Page 74 of Legacy of Thorns
Flicking back the corner of the coverlet, Barlowe exposed Daphne’s right ankle. As Finley leaned toward it, a ridiculous bubble of laughter fought to escape his throat. Barlowe remained deadly serious, however, positioning himself beside Daphne’s face, where he blocked her view of Finley.
“Now!” Barlowe said, impatience in his voice.
Finley pressed his lips to Daphne’s ankle. He pulled back and waited without breathing, counting the seconds.
Five ticked away, then six, then seven.
“Why isn’t she—” Barlowe began only to cut himself off as Daphne finally stirred.
She lifted a hand to her head. “What has happened?” she asked in a clear, sweet voice. “Papa?”
Hands grabbed Finley from behind, pulling him roughly away from the bed. The bodies of Barlowe’s men formed a wall, further preventing Daphne from getting any glimpse of him.
His stomach clenched. Did she realize he was there, or did she think Barlowe had actually woken her? Did she fear Finley was already dead?
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Barlowe said in tones of deep, but false, sympathy. “Your respected father is no longer with us.”
“What…What do you mean?” Daphne asked, her voice wavering. “But I just saw him.”
“I’m afraid you’ve been in an enchanted sleep, Gabrielle,” Barlowe replied. “But I’m here now, and I will protect you. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Here, let me help you up.” The rustle of bed linen sounded as Daphne sat up and slid out of the bed.
The men dragging Finley across the entryway had nearly reached the door. Finley knew what was waiting for him outside, but he still didn’t regret waking Daphne.
“Stop what you’re doing, you nasty brutes!” called a loud voice from beside the fireplace. The men dragging Finley froze in surprise, and the voice continued in strident tones. “Why are you dragging that nice young man away?”
The old lady by the fire had woken in line with Daphne, springing up and pointing dramatically at Finley and his captors.
“Nanny!” cried Daphne, pushing past the unwary Barlowe and fleeing to the old lady’s side.
Finley had no idea what was happening, but he responded instantly, pulling his arms free of his confused captors’ grip and bowing courteously to the two ladies. The men around him looked to Barlowe, clearly unsure how to respond.
Barlowe hurried to the fireplace and recaptured Daphne’s hand. She allowed him to do so, making Finley’s skin crawl. He kept his face impassive, however.
“Who are those awful men?” Daphne shrank toward Barlowe with a believable level of fear. “What are they doing?”
Barlowe visibly hesitated. If he claimed the ruffians as his men, he might drive her away. He had chosen to fool his way into the role of hero, and now he was discovering the limitations of that position.
“They were dragging that nice young man away,” the old lady said. “You must protect us from them, sir!”
“I’m afraid to say that nice young man is actually a thief,” Barlowe said with a solemn air. “We found him stealing from your home while you slept, so my men were removing him from the premises for you.”
“A thief?” Daphne looked up and met Finley’s eyes for the first time.
Her face gentled immediately, her eyes shining at him, and his heart squeezed, his pulse leaping. It was all he could do not to race across the entryway and pull her into his arms.
Barlowe’s face hardened. He still believed Daphne to be Gabrielle, but he had bargained a lot on her not getting a look at Finley. Fin was the one who had woken her and the true target of her Legacy-fueled infatuation.
“Oh no,” the nanny said firmly. “He couldn’t be a thief. He looks just like a young lad I used to bounce on my knee as a baby. He probably just popped up from the local town to check on us.”
“I agree,” Daphne said in a shy voice that sounded nothing like her usual self. “He doesn’t look like a thief at all.” She gave Finley an equally shy smile, and he could almost hear Barlowe’s teeth grinding together.
“I know!” Daphne said brightly. “We’ll make him turn out his pockets. Then we’ll see the truth of it.”
Finley immediately responded, turning out his empty pockets before Barlowe could think of a reason to protest.
“It’s all a misunderstanding, my lady,” he said as he did so. “I haven’t stolen a thing from this castle, I swear it.”
“There you are!” Daphne cried in satisfaction, smiling happily at Barlowe. “Just a misunderstanding.”
