Chapter Six
“The wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.”
NEW TESTAMENT, I CORINTHIANS, 3:19
Baron Wexton obviously didn’t care to have the element of surprise on his side. His battle cry echoed throughout the countryside, all but rocking the withered leaves from their branches. A trumpet sounded, giving additional message to the soldiers advancing from below, and if those were not enough, the thunder from the horses racing down the slopes surely alerted Louddon and his men to the approaching threat.
Madelyne was caught between Duncan and his brother as they made their descent. Soldiers surrounded them as well, their shields raised. Although Madelyne held no such protection, both Duncan and Gilard blocked the branches that would have plucked her from her seat, using their kite-shaped shields as barriers against the gnarled branches barring their path.
When the soldiers reached a small ridge high above the site Duncan had chosen for the confrontation, Duncan jerked on the stallion’s reins and shouted a command to the animal. The stallion immediately stopped. Duncan used his free hand to grab hold of Madelyne’s jaw. He applied pressure as he forced her to look up at him.
Gray eyes challenged blue. “Do not dare move from this spot.”
He started to let go of her, but Madelyne stayed his hand. “If you die, I’ll not weep for you,” she whispered.
He actually smiled at her. “Yes, you would,” he answered, his voice both arrogant and gentle.
Madelyne didn’t have time to answer him. Duncan spurred his steed into motion and raced toward the battle already unfolding below. Madelyne was suddenly alone atop the stark ridge as the last of Duncan’s soldiers moved past her at a furious speed.
The noise was shattering. Metal clashed with metal, ringing with ear-piercing intensity. Screams of torment mingled with shouts of victory. Madelyne wasn’t close enough to see individual faces, but she kept her attention on Duncan’s back. The gray he rode was easily visible. She watched him wield his sword with accuracy, thought him surely blessed by the gods when the enemy all but surrounded him and he unseated each with deadly slaps from his blade.
Madelyne closed her eyes for just a moment. When she looked to the scene again, the gray had disappeared. She frantically scanned the area, looking for Duncan, and Gilard as well, but she couldn’t find either brother. The battle edged toward her.
She never looked for her brother, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be in the thick of battle. Louddon, unlike Duncan, would be the last one to raise his sword. There was too much risk involved. No, he placed too much value on his life, whereas Duncan didn’t seem to value his own at all. Louddon left the fighting to the men who pledged him fealty. And if the battle turned against him, he’d be the first to run away.
“This is not my fight,” Madelyne screamed at the top of her lungs. She pulled on the reins, determined to leave with as much speed as possible. She wouldn’t watch another minute. Aye, she would leave them all.
“Come, Silenus, we go now,” she said, nudging the animal as she had seen Duncan do. The stallion didn’t move. She jerked on the reins, hard, determined to get the animal to do her bidding. The soldiers were fast climbing the crest and haste was suddenly becoming imperative.
Duncan was infuriated. He had searched but couldn’t find a trace of Louddon. The victory over his enemy would be hollow indeed if their leader escaped again. He glanced a quick look up toward Madelyne and was shocked to see that the battle was circling her. Duncan realized then that he had been so consumed with finding Louddon, he hadn’t given sufficient thought to Madelyne’s safety. He admitted the mistake, damning himself for not having the foresight to leave men to guard her.
Duncan threw his shield to the ground and gave a shrill whistle he prayed would reach his stallion. His heart lodged in his throat as he ran toward the crest. It was a logical reaction, he told himself, this fierce need to protect Madelyne, for she was his captive, and he had the responsibility to keep her safe. Aye, that was the reason he ran to her now, roaring his outrage with as much force as any battle cry.
The stallion responded to the whistled signal, charging forward. The animal would have allowed Madelyne control now, but she lost the reins when he bolted.
Silenus jumped over two soldiers just climbing the top of the ridge, clipping both their heads with his hind legs. The soldiers’ screams carried them back down the hill.
Madelyne was soon in the thick of battle, with men on horseback and more crowding the ground around her, all fighting for their lives. Duncan’s stallion was blocked by the soldiers. Madelyne clung to the animal’s neck and prayed for a quick end.
She suddenly spotted Gilard making his way toward her. He was on foot, holding a bloody sword in one hand and a scarred shield in the other, fending off attack from the left while he thrust his blade forward with the right.
One of Louddon’s soldiers lunged at Madelyne, his sword raised against her. There was a crazed look glazing his eyes, as if he had passed the point of knowing what he was doing.
He meant to kill her, Madelyne realized. She screamed Duncan’s name, yet knew her safety depended upon her own wits. There wasn’t any escape other than the hard ground, and Madelyne quickly threw herself over the side of the horse. She wasn’t quick enough. The blade found its target, slashing a deep path down the length of Madelyne’s left thigh. She screamed in agony, but the sound died in her throat when she hit the ground. The air was knocked out of her.
Her cloak followed her to the ground, landing in a heap on top of her shoulders. Stunned, and in a state of near shock, Madelyne’s concentration suddenly focused on pulling the garment around herself, a slow, arduous process she became obsessed with completing. The pain in her thigh was so consuming at first that she thought she would die from it. And then a blessed numbness settled in her thigh and in her mind, giving Madelyne new strength. She stood, feeling dazed and confused, clutching her cloak to her breasts as she watched the fighting men around her.
