The Beautiful Pretender

  It wasn’t until that moment he realized he did not know where his cane was, and his ankle was throbbing almost as bad as the wolf bites to his shoulder and arm.

  She had been so close to being killed . . . His stomach clenched again. Thank You, God, I got to her in time. Again.

  The maidservants were undressing her. Avelina was nearly helpless—stiff with cold and shaking uncontrollably. The women quickly and efficiently divested her of her clothing and pulled a new, thicker underdress over her head, followed by a rich velvet cotehardie. Then they covered her again with the fur robe. It was all over in a matter of moments.

  Avelina’s teeth still chattered. But at least the fog was finally clearing from her mind and she focused on the here and now and pushed away the terror and the attacking wolves from her mind.

  Lord Thornbeck came back in and he and another servant went back to rubbing her feet, a grim look on his face. He had come and rescued her from the wolves, risking his life in the process. Did he still care for her? She had been so dazed, she had not really understood what was happening during the attack. But now . . .

  O Lord God, let him not suffer any lasting effects from having saved me. Let his wounds heal and not fester. She could not bear it if any lasting harm came to him because of her.

  “S-someone m-must see to your w-wounds, my lord.”

  He looked at her with that unreadable but intense expression, as more people poured into the room.

  “I have sent for a healer. She will be here soon. But first we must get you warm.” He moved away from her and spoke to a guard at the door, while the maidservants were still taking turns rubbing her feet. The stabbing pain was beginning to subside to a sharp ache.

  An older woman came in dressed like a peasant. She carried a bag and set it beside Avelina and shooed the servants away. The woman touched Avelina’s toes, then squeezed them. She pushed Avelina’s skirt up enough to examine her ankle.

  Avelina jerked her feet out of the woman’s grasp, pulled them in, and covered them with her skirts. “I refuse to l-let you treat m-my injuries until you look at Lord Thornbeck’s wounds.” She tried to clamp her teeth together, but they just would not stop chattering, especially when she talked.

  “That is not for you to decide,” he said.

  She hugged her knees. “I will not s-submit t-to anything until she l-looks at your wounds.”

  He lowered his brows at her. “Avelina . . .”

  Her heart leapt inside her. He called her by her name instead of Lady Dorothea, but his tone had an edge of warning.

  “Your injuries are the most severe.”

  She tried to shake her head, but it was difficult when her head felt so heavy and her movements were jerky and difficult. “N-not until sh-she looks at your arm and shoulder.”

  “She has to get warm,” the healer said in a no-nonsense voice, as if she did not notice the tension between Avelina and the margrave. “She’s shivering and her lips are blue. If she doesn’t get warm, she will die. Her ankle can wait.”

  “What must we do to warm her?”

  “She is already close to the fire, but it’s not enough. Another person’s body heat is the best way.”

  He glanced around. “Everyone out of the room, except Frau Schwitzer and Susanna. Don’t let anyone else in.”

  The guard nodded. Everyone quickly exited the room except for Frau Schwitzer and the healer.

  “No.” Avelina shook her head. “She has to examine your shoulder and arm first.” Tears threatened, since she knew she was too weak to force her point. Besides, she was no longer the respected daughter of an earl. She had no right to order the margrave about. He could strike her and no one would care. He could ridicule her and scoff at her and laugh her to scorn if he wished, and he would be well within his rights. But she could not rest until he had his wounds taken care of.

  He stared down at her. She knew he must see the tears swimming in her eyes.

  “I will get you warm. Susanna can look at my shoulder and arm at the same time. Scoot up.”

  He stepped toward her, and she scooted forward on the couch. He sat down behind her, then wrapped his arms around hers, pulling her back firmly against his chest.

  His warmth instantly seeped through her borrowed clothing to her skin. His chest warmed her back while his arms held the fur securely around her arms and shoulders.

  Avelina sat stiffly, her shaking nearly stilled by the margrave’s nearness. She could feel his breath against her hair, his big hands holding on to her elbows. She was as snug as a moth in its cocoon.

