Immortal Champion Read Online Free Page A

stopped dead. Another one? He glanced back and forth, confused. They were so similar, they looked like twins, with their midnight hair, ivory skin, and gray eyes. But the one in bed had her arm propped up on a cushion, a poultice covering a burn just where he’d put out the flames on a sleeve. So . . . the brave one was the noblewoman and the screamer was the bastard cousin. But which one had been pestering him earlier? And why had he not noticed there were two of them?
    The lines of pain around Lady Eleanor’s eyes faded as she looked up and saw him. “Here is my rescuer.”
    “Lady Eleanor de Neville, I give you Sir Gunnar of Lesbury. Do not linger too long, monsire . She needs to sleep, but would not, until she saw you were well.”
    Gunnar bowed to Lady Eleanor, and then to the duchess. “By your command, Your Grace.”
    The duchess backed away, and motioned for Screaming Lucy to join her by the door.
    “I owe you my life, sir,” said Lady Eleanor. “I am told you charged up the burning stair then leapt with me to safety. And here I worried that you sat too near the fire.”
    Aha. It had been her. He thought back to how he’d spoken to her earlier and flushed. “’Twas more of a fall than a leap, my lady.”
    “Perhaps that is why I ache so.” Her voice was husky from the smoke but still managed to carry a ring of good humor. “Well, no matter. Leap or tumble, I will take it over burning. I wish to kiss your hand in thanks.”
    She held out her hand and looked at him expectantly. It was disconcerting, being under such close examination by eyes both so wise and so very young. Hardly more than a child—and yet her tone and manner were those of one used to having her requests honored by lessers. Aye, he should have heard that earlier, would have heard it, if he had not been so intent on chasing her off. She was noble for certs. And that she was called “Lady” meant she was married. Frowning at the thought of a girl so young being married off already, he glanced toward her hand. But her fingers were bare of rings, and the duchess did seem to be treating her like one of the fosterlings. Unmarried, and yet called “Lady”? And a Neville . How did he know that name?
    Puzzling over it, he took too long and made her frown back at him. “Your hand, Sir Gunnar. I cannot reach it.”
    He abandoned trying to sort out who she was and offered his hand.
    She started to take it, but hesitated at the sight of the blistered skin across his knuckles. She glanced at her arm, and gently turned his hand over to examine the matching burn on his palm. “I thought I remembered . . . No wonder you did not want me to kiss your hand, monsire . You should have spoken.”
    “’Tis nothing, my lady.”
    “Still, I would not hurt you further for the world. And yet I would kiss you.” She squinted at him in the candle-light. “Your right cheek is unmarked, I think. Let me kiss you there.”
    “Your thanks are enough, my lady.”
    “You saved my life, Sir Gunnar. I owe you a kiss, at the least.” She pushed herself upright with a slight wince and crooked her finger at him. “Bend close.”
    Shifting uncomfortably, he glanced toward the duchess, who nodded and smiled. “Let her kiss you, sir. I know her well. She has it in her mind, and she will not rest until she does, stubborn creature that she is.”
    “I suspect you are correct, Your Grace. I saw her amid the flames.” He turned back toward the girl and scolded gently, “Brave to the point of foolishness.”
    “Not nearly so brave as you, monsire . You had a choice, where I did not, being already in the fire.” Lady Eleanor’s smile faded away at the thought. “And I am grateful for the choice you made. You might have left me, but you did not, and for that I am ever in your debt. Your cheek, if you please.”
    “Of course, my lady.” He started to lean over, but realized he wouldn’t be close enough, so he crawled half onto the bed and bent to her. She reeked of