Duncan’s stallion nudged Madelyne between her shoulder blades, nearly knocking her back down to the ground. She regained her balance and leaned against the animal’s side, finding comfort in the fact that the horse hadn’t bolted away when she had fallen. The animal acted as a barrier as well, protecting her back from assault.
Tears streamed down her face, an involuntary reaction to the scent of death that permeated the air. Gilard yelled something to her but Madelyne couldn’t understand what he was shouting. She could only watch as he continued to make his way toward her. He yelled again, his voice more forceful, but the order mingled with the clash of metal scraping metal and became too garbled to comprehend.
Her mind rebelled over the carnage. She began to walk toward Gilard, believing that was what he wished her to do. She stumbled twice over the legs and arms of slain warriors spewed like discarded garbage upon the ground, her thoughts only of getting to Gilard, the one man she recognized in this forest of destruction. In the back of her mind lived the hope that he would take her to Duncan. And then she would be safe.
Madelyne was only a few feet away when Gilard was challenged from behind. He turned to meet the new opponent, his back unprotected. Madelyne saw another of Louddon’s men grasp the opportunity, raising his blackened sword into the air as he rushed toward the vulnerable target.
She tried to scream a warning but her voice failed her and only a whimper escaped.
Dear God, she was the only one who was close enough to aid him, the only one who could make a difference. Madelyne didn’t hesitate. She grabbed one of the discarded weapons from the stiff fingers of a faceless corpse. It was a heavy, cumbersome mace thick with spikes and dried blood.
Madelyne held the weapon in both her hands, struggling over its weight. Clutching the blunt end, she half dragged, half carried the weapon as she hurried to position herself behind Gilard, her back nearly touching his. And then she waited for the enemy to make his attack.
The soldier wasn’t daunted, as Madelyne presented a weak defense against his armor and strength. A glimmer of a smile soured his face. Yelling a defiant shout, he rushed forward, his long, curved weapon slicing the air with deadly intent.
Madelyne waited until the last possible second and then swung the mace off the ground in a wide arc. Terror lent her strength. She meant only to deter his attack, but the spikes protruding from the circular bulb of the weapon severed the chain links of the soldier’s coat of mail and entered tender flesh concealed beneath.
Gilard finished his fight against the frontal attack, turned swiftly in his bid to get to Madelyne, and very nearly knocked her down. He was just in time to see the killing, watched, as Madelyne did, the enemy soldier drop to the ground with a scream trapped in his throat and spikes of the club embedded in his middle. Gilard was so astonished over what he had just witnessed, he was momentarily speechless.
Madelyne let out a low moan of anguish. She folded her arms in front of her waist and doubled over. Gilard thought she acted as though she had been the one to receive the injury. He sought to help her, reached out to gently touch her shoulder.
Madelyne was so consumed with horror over what she had just done, she wasn’t even aware of Gilard any longer. The battle had ceased to exist for her.
Duncan had also witnessed the killing. In one swift action he mounted his stallion and goaded the animal toward Gilard. The brother jumped out of the way just as Duncan reached down and grabbed hold of Madelyne. He lifted her up with one powerful arm and all but slammed her into the saddle in front of him. God proved merciful, for her right side took the force of the impact and her injured thigh was barely jarred.
The battle was almost over. Duncan’s soldiers were chasing Louddon’s retreating forces down the valley.
“Finish it,” Duncan yelled to Gilard. He jerked on the reins, directing his mount up the hills again. The animal raced away from the battlefield, his breeding and strength obvious now as he galloped with amazing speed up the treacherous terrain.
Duncan had discarded his cloak and his shield during the fight. He used his hands now to protect Madelyne’s face from the branches swaying into their path.
She wanted none of his thoughtfulness. Madelyne shoved against him, trying to make him let go of her, preferring the hard ground to his loathsome touch.
Because of him she’d killed a man.
Duncan didn’t try to quiet her. Safety was his primary concern now. He didn’t let up his pace until they were well away from the threat. He finally reined his stallion to a halt when they entered a cluster of trees. It was quiet there, and protected as well.
He was furious with himself for placing Madelyne in such danger. Duncan turned his attention to her now. When he saw the tears streaming down her face, he let out a frustrated groan.
And then he sought to soothe her. “You can quit crying, Madelyne. Your brother wasn’t among the dead. Save your tears.”
She hadn’t even been aware she was crying. When his words registered, Madelyne became so enraged over his misinterpretation of her distress, she could barely form an answer. The man was despicable.
Madelyne wiped the tears away from her cheeks, took a deep breath, gathering fresh air and new fury. “I didn’t know what true hate was until today, Baron. But you’ve given the vile word new meaning. As God is my witness, I’ll hate you until the day I die. I might as well,” she continued, “I’m damned to hell anyway and all because of you.” Her voice was so low that Duncan was forced to lean forward until his forehead was touching Madelyne’s just to hear her words.
She wasn’t making any sense at all.