  “Cut the cloth on my arm and shoulder.” His voice rumbled near her ear.

  The healer took some shears out of her bag and came to the side of the couch. She cut the sleeve of his surcoat and his shirt. When his arm was bare, Avelina shifted her head to his left shoulder to see the teeth marks and the blood matting up his arm hair. She cringed at the painful-looking injuries.

  “Puncture wounds, mostly, but not deep enough for serious damage,” the old woman said. She sent Frau Schwitzer to get some hot water and clean cloths. “I shall clean it so I can see if anything needs to be stitched up.”

  Next she moved to the other side of the couch and cut away the cloth at his left shoulder while Avelina leaned her head forward so she could see. He was so warm, already her teeth had ceased chattering.

  His shoulder was bloody, but there was not quite as much blood and the wounds did not look as deep as the ones on his arm.

  Susanna grunted. “Not very bad, especially for a wolf attack.”

  “My leather mantle protected me.”

  Again, she felt his breath against her hair, his voice sending pleasant sensations all through her. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to sigh at how pleasant it was.

  Frau Schwitzer returned with a bucket of hot water, cloths, and a clean bowl.

  “Attend the lady’s ankle and arm first,” he said.

  Avelina opened her mouth to protest, but he squeezed her arm, as though to warn her. And why had he called her a “lady” when he knew now that she was naught but a servant? She kept quiet as Susanna examined her ankle.

  Susanna set the bowl on the bench. She placed Avelina’s foot in the bowl, pouring the hot water from the bucket over it. The water felt good even as it burned her half-frozen skin. But as the hot water touched her open wounds, the pain of the puncture wounds caught her full attention and she drew in a breath through her clenched teeth.

  Lord Thornbeck’s big hands gently squeezed her arms, as though to comfort her, at least taking her mind off the pain for a moment.

  “These puncture wounds are deep,” Susanna said. “We shall hope the teeth did not do permanent damage. I’ll not sew them shut, to allow any bad humors out. But best to keep it loosely covered, except for a few hours a day to let the fresh air in.”

  Frau Schwitzer wrapped the clean cloths around her ankle while Susanna pulled back the sleeve on Avelina’s arm. “Scratches, that is all. Clean and wrap them and they should heal.”

  She came back to Lord Thornbeck’s arm and cleaned it in the same way she had cleaned Avelina’s ankle. He didn’t even flinch as she rubbed off the crusty dried blood from the wounds.

  “Should heal without a problem, but if either of you have any red streaks or swelling or pus, fetch me and I’ll bring my septic salve.”

  Susanna finished up his shoulder while Frau Schwitzer brought back some woolen stockings for Avelina’s feet, which still burned like they’d been stung by bees. Avelina pulled the thigh-high stockings on, then Frau Schwitzer brought her a warming pan.

  “She should rest her feet on this,” Susanna said, to no one in particular. “I don’t want her feet getting cold again for at least a week. But as soon as she stops shaking, she should be able to warm up on her own. Just give her something hot to drink.”

  And with those words, Susanna packed up her things and left.

  Frau Schwitzer was tidying up. What would happen now? Lord Thornbeck
still had his arms around her and his chest pressed against her back.

  She closed her eyes, since he was behind her and couldn’t see her anyway, and seared this last kindness into her memory, this feeling of warmth and safety.

  For a moment in time she had been a lady, someone who was wanted . . . by the Margrave of Thornbeck, a man who was easy to talk to, even when she was trying not to talk to him, a man who would risk his life to rescue a woman who had made a fool of him and who was only a servant. He would have married her. She was wanted.

  But now . . . what would he do with her? She had no reason to stay at Thornbeck Castle, and he had no reason to care.

