Steffan placed his body between Lord Hazen and Magdalen, heat flowing through his veins, setting every muscle and nerve on alert.
“My mother is here,” Magdalen said. “You had better not think of harming us. And Lord Thornbeck. He will—”
“Guards,” Lord Hazen growled.
The guards moved toward them. Magdalen screamed. One guard grabbed her and placed a hand over her mouth. Steffan eluded a second guard and leapt at the one holding Magdalen. He slammed his fist into the guard’s face.
A third guard landed a blow to Steffan’s head. He fell back, the room going black for a moment. Then the guard grabbed his shirt front and dragged him across the floor.
Magdalen was fighting and clawing the guard holding on to her. Steffan opened his mouth to tell the guard he would kill him if he injured her, but another guard stuffed something in his mouth and held his hands behind his back. Steffan, with one great effort, surged to his feet and fell on top of the guard.
The guard scrambled up, still holding Steffan’s wrists in a painful grip, and slammed Steffan’s head on the floor. The blackness returned. He was losing consciousness. God, please. Save Magdalen.
Magdalen watched in horror as the guard took hold of Steffan and slammed his head on the floor. Steffan went still.
She tried to scream, but the guard’s hand was clamped over her mouth. She struck at him with her fists. Another guard grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back. Then the first guard took his hand from her face and stuffed a cloth in her mouth.
She tried to kick him but missed. Still holding her wrists with one hand, the second guard picked her up by her waist and carried her across the room.
Lord Hazen was opening the trapdoor. He must have known about it after all. The other two guards were carrying Steffan toward the trapdoor as well.
“Now you cannot trouble me. You can stay down there until you rot.”
While she struggled against her guard, they lifted Steffan’s limp body over the dark hole, then dropped him inside. Magdalen’s stomach sank as she watched him fall.
The guard lifted Magdalen and lowered her in. When her feet touched the ladder inside, the man let her wrists go, and she scrambled to take the gag out of her mouth. She took a breath and screamed as loud as she could, just as the trapdoor came down and shut out every glimmer of light.
A groan came from below her. She hurried down the ladder, which was only a couple more rungs, before her foot touched the bottom, then brushed against Steffan’s body.
She fell to her knees, grasping in the dark for Steffan, following the sounds of his groans.
“Steffan, are you all right? Tell me what hurts.”
“Where are we?”
She touched his bearded chin and managed to lift his head and shoulders and set them in her lap. “We are in the room under the trapdoor.”
He moaned. “My worst nightmare. To die in a dark hole.” He was breathing hard.
“We will not die here. Someone will find us. Don’t worry.” That was what he was always telling her—don’t worry. “Everything will be all right. Now tell me how badly you’re injured. Are you bleeding anywhere?”
His breathing became calmer and more controlled. “No, no, not much.”
She felt stickiness on the back of his head, but it was hard to tell how much blood he was losing.
“Are any limbs broken?”
She heard the movement of his legs on the floor.
“I think I am well. Just a headache.”
She remembered she had a cloth in her pocket, pulled it out, and pressed it to his head. She exhaled a long breath.
“We should see if we can open the trapdoor.” He sat up, then moaned. “I hope they didn’t hurt you.”
“No, I am well.” The truth was, she had hurt her ankle in all her struggling with the guard. It was throbbing, but she would be well enough, as long as they were able to escape.
Hazen eyed Agnes. “You did well, telling me where the duke and Lady Magdalen were hiding.”
She lowered her gaze to the floor. Did she think she could fool him? He knew she hated him and that she gave him the information only because he threatened to kill Alexander. “Now go and find my son and tell him to come immediately to the Great Hall. He has to greet our surprise guests: the Baroness of Mallin and the Margrave of Thornbeck. And be sure to tell him that both your lives are forfeit if he breathes a word that is disloyal to me.”
She hurried away without even looking at him.
It was so laughably easy to manipulate people who were in love. He’d discovered that many years ago when his now-deceased wife had still loved him.
