The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(71)

Sitting in his lap like this was very improper, but she was deliciously warm. Of course he was more concerned about alerting the guard than her comfort. But she did not blame him.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply of his comforting scent. If only she could be held like this every day, to feel loved by this man she had come to care for even more than her own life.

But it was foolish to think such things.

Neither of them spoke or even moved. Finally, warm and comfortable, she felt herself drifting blissfully into sleep.



It was night. She was in the forest just outside the town of Plimmwald, and she was searching for Lord Thornbeck.

A man, one of Geitbart’s guards, was kneeling in front of a fire in the middle of the dark forest. She started to hide, but as soon as she took a step, he looked up and glared at her. He strode toward her. She tried to turn and run but she could not move. Her feet were heavy and would not obey her.

As the guard approached, his head suddenly changed into the head of a wolf. The wolf face snarled and growled, saliva dripping from its fangs. Its horrible yellow eyes held her captive. Finally, she wrenched herself free from the eyes’ mesmerizing hold and turned to run, but her feet seemed to be made of iron. She could not move.

The hair on her arms prickled, as if she could feel the breath of the wolf just behind her, even as she could hear it snorting and snapping its jaws. Then, terrible pain tore through her ankle as the wolf sank its teeth into her flesh.

She jerked awake, gasping.

“It was only a dream,” Lord Thornbeck whispered in her ear. “You must be quiet.”

She clutched handfuls of his shirt, pushing herself off his chest. Had she cried out? Would the guard find them now?





25



REINHART HELD HER close as her whole body shuddered. She made a strangled sound, as if she was afraid.

“You must be quiet,” he whispered in her ear.

She gasped, pushing away from him.

“It was only a dream.”

Her eyes finally opened. She stared up at him as if finally understanding where she was.

One of the guards stood and took a few steps in their direction.

“Don’t move,” he whispered in her ear.

She was clinging to him now, her face pressed against his chest. If the guard found them, Reinhart would give himself up in exchange for her freedom. But the guard would still tell Geitbart that Avelina was there with him.

The guard took another step, then another, staring hard at their little alcove. Could he see the crack behind the bookshelf? The closer he came, the more likely he was to see it, to pull the bookcase forward and find them.

He stood still for several seconds, staring.

Avelina did not move, but Reinhart could hear her breathing fast. He wanted to tell her all would be well, but he did not dare take the risk of speaking, even in a whisper.

Finally, the guard muttered, “Must be rats,” and put his sword away. He walked back to his chair and sat down, leaning his head back against the wall.

Her silky hair brushed against his lips as he whispered, “We’re safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He should stop inhaling the intoxicating lavender of her hair. He should not be holding her.

He could have let her be cold. He could have left her where she was on the cold, hard floor. But she had no shoes, her clothing was so much thinner than his, and the healer had said she should not get cold this soon after nearly freezing to death. Besides that, her teeth were making too much noise.

He could control himself. He was not some addle-brained boy of fifteen who would take advantage of any girl who let him. And Avelina probably would not let him anyway.

He had to not think about how good she felt in his arms, how trusting she was, how beautiful, and especially how good she smelled.

“Am I hurting you?” she whispered.

“No. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m sorry I made that noise and nearly gave us away.”

“Were you having a bad dream?”

“I was dreaming that I was in the forest with one of Geitbart’s guards. He was coming after me, and then he turned into a wolf.” She pressed her face against his chest, and her breath caressed his neck with every word she spoke. “I know it was only a dream, but it was terrifying. The wolf bit my ankle. It felt just like when they attacked me in the forest.”

He resisted the urge to caress her shoulder . . . her hair . . . her back. He closed his eyes, concentrating on not moving, trying not to think.

She was quiet for a few minutes, then said, “How are your arm and shoulder? Are they healing?”

“Only scratches.”

“What is our plan, when we get out of here?”

“I will find Jorgen and together we will rally the men from Thornbeck and my guards and expel Geitbart from the castle.”

“And I shall help you.”

“You shall not. You will go to your bed and rest your ankle.”

“I will not argue with you, except to say that I will not be able to stay in my room. I will have to do what I can to help.”

She was right. It was no use to argue.

After a short pause, she said, “So why did you choose me?”

“What?” His heart lurched in his chest.

“Why did you choose me instead of Lady Magdalen?”