In a booming voice, his head high, reminding her again of a rooster, the duke said, “Listen to me, residents of Thornbeck Castle! The Margrave of Thornbeck killed his brother, your rightful lord! Find him and bring him to me and no harm will come to you. But if he is not surrendered to me in one hour, I will begin executing his guards, starting with his chancellor, Jorgen Hartman.”
Two of Geitbart’s guards dragged Jorgen into view in the small courtyard while he kicked and struggled. Something, a cloth, was stuffed in his mouth, preventing him from speaking.
Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.
Lord Thornbeck stood beside her watching the scene below, his face a mask of stone.
Reinhart watched Jorgen being dragged into the courtyard, and his blood changed from a steady boil to cold as ice. “I cannot allow him to slaughter Jorgen and the rest of my men.” He turned away from the window and started toward the door.
Avelina grabbed his arm and held on. “Please, let us think. Perhaps there is a way. You have an hour.”
He turned his body to face hers and looked into her eyes. “You should leave here as soon as possible. You will be safer in Plimmwald.”
The way her eyes caught the light, the desperation in them . . . he wanted to memorize every nuance of her expression, every curve of her beautiful face. While they had been alone together in the tiny room, if it had not been too dark for him to see her, he surely would have kissed her . . . too dark to see how beautiful she was while he was holding her in his arms, while she was lying against his chest and clinging to his tunic, while he whispered in her ear, his lips touching her hair.
He took her face in his hands, caressing her silken skin with his thumbs. She lifted her face to his.
“Please say you forgive me for deceiving you,” she whispered. “I could not bear it if you did not forgive me.”
“I forgive you.” He was so close he could see the depths of her blue eyes, the tear that trembled on her lashes, and feel the breath that escaped her slightly parted lips. “Will you forgive me? For my gruffness and my anger?”
“Yes.”
Her eyelids drooped low. He could resist no longer. He bent and pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her softly at first, making sure she did not want to pull away.
Her hands clung to his shoulders, then entwined around his neck. He kissed her more urgently then, kissed her as if he could erase every cruel memory of life as a maidservant, kissed her as if he was a knight going off to battle.
Kissing her was achingly sweet. But he did not want to hurt her any more than he already had. He forced himself to end the kiss, then held her tight as she buried her face against his neck.
“I must go.”
She clung to his shoulders for a moment before letting him go.
He caressed her cheek, then walked out, to his fate at the hands of Geitbart.
Avelina followed him into the corridor. He was barely limping as he walked toward the stairs.
He turned around. “Do not draw attention to yourself, or Geitbart may do you harm.”
She watched him go but couldn’t help following him a little farther. Her heart was breaking as she stood at the top of the stairs. He made his way slowly down.
The pain in her chest took her breath away as she turned and went back to her bedchamber. She ran to the window. Geitbart still stood there, and she hated him, the way his head was thrown back and his chest puffed out. Finally, Lord Thornbeck emerged and walked boldly toward Geitbart.
The two men faced each other. Avelina strained to hear but could not make out their words. Then Geitbart waved his hand and two guards came forward and captured Lord Thornbeck’s hands, holding them behind his back, and led him away.
She touched her fingers to her lips, where she could still feel his kiss. She started to sob but quickly forced away the tears, rubbing them from her cheeks.
She had a plan.
28
THE GUARDS SHOVED Reinhart into the dank cell and slammed the door.
The only light came from a flickering torch in the corridor outside his cell. There was nothing in the cell except a bare wooden bench about a foot high and four feet long. His bed, apparently.
A guard unlocked his cell door. Geitbart walked in.
Reinhart longed to wipe the ugly smile from his face by telling him he knew now exactly what happened to his brother. But he did not want to endanger Avelina, who had discovered the information.
“Come to gloat?” Reinhart asked Geitbart. “Or have you come to kill me?”
The duke shook his head. “I do not need to kill you. I will simply tell the king that you have gone mad after killing your brother to gain the margravate.”