But there was no time for savoring past victories. Lord Thornbeck would be coming inside at any moment. Agnes could not fool Lady Magdalen’s mother, and probably not the margrave and his lady either. Which was why he would have to have Agnes disappear. He would also poison the baroness when she drank her first goblet of wine. They’d think she’d had an attack of the heart or some sort of apoplexy, and he’d have his physician attest to it.
Even now he had the vial of poison inside his waistcoat pocket, which he carried with him everywhere.
“Guards.”
Two of his soldiers stepped forward from where they were guarding the back door of the castle.
“Go to the north tower, to the very top. I have two prisoners under a trapdoor in the floor. You will see it when you move the table that is sitting upside down on top of it. Kill the man and bring the woman to me.”
“Yes, Lord Hazen.”
He motioned to Tideke. “Take Alexander’s wife to the dungeon. If my son tries to stop you, knock him unconscious.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Steffan couldn’t stop thinking about the old well. He was five years old again, and his heart beat so fast it hurt his chest.
But he had to get control of himself. Magdalen’s life was at stake. He could not bear it if something bad happened to her.
He had to stay calm and save them both. He had to, for Magdalen.
When he sat up, he lost the knowledge of which way was up and which was down, but the dizziness gradually faded. Magdalen held on to his arm as he groped around for the ladder, which turned out to be a short but steep set of wooden steps.
Magdalen stayed beside him as they groped their way up on their hands and knees. They reached the top, and he put his hand on the wooden door above him. “Do you hear anything?” he whispered.
“They must be gone.”
“Help me push, but be careful.”
They both braced their shoulders against the door, and he pushed with all his might with both his hands.
Magdalen grunted. “It’s not moving at all. What should we do?”
“Beat on it.”
They pounded on it with their fists. He beat so hard his knuckles were probably bleeding, and his heart was pounding as hard as his fists.
“Nothing’s happening.”
“I have to get us out of here.” He growled at himself for saying that out loud and for letting the panic well up and threaten to overwhelm him. His heart raced, and sweat ran down his back.
Magdalen’s arms surrounded him, and he felt her hair brush his chin. “Don’t worry. We’ll get out.”
He felt her cheek against his, and his heart calmed. He buried his face in her hair. She was so small, so dear and fragile, and yet so strong. He took several deep breaths.
“Are you praying?” Magdalen said softly by his ear. “Because all I can think to say is, ‘God, please help us.’ ”
He laughed, a hoarse sound, but it filled the tiny room.
They sat on the steps holding each other, with Steffan’s back against the steps and Magdalen nestled against his chest, her forehead on his neck.
They took turns saying short, whispered prayers: “God, please let someone find us.”
“God, give me the strength of Samson to push open this door.”
“God, please don’t let us have to spend the rest of the day in here.”
“God, send Your mighty angels with their fiery swords to rescue us.”
“God, give Lord and Lady Thornbeck wisdom to find us.”
“God, how long before a person goes mad from not being able to see a thing?”
Magdalen squeezed his shoulder.
“I think I hear something.” Magdalen crawled up a step and beat on the door. Steffan joined her. They pounded for a few seconds, then stopped and listened.
“I hear someone.”
Steffan heard it too—footsteps getting louder.
They both beat on the door and yelled. More noises, like something heavy being dragged overhead. A few moments later, the door was yanked open.
Hands reached down.
“Who is there?” Steffan demanded, holding Magdalen behind him.
Alexander’s face appeared in the opening. “It is I.”
Steffan lifted Magdalen up and let his cousin take her by the wrists and haul her out. Moments later, Alexander’s face reappeared.
“Make haste. My father’s guards are coming to kill you.”
Loud footsteps sounded on the stairs. Alexander was holding a knife. Steffan took it from him, then glanced around. He leapt to the pile of old junk that had been stored in the room and snatched up a large table leg. Magdalen did the same.
“Magdalen, get behind me.”
Two guards appeared in the doorway.
“You are not supposed to be here,” Alexander said to the guards. “Go back downstairs.”
