Chapter Two
“Vengeance is mine; I will repay …”
NEW TESTAMENT, ROMANS, 12:19
“Have you gone daft?” Madelyne whispered. Her voice sounded with astonishment.
The baron didn’t answer her, but his scowl suggested he had little liking for her question. He pulled Madelyne to her feet and then grabbed hold of her shoulders to steady her. She would have fallen back to her knees without his aid. Odd, but his touch was gentle for a man of his size, Madelyne thought, and that bit of knowledge confused her all the more.
His trickery was beyond her comprehension. He was the captive and she his savior, and certainly he realized that fact, didn’t he? Why, she’d risked everything for him. Dear God, she’d touched his feet, warmed them; aye, she’d given him all she dared.
He towered over her, this nobleman turned barbarian, and wore a savage expression that more than matched his gigantic proportions. She felt the power radiating from him, as forceful and stinging as the touch of a hot poker, and though she tried desperately not to flinch from the chilling look in his icy gray eyes, she knew she was trembling enough for him to notice.
He misunderstood her reaction and reached down for her cloak. When he placed the garment around her shoulders, his hand brushed against the swell of her breasts. She thought the touch was unintentional, yet she instinctively took a step back, clasping the cloak in front of her. The baron’s scowl deepened. He took hold of her hands, turned, and led the way down the dark corridor, dragging her behind him.
She had to run to keep up with him, else he’d be dragging her. “Why do you want to confront Louddon’s men when it isn’t necessary?”
There was no response from the baron but Madelyne wasn’t deterred. The warrior was walking toward his own death. She felt compelled to stop him. “Please, Baron, don’t do this. Listen to me. The cold has brittled your mind. They’ll kill you.”
Madelyne pulled against his hold then, hard, using all her strength, but he didn’t even slow his pace.
How in God’s name was she going to save him?
They reached the heavy door that led to the courtyard. The baron pushed it open so forcefully the hinges unbuckled. The door shredded into planks against the stone wall. Madelyne was pulled through the opening, into an icy wind that slapped her face and made a mockery of her fervent belief that the man she had untied less than an hour past was daft. No, he wasn’t daft at all.
The proof surrounded her. Over a hundred soldiers lined the inner courtyard, with more climbing over the top of the stone wall, all as quick as the rising wind and as silent as thieves, and every one of them wearing Baron Wexton’s blue and white colors.
Madelyne was so overwhelmed by the sight, she didn’t even notice her captor had stopped to look at his men as they gathered in numbers before him. She bumped into his back, instinctively reached out to grab hold of his hauberk to balance herself, and only then realized he’d let go of her hands.
He didn’t give the least indication she was there, hovering behind his back, clutching his garment as if it had suddenly become her lifeline. Madelyne realized she might appear to be hiding, or worse, cowering, and she immediately braved a step to his side so that one and all could see her. The top of her head reached the baron’s shoulders. She stood with her shoulders straight, trying to match the baron’s defiant stance, praying all the while her terror wasn’t discernible.
Lord, but she was scared. In truth, she wasn’t overly afraid of death; it was the dying that came before that terrified her. Aye, it was the thought of her own behavior before the foul deed was completed that made her feel so sick inside. Would it be quick or slowly drawn out? Would she lose her carefully nurtured control at the last minute and act the coward? That thought so upset her, she almost blurted out then and there that she wanted to be the first to feel the blade of death. But pleading for a quick end would also make her a coward, wouldn’t it? And then her brother’s prediction would be fulfilled.
Baron Wexton had no idea of the thoughts racing through his captive’s mind. He glanced down to look at her, took in her tranquil expression, and was mildly surprised by it. She looked very calm, almost serene, yet he knew her manner would soon change. Madelyne was about to witness his revenge, beginning with the total destruction of her home. No doubt she’d be weeping and begging for mercy before the deed was done.
One of the soldiers hurried over to stand directly before the baron. It was obvious to Madelyne that he was related to her captor, as he had the identical color of blackish-brown hair and the same muscular bearing, though he wasn’t nearly as tall. The soldier ignored Madelyne, addressing his leader. “Duncan? Do you give the call or do we stand here all night?”
His name was Duncan. Odd, but hearing his family name did help lessen Madelyne’s fear. Duncan … aye, the name seemed to make him a little more human in her mind.
