Page 77 of The Noble Servant

She came to the old crooked tree at the entrance. She drew her horse to a halt and dismounted as a chill shook her body. Her horse let her lead her into the opening of the mine as Steffan dismounted.

She waited for Steffan to follow her. When he didn’t, she stepped to the opening and looked out. He was pushing on a dead, rotten tree. The base of the trunk gave way, sending the broken tree crashing down in front of the entrance. He led his horse over the tree and inside the mine.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Magdalen shivered in her wet clothes. Steffan ran his hands over his arms to brush off the excess water, then shook his hair.

“The rain is good,” he said. “They will have a harder time finding our trail.” He was staring out at the world outside the dark mine tunnel behind them.

“It might be good in that way, but I am cold.” Her skirts were weighed down with water, and drops ran from her hairline, one forming on the tip of her nose. She hastily wiped it off.

“What do we have that’s dry?” He opened up his saddlebag. It was leather and looked like it had been oiled to make it shed water. “I have some dry clothes. Check yours.”

She knew before she opened the soaked bag tied to her saddle that all her clothes would be drenched. And they were.

“I have an idea.” He turned to his horse. “Let’s take the saddles off the horses and you can wrap up in their blankets. They won’t smell very good, but at least you’ll be warm and dry.”

They worked together to unsaddle the horses and brush them off the best they could. They were still warm from the hard ride.“You’ll have to take off those wet clothes. You can put on some of mine.”

If he had said the words in any other way than the innocent tone he used, she might have either blushed or been defensive. But he was right, of course.

“You go first.” She motioned him farther into the mine.

He took a bundle of clothing and stepped into the dark mine. When he came back out moments later, she was surprised he already had his dry clothes on and he carried his wet ones.

“Here.” He reached into his leather saddlebag and handed her some clothes. “I know they won’t fit you very well, but they’ll be better than those wet things.”

She shivered as the chill seemed to seep into her bones. She took the clothes and went to change.

She fumbled with the men’s clothes in the dark, almost falling down trying to put on the hose. Thankfully it was the footless kind, but it was so loose she was afraid it might fall off. At least the linen shirt he gave her was soft, and it was so long it hung past her knees.

“Are you all right in there?”

Her teeth chattered when she said, “I’ll be there in a moment.” With stiff fingers she tied the laces at the neck of the coarse tunic, picked up her wet clothes, and joined him.

Steffan glanced at her but didn’t say anything. Her cheeks grew hot as she imagined her appearance in his clothes. And her hair must look like a bird’s nest after it had come loose from its braids on their wild ride.

“I’ll take that now.” She reached for the horse blanket he was holding. He gave it to her and she wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Do you want the other one as well?”

“Nein, this will do. I’ll be warm soon and the horse can have it back. She’ll likely be cold after a few more minutes.”

“Don’t worry. They are well for now.” He was rubbing her horse’s head and neck with a cloth. Steffan’s hair was soaking wet and dripping from the ends.

“You’re drying off the horse instead of yourself.”

“We can’t afford for the horses to get sick.” He looked at her over his shoulder and smiled.

If she had to be stuck in an abandoned mine being chased by evil men, she was glad it was with a man who would not make advances on her. Yet he was kind enough to make light of the situation, to constantly tell her, “Don’t worry,” and to care more about her and the horses than himself.

But why did he have to be so handsome? With his dark, wet hair curling against his temples and forehead, his brown eyes shining in the dim light of a rainy twilight as he brushed the horses, her mind went back through the last two years when she’d dreamed he would ask her to marry him. She’d been so overjoyed when his letter arrived. Until the day he’d told her that he did not send that letter and that he did not wish to marry her at all.

Tears stung her eyes as she remembered his rejection. Foolish tears. She had no time to dwell on such a thing when their lives were in danger.

Magdalen went back to spread her wet clothes on a rock just inside the opening of the mine while her thoughts kept spinning, like a spider weaving its web. She couldn’t seem to stop them.

Steffan would naturally want someone wealthier than she was. A simple baron’s daughter from impoverished Mallin wasnot someone who would tempt a powerful duke. But he was not a powerful duke now. He was a man running for his life.