“Aren’t you listening to me?” he demanded, though he kept his voice as soft as hers had been. He felt the tension in her shoulders, knew she was close to losing control, and sought to calm her again. He wanted to be gentle with her, an unusual reaction to his way of thinking, but he excused his conduct by telling himself that it was only because he felt responsible for her. “I’ve just explained that your brother is safe, Madelyne. For the moment,” he added, deciding to give her honesty as well as comfort.
“You’re the one who isn’t listening to me,” Madelyne returned. Tears began to fall again, interrupting her speech. She stopped to brush them aside. “Because of you I’ve taken a man’s life. It was a grave sin and you’re just as much to blame as I am. If you hadn’t dragged me along with you, I wouldn’t have been able to kill anyone.”
“You’re upset because you killed?” Duncan asked, unable to keep the astonishment out of his voice. Duncan had to remind himself that Madelyne was only a woman, and the strangest things did seem to upset the weaker sex. He also weighed all that he’d put Madelyne through in the past two days. “I’ve killed many more,” he said, thinking to ease her conscience.
His plan failed. “I don’t care if you’ve killed legions of soldiers,” Madelyne announced. “You don’t have a soul, so it doesn’t matter how many lives you take.”
Duncan didn’t have a ready answer to that statement. He realized that it was pointless to argue with her. Madelyne was too distraught to think logically, and surely just as exhausted. Why, she was so upset, she couldn’t even raise her voice to him.
Duncan cradled her in his arms, tightening his grip until she stopped struggling. With a weary sigh he muttered, more to himself than to her, “What am I to do with you?”
Madelyne heard him, and her answer was swift. “I don’t care what you do with me.” She jerked her head back and looked up at him. Madelyne noticed the jagged cut just below Duncan’s right eye then. She used the cuff of her gown to mop the stream of blood away, but she contradicted her gentle action with angry words. “You can leave me here, or you can kill me,” she informed him as she dabbed at the edges of his cut. “Nothing you do makes any difference to me. You shouldn’t have taken me with you, Duncan.”
“Your brother came after you,” Duncan pointed out.
“He did not,” Madelyne contradicted him. “He came after you because you destroyed his home. He doesn’t care about me. If you’d only open your mind, I know I could convince you of the truth. But you are too stubborn to listen to anyone. I find it pointless to speak to you. Aye, pointless! I vow I’ll never speak to you again.”
Her tirade took the last of her strength. Madelyne finished cleaning his abrasion as best she could and then sagged against his chest, dismissing him.
Lady Madelyne was a paradox. Duncan was nearly undone by the tender way she touched his face when she tried to repair his injury. Duncan didn’t think she had even been aware of what she was doing. He suddenly remembered how Madelyne had faced Gilard when they were back in Louddon’s fortress. Aye, she’d been a contradiction then too. Madelyne had given Gilard a serene look while he shouted his frustration, yet all the while she’d clung to Duncan’s hand.
Now she raged at him while she ministered to him. Duncan sighed again. He rested his chin against the top of Madelyne’s head and wondered how in God’s name such a gentle woman could be related to the devil.
The numbness was wearing thin. Now that the surge of anger had abandoned her, Madelyne’s thigh began to throb painfully. Her cloak hid the damage from Duncan. She believed he was unaware of her injury and found perverse satisfaction over that fact. It was an illogical reaction but Madelyne couldn’t seem to think with much reason. She was suddenly so tired, so hungry, and in such pain, she couldn’t think at all.
The soldiers joined their leader and within minutes they were headed for the Wexton fortress. An hour later it became gritty determination that kept Madelyne from voicing complaint.
Duncan’s hand accidentally brushed against her injured thigh. Her cloak and gown offered little cushion against the burning agony. Madelyne held her scream. She slapped his hand away, but the fire from his touch lingered, inflaming the injury to an excruciating level.
Madelyne knew she was going to be sick. “We must stop for a moment,” she told Duncan. She wanted to scream at him, to weep, too, but she had vowed he wouldn’t destroy what was left of her gentle disposition.
Madelyne knew he’d heard her. His nod acknowledged that he had, yet they continued to ride, and after a few more minutes she came to the conclusion he had decided to ignore her request.
What an inhuman beast he was! Though it offered her little comfort, she mentally listed all the vile names she wished to yell at him. She summoned up every foul word she could remember, though her vocabulary of crude words was limited. It satisfied her, until she realized she was probably sinking to Duncan’s level. Damn, she was a gentle woman.
Her stomach wouldn’t settle. Madelyne remembered her vow never to speak to him again, but she was forced, by circumstances, to repeat her request. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to be sick all over you.”
Her threat got an immediate reaction. Duncan raised his hand, giving the order to halt. He was off his horse and lifting Madelyne to the ground before she could brace herself in preparation.
“Why are we stopping?” The question came from Gilard, who had also dismounted and was hurrying over to his brother. “We’re almost home.”
“Lady Madelyne,” Duncan answered, giving Gilard no further information.
Madelyne had already begun the torturous walk toward the privacy the trees offered, but she paused when she heard Gilard’s question. “You can just stand there and wait for me, Gilard.”