“Well, brother?” the soldier demanded then, giving Madelyne their relationship and the reason the baron allowed such an insolent attitude from his vassal.
The soldier, surely a younger brother from his youthful appearance and lack of battle scars, then turned to look at Madelyne. His brown eyes mirrored his contempt for her. He looked as though he might hit her. Why, the angry soldier even took a step back, as if he wished to put more distance between himself and the leper she had suddenly become.
“Louddon isn’t here, Gilard,” Duncan told his brother.
The baron’s comment was given so mildly, Madelyne was immediately filled with new hope. “Then you will go home, milord?” she asked, turning to look up at him.
Duncan didn’t answer her. She would have repeated her question if the vassal hadn’t interrupted her by yelling a litany of crude remarks. His gaze was fixed on Madelyne as he spewed forth his frustration. Though Madelyne didn’t understand most of the foul comments, she could tell they were sinful just by the frightening look in Gilard’s eyes.
Duncan was about to command his brother to cease his childish tirade, when he felt Madelyne take hold of his hand. He was so astonished by her touch, he didn’t know how to react.
Madelyne clung to him and he could feel her trembling, yet when he turned to look down at her, she looked composed. She stared at Gilard. Duncan shook his head. He knew his brother hadn’t any idea how terrifying he was to Madelyne. In truth, Duncan doubted Gilard would care if he did know.
Gilard’s anger suddenly irritated Duncan. Madelyne was his captive, not his opponent, and the sooner Gilard understood how she was to be treated, the better. “Enough!” he demanded. “Louddon’s gone. Your curses won’t bring him back.”
Duncan suddenly jerked his hand away from Madelyne’s. He threw his arm around her shoulders, nearly knocking her over in his haste, and then pulled her up against his side. Gilard was so astonished by the obvious show of protection, he could only stare open-mouthed at his brother.
“Louddon must have taken the south road, Gilard, else you would have spotted him,” Duncan said.
Madelyne couldn’t stop herself from interfering. “And now you’ll go home?” she asked, trying not to sound overly eager. “You can challenge Louddon another time,” she suggested, hoping to take the sting out of their disappointment.
Both brothers turned to look at her. Neither answered her, but the look on their faces implied they thought she had a broken mind.
Madelyne’s fear began to intensify again. The chilling look in the baron’s eyes nearly made her knees snap. She quickly lowered her own gaze until she was staring at his chest, shamed to the core of her soul that she was proving to be so weak in character. “I’m not the crazed one,” she muttered. “You could still get away from here without being caught.”
Duncan ignored her comment. He grabbed hold of her bound hands and dragged her over to the very post she’d released him from. Madelyne tripped twice, her legs weak with fear. When Duncan finally released her, Madelyne leaned back against the splintered wood, waiting to see what he would do next.
The baron gave Madelyne a long glare. It was an unspoken command to stay there, Madelyne decided. Then he turned until his shoulders blocked her view of his soldiers. His muscular thighs were braced apart and his big hands were fisted on the tilt of his hips. It was a battle stance that clearly challenged his audience. “No one touches her. She is mine.” Duncan’s powerful voice rang out, washing over his men with as much force as the icy pellets hurling down from above.
Madelyne turned to look at the door to Louddon’s castle. Surely Duncan’s voice had reached inside, alerting the sleeping soldiers. Yet, when Louddon’s men didn’t immediately pour into the courtyard, Madelyne decided that the fierce wind must have swept away the baron’s voice.
Duncan started to walk away from Madelyne. She reached out and grabbed hold of the back of his hauberk. The circular steel links cut into her fingers. She grimaced in pain, yet wasn’t certain if her reaction was caused by the abrasive links or the infuriated look on the baron’s face when he turned back to her. He stood so close, his chest was actually touching hers. Madelyne was forced to tilt her head back in order to see his face.
“You don’t understand, Baron,” Madelyne blurted out. “If you’d only listen to reason, you’d see how foolish this plan of yours is.”
“How foolish my plan is?” Duncan repeated, astonished into bellowing by her brash statement. He didn’t understand why he wanted to know what she was talking about, but he did. Hell, she’d just insulted him. He would have killed a man for less. Yet the innocent look on her face, and the sincerity in her voice, indicated she wasn’t even aware of her transgression.
