She screamed over and over, beating at his back with her fists. He set her feet on the floor and pulled off his hood.
“Westley!” Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She threw her arms around him as a sob escaped her throat. “You’re alive. Thank You, God.”
“I have to go help.” He kissed her forehead and then drew his sword. He plunged back into the chapel and into the fight.
Evangeline followed and watched as he leapt into the fray. He attacked one of Shiveley’s guards and immediately divested him of his sword, but the fight ended soon after. Shiveley’s men surrendered. Richard held his sword point to Shiveley’s throat. Lord le Wyse was standing over a man lying on the floor, as the king’s men had subdued several others.
Westley stepped toward her and put his arm protectively around her waist.
The king relinquished his prisoner to one of his guards. “Take these traitors down to the dungeon and lock them up.”
Westley pulled her out of the way, still holding her, until everyone had departed from the chapel except Lord le Wyse, the king, Westley, and Evangeline. Even the priest had disappeared around the chancel. They all seemed to be waiting for the king to speak.
“Lord le Wyse, I presume.” He nodded at the older man.
“Your Majesty.” Lord le Wyse bowed to the king.
“That was fine sword fighting.”
“My son Westley taught me everything I know.”
Westley responded with a slight smile, standing very straight.
“The truth is, I owe you three my life.” The look on the king’s face was quite somber. “I shall make certain that Shiveley and his men are no longer a threat, but I wish to speak with the three of you later in the Great Hall.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Westley and his father bowed and Evangeline curtsied as the king left the room.
Westley tightened his arm around her waist, as if afraid she might try to get away, and asked his father, “Are you well?”
Westley pointed to a thin line of blood on Lord le Wyse’s chin. His father touched his chin with the back of his hand. “Only a scratch. But be sure and tell your mother and brothers and sisters that the king complimented me on my sword-fighting skills.”
“I shall.” Westley grinned, showing all his teeth.
“I’ll go wash this off.” Lord le Wyse gave a smile and nod to Evangeline and left the chapel.
Westley gazed down at her, now that they were alone. “Are you all right? I wish I could have gotten here sooner.” His tone was hushed, and his thumb gently stroked beside the cut on her lip.
Her heart filled and overflowed into her eyes. She pressed her face against his chest.
“Wait. I don’t know how clean this thing is.” Westley pulled away and stripped off the surcoat that bore Shiveley’s colors. He threw it on the floor and then pulled her to him. She didn’t even mind that the clothes underneath were still damp from his swim in the moat.
They walked over to a bench against the wall near the chapel entrance and sat down, their arms around each other. She touched his hair.
“Still wet.”
“I don’t suppose I smell very good after being in the stinky moat.”
“I don’t care what you smell like. I was so afraid you’d drowned.” She held him tight, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.
“Nah. I’ve been swimming since I was a wee child.”
She suddenly wished she could have seen him swimming through the moat. “But what happened after that?”
He explained to her how he sneaked in and hid in King Richard’s bedchamber and everything that ensued.
“Thank you for saving me.”
He squeezed her tighter to his side and kissed her head. “Not still angry with me, then?”
“No. You were right. I should have stayed in Glynval since I turned out to be useless to you.”
“That’s not true. If you hadn’t been here, we probably could not have proven to the king that Shiveley was a traitor.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
It felt so good to be in Westley’s arms again. But a sharp pain inside forced her to say, “You hurt me with what you said on the way here, that I was foolish and I would only make trouble.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He stared intently into her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was angry with you for placing yourself in danger, and I was afraid something bad would happen to you. Please forgive me for saying those things. They weren’t true.”
“I do forgive you. I said some unkind things about you too.”
“That I was stubborn and proud?”
“You’re not stubborn or proud. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course.” He placed a kiss on her temple. “Is there anything you need?” Westley said softly.
She’d never realized how warm and pleasant his voice sounded—sweet but masculine at the same time. But there was something else getting in the way of her joy, something else she needed to say.
“No, but, Westley . . . I’m sorry if I’ve always seemed selfish. I promise I will try not to be so selfish in the future.”
“Why would you say that?”