More Than Meets the Eye

Chapter Eleven

Arielle was going to faint.

Her knees actually started to buckle and it was only through sheer will that she remained upright.

Well, that and Thorin's fist tightening about her upper arm.

Her blood roared through her head, pounded through her temples hard enough to make black dots dance before her eyes. Five days. She'd made through five days before being caught.

"I ca-can explain," she told him, trying to pull her arm free to no avail.

"Then do so."

"Elen is my brother and Lady Dis did hire him, but he and his friend Karl were up to some sort of tomfoolery the night before he was supposed to come here and somehow he wound up with a barrel dropping on his hand, which broke it and since he couldn't very well arrive at your doorstep as a one-handed valet, he asked me if I would cover for him by pretending to be him, which I told him was a terrible idea, but as he said, he needed the work and we needed the money and it would only be for six weeks, which didn't seem so terribly long when I agreed to this madness, and I never thought it would take you but five days to figure it all out and—"

To her horror, Thorin clapped a hand over her mouth. "Enough! I should've known this would happen."

His hand was so massive, that not only did he cover her mouth, but her nose and her chin as well, which made breathing difficult. At first, she didn't move, but then began to feel dizzy, and so jerked back to suck in a hard breath. "It was not our plan to deceive you for any reason other than Elen really needs this position and we really needed the money. Our rents were raised yet again and neither one of us makes even close to enough to cover it on our own. His becoming your valet was what we needed, as you offered him a generous wage." She clasped her hands together, digging her fingernails into the opposite palms to keep from rambling on again. "And as soon as his hand healed, we would switch back to our true selves. And no one here would be the wiser."

"So, Arielle in Dale was—"

"Elen," she broke in softly, her heart hammering her ribs. Any moment and he would have her bodily tossed from Erebor. "And I am Arielle. The true Arielle."

"You're the widowed old crone?" He arched one heavy brow.

Heat swept through her. "Not the widowed part, no. But the rest... entirely possible."

"You're far too young to be a crone of any sort." He stepped back, unfolding his arms as he moved to sink onto the edge of his bed. "But, that leave us with a bit of a problem here, doesn't it?"

"I can still do what a valet does, just as I have been."

To her horror, Thorin's brow crept higher and a smirk lifted his lips. "You've seen me naked. More than once."

Heat swept through her like a raging forest fire. "I won't breathe a word of that to anyone. No one ever need know."

"I know."

The heat worsened. "Yes, but... I won't say anything to anyone and if you don't, either, what matter is it?"

"What matter is it? You washed me. You washed my hair. You—" He stopped, drew in a deep breathe, and exhaled slowly before adding, "You should not have done those things for me. You cannot be here."

"No one else knows. And I am not about to say anything to anyone." She was on the verge of pleading, no, she actually was pleading, but she didn't care. If she lost Elen's position for him, she was, in effect, putting them out on the streets. Panic rose in a mighty wave. "I will not tell anyone and I can continue to do all the things I was doing, although I don't suppose I could help you with your bath any longer, but I can still wash your hair if you have trouble with your arm, although the healer will be able to fix that soon and—oh!" She clapped her hands over her mouth, which muffled her, "I am sorry."