Madelyne thought Duncan looked as if he wanted to strangle her. She fought the urge to close her eyes against his intimidating stare. “If you came for me, then you’ve wasted your time.”
“You believe your value isn’t worthy enough for my attention?” Duncan asked.
“Of course. In my brother’s eyes, I have no value. ’Tis a fact I’m well aware of,” she added so matter-of-factly, Duncan knew she believed what she said. “And you are certain to die tonight. Aye, you’re outnumbered, by at least four to one by my count. There’s a second soldier’s keep in the bailey below us, with over a hundred soldiers sleeping there. They will hear the fight. What think you of that?” she asked, aware she was now wringing her hands but unable to stop herself.
Duncan stood there, staring at her with a puzzled expression on his face. Madelyne prayed the news she’d just shared with him about the second soldier’s keep would force him to see the folly of his plan.
Her prayers were in vain. When the baron finally reacted, it wasn’t at all what Madelyne expected. He merely shrugged.
The gesture infuriated her. The foolish warrior was clearly bent on dying.
“It was a false prayer to think you’d walk away from this, no matter what the odds, wasn’t it?” Madelyne asked.
“It was,” Duncan answered. A warm glint entered his eyes, surprising Madelyne. It was gone before she could even react. Was the baron laughing at her?
She didn’t have the courage to ask him. Duncan continued to stare at her another long moment. Then he shook his head, turned, and started to walk toward Louddon’s home. He’d obviously decided he’d wasted enough time on her.
There wasn’t the least hint of his intent now. Why, he could have been paying a social call if one judged by the mild look on his face and the slow, unhurried pace.
Madelyne knew better. She was suddenly so filled with dread, she thought she was going to be sick. She could feel the bile rising, burning a path all the way up to her throat. Madelyne took deep, gulping breaths while she frantically worked to undo the knots binding her hands. Panic made the task impossible, for Madelyne had just realized there were servants sleeping inside. She doubted Duncan’s soldiers would concern themselves with killing only those armed against them. Louddon certainly wouldn’t have made that distinction.
She knew she was going to die soon. That fact couldn’t be undone; she was Louddon’s sister. But if she could save innocent lives before her own death, wouldn’t that act of kindness give her existence some purpose? Dear God, wouldn’t saving one person make her life matter… to someone?
Madelyne continued to struggle with the rope while she watched the baron. When he reached the steps and turned back to face his men, his true purpose was obvious. Aye, his expression showed his fury.
Duncan slowly raised his sword into the air. And then his voice rang out with such force as to surely penetrate the stone walls surrounding them. His words of purpose were unmistakable.
“No mercy!”
The screams of battle tortured Madelyne. Her mind pictured what she couldn’t see, trapping her within a purgatory of obscene thoughts. She had never actually witnessed a battle before, only heard exaggerated tales of cunning and prowess from boasting victorious soldiers. But none of those stories included the descriptions of the killings, and when the fighting soldiers spilled out into the courtyard, Madelyne’s mental purgatory turned into a living hell, with the blood of the victims transformed into her captor’s fire of revenge.
Although the numbers heavily favored Louddon’s men, Madelyne soon realized they were ill prepared to fight Duncan’s well-trained soldiers. She watched as one of her brother’s soldiers raised his sword against the baron and lost his life because of it, witnessed another eager soldier thrust his lance forward and then stare in stupefaction when both lance and arm were severed from his body. An ear-piercing scream of agony followed the assault as the soldier pitched forward to the ground now soaked with his own blood.
Madelyne’s stomach lurched over the atrocities; she closed her eyes to block out the horror, but the images continued to haunt her.
A boy Madelyne thought might have been Duncan’s squire ran over to stand next to Madelyne. He had bright yellow hair and was of medium height, and so thick with muscles as to appear fat. He pulled a dagger and held it in front of him.
He paid her little heed, keeping his gaze directed on Duncan, but Madelyne thought he positioned himself to protect her. She had seen Duncan motion to the boy a short time before.
Madelyne desperately tried to focus on the squire’s face. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip. She wasn’t certain if the action was caused by fear or excitement. And then he suddenly bolted, leaving her unattended again.