  21

  REINHART SHOULD NOT be holding this maiden. He should have let someone else hold her and impart the necessary body heat to stop her shaking and get her warm again. She was a servant, and it was improper for him to touch her at all, improper to risk his life to save her from wolves, to spill his own blood for her, and to hold her in his arms and wish with all his heart that . . . what?

  He was thinking like a fool.

  The king would never approve his marriage to this servant girl. The king wanted him to marry someone who could solidify relations and strengthen German alliances. His whole purpose was to find someone like that, but someone with whom he could have a life.

  But she had turned out to be deceitful and, for a margrave, not eligible for marriage. She and the Earl of Plimmwald had made a fool of him.

  He removed his arms from around her and stood, then stepped away from her. “Frau Schwitzer, you may go.”

  She nodded and left the room.

  He faced away from Avelina, crossing his arms in front of him. “Why did you leave like that?” He had to know. “What were you doing going out in the snow before anyone was awake?”

  “I . . . I thought you would want me to go.” She spoke quietly. “I knew you would hate me for deceiving you, and Irma talked me into it when I was still half-asleep. She said if we left immediately, Friedrich could go with us and protect us. But just before she kicked me off the horse and galloped away, she said she had made an agreement with Fronicka. Irma could go and live in Geitbart with her new lover, Friedrich, if she left me there in the snow. She must have known the wolves were nearby.”

  “Everyone knew it. Did you not hear them howling?” He turned to face her.

  She shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking about wolves.”

  “How did Fronicka know who you were and all the details of your secret, that you were a servant and you were taking Lady Dorothea’s place?”

  She stared down at the floor. “The only person who knew everything and could have told her was Irma. It must have been Irma. She was willing to give up everything for Friedrich.”

  Yes, that made sense.

  “Lady Fronicka must have discovered the truth about Dorothea’s pregnancy from one of the guards who escorted Irma and me to Thornbeck. I’m not sure. But the other things she must have found out from Irma.”

  There she sat, calm and quiet after nearly being killed twice in the last few days. Any other woman would still be sobbing hysterically, or at least still in shock after facing down a pack of wolves, especially with the serious injury to her ankle.

  “What will you do with me?”

  He rubbed his shoulder, but that only made it hurt worse.

  “I know I have no right to ask, but please . . . do not be angry with Lord Plimmwald for sending me in his daughter’s place. If he loses your protection, the people will have no one to defend them from their enemies.”

  The sincerity and pleading in her expression made him pity her, but he had to harden his heart. “Word will certainly get back to Lord Plimmwald. You may lose your dowry.” The ugly sound of sarcasm was in his voice. Jealousy and pain warred inside him, as if trying to tear his heart in two.

  She lowered her head even more. She was silent for several long moments. “I am sorry for causing you pain. And I’m sorry you were hurt, saving me from the wolves.”

  He snorted. As if that pain was worse than finding out she had deceived him. No, the wolves had nothing to do with this pain in his heart, this pain that had kept him awake all night.

  “But please.” Her voice quavered. “Please forgive me. And please do not allow Geitbart to destroy Plimmwald. Please promise me you will save Plimmwald.”

  His heart was thumping and his arms were suddenly aching to hold her again.

  He turned and fled from the room, nearly falling when his lame ankle gave way. Where was his walking stick?

  He found two guards outside the door. To the first one, he said, “Carry this woman to the servants’ quarters and have Frau Schwitzer find her a bed with the kitchen servants.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And you, bring my cane. It may be in my saddle or at the stable,” he said to the second guard.

  Reinhart stood leaning against the wall as the guard carried her away.

  The second guard brought him his cane. He went to his desk in the library, but feeling restless, he wandered out to the balcony. Maybe the cold air and whiteness of the snow would clear his head. But that was where he had first held Dorothea—Avelina—in his arms, right after he’d seen her dangling from the balcony, just a moment from death.

  Fronicka had tried to murder Avelina.

