Midnight Magic by Shari Anton Page B

any danger from Gwendolyn. She wants the ring, not my blood. Let me know when you return.”
    “As you say, milord.”
    Alberic moved toward the door. Feeling a bit ill, Gwendolyn allowed her hands to drop away, astounded by the implication of his order to Odell. For two nights she’d observed the postern gate, knew only one guard was normally posted there. If extra guards had been posted, then someone had expected something to happen tonight.
    Her escape. Alberic knew! But how?
    He hefted the heavy plank from beside the door. The muscles in his back showed no sign of strain as he slid the bolt into the iron holders.
    Locking all out; locking her in.
    He turned around. She averted her gaze, choosing to stare at a spot on the wall. He said nothing when he passed by her on his way to the table. From the sounds she knew he poured a goblet of wine.
    “When in Shrewsbury, I thought to purchase a pair of gloves for myself. Knowing they would be snug, I tried to take the ring off before putting them on. The ring stuck. I thought that odd, so that night I tried cold water and soap, then goose grease. The ring will not come off.”
    Gwendolyn groped for a reason other than the one she refused to consider. “The ring is too small. It was not made for you.”
    “One would think it was. It fitted perfectly until I tried to slide it beyond the knuckle. Short of cutting off my finger, I fear it must stay where it is. And no, Gwendolyn, I am not slicing off a finger, not even to please you.”
    Ire touched his declaration, but she didn’t know if it was directed at her for the pretense of having accepted her situation, or at himself for his gallantry and gifts gone for naught. Having no answer, she remained silent.
    He placed the goblet on the table, and after a few moments of silence, said, “You may turn around now. I should no longer offend your sense of modesty.”
    Alberic wore only his forest green tunic. He leaned against the table, his arms crossed over his chest, his long, bare legs crossed at the ankles. Truly, the man was a fine specimen of a hardy, healthy male and, completely against her will, her woman’s places warmed at the sight of all that male flesh on display.
    His sensuous perusal of her own state of undress tingled along her bare arms and at the hardened tips of her breasts. She folded her arms over her chest, which only encouraged him to lower his gaze and linger overlong on one particular spot. The light was dim. Surely he couldn’t see much. But maybe he could. Her chemise was thin, and she didn’t have enough arms and hands to cover
everything.
    She desperately needed a distraction and to divert his attention.
    “You knew I planned to leave tonight.”
    He shrugged a shoulder. “You were seen where you ought not to be at strange times. I also assumed you would try to procure the ring before you attempted your escape.” His smile was neither apologetic nor friendly. “I beg pardon, Gwendolyn, but I cannot allow either. You do understand.”
    She understood too clearly that someone at Camelen had observed her movements and informed Alberic, most likely a guard she hadn’t seen. She also understood that two days remained before the wedding, not much time to make other arrangements to escape.
    None of which mattered if the ring didn’t come off Alberic’s finger. She dare not leave the ring behind.
    “You have kept the ring on since the king gave it to you?”
    “Aye. Almost a fortnight now.” He frowned and turned the ring in circles. “The ring slid on easily and is not tight or hurtful. I do not understand what hinders me from removing it.”
    Gwendolyn was beginning to, and the possibility sent a cold chill through her that had nothing to do with her thin chemise and the lack of a fire in the hearth.
    For a moment, again her father sat at the table, distressed, sliding the ring off and on his finger. “From the moment your mother’s father gave it to me until the moment of her death, I could