“We take our orders from Lord Hazen. Step aside.”
Steffan hid the knife and table leg behind his back. The guard pushed Alexander out of the way and unsheathed his sword. Steffan stepped forward.
The guard swung his sword, and Steffan swung the table leg, slamming it into the guard’s wrist while sidestepping his blade.
The guard yelled and dropped his sword. Steffan snatched it up. He glanced behind him. The second guard was lunging for Magdalen. She screamed and ducked out of his way, holding the broken table leg out in front of her.
Steffan went cold all over at the menacing look on the guard’s face. He could not let him kill Magdalen. He leapt across the room, yelling as loud as he could to draw the guard’s attention. But the guard ignored him and raised his sword to strike Magdalen.
Steffan would not be able to reach her in time. He threw the knife that was in his other hand. It flew across the room and impaled the guard in the back.
The guard stopped, his sword in midswing, and slowly turned around. He took a step toward Steffan, then fell forward.
More footsteps were coming up the stairs. Lord Hazen’s voice echoed from the stairwell. “Kill them! Now!”
Magdalen jumped toward the window, opened it wide, and yelled, “Help!”
Alexander ran to the guard who had fallen, took his sword, and he and Steffan greeted the first guards who appeared in the doorway and started beating them back, striking furious blows.
As he fought, Steffan was able to lift his foot and kick one of the guards in his groin. The guard fell backward into the men behind him, and they all fell down the spiral staircase, at least a dozen men. Steffan went after them.
Until he heard Magdalen screaming his name.
He ran back into the room. The guard whom Steffan had originally defeated stood holding Magdalen, a knife to her throat.
The air rushed out of Steffan’s lungs. Don’t take her away, God, please. Magdalen’s face was ashen, her eyes fixed on his.
“Throw down the knife and let her go.” Steffan still gripped his sword.
“You will kill me if I do.” The guard’s voice shook.
“I won’t. Just let her go.” God, please. I can’t lose her. Please don’t let her die. Icy fingers gripped his insides.
Alexander stepped up beside Steffan, breathing hard and using his sleeve to wipe sweat from his face.
“You can’t get away,” Alexander said to the guard. “Lord Thornbeck is here. Lord Hazen will be apprehended and punished. But if you let her go, we’ll make sure your life is spared.”
Steffan took a tentative step toward them. The guard pulled Magdalen closer to him. The hand shook that held the knife to Magdalen’s throat. The blade touched her skin. He could end her life in a moment.
“Swear to me you won’t let them kill me,” the guard said.
“I hereby vow, as the rightful Duke of Wolfberg, that you will not be killed if you do not harm this girl,” Steffan said.
There was scuffling and footsteps behind them in the doorway.
Steffan said quite loudly, never taking his eyes off the guard and Lady Magdalen, “I demand that this guard’s life be spared.”
The guard took the knife away from her throat and let his arms go limp by his side.
Magdalen hurried away from her captor, and Steffan opened his arms and pulled her close.
So many thoughts and emotions went through him as he held her tight, glorying in the way she clung to him and buried her face in his neck.
Magdalen lifted her head, and they both turned around to face several of Lord Thornbeck’s guards.
Lord Thornbeck stepped toward them, his brown eyes focusing on Steffan. “You are the Duke of Wolfberg, are you not?”
“I am, my lord. Thank you for coming to our aid. Did you receive Lady Magdalen’s letter?”
“I did not receive a letter. I am here because the Baroness of Mallin sent for me and asked for my help in rescuing her daughter. It seems her loyal servant, a mute boy named Lenhart, wrote down a very interesting tale explaining what had been happening here in Wolfberg. His description was so detailed, she decided it must be true and sent a messenger with this young man’s explanation.”
That was when Lenhart stepped out from the crowd, looking shyly at Magdalen. She in turn smiled and waved at him, excitement animating her as she still held to Steffan’s arm.
“Thank you, my lord. We owe you a great debt of gratitude.”
