reached for it, then drew her hand back.

“You may take it.” He held it out to her. “It’s long, but I think you will like it.”

She took it from him, not allowing her fingers to touch his. “Thank you, my lord.”

Staring down at the heavy book in her hands, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do next. Should she open it and start to read? Should she keep looking at the other books on the shelf? Or stare up stupidly into Lord Thornbeck’s eyes, as she was doing?