  According to Avelina, Geitbart had threatened to attack and take over Plimmwald. Perhaps he intended to take over Thornbeck as well. After all, the present duke’s father had lost both Plimmwald and Thornbeck when he married a woman the king did not approve of. What would he do when Reinhart banished his daughter from Thornbeck? Geitbart might prove to be just as murderous as his daughter.

  Avelina lay in the narrow servant’s bed trying to process all she had experienced in the last day. She was alone in a large room full of similar beds. All the other servants were working.

  She should be afraid. She should try to figure out how to get out of the mess she was now in. But she was so exhausted, the thin straw mattress actually felt good, and soon she fell asleep.

  When she awoke she hopped to the window on one foot. It had stopped snowing and the sun was brightly shining in the noon sky.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Come in.”

  Magdalen entered and shut the door behind her. “One of the servants told me you were attacked by wolves. Can this be true?”

  Avelina sighed. “I will tell you all about it, but you should not be here. Your mother certainly would not approve of you visiting the servants’ quarters.” Even Avelina wasn’t used to sleeping in a place like this. She was a lady’s maidservant, not a kitchen servant.

  Magdalen huffed. “I can’t believe Lord Thornbeck sent you down here. He could have at least allowed you to stay in your own room until you leave.” For only the second time since she’d met her, Magdalen looked angry.

  Avelina started hopping back toward the bed.

  “You’re hurt! Is it bad? You must tell me immediately what has happened to you this morning.”

  Avelina told her all about Irma’s betrayal, about the wolves’ attack, and Lord Thornbeck saving her. She showed her the bandaged ankle. “It doesn’t hurt as much now. I can still walk on it if I have to.”

  Magdalen threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. “Thank You, God,” she breathed, her voice fervent, “for protecting Avelina, and for Lord Thornbeck.”

  Tears sprung to Avelina’s eyes at her friend’s sincere concern for her safety.

  Suddenly another knock came at the door. A maidservant was there with a piece of paper. “From Lord Thornbeck for Avelina.”

  Magdalen took the note and brought it to Avelina, who unfolded it.

  Do not think of leaving again. You are to stay until your ankle heals, and until I have had time to consider your request.

  Thornbeck

  She handed the note to Magdalen. “At least he’s not throwing me in the dungeon.”

  Magdalen read it quickly. “What was your requ
est?”

  “I asked him to save Plimmwald if the Duke of Geitbart attacked. I know he must hate Lord Plimmwald after he sent me in his daughter’s place, but I begged him not to be angry with him . . . What?”

  Magdalen was shaking her head. “No. No begging. And no behaving like a servant girl around Lord Thornbeck. You are a person just like me, like the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter, like anyone else at this castle.”

  Avelina had never heard Magdalen sound so forceful or look so adamant.

  “None of this was your fault. You simply followed the orders of your lord, and the margrave should understand that. If he doesn’t, then . . . that’s not your fault either.” She ended with a firm, quick nod. “He chose you from among all these ladies, and he cannot discard you like a worn-out garment or treat you like a lowly . . . It just will not do.”

  “But he has to send me away. He cannot marry me. The king would not allow it.”

  “He doesn’t have to marry you, but he does have to treat you with respect.”

  “I like the way you think, Magdalen, but I cannot make demands on Lord Thornbeck. I have nothing to bargain with, no leverage. I need him to save Plimmwald. I have a father and a little brother and sister whom I dearly love. I cannot let anything happen to them if I can help it.”

  Magdalen simply did not understand what it was like to be a servant. It was a different life, a different way of thinking. If begging saved her family and her people, then she would beg.

  “Even a servant can demand respect, Avelina. Look at Hegatha. Everyone respects her. She demands no less.”

  “I’m no Hegatha,” Avelina said ruefully.

  “You don’t have to be exactly like Hegatha to demand respect.”

  It was something Avelina had never thought about, and yet, she had very often thought about the disparity between the way Lady Dorothea was treated and Avelina herself was treated. Was the difference more because she did not insist that people respect her, instead of the fact that she was born the daughter of a stable worker?