“It is my pleasure to lend my assistance to friends who are being wronged. I was in a similar predicament myself two years ago, as you might remember.”
Steffan had nearly forgotten about that, some sort of treachery from the Duke of Geitbart that was resolved in Lord Thornbeck’s favor.
“We have apprehended Lord Hazen, and my men have placed him in the dungeon. Can you point out his son and his son’s wife, Lady Magdalen’s imposter?”
“My lord, as it turns out, my cousin Alexander has been assisting us. In fact, he saved our lives a few minutes ago. If you could spare him, I would be very obliged.”
“Of course.”
Alexander’s gaze met his. Steffan nodded to him, and he nodded back.
They were free. All of them.
Magdalen watched as Lord Thornbeck’s guards began to carry the dead and wounded guards from the room. Lord Thornbeck was barking orders, and Lenhart and Alexander also turned to leave. Probably Magdalen’s mother and Lady Avelina had not been allowed up the stairs where the fighting was happening, as they were nowhere to be seen.
She was suddenly aware of Steffan standing beside her, looking down at her, as the last of the guards left. They were alone.
What could she say? What would he say to her? After all the closeness they had shared, the embraces, the near-death moments, and fighting for their lives . . . now she would be expected to leave Wolfberg with her mother. Steffan would forget about her and marry someone else, and he’d probably think she didn’t care.
Just a few moments before, she had been overwhelmed with joy and relief that they were both safe. Now tears stung her eyes and her insides quaked with fear that he would let her go . . . that he would never love her.
“My mother will be downstairs. I must go and see her.” Magdalen could not look at him as she said the words and started toward the door.
“Magdalen,” he called after her.
She quickened her step and did not answer him, her insides churning.
“Magdalen, wait.” He caught hold of her arm, but she couldn’t face him. The tears were swimming now, threatening to fall, and the lump in her throat kept her from speaking.
He tugged gently on her arm, trying to get her to turn around, then he came around in front of her.
“What is wrong? Are you angry with me?” He leaned down, trying to see her face. Then he touched her cheek, and she had to turn away as the first tear fell.
She shook her head, trying to swallow. She still couldn’t speak. Did he think she was being ridiculous? She must seem quite strange. If only she didn’t care for him so much, didn’t feel so much like her heart was breaking. She should be happy that he was getting his place back in Wolfberg, but instead, she could only think how he would forget about her.
“Please tell me what’s wrong.”
She finally managed to swallow. “Nothing is wrong.” But even as she said the words, another tear fell. She tried to turn so he wouldn’t see, but he kept moving in front of her.
“Magdalen, I—”
“You should not worry about me. You have a lot of people downstairs. You should go to them.” A sob was on the verge of erupting, on the verge of humiliating her even more. She clamped her lips shut.
“I’m not going anywhere. You are the person I want to talk to now.”
He had seen her tears, so she wiped them quickly with the back of her hand.
“Tell me why you’re crying.”
“It is nothing. Please don’t ask me.” Why was he tormenting her? Why couldn’t he just leave her in peace? “They will be waiting for you. You should go.” The statement of fact seemed to calm her and dry her tears.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me why you’re crying. Is it because that guard held a knife to your throat? Did he hurt you?” His voice conveyed sudden fear.
“No, I am not hurt.”
“I think I saw you limping.”
“It is nothing, just a little twinge in my ankle.”
The tenderness and concern in his voice were making her feel as if she were two halves being pulled apart. Did he want to see her lose her self-control? She started toward the door again.
“You cannot leave until you talk to me.” He hurried to block the doorway with his body.
She turned her back on him as the tears flowed down again. “This is your castle, and you can order me . . . to do . . .”
“Magdalen, I don’t know why you won’t tell me what I did to make you upset, but you are the sweetest, most beguiling woman I know, the kindest and the most noble and courageous.”
His hand touched her shoulder. The sob broke free from her throat.