It sounded like an order. Gilard raised an eyebrow in surprise, turning to his brother. Duncan was frowning as he watched Madelyne, and Gilard concluded his brother was irritated by the way Madelyne had just spoken to him. “She has been through an ordeal,” Gilard rushed out in excuse, lest Duncan decide to retaliate.
Duncan shook his head. He continued to watch Madelyne until she had disappeared into the forest. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, frowning as he tried to figure out what was bothering him.
Gilard sighed. “She is ill perhaps?”
“And, and she threatened to …” Duncan didn’t finish his comment, but started out after Madelyne.
Gilard tried to stay him with his hand. “Give her some privacy, Duncan. She’ll return to us,” he said. “There isn’t anyplace she can hide,” he reasoned.
Duncan shook his brother’s hand away. He’d seen the look of pain in Madelyne’s eyes, noticed, too, the extreme stiffness in her gait. Duncan instinctively knew an unsettled stomach wasn’t the cause. She wouldn’t have favored her right side if that was the case. And if she was about to throw up, she would have run, not walked away from the soldiers. Nay, something was wrong and Duncan meant to find out what it was.
He found her leaning against the side of a gnarled oak tree, her head bent. Duncan stopped, not wishing to invade upon her privacy. Madelyne was weeping. He watched as she slowly lifted the cloak away and let it drop to the ground. And then he understood the true reason for her distress. The left side of her gown was shredded to the hem, and soaked with blood.
Duncan didn’t realize he’d shouted until Madelyne let out a frightened whimper. She didn’t have the strength to back away from him, nor did she fight him when he forced her hands away from her thigh and knelt down at her side.
When Duncan viewed the damage, he was filled with such rage, his hands shook as he pried the garment away. Dried blood made it a slow task. Duncan’s hands were big and awkward and he was trying to be as gentle as possible.
The injury was deep, nearly as long as his forearm, and embedded with dirt. It would need to be cleaned and sewn together.
“Ah, Madelyne,” Duncan whispered, his voice gruff. “Who did this to you?”
His voice sounded like a warm caress, his sympathy obvious. Madelyne knew she’d start crying again if he showed her any more kindness. Aye, her control would break then, just like one of the brittle branches she was clinging to now.
Madelyne wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t want your sympathy, Duncan.” She straightened her shoulders and tried to give him a look of dismissal. “Take your hands off my leg. It isn’t decent.”
Duncan was so surprised by the show of authority, he almost smiled. He glanced up, saw the fire in her eyes. Duncan knew then what she was trying to do. Pride had become her defense. He’d already noticed how Madelyne valued control.
Looking back at her injury, he realized there was little to be done about it now. He decided then to let Madelyne have her way.
Duncan forced a gruff voice when he stood up and answered her. “You’ll get no sympathy from me, Madelyne. I’m like a wolf. I don’t suffer human emotions.”
Madelyne didn’t answer him, but her eyes widened over his comment. Duncan smiled and knelt down again.
“Leave me alone.”
“Nay,” Duncan replied, his voice mild. He pulled his dagger free and began to cut a long strip of her gown.
“You are ruining my gown,” Madelyne muttered.
“For God’s sake, Madelyne, your gown is already ruined,” Duncan answered.
With as much tenderness as possible he wrapped the strip of material around her thigh. He was tying a knot, when she shoved against his shoulder.
“You’re hurting me.” She hated herself for admitting it. Damn, she was going to cry.
“I am not.”
Madelyne gasped, forgetting all about weeping. She was infuriated over his comment. How dare he contradict her! She was the one suffering.
“Your flesh will need needle and thread,” Duncan remarked.
Madelyne slapped his shoulder when he dared shrug over his announcement.
“No one is putting a needle to me.”
“You’re a contrary woman, Madelyne.” Duncan said as he bent to pick up her cloak. He draped it around her shoulders and then lifted her into his arms, careful to shield her injury.
Madelyne instinctively put her arms around his neck. She considered scratching his eyes out because of the terrible way he was treating her. “You’re the contrary one, Duncan. I’m a sweet-tempered maiden you would try to destroy if I gave you the chance. And I swear to God, this is the last time I’ll speak to you.”
“Ah, and you’re so honorable you’d never break your word. Isn’t that true, Lady Madelyne?” he asked as he carried her back to the waiting men.
“That is correct,” Madelyne immediately answered. She closed her eyes and leaned against his chest. “You have the brains of a wolf, do you know that? And wolves have very small brains.”
Madelyne was too tired to look up to see how he was reacting to her insults. She bristled inside over the way he was treating her, and then realized she should be thankful for his cold attitude. Why, he had made her angry enough to forget her pain. Just as important, his lack of compassion had helped her overcome the urge to break down and weep in front of him. That would have been undignified, crying like an infant, and both her dignity and her pride were cherished cloaks she always wore. It would have been humiliating to lose either. Madelyne allowed herself a little smile, certain Duncan couldn’t see it. He was a foolish man, for he had just saved her pride and didn’t even know it.
Duncan sighed. Madelyne had just broken her promise when she spoke to him. He didn’t feel the urge to point that fact out to her, but it made him feel like grinning all the same.
He wanted the details from Madelyne, to learn how she’d been injured and by whose hand. In his heart he couldn’t believe one of his own had harmed her; yet Louddon’s men would also try to protect her, wouldn’t they?
