The Crown of Rosemund by Michele Ashman Bell

Author:Michele Ashman Bell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Rosemund;princess;royalty;lost princess;battle;hardships;peasant;birthright;politics;clean;romance;castle;fantasy;throne;proper romance;sweet romance;wholesome romance
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2021-03-03T18:49:15+00:00

Chapter 14

“Jacob would be so disappointed,” she said, glancing at Maxwell.

“Who is Jacob?” he asked.

“Arthur. Grandfather.”

“Of course,” he said, then looked away.

Because of her, Maxwell was deep in a situation he didn’t deserve or want to be in. She wouldn’t blame him for riding away as soon as they freed themselves and never coming back.

Maxwell grunted as he attempted to escape the ties that bound him, to no avail.

How would they ever escape? Wait!

“My dagger,” she said. “Maxwell, it’s in my boot.”

She scooted over to him and positioned herself so he could reach into her boot, which wasn’t easy with his hands tied together. He couldn’t get it.

She leaned back and tried to shake it out.

“Ugh!” She fell sideways.

Maxwell chuckled.

“You’re not helping,” she said.

He stopped laughing. “Here, lean against me.”

She shifted her position so she could lean back on him, her left shoulder against his broad chest, her elbow against his ribs. Except for when they were training or fighting, this was the closest she’d ever been to him. For a moment, she didn’t care that they were tied up.

“Well,” he asked, “are you going to try?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, feeling the blush of red on her cheeks again.

She lifted her knees, raised her legs, and shook her feet, feeling the movement of the dagger inside her boot. “It’s working,” she said.

“Good. Try again,” he said, the warmth of his breath tickling her neck.

She shook her foot as hard as she could, and a moment later, the dagger in its leather sheath slid onto the ground.

“You did it!” he exclaimed.

She laughed with relief that it had worked but also with awkward uncertainty about what to do with the reaction she was having to being so close to Maxwell.

“Here,” he said, seemingly unaffected by their situation. “I’ll cut you free first.”

She was disappointed that she wasn’t having the same effect on him as he was on her, but she wasn’t about to show him how she was feeling.

He sawed at the ropes until they fell loose from her wrists.

She couldn’t help clasping her wrists where the rope had burned them and allowing the circulation to return to her hands.

“Are you injured?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Just a bit bruised and scraped. Here.” She took the dagger. “Your turn.”

The dagger bit through the rope quickly, and soon his hands were free.

She cut her ankles free. Then she handed him the dagger, and he did the same with his bonds.

Just as she was about to push herself up off the ground, Maxwell extended his hand. “Allow me,” he said.

She accepted his assistance and felt her heartbeat quicken as he pulled her to her feet, then still held her hand after she stood.

“All well?” he asked.

“Quite,” she said. “Thank you. And you?”

“I believe so.”

She gave him a smile.

“Let us continue before more harm befalls us,” he said.

Rose followed him to their horses, wishing they were riding somewhere safe and beautiful instead of into the lion’s den.

“Shall we?” Maxwell said from atop his mount.

She gave him a nod, and with a nudge, Atlas started forward.

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