“I know I am selfish and cowardly sometimes, and my fear of marrying for love must have made you dislike me, and rightly so. But I refuse to live in fear any longer. If you will marry me, Lady Magdalen, I vow to cherish you as long as I live.”
Another sob escaped. She turned her body toward him. Steffan put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. She did her best to wipe her face and whispered, “You want to marry me?”
“Yes.” He caressed her shoulder.
“You said a person should have a better reason to marry than love. Are you only marrying me for my mines?” Would he be angry? Or would he admit his motives were materialistic?
He pulled away enough to look into her eyes. “It is a fair and just question.” He sighed and didn’t speak for a moment. “I watched my father grieve over my mother. He was so heartbroken, he forgot he had two children and a region full of people who needed him. I was afraid of ever loving anyone that much, of ending up like my father. But I just could not help loving you, Magdalen. And that is why I wish to marry you—because I love you.”
Her heart swelled more with every word he spoke, with each emotion that shone in his eyes. Surely she could trust this man to love her.
“Magdalen? Will you marry me? Will you let me love you?” There was so much hope in his expression.
“Yes, I will marry you.”
He smiled jubilantly.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She put her hand on his shoulder to keep her balance, rose onto her tiptoes, and pressed her lips against his.
Steffan’s heart soared at her boldness and at the thought that she was willing to be his wife. He caressed her cheek as he kissed her. The sweetness of her touch, of her lips, her skin, her nearness . . . his gentle, sweet Magdalen.
She pulled away slightly. He kissed her cheek as she stroked his beard. Then he gazed into her half-closed eyes.
“Now will you tell me why you were crying?”
“I thought you didn’t want me. That I would go home and you would forget me.”
He brushed his thumb over her chin. “I could never forget you. But are you sure you want to marry me? I thought you were excited about not having to marry at all.”
“Of course I was excited.” She smiled as she slipped her arms around his neck.
“You’ve said you would marry me and I’m not letting you out of the agreement.”
Her smile widened. “I don’t want out of it.”
She leaned forward and they kissed again, his heart pounding.
She ended the kiss and said, “Of course I was excited about being able to help my people without marrying a stranger or an old man. And you had already told me you never intended to marry me.”
“I’m sorry. I was daft.” He wished she would forget about that and kiss him again.
“You should not be sorry. It was your uncle’s fault. You were only telling me the truth.”
“Yes, but I should have wanted to marry you after meeting you two years ago in Thornbeck. You were obviously sweet and very lovely, though you are even more beautiful now than you were then.”
She rewarded him with another kiss. How good it felt to kiss the girl he loved. Perhaps he could believe Alexander was a changed man after falling in love. He certainly felt different after being with Magdalen the last few weeks. Maybe they’d all learned some important lessons.
Magdalen had never felt anything like kissing Steffan. And she hadn’t even told him . . .
“I love you,” she whispered against his cheek.
He inhaled sharply, kissed the corner of her mouth, then her lips.
A few moments later, he said, “How can you love a selfish man like me?”
“We are all selfish. Everyone wants what they want. But you . . . you defend the helpless and weak and put yourself through pain and hardship to help others.” She rubbed his beard with her fingertips and sighed.
He touched his forehead to her temple. “You say the sweetest things.”
Sweet was the word for how it felt to stand here with Steffan. But it seemed all a dream.
“Magdalen, there you are.”
She looked up to find her mother staring at them from the doorway.
“Do you not think it is time to go downstairs?” She sent a sharp, confounded look at Magdalen and then Steffan.
They separated, and Steffan bowed to her mother. “Lady Mallin.”
Mother nodded coldly and turned to Magdalen. “Let us go. Now.”
Magdalen cleared her throat. “We shall be down in a moment, Mother.” Her face burned at the reprimand that was surely coming for not immediately obeying her mother.
Without a word, Mother turned and started down the steps.
Steffan squeezed her hand and whispered, “I wish we didn’t have to go down.”
“You do?”
“I wish we could stay here and talk.” He leaned down and kissed her lips.
“We shall talk later.” She smiled and they went down together.