She turned to look at Duncan, noticed that he’d dropped his shield, and then watched the squire race over to retrieve it for his lord. In his haste the squire dropped his own dagger.
Madelyne ran over, took hold of the dagger, and then hurried back to the post in case Duncan came for her. She knelt on the ground, her cloak hiding her action, and began to cut the rope binding her hands together. The acrid smell of smoke reached her. She looked up just in time to see a belch of fire explode through the open doorway of the castle. Servants now mingled with fighting men, trying to gain their freedom as they darted toward the gates. The fire chased after them, scorching the air.
Simon, first son of the Saxon reeve and an old man now, made his way over to Madelyne. Tears streamed down his leathered face, his thick shoulders stooped forward with despair. “I thought they’d done you in, milady,” he whispered as he helped her to her feet.
The servant took the dagger from her and quickly cut through the rope. Once she was freed, she cupped the sides of his shoulders. “Save yourself, Simon. This battle isn’t yours. Hurry now, away from here. Your family needs you.”
“But you …”
“Go, before it’s too late,” Madelyne implored him.
Her voice was harsh with fear. Simon was a good godfearing man who had showed her kindness in the past. He was trapped, as were the other servants, by position and heritage, tied by law to Louddon’s land, and that was sentence enough for any man to bear. God couldn’t be so cruel as to demand his life as well.
“Come with me, Lady Madelyne,” Simon begged. “I will hide you.”
Madelyne shook her head, denying him. “You have a better chance without me, Simon. The baron would come after me. Please, don’t argue,” she hurried to add when she saw he was about to protest again. “Go.” She screamed the order and gave it additional emphasis when she pushed against Simon’s shoulders.
“The Lord protect you,” Simon whispered. He handed her the dagger and turned to make his way to the gates. The old man had gotten only a few feet away from his mistress when he was knocked down to the ground by Duncan’s brother. Gilard, in his haste to attack another of Louddon’s soldiers, accidentally bumped into the servant. Simon made it back to his knees, when Gilard suddenly turned, as if he’d just realized there was another enemy closer at hand.
Gilard’s intent was obvious to Madelyne. She screamed a warning and ran over to stand in front of Simon, using her body to shield the servant from Gilard’s blade.
“Stand aside,” Gilard yelled, his sword raised.
“Nay,” Madelyne shouted back. “You’ll have to kill me to get to him.”
Gilard immediately raised his sword higher, suggesting he’d do just that. His face was mottled with fury. She thought Gilard was more than capable of killing her without suffering a moment’s remorse.
Duncan saw what was taking place. He immediately started running toward Madelyne. Gilard’s temper was known to be fierce, yet Duncan didn’t worry that his brother would harm Madelyne. Gilard would die before breaking a command. Brother or not, Duncan was Baron of Wexton holdings and Gilard his vassal. Gilard would honor that bond. And Duncan had been most specific. Madelyne belonged to him. No one was to touch her. No one.
The other servants, nearly thirty in all, also witnessed what was happening. Those not close enough to freedom hastened over to stand as a group behind Simon for protection.
Madelyne met Gilard’s furious stare with a composed expression, a tranquility that belied the destruction going on inside her.
Duncan reached his brother’s side just in time to observe Madelyne’s bizarre action. His captive slowly lifted her hand to her hair and then pushed the thick mass of curls away from the side of her neck. In a voice that sounded quite calm, she suggested that Gilard thrust his blade there, and if he pleased, to be quick about it.
Gilard looked stunned over Madelyne’s reaction to his bluff. He slowly lowered his sword until its bloodied point was facing the ground.
Madelyne’s expression didn’t change. She turned her attention to Duncan.
“Does your hatred for Louddon extend to his servants? Do you kill innocent men and women because they’re bound by law to serve my brother?”
Before Duncan could form an answer, Madelyne turned her back on him. She took hold of Simon’s hand and helped him to his feet. “I’ve heard that Baron Wexton is an honorable man, Simon. Stand beside me. We’ll face him together, dear friend.”
Turning back to Duncan, she added, “And we shall see if this lord is honorable or if he be no different from Louddon.”
