Page 79 of The Beautiful Pretender

Doing such a thing would be an invitation to Lord Thornbeck to make her his mistress, and she would never do that. She might only be a servant, but she deserved respect, even from a margrave, like Lady Magdalen believed. She was a human being, created by God to do good works. So she was not sorry she had rebuked him for being disrespectful to his servants, but she was shocked to hear him agree with her and say he regretted sending her to the servants’ quarters out of anger.

He had still been angry with her for deceiving him, so why had he saved her from the wolves?

“Did you know I was the one being attacked by wolves when you came to my rescue? Or did you only hear screams, unaware of who was in danger?”

He spoke slowly, pausing between sentences. “My guards told me they saw you leaving with Irma, so I knew it might be you. We were getting ready to set out to hunt the wolves, and my horse was saddled first. So I was able to reach you first.”

Perhaps he did think it was her, screaming for help. At least she had the memory of his taking her back to Thornbeck on his horse, carrying her in his arms despite his bad ankle, until he was able to hand her off to one of his guards. Then he had held her against his chest to stop her shaking. He was so warm. If only he would hold her again.

Lord Thornbeck leaned forward, straining to see through the tiny crack into the library.

“Is the guard still there?”

“Yes.” He sat back.

Neither of them spoke for a while, but always Avelina couldfeel the tension of his being so near in the tiny, almost completely dark room. If he had not made it clear that he would never have tender feelings for a servant, she might be worried he would try to kiss her . . . and that she would let him.

Avelina leaned forward to look through the crack. “Do you think we will have to stay here all night?”

“My hope is that by morning, he will send these guards elsewhere and we can escape. Or I will cause a distraction so you can get away.”

She shook her head. “You are the one who is in danger, who needs to escape.”

“If Geitbart finds out you warned me, he will likely kill you, or at least lock you in the dungeon. I cannot allow that.”

Why? Why could he not allow that? She wanted to ask him, but whether or not he still cared for her, they both knew that he shouldn’t. She should be thinking about how to get to safety, not about how much she longed for a love that could never be.

She couldn’t imagine how either of them would escape, truthfully. She should pray. Perhaps God would give them favor and save them from Geitbart. God could keep them from dying as they tried to escape. For those things she could pray. But it seemed too much to ask God for her heart’s desire.

Father God, if You cannot save me, then at least save Lord Thornbeck.But perhaps she should not have said “cannot” to God.Forgive me, God. I did not mean to imply that there is anything You cannot do. However, I know that You do not always do everything we ask, so I plead with You to save us. Save us precisely because itisimpossible, and because You are God. And make a way for me to marry Lord Thornbeck, unless that is too presumptuous of me.

“Are you in pain?”

She realized she’d been leaning forward, her head almostbetween her knees, as she concentrated on her silent prayer. She straightened. “No, I am well.”

“Does your ankle hurt?”

“Only a little. I know your accident was a long time ago, but does your ankle pain you all the time or only sometimes?”

“It is worse when the weather changes.”

“I am sorry.”

“I pray your ankle shall heal better than mine has. I believe it will, if you stay off of it.”

He sounded gruff. Avelina leaned forward again to watch the guard. He was still shuffling through papers. Then he stopped to light a candle, as it had grown quite dark outside.

“You said you have a brother and sister. How old are they?”

“Jacob is twelve and Brigitta is six. I miss them.” She sighed.

“Are your father and mother still alive?”

“My mother died nearly six years ago and my father worked as the Earl of Plimmwald’s stable master. But he was in an accident. One of Lord Plimmwald’s stallions kicked my father in the back and in the head. He can no longer walk or feel his legs, and he doesn’t think quite so well as he once did.”

“Did Plimmwald agree to provide for your father and his family?”

“No. I was already working at the castle as a servant for his daughter. He never even said he was sorry for what happened.”