The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(72)

The last thing he needed to think about was all the things about her that had made him want to marry her.

“Magdalen is a wonderful girl, but she is very young.”

“Not much younger than I am.”

He grunted.

“Did you not think me very strange, that first day when you asked me those questions?”

“You were . . . not what I thought I wanted.” He should leave it at that. He should not say more. For a long time there was silence. Perhaps she would fall asleep again.

“You disagreed with what I said about love?”

He should stay silent . . . “You said people should marry for love, not out of duty, because if there is no love and if you have no romantic thoughts about each other, then you are much more likely to treat each other badly.”

“And you liked that?”

“My mother married my father out of duty. They despised each other. It was painful to see my mother and father treating each other with contempt.”

“That does sound painful.”

“You also said, ‘A woman wishes to be swept up by a man’s fervent feelings for her, by love and longing and depth of feeling. She does not wish to be married for her money or her noble birth or because she is a sensible choice. She wants to be wooed, even after she is married, to be cherished and loved for her very self.’ ”

“You remembered.” She sounded breathless. “It is true. It is what I want. To be cherished and loved.”

Being with her was what he wanted. But it was impossible.

“I wanted to talk to you. I wanted so much to . . . but I am not an earl’s daughter.”

It must be morning, as more light was finding its way in and he could see her a little better now. Her hair had fallen over her cheek and one eye. He succumbed to his desire and smoothed her hair off her face. As he did so, his fingers caressed her cheek. She made a tiny sound, like her breath catching in her throat. His heart crashed against his chest.

“You passed the tests, and you are the most worthy woman I’ve ever known.”

She sat so still. Would she let him kiss her? Dangerous, tempting thought. So tempting.

Shouts and the sound of footsteps broke through his consciousness. Someone was running down the corridor.

“Fire! Come and help!”

The two guards in the library scrambled to their feet and ran out.



Lord Thornbeck lifted Avelina by her waist, and they were both on their feet in two seconds. He pushed open the bookcase door and they hurried out and across the library and into the corridor.

They were free!

Avelina smelled smoke. Men ran toward the stairs and Lord Thornbeck went after them.

“You stay here,” he said over his shoulder at her.

She followed him anyway as he stopped in the first bedchamber he came to and yanked a curtain down off the bed. He rolled it in a ball and tucked it under his arm as he limped toward the stairs.

Avelina followed him, “What if Geitbart set the fire to lure you out in the open?”

“I have to take that chance.” He stayed just far enough ahead of her so that she could not attempt to stop him.

At the top of the stairs, he turned to go down the corridor toward the west wing.

The smell of smoke was very strong as it came wafting down the corridor and into their faces. Avelina coughed.

“Come back,” Avelina called. Geitbart would surely have him captured.

“Stay there!”

Men were shouting and emerging, coughing from the thick smoke. Lord Thornbeck ignored them and, holding his arm over his mouth and nose, disappeared down the corridor into the thick gray smoke. Avelina followed.

Suddenly the smoke all whooshed in the opposite direction. That was when Avelina saw that the door at the end of the damaged west wing was open, showing the pale light of dawn. As the smoke cleared a bit, she could see that someone was standing in the doorway. Gerhaws.

Gerhaws looked back at Lord Thornbeck, then turned toward the door that led straight down.

Lord Thornbeck called out to her, but she did not look back. She simply stepped forward, disappearing as she fell.

Avelina cried out in horror, but the sound was lost in the roar of the fire farther down.

Just then, another figure emerged as bright-orange flames became visible from a doorway along the corridor.

“Annlin!” called the high-pitched voice. “Annlin!”

Lord Thornbeck went toward Endlein and caught her by the hand, but she pulled away from him, going toward the burning room and disappearing inside it. Lord Thornbeck went after her.

More people were running toward them with buckets of water and blankets, passing by Avelina. She tried to go back toward the burning room and to Lord Thornbeck, but two guards caught her by the arms and pulled her back away from the fire. Soon she could no longer see Lord Thornbeck.

Would he die in a fire just as his brother had, in the very same room where his brother had perished? Would he breathe in so much smoke that he would lose consciousness? If only she could get to him, she could convince him to leave.

She screamed, “Lord Thornbeck!” But no one would let her go to him.

“What is happening?” she called, but as a guard pushed through, he took hold of Avelina’s arm.

“You should not be here.”

“Where is Lord Thornbeck?”

“He is convincing Endlein to come with him, and the men are putting out the fire. Come.” He pulled her away from the smoke-filled, crowded corridor. “This is no place for you.”