Madelyne suddenly realized she held the dagger in her other hand. She hid the evidence behind her back until she felt a tear in the lining of her cloak, and then slipped the knife inside, praying the hem was strong enough to hold it. To cover her action, she shouted, “Every one of these good people has tried to protect me from my brother, and I’ll die before I see you touch them. ’Tis your choice.”
Duncan’s voice was filled with contempt when he answered her challenge. “Unlike your brother, I don’t prey on the weak. Go, old man, leave this place. You may take the others with you.”
The servants were quick to comply. Madelyne watched them run to the gates. His show of compassion surprised her. “And now, Baron, I’ve one more request. Please kill me now. I know I am a coward for asking, but the wait is becoming unbearable. Do what you must.”
She believed he meant to kill her. Duncan found himself astonished by her comments once again. He decided that Lady Madelyne was the most puzzling woman he’d ever come across. “I’m not going to kill you, Madelyne,” he announced before turning away from her.
A wave of relief washed over Madelyne. She believed Duncan had given her the truth. He’d looked so surprised when she’d asked him to get the foul deed over with … aye, he was giving her the truth now.
Madelyne felt victorious for the first time in her life. She’d saved Duncan’s life and would live to tell about it.
The battle was finished. The horses had been released from the stables, and chased after the servants through the opened gates seconds before new flames of destruction devoured the brittle wood.
Madelyne couldn’t summon up an ounce of outrage over the destruction of her brother’s home. It had never belonged to her. There were no happy memories here.
No, there was no feeling outrage. Duncan’s revenge was fitting retribution for her brother’s sins. Justice was being served this dark night by a barbarian dressed in knight’s clothing, a radical to Madelyne’s way of thinking, who dared to ignore Louddon’s powerful friendship with the King of England.
What had Louddon done to Baron Wexton to warrant such a retaliation? And what price would Duncan have to pay for his rash action? Would William II, upon hearing of this attack, demand Duncan’s life? The king was apt to please Louddon if he commanded that action. Louddon’s hold on the king was said to be unusual; Madelyne had heard it said that they were special friends. And only last week had she learned what the whispered obscenities really meant. Marta, the stablemaster’s outspoken wife, had taken great delight in revealing the vileness of their relationship late one evening, after she’d swallowed too many swigs of ale.
Madelyne hadn’t believed her. She’d blushed and denied it all, telling Marta that Louddon had remained unmarried because the lady he’d given his heart to had died. Marta had scoffed at Madelyne’s innocence. She eventually forced her mistress to admit to the possibility.
Until that evening, Madelyne hadn’t realized that some men could act intimately with other men, and the realization that one was her brother and the other reported to be the King of England made it all the more repulsive. Her disgust had turned physical; Madelyne remembered she’d thrown up her dinner, giving Marta quite a laugh.
“Burn the chapel.” Duncan’s order carried throughout the courtyard, pulling Madelyne’s thoughts back to the present. She immediately picked up her skirts and ran toward the church, hoping she’d have time to gather her meager possessions before the command was carried out. No one seemed to be paying her any attention.
Duncan intercepted her just when she reached the side entrance. He slammed his hands up against the wall, blocking her on both sides. Madelyne let out a startled gasp and twisted around to look up at him.
“There isn’t any place you can hide from me, Madelyne.”
His voice was soft. Lord, he sounded almost bored. “I hide from no one,” Madelyne answered, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.
“Then you wish to burn with your chapel?” Duncan asked. “Or perhaps you think to use the secret passage you told me about.”
“Neither,” Madelyne answered. “All of my possessions are inside the church. I was on my way to fetch them. You said you weren’t going to kill me and I thought to take my things on my own journey.”
When Duncan didn’t respond to her explanation, Madelyne tried again. It was difficult to form a coherent thought, however, with Duncan staring at her so intently. “I’ll not ask you for a mount, only my clothing from behind the altar.”
“You’ll not ask?” He whispered the question. Madelyne didn’t know how to react to it, or the smile he now gave her. “You truly expect me to believe you’ve been living in the church?”
Madelyne wished she had enough courage to tell him she didn’t care what he believed. Lord, she was a coward. Yet years of painful lessons in controlling her real feelings served her well now. She gave him a tranquil expression, forcing her anger aside. Why, she even managed to shrug.
