Page 12 of One Knight in the Forest

Chapter Five

A ragged cry pulled Magdalen from the depths of sleep. Jolting awake, she opened her eyes to inky shadows. Her head felt muzzy and sluggish, but her heart pounded as if she were once again racing through the forest.

William. He’d come for her.

Ignoring the pain in her leg, she pushed up on her elbows and glanced anxiously about the room.

All seemed to be quiet and still, not only in this area, but the rest of the house. There was no sign of William or his men.

Daring to exhale a sigh of relief, she studied the shadowed room more thoroughly. Cyn’s dogs dozed by the hearth, clearly undisturbed by the noise she’d heard. Her garments and bag still tied to the rope were akin to distorted silhouettes against the yellowish-orange light.

Cyn didn’t seem to have been bothered the cry either. He was asleep, sprawled in the largest chair in the room: a high-backed, carved oak throne fit for a forest king. His head had listed to the side while he slept, allowing her to study his features. His eyes were closed, the strong line of his jaw relaxed. Her gaze slid down from his sensual mouth, to see that he wore different garments than he had earlier; his coppery-red woolen tunic clung to the broad muscles of his torso and drew her focus slowly down to his lap, where two cats lay curled together. The felines watched her, their eyes mere slits, as her gaze followed the powerful lines of his legs, defined by snug black hose, down to his bare feet.

Cyn stirred. She blushed, mortified to think he might wake and catch her ogling him. She dropped back down to the pillows.

His face contorted into a grimace, although his eyes remained shut. His breaths rasped between his clenched teeth; an unnerving sound.

He must be having a nightmare.

“Cyn?” she whispered.

He groaned.

“Cyn,” she whispered again.

No answer.

She bit down on her bottom lip as her attention shifted to her drying garments. With Cyn sleeping so soundly, could she use this opportunity to escape? Her clothes might not be fully dry, but dry enough that she could put them on and slip out into the night. She had to try, despite the pain in her leg. She had to deliver the missive about the murder to someone who could stop the terrible deed from happening.

As carefully and as quietly as possible, she pushed herself upright. The bedding fell to her waist, baring her shirt-covered upper body to the room’s cooler air. Dizziness suddenly overwhelmed her, and she went still, clutching her brow. Counting her heartbeats, drawing in steadying breaths, she waited for the dizziness to subside.

Her hand shook as she pulled back the blankets and bared her legs. How she hated feeling so weak. Shivering, with sweat beading on her brow, she began to shift her legs over the side of the cot. The bed creaked. Oh, but the floor seemed so far away, nigh impossible—

“What in hellfire are you doing?”

She glanced up. Through the darkness, Cyn’s gaze locked with hers.

There was no chance of her slipping away now.

Straightening in the chair, he lifted the cats from his lap, set them on the floor, and rose. In a few brisk strides, he was in front of her. “Were you trying to get out of bed?” He sounded both astonished and angry. He also smelled faintly of wood smoke and herbs, a tantalizing mingling of scents that did odd things to her pulse…or mayhap ’twas his intimidating demeanor that unsettled her. “Do you need to…use the chamber pot?”

“Nay, thank you. I took care of that need earlier.”

“Why were you trying to leave your bed, then?”

Magdalen thought of lying and saying she’d only wanted to move around a bit, to swing her legs to stretch out a cramp, but with him frowning down at her, she decided upon partial truth. “I…thought you were in some kind of trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“You groaned, as if you were experiencing night terrors.”

He shook his head, and a rough oath broke from him. His attention dropped to her legs, and then he abruptly looked away, as though he realized he shouldn’t be looking at her bared skin.

A little thrill of fascination chased through her that her partial nakedness should affect him so—but surely, she should not be entertaining such scandalous thoughts.

“Were you having a nightmare?” She discreetly tried to the tug the bedding back over her limbs. While she didn’t have any prior experience with such situations—it hadn’t even been mentioned in one of the countless tales she’d heard—it must be highly inappropriate for a lady to reveal so much skin to a lord’s gaze, no matter how chivalrous he might be.

His face turned to her in profile, Cyn said, “I would rather not discuss—”