Duncan decided to wait for his answers. He needed to get his anger under control first. And Madelyne needed care and rest now.
It had been difficult to banter with her. Duncan wasn’t a man used to masking his anger. When he was wronged, he attacked. Yet he had understood how close Madelyne was to breaking down. The retelling would upset her now.
When they were once again on their way, Madelyne found escape from her pain, snuggled against Duncan’s chest. Her face rested under his chin.
Madelyne was feeling safe again. Her reaction to Duncan confused her. In her heart she admitted that he wasn’t anything like Louddon, though she’d take to her deathbed before she told him that. She was still his captive, after all, his pawn to use against her brother. Yet she really didn’t hate him. Duncan was merely retaliating against Louddon, and she was caught in the middle.
“I’ll escape, you know.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the thought aloud until Duncan answered her. “You will not.”
“We are home at last,” Gilard shouted. His gaze was directed on Madelyne. Most of her face was hidden from view, but what he could see showed a very tranquil expression. He thought she might be sleeping and was thankful. In truth, Gilard didn’t know how to proceed with Lady Madelyne now. He was in a damn awkward position. He’d treated her with contempt. And how had she repaid him? Why, she’d actually saved his life. He couldn’t understand why she’d come to his assistance and longed to ask. He didn’t though, because he had a feeling he wouldn’t like her answer.
When Gilard saw the walls looming into the sky ahead of them, he nudged his mount ahead of Duncan’s so that he could be the first to enter the lower bailey. By rite and tradition, Duncan chose to be the last of his men to enter the safety provided by the thick stone walls. The soldiers liked this ritual, for it reminded each of them that their overlord placed their lives above his own. Though each man had pledged fealty to Baron Wexton, and each willingly met the call to join him in battle, every one also knew he could depend upon his lord for protection as well.
It was an easy alliance. Pride was the root. Aye, each man could also boast of being one of Duncan’s elite soldiers.
Duncan’s men were the best-trained soldiers in England. Duncan measured success by inflicting trials ordinary men would have found impossible to meet. His men were considered to be the chosen few, though they numbered near to six hundred in all when an accurate count was taken and all were called to fulfill their forty-day requirement. Their might was revered, whispered about by lesser men, and their feats of remarkable strength recounted without need of exaggeration to liven the telling. The truth was interesting enough.
The soldiers reflected the values of their leader, a lord who wielded his sword with far greater accuracy than all challengers. Duncan of Wexton was a man to be frightened of. His enemies had given up trying to discover his weakness. The warrior showed no vulnerability. He didn’t appear to be interested in worldly offerings. No, Duncan had never taken gold as his second mistress as others of his rank had so done. The baron presented no Achilles heel to the outside world. He was a man of steel, or so it was sadly believed by those who wished him harm. He was a man without conscience, a warrior without a heart.
Madelyne had little knowledge of Duncan’s reputation. She felt protected in his arms and watched the soldiers file past. She was curious over the way Duncan waited.
She turned her attention to the fortress in front of her. The massive structure sat atop a stark hill, without benefit of a single tree to give relief from the severity. A gray stone wall circled the fortress and must have been at least seven hundred feet in width. Madelyne had never seen anything so monstrous. The wall was tall enough to touch the bright moon, or so it seemed to Madelyne. She could see a portion of a circular tower protruding from inside, so tall that the top was hidden from view by heavy clouds.
The road to the drawbridge curved like a serpent’s belly up the rocky climb. Duncan nudged his mount forward when the last of his men had cleared the wooden planks spanning the moat. The stallion was eager to get to his destination, prancing a nervous sidestep that jarred Madelyne’s thigh into aching again. She grimaced against the sting, unaware she was squeezing Duncan’s arm.
He knew she was in pain. Duncan looked down at Madelyne, took in her exhausted expression, and scowled.
“You’ll be able to rest soon, Madelyne. Hold on just a little longer,” Duncan whispered, his voice ragged with concern.
Madelyne nodded and closed her eyes.
When they reached the courtyard, Duncan quickly dismounted and then lifted Madelyne into his arms. He held her firmly against his chest, and then turned and started walking toward his home.
Soldiers lined the way. Gilard was standing with two men in front of the castle doors. Madelyne opened her eyes and looked at Gilard. She thought he looked perplexed but couldn’t reason why.
It wasn’t until they’d gotten closer that Madelyne realized Gilard wasn’t looking at her. Why, his attention was drawn to her legs. Madelyne glanced down, saw then that her cloak wasn’t hiding her injury any longer. The tattered gown trailed behind her like a shredded banner. Only blood covered her, flowing a stream down the length of her leg.
Gilard hurried to open the doors, a double entry that dwarfed the men. A rush of warm air greeted Madelyne when they reached the center of a small hallway.
The area around her was obviously the soldiers’ keep. The entryway was narrow, the floor wooden, and the men’s quarters located on the right. A circular stairway took up all of the left wall, curving wide steps that led to the housing above. There was something oddly disturbing about the structure, but Madelyne couldn’t figure out what bothered her until Duncan had carried her halfway up the steps.
“The stairs are on the wrong side,” Madelyne suddenly said.