Duncan saw the spark of anger ignite in her blue eyes. Such a mockery it was to the serene expression on her face, and so quickly gone, he was convinced he wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been watching her so intently. She controlled herself with amazing skill for a mere woman.
“Answer me, Madelyne. Do you wish me to believe you’ve been living in this church?”
“I haven’t been living there,” Madelyne answered when she couldn’t stand his intense stare a second longer. “I only hid my things so that I could make my escape in the morning.”
Duncan frowned over her statement. Did she think him daft to believe such a fool’s story? No woman would leave the comfort of her home to journey during these harsh months. And where would she have him believe she was going?
He made the swift decision to prove her story false, just to see her reaction when her lie was discovered. “You may get your things.”
Madelyne wasn’t about to argue over her good fortune. She believed that by giving his approval, Duncan was also agreeing to her own plan to leave the fortress. “Then I may leave this fortress?” She blurted out the assumption before she could stop herself. And Lord, how her voice shook.
“Aye, Madelyne, you will leave this fortress,” Duncan agreed.
He actually smiled at her. Madelyne worried about the change in his disposition. She stared up at him, trying to read his mind. A futile undertaking, she quickly realized. Duncan masked his feelings very well, too well for her to decide if he was telling the truth or not.
Madelyne ducked under his arm and ran down the corridor into the back of the church. Duncan was right behind her.
The burlap satchel was just where she’d hidden it the day before. Madelyne lifted the bundle into her arms and then turned to look at Duncan. She was about to offer her gratitude, yet hesitated when she saw the look of surprise on his face again.
“You didn’t believe me?” Madelyne asked. Her voice sounded as incredulous as he looked.
Duncan answered her with a scowl. He turned and walked out of the church. Madelyne followed him. Her hands were shaking now, almost violently. Madelyne decided that the horror of the battle she’d witnessed was just settling in. She’d seen so much blood, so many dead. Her stomach and her mind rebelled, and she could only pray she’d be able to maintain her composure until Duncan and his soldiers left.
The moment she cleared the structure, fiery torches were hurled inside. The flames were like hungry bears, devouring the building with savage intensity.
Madelyne watched the fire a good while, until she realized she was clinging to Duncan’s hand. She immediately pulled away from him.
She turned and saw that the soldiers’ horses had been led inside the inner bailey. Most of Duncan’s men were already mounted and waiting for his order. In the center of the courtyard stood the most magnificent of beasts, a huge white stallion, nearly two hands taller than any of the other horses. The blond-haired squire stood directly in front of the animal, trying without much success to keep the reins in his hands. The fiesty animal no doubt belonged to Duncan, a fitting beast for the baron’s stature and rank.
Duncan motioned her toward the stallion. Madelyne frowned over his order, yet instinctively started walking toward the big horse. The closer she got, the more frightened she became. In the corner of her confused mind a black thought crystallized.
Dear God, she wasn’t going to be left behind.
Madelyne took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She told herself she was just too distraught to think clearly. Of course the baron wasn’t going to take her with him. Why, she wasn’t significant enough to bother about.
She decided she still needed to hear his denial. “You don’t think to take me with you, do you?” she blurted out. Her voice sounded strained; she knew she hadn’t been able to keep the fear out of her voice.
Duncan walked over to Madelyne. He took hold of her satchel and threw it to his squire. She had her answer then. Madelyne stared up at Duncan, watched him swiftly mount, and then extend his hand down to her.
Madelyne began to back away. God help her, she was going to defy him. She knew if she tried to climb the distance to the top of his demon horse, she’d disgrace herself by fainting, or worse, screaming. In truth, she believed she preferred death to humiliation.
She was more frightened of the stallion than she was of the baron. Madelyne was sadly lacking in her education, and possessed none of the most basic riding skills. Memories of very young days, when Louddon had used those few riding lessons as a tool to inflict submission, still visited her on occasion. As a fully grown woman, she realized her fears were unreasonable, yet the fretful child inside her still rebelled with stubborn, illogical fright.
She took another step back. Then she slowly shook her head, denying Duncan’s assistance. Her decision was made; she’d force him to kill her if that was his inclination, but she wasn’t going to get on the stallion.
Without a thought as to where she was going, Madelyne turned and walked away. She was trembling so much, she stumbled several times. Panic was building inside until she was almost blinded by it, yet she kept her gaze directed on the ground and continued on, one determined step at a time.
