Page 40 of Legacy of Thorns (Kingdoms of Legacy #3)

Finley

H ow could the girl in the bed be Daphne? Finley tried to force his spinning mind to make sense of what his eyes were seeing.

He had left Daphne behind with Archer. She couldn’t be here unless…

Unless she and Archer had used the extra time he had bought them. If they had arrived at the castle first, Archer could have made a path through the brambles. He could have woken the real Gabrielle whose name was written on the bed before him. And they could have left Daphne in her place.

Finley watched the rise and fall of her chest, her unmoving, closed eyes. Was she really asleep or only pretending?

Fear seized him at the idea of Daphne sleeping here, alone and vulnerable. But wound through it was unmistakable awe at what she had done.

He glanced at Barlowe, his bound fists clenching at the way the man’s eyes were roving over Daphne’s face. But there was no flicker of recognition in his features. Was that possible?

Finley thought back over the ball and their interactions. Barlowe had never seen Daphne without the mask. And if Finley —who knew her face as well as anyone’s— had found it hard to believe she was really there, Barlowe would be even less likely to suspect it.

It had still been a staggering risk. His heart swelled with a wild mix of emotions.

Daphne had risked everything for him, trusting that he would be true to his promises.

And now it was his turn to risk everything for her.

No matter what the consequences of obeying Barlowe, he couldn’t turn back now.

“Kiss her,” Barlowe ordered, and Finley leaned willingly toward Daphne’s face.

“No!” The rope jerked him back. “Kiss her foot,” Barlowe snapped, his usual urbanity fraying. “Stay out of her sight.”

Finley straightened and held out his hands. “Cut my ropes.”

Barlowe’s eyes narrowed, but Finley’s gaze didn’t waver. “Cut my ropes, or I’m going to fall all over the girl. There are six of you and one of me, surely they aren’t necessary.”

“Fine.” Barlowe waved at one of his men. “Cut him loose.”

The man obeyed, letting the ropes fall to the ground at Finley’s feet. Finley massaged his wrists as he took his designated place at the foot of the bed.

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.”

She gazed at Barlowe so trustingly that he hesitated, clearly unsure how to remove Finley without turning her against Barlowe himself.

She had seen Finley, which was a disaster, and yet she still seemed drawn to Barlowe as well.

He hadn’t lost hold of the situation, so he clung to the role he had assigned himself.

“These men are only here to keep you safe, Gabrielle,” he said. “If you want them gone, you need only say the word.”

Finley held his breath, but Daphne shook her head. “Oh no, they should all stay. Even him. We enjoy welcoming visitors to our home.” She smiled at Finley again, and he realized why she hadn’t taken the opportunity Barlowe had offered.

If she sent Barlowe’s men away, he would be sure to send Finley off with them.

Which left them at an impasse. So far, Daphne had managed to fool Barlowe, but he still had strength and numerical superiority on his side.

How long could they draw out the charade before he found a reason to get Finley away from her?

“You should apologize to our new guests, poppet,” the nanny said in a chiding voice, as if she hadn’t been the one insulting them the loudest. “You must never forget your good manners.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Daphne hurried across the room toward Finley and the men who surrounded him.

He tensed as she approached and felt them do the same. But Barlowe glared from behind Daphne, clearly wanting his men to play nice, so they subsided.

Just as she reached them, Daphne tripped, nearly falling to the floor before she managed to right herself.

Finley responded instinctively, leaping toward her, but a growl from Barlowe made him freeze.

If he pushed Barlowe too far, it could result in disaster for both him and Daphne.

He had to trust that Daphne had a plan beyond taking Gabrielle’s place.

“Oh dear!” Daphne looked at something on the ground near the feet of the closest man. “I’ve dropped my yarn.” She beamed at the man. “Would you pick it up for me?”

“Of course he will.” Barlowe started toward them, gesturing for the man to do so.

With a pained smile, the man bent to retrieve the length of plain yarn. He handed it back to Daphne quickly, nearly losing his own balance in the process.

“Thank you.” Her brow creased with sweet-looking concern. “You look a little shaky there. Let me help you.”

She reached out to steady his arm, but he stumbled into her, making her stagger sideways and nearly topple. She collided with another of the men, the yarn trailing from her hand and wrapping over his wrist in the process.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She unwound it as the first man collapsed to the ground.

Two of the others hurried forward to examine him, and Daphne followed close behind them.

“How terrible,” she exclaimed, looking toward Barlowe. “Is he…drunk?” Her eyes widened at the terrible idea, and Barlowe swelled, staring from one to the other of the remaining men accusingly.

“I’ll just check,” Daphne said, ignoring Barlowe’s protests as she bent close to the downed man.

The yarn still trailed from her hand, and one of the remaining men became tangled in it, cursing as he hopped on one foot, trying to untangle himself. Daphne gave a fresh round of apologies, whipping the yarn off him and managing to fling it on the other man bending over his downed fellow instead.