“Nay, Madelyne. They are on the correct side,” Duncan answered.
She thought he sounded amused. “’Tis not on the correct side,” she contradicted him. “The stairway is always built on the right side of the wall. Anyone knows that well enough,” she added with great authority.
For some reason, Madelyne was infuriated that Duncan wouldn’t admit the obvious flaw in his home.
“It’s built on the right unless it is deliberately ordered built on the left,” Duncan answered. Each word was carefully enunciated. Why, he acted as though he was instructing a dimwitted child.
Why Madelyne found this discussion so important was beyond her. She did though, and vowed to have the last word on the subject. “It’s an ignorant deliberation then,” she told him. Madelyne glared up at him and was sorry he wasn’t looking down at her to see it.
“You’re a stubborn man.”
“You’re a stubborn woman,” Duncan countered. He smiled, pleased with his observation.
Gilard trailed behind his brother. He thought their conversation ridiculous. Yet he was too worried to smile over their foolish banter.
Gilard knew Edmond would be waiting for them. Aye, the middle brother would certainly be inside the hall. Adela might be there as well. Gilard realized he was concerned for Madelyne now. He didn’t want her to have any unpleasant confrontations. And he hoped there’d be time to explain Madelyne’s gentle nature to his brother Edmond.
Gilard’s worry was temporarily put aside when Duncan reached the second level and didn’t turn to enter the great hall. He took the opposite direction, climbed another stairway, and then entered the mouth of the tower. The steps were narrower and the procession slowed somewhat by the sharp curves.
The room at the top of the tower was freezing. There was a hearth built into the center of the circular wall. A large window had also been added, right next to the fireplace. The window was wide open, the wooden shutters flapping loudly against the stone walls.
There was a bed against the inside wall. Duncan tried to be gentle when he placed Madelyne on the covers. Gilard followed behind them and Duncan issued his orders to his brother as he bent to pile chunks of wood into the fireplace. “Send Gerty with a trencher of food for Madelyne, and tell Edmond to bring his medicines. He’ll have to use his needle on her.”
“He’ll argue over it,” Gilard commented.
“He’ll do it all the same.”
“Who is Edmond?”
The softly spoken question came from Madelyne. Both Duncan and Gilard turned to look at her. She was struggling to sit up, and frowning over the impossibility of the task. Her teeth started chattering from the cold and the strain, and she finally collapsed against the bed again.
“Edmond is middle brother to Duncan and me,” Gilard explained.
“How many Wextons are there?” Madelyne asked, frowning.
“Five in all,” Gilard answered. “Catherine is oldest sister, then Duncan, then Edmond, then Adela, and lastly me,” he added with a smile. “Edmond will care for your injury, Madelyne. He knows the ways of healing, and before you know it, you’ll be as fit as ever.”
“Why?”
Gilard frowned. “Why what?”
“Why would you want me fit as ever?” Madelyne asked, clearly puzzled.
Gilard didn’t know how to answer her. He turned back to look at Duncan, hoping he’d give Madelyne answer. Duncan had started the fire and was now closing the shutters. Without turning around, he commanded, “Gilard, do as I’ve instructed.”
His voice didn’t suggest argument. Gilard was wise enough to obey. He made it to the door before Madelyne’s voice caught up with him. “Don’t bring your brother. I can take care of my injury without his aid.”
“Now, Gilard.”
The door slammed.
Duncan turned to Madelyne then. “For as long as you are here, you’ll not contradict any of my orders. Is that understood?”
He was advancing upon the bed with a slow, measured stride.
“How can I understand anything, milord?” Madelyne whispered. “I am but a pawn, isn’t that the way of it?”
Before he could frighten her, Madelyne closed her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest, an action meant to ward off the chill in the room.
“Let me die in peace,” she whispered quite dramatically. Lord, how she wished she had the strength and the courage to yell at him. She was so miserable now. There’d be more pain coming if Duncan’s brother touched her too. “I do not have the stamina for your brother’s ministrations.”
“Yes, you do, Madelyne.”
His voice had sounded gentle, but Madelyne was too angry to care. “Why must you contradict everything I say to you? ’Tis a terrible flaw, that,” Madelyne muttered.
A knock sounded at the door. Duncan yelled out as he walked back across the room. He leaned one shoulder against the mantel above the hearth, his gaze directed on Madelyne.
Madelyne was too curious to keep her eyes closed. The door protested with a squeak as it was opened and an elderly woman appeared. She carried a trencher in one hand and a jug in the other. There were two animal skins tucked under her arm. The servant was a plump woman with worried brown eyes. She darted a hasty look at Madelyne and then turned to curtsy awkwardly to her lord.
Madelyne decided the servant was afraid of Duncan. She watched the poor woman, feeling great compassion for her as she tried to balance the items in her hands and genuflect.
Duncan wasn’t making it any easier on the woman either. He gave her a curt nod and then motioned her to Madelyne’s side. Not a word of encouragement or kindness did he utter.
The servant proved to be quick on her feet, because as soon as Duncan commanded the task, she all but ran to the bed, stumbling twice before she was there.