She stopped when she came to the mutilated body of one of Louddon’s soldiers. The man’s face was horribly disfigured. The sight proved to be Madelyne’s breaking point. She stood there, in the center of the carnage, staring at the dead soldier, until she heard a tortured scream echo in the distance. The sound was soul-wrenching. Madelyne put her hands over her ears to try to block out the noise but the action didn’t help. The horrible sound went on and on.
Duncan spurred his horse forward the moment Madelyne started screaming. He reached her side, leaned down, and effortlessly lifted her up into his arms.
She stopped screaming when he touched her. Duncan adjusted his heavy cloak until his captive was completely covered. Her face rested against the steel links of his hauberk, yet he took time and attention to pull some of her own cloak forward so that the side of her cheek was cushioned against the soft sheepskin lining.
He didn’t question his desire to be gentle with her. The picture flashed before him of Madelyne kneeling in front of him, taking his near-frozen feet under her own gown to give them warmth. It had been an act of kindness, that. He could do no less for her now. After all, he was the one solely responsible for causing Madelyne such pain in the first place.
Duncan let out a long sigh. It couldn’t be undone. Hell, it had started out as such an easy plan too. Leave it to a woman to confuse it.
There was much to reevaluate now. Though he knew Madelyne wasn’t aware of it, she had certainly complicated the issues. He’d have to sort it all out, he told himself. The plan was changed now, whether he liked it or not, for he knew with a certainty that both amazed and infuriated him, that he’d never let Madelyne go.
Duncan tightened his hold on his captive and finally gave the signal to ride. He remained behind to form the end of the long procession. When the last of his soldiers had cleared the area, and only Gilard and the young squire flanked his side, Duncan took precious minutes to stare at the destruction.
Madelyne tilted her head back so that she could see Duncan’s face clearly. He must have felt her looking up at him, for he slowly lowered his gaze until he was staring directly into her eyes.
“An eye for an eye, Madelyne.”
She waited for him to tell her more, to explain what her brother had done to cause such a retaliation, but Duncan just continued to stare at her, as if willing her to comprehend. He wasn’t going to make any excuses for his ruthless-ness. Madelyne understood that now. The victorious didn’t need to justify.
Madelyne turned to look at the ruins. She remembered one of the stories told to her by her uncle, Father Berton, about the Punic Wars of ancient times. There were many tales handed down, most of them frowned upon by the holy church, but Father Berton had repeated them to Madelyne all the same, educating her in the most unacceptable fashion, punishable in fact by severe discipline if the church leaders had any inkling as to what the priest was doing.
The carnage she’d witnessed now reminded her of the story of Carthage. During the third and final war between two mighty powers, the victorious had thoroughly destroyed the city once Carthage had fallen. What had not burned to ashes had been buried beneath the fertile ground. Not a stone was allowed to top another. As a final measure, the fields were covered with salt so that nothing would grow there in the future.
History was being repeated this night; Louddon and all that belonged to him was now being desecrated.
“Delenda est Carthago,” Madelyne whispered to herself, repeating the vow made so long ago by Cato, an elder of ancient times.
Duncan was surprised by Madelyne’s remark. He wondered how she’d ever come by such knowledge. “Aye, Madelyne. Like Carthage, your brother must be destroyed.”
“And do I belong to Loud … to Carthage as well?” Madelyne asked, refusing to speak her brother’s name.
“Nay, Madelyne, you don’t belong to Carthage.”
Madelyne nodded and then closed her eyes. She sagged against Duncan’s chest.
Duncan used his hand to push her chin up, forcing her to look at him again.
“You don’t belong to Louddon, Madelyne. From this moment on, you belong to me. Do you understand?”
Madelyne nodded her head.
Duncan released his hold on her when he saw how frightened he was making her. He watched her a moment longer and then slowly, aye, gently, pulled the cloak up over her face.
From her warm hiding place against him, Madelyne whispered, “I think I would rather belong to no man.”
Duncan heard her. A slow smile crossed his face. What Lady Madelyne wanted wasn’t the least significant to him. Aye, she belonged to him now, whether she wished it or not.
Lady Madelyne had sealed her own fate.
She’d warmed his feet.