To keep from disturbing him—or facing his disapproval for going downstairs—Avelina hurried back out and down the barely lit corridors. As she went she made her plan. She would find Frau Schwitzer and see what information she might have. She would also see if the head house servant had any ideas about how to arm the male servants to fight Geitbart.
It was too bad Gerhaws had killed herself. It seemed strange to feel sad about the death of the woman who had murdered Lord Thornbeck’s brother, but even though her testimony would not be allowed to convict a nobleman like the Duke of Geitbart, it might have convinced the king at least not to believe the duke’s accusations against Lord Thornbeck. Besides, Geitbart was more to blame than the maidservant who carried out his murderous scheme.
When Avelina returned with a tray of food and a fresh pitcher of water, she reported her findings to Lord Thornbeck. “I managed to speak directly to one of your knights, Sir Stefan. He said he would see if he could find a way to arm the male servants with weapons without being noticed or raising suspicion. I shall go back to—”
“No, I do not want you going downstairs anymore. I’ve already been too thoughtless where you are concerned.”
“Very well. But Geitbart’s guards are everywhere, roaming the corridors of the castle, stopping people and questioning them. Frau Schwitzer and Sir Stefan are the only ones—besides Lady Magdalen and me—who know where you are.”
They ate quickly, with Avelina on the bed with her foot stretched out. When they had finished breaking their long fast, Lord Thornbeck asked, “Do you have any extra bandages? We have to get this one off you.”
She started to get up.
“No. You stay. Just tell me where they are.”
“I think there are some on that shelf.” She pointed to the cupboard on the other side of the bed.
He brought over a stack of bandages and set them on the bed near her foot. He reached for her ankle.
“Wait.” She pulled her feet up and covered them with her skirts.
“I am going to change the bandage on your ankle.”
“Only if you let me change the bandage on your arm and shoulder.”
He stared back at her. “Very well, but we should hurry. I need to start rounding up my men.”
She stretched out her leg and let him unwrap the bloody bandage on her ankle. He looked very stoic about touching her bare foot, but every time his fingers brushed her skin her stomach fluttered.
“It doesn’t look as if it is bleeding at the moment,” he said.
The gouge marks made by the wolf’s teeth were open holes in her skin, but they did seem a bit smaller than before. Perhaps they were closing up.
He picked up the bandages and soon finished wrapping and tying the bandage in place.
“Now it is your turn,” she said.
“But I have to look at your arm first.”
“I am not even bandaging it.” She raised the loose sleeve of her undergown. “See? It is nothing.” The scratches on her arm were healing well. She scooted over and patted the bed. “Sit, so I can see your shoulder and arm.”
He looked at her askance for a few moments before pulling his outer tunic and shirt over his head, then he sat at the foot of the bed instead of where she had indicated.
She tried to avert her eyes from his bare chest. She should avert her eyes and not admire his magnificent, broad, powerful-looking chest, and focus only on his shoulder injury. She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. Shoulder, Avelina. Injury, Avelina. Breathe, Avelina.
She unwrapped the bandage, trying not to touch his bare skin any more than necessary. “It is looking well,” she said to cover her nervousness.
“Just leave it uncovered. It doesn’t need a bandage.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s not bleeding, is it?”
“No, but let me look at your arm.”
He stretched out his arm to her.
“It seems to be healing quite well,” she said unnecessarily as she examined the scabbed-over scratches.
He arose and reached for his clothing on the chair. The muscles across his back bunched and flexed as he pulled his white shirt over his head and put his arms through the sleeves. Even though it had been at least a year since he injured his ankle, he still had the body of a well-trained knight. Lord Plimmwald’s knights often trained without their shirts. She’d always thought it was disgusting the way the other maidservants used to watch them. So why was her heart thumping, and why did she not feel disgusted now?
Please don’t let him turn suddenly and catch me staring at him.