She placed the trencher of food next to Madelyne and offered her the jug. “By what name are you called?” Madelyne asked the woman. She kept her voice low so Duncan wouldn’t overhear.
“Gerty,” the woman answered.
The woman remembered the covers she held under her arm then and quickly moved the trencher to the wooden chest next to the bed. She covered Madelyne with the blanket.
Madelyne smiled her appreciation and that encouraged Gerty to tuck the sides of the animal skins against Madelyne’s legs. “I can see you’re shivering to death,” she whispered.
Gerty had no knowledge of Madelyne’s injury. When she pushed the fur against her injured thigh, Madelyne squeezed her eyes shut against the excruciating insult and didn’t say a word.
Duncan saw what had happened, thought to yell a rebuke to the servant, but the deed was already done. Gerty was handing Madelyne her food now.
“Thank you for your kindness, Gerty.”
Madelyne’s approval amazed Duncan. He stared at his captive, took in her tranquil expression, and found himself shaking his head. Instead of lashing out at the servant, Lady Madelyne had given her praise.
The door suddenly flew open. Madelyne turned, her eyes wide with fright. The door bounced against the wall twice before settling. A giant of a man stood in the doorway, his hands resting on his hips and a fierce scowl drawn across his face. Madelyne concluded with a weary sigh that this, then, was Edmond.
Gerty scooted around the big man and hurried out the doorway just as Edmond advanced into the room. A trail of servants followed, carrying bowls of water and an assortment of trays with odd-shaped jars on them. The servants placed their trays on the floor next to the bed and then turned, bowed to Duncan, and left. They all acted like scared rabbits. And why wouldn’t they? Madelyne asked herself. After all, there were two wolves in the room with her and wasn’t that enough to scare anyone?
Edmond still hadn’t said a word to his brother. Duncan didn’t want a confrontation in front of Madelyne. He knew he’d become angry, and that would frighten Madelyne. Yet, he wasn’t about to back down either.
“Have you no greeting for your brother, Edmond?” Duncan asked.
The ploy worked. Edmond looked surprised by the question. His face lost some of its anger. “Why wasn’t I informed of your plan to bring Louddon’s sister back with you? I have only just learned that Gilard understood the way of it from the beginning.”
“I suppose he boasted of it too,” Duncan said, shaking his head.
“He did.”
“Gilard exaggerates, Edmond. He had no knowledge of my intentions.”
“And your reason for keeping this plan secret, Duncan?” Edmond asked.
“You would have argued over it,” Duncan remarked. He smiled over his own admission, as if he would have found pleasure in the fight.
Madelyne observed the change in Duncan’s manner. She was truly amazed. Why, he looked so ruggedly handsome when he smiled. Aye, she thought, he looked human. And that, she scolded herself, was all she would allow herself to think about his appearance.
“When have you ever turned your back on an argument?” Edmond shouted at his brother.
The walls surely rocked from the noise. Madelyne wondered if both Edmond and Gilard suffered from a hearing problem of some sort.
Edmond wasn’t as tall as Duncan, not when they stood so close together. He looked more like Duncan than Gilard did though. He was just as mean-looking when he scowled. The facial features were almost identical, down to their frowns. Edmond’s hair wasn’t black though; it was as brown as a newly plowed field and just as rich in thickness. And when he turned to look at her, Madelyne thought she saw a smile light those dark brown eyes before they turned as cold as stone.
“If you think to yell at me, Edmond, I must tell you I’m not up to listening,” Madelyne said.
Edmond didn’t reply. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her, long and hard, until Duncan told him to see to her injury.
When the middle brother walked over to the bed, Madelyne began to get frightened again. “I would prefer that you leave me alone,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
“Your preferences do not concern me,” Edmond remarked. His voice was now as soft as hers had been.
She admitted defeat when Edmond motioned for her to show him which leg he was to tend. He was large enough to force her, and Madelyne needed to keep her strength for the ordeal ahead of her.
Edmond’s expression didn’t change when she lifted the covering. Madelyne was careful to shield the rest of her body from his view. She was a modest lady, after all, and it was best that Edmond understand that from the beginning.
Duncan walked over to the other side of the bed. He frowned when Edmond touched Madelyne’s leg, and she grimaced in pain.
“You’d best hold her down, Duncan,” Edmond remarked. His voice was mild now, his concentration obviously centered on the task ahead of him.
“Nay! Duncan?”
She couldn’t keep the frantic look from her eyes.
“There isn’t any need,” Duncan instructed his brother. He looked at Madelyne and added, “I’ll hold her down if it becomes necessary.”
Madelyne’s shoulders sagged against the bed again. She nodded and a look of calm settled on her face.
Duncan was certain he’d have to restrain her, else Edmond wouldn’t be able to complete the task of cleaning the wound and sewing her flesh back together. There’d be pain, intense but necessary, and it would be no disgrace for a woman to scream during the ordeal.
Edmond lined up his supplies and was finally ready to begin. He looked at his brother, received his nod, and turned to look at Madelyne. What he saw surprised him into stillness. There was trust in those magnificent blue eyes, and not a trace of fear in evidence. She was quite beautiful, Edmond admitted, just as Gilard had claimed.
“You may begin, Edmond,” Madelyne whispered then, interrupting Edmond’s thoughts.
Edmond watched Madelyne wave her hand in a regal gesture indicating she was waiting. He almost smiled over her show of authority. Her husky voice surprised him too. “Would it be easier if you just used a hot knife to seal the wound?”
Before Edmond could answer her, Madelyne hastened on. “I do not mean to tell you the way of it,” she said. “Please don’t take offense, but it does seem barbaric of you to use a needle and thread.”
“Barbaric?”
Edmond looked as if he were having trouble following the conversation.
Madelyne sighed. She decided she was too exhausted to try to make him understand. “You may begin, Edmond,” she repeated. “I’m ready.”
“I may?” Edmond asked, looking up at Duncan to catch his reaction.
Duncan was too worried to smile over Madelyne’s conversation. He looked grim.
“You’re a bossy bit of goods,” Edmond told Madelyne. The rebuke was softened by his smile.
“Get on with it,” Duncan muttered. “The waiting is worse than the deed.”
Edmond nodded. He closed his mind to everything but his duty. Bracing himself against the screams he knew would start as soon as he touched her, he then began the cleaning.
She never made a sound. Sometime during the ordeal, Duncan sat down on the bed. Madelyne immediately turned her face into his side. She acted as though she were trying to squeeze underneath him. Her fingernails dug into his thigh, but he didn’t think she was aware of what she was doing.
Madelyne didn’t think she’d be able to bear the pain much longer. She was thankful Duncan was there, though she couldn’t understand why she felt that way. She couldn’t seem to think much at all now, only accepted that Duncan had become her anchor to hold on to for dear life. Without him her control would collapse.
Just when she was certain she was going to start screaming, she felt the needle pierce her skin. Sweet oblivion claimed her, and she felt nothing more.
Duncan knew the second Madelyne fainted. He slowly pried her hand away from his thigh and gently turned her cheek until her entire face was visible to him. Tears wet her cheeks and he slowly wiped them away.
“I think I would have preferred her yelling,” Edmond muttered as he worked the ragged flesh together with his needle and thread.
“It wouldn’t have made it any easier for you,” Duncan answered. He stood when Edmond finished and watched his brother wrap a thick cotton strip around Madelyne’s thigh.
“Hell, Duncan, she’s probably going to get the fever and die anyway,” Edmond predicted with a scowl.
His comment infuriated Duncan. “Nay! I’ll not allow it, Edmond.”
Edmond was shocked by Duncan’s vehement statement. “You would care, brother?”
“I would care,” Duncan admitted.
Edmond didn’t know what to say. He stood with his mouth open and watched his brother walk out of the room.
With a weary sigh Edmond followed his brother.
Duncan had already left the castle and was making his way to the lake located behind the butcher’s hut. The bitterness of the weather was welcomed, for it took his mind off the questions nagging him.
The ritualistic nightly swim was yet another demand Duncan made on his mind and his body. Aye, it was a challenge meant to toughen him against discomfort. He neither looked forward to the swim nor avoided it. And he never wavered from this ritual either, be it summer or winter.
Duncan stripped off his garments and made a clean dive into the frigid water, hoping the cold would be enough to put Madelyne out of his thoughts for just a few minutes.
A short time later Duncan ate his supper. Edmond and Gilard kept him company, an unusual occurrence to be sure, as Duncan was in the habit of taking all his meals in solitude. The two younger brothers talked of many things, but neither dared question Duncan about Lady Madelyne. Duncan’s silence and perpetual scowl throughout the meal didn’t lend itself to discussion of any issue.
Duncan couldn’t remember what he’d eaten. He determined to get some rest, but when he finally took to his bed, the picture of Madelyne kept intruding. He told himself he’d become accustomed to having her near, and surely that was the only reason he couldn’t sleep. An hour passed and then another, and still Duncan continued to toss and turn.
By the middle of the night Duncan gave up the battle. He cursed himself all the way up to the tower room, telling himself he wanted only to look in on Madelyne, to make certain she hadn’t defied him by dying.
Duncan stood in the doorway a long while, until he heard Madelyne cry out in her sleep. The sound pulled him inside. He shut the door, added more logs to the fire, and then went to Madelyne.
She was sleeping on her good side with her gown bunched up around her thighs. Duncan tried, but couldn’t get her clothing adjusted to his satisfaction. Frustrated, he used his dagger to slit the material. He didn’t stop until he’d removed both her bliaut and chainse, telling himself she’d be far more comfortable without them.
She wore only her white chemise now. The scooped neck showed the swell of her breasts. There was a wide yoke of delicate embroidery around the neckline; threads of red and yellow and green had been meticulously worked into a border of springtime flowers. It was such a feminine accomplishment, and one that pleased Duncan, because he knew she’d spent long hours working on the task.
Madelyne was as exquisite and as feminine as the flowers on her chemise. What a gentle creature she was. Her skin was flawless, dappled now into a golden hue by the flickering light from the fire.
Lord, she was lovely. “Hell,” he muttered to himself. Madelyne was a sight better than lovely without her gown obstructing his view.
When she started to shiver, Duncan got into bed beside her. The tension slowly ebbed from his shoulders. Aye, he was used to having