Page 93 of The Noble Servant

She pursed her lips. “It was because you were trying to keep me from going back home, and for completely selfish reasons. You only wanted me as a witness, to help you get your place back.”

How did this happen? He hadn’t wanted to start an argument.

“You are right. I was being very selfish. I was not thinking of you at all, and I am truly sorry. You had every reason to dislike and distrust me then.”

“Youweredeceitful.” She looked down, her voice quiet again. “But you had every right to say you didn’t want to marry me. I was only shocked that I had come to Wolfberg because of your uncle’s wicked plot.”

This was getting worse and worse. Her face was drawn and sad, and she wouldn’t even look at him.

“Magdalen, I was distraught and distracted that day. I did not know then what I know now. I feel very differently ... about everything. Especially you.”

She gave him a sidelong glance from beneath lowered lashes, then looked away.

“Besides that, I did run to your rescue that day when Agnes forced you to go inside the castle.”

“I remember.” Her grimace turned into a tiny smile. “Chivalrous to the core.”

How did she make him feel warm, pleased, and unsettled all at the same time?

“It’s getting colder.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.

He leaned over and closed the window facing the sea and then walked to the window facing the castle gate and closed it too. It was nearly dark and would be a cold night.

Magdalen rubbed her arms. How much longer would they be in this tower room? Every time her hand brushed against Steffan’s, every time he drew close and looked into her eyes, she wondered if she’d reveal her feelings to him without even intending to, if he could see it on her face, or if she would blurt it out. But that would make things uncomfortable for both of them.

“Shall we go look for your portrait now?”

He hesitated, looking out the window. “I suppose it is late enough. My uncle will be in the Great Hall now.”

Magdalen followed Steffan out of the door and down the twisting spiral stairs. They did not even whisper, and soon Steffan stopped at a door. He tried the handle and it opened. They walked inside and he closed the door behind them. The room was quite dark.

“I will open the window,” Steffan whispered.

She realized she’d been holding on to Steffan’s arm, so she let go. He moved quietly across the room. She heard him unlatching some shutters, and then light spilled in as he swung open the shutter.

While Steffan took a small wax candle out of his pocket andworked to light it, Magdalen strode to a pile of old tapestries illumined by the twilight coming in through the window and started looking through them. Dust rose from them, burning her nose, and she sneezed.

Steffan got his candle lit and set it on a small table beside a ragged old trunk in the corner. He opened the trunk and started looking through it.

Soon, Magdalen had looked through the entire stack of tapestries, and when she was certain no portrait was hidden among them, she moved to a wooden box. Perhaps the portrait was inside. She opened it easily, as there was a hole where the locking mechanism should have been.

She tipped the box over, but nothing was inside. The box did not even have any hiding places along the back.

“Are you finding anything?” She hurried over to where Steffan was taking things out of the old trunk and putting them on the floor beside it.

“Only a lot of junk.”

Magdalen glanced around the room. There was nothing else for her to search, so she went over to the large fireplace and looked inside. Perhaps there was a hiding nook inside it, as it did not appear as though anyone had built a fire in it in a long time. She found nothing, but her bare feet were black with soot.

Steffan stood behind her.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were there.”

“Wipe your feet with this.” He handed her a cloth.

“Good idea.” They didn’t need her black footprints leaving Hazen’s men a perfect trail.

“The portrait isn’t here.” He planted his hands on his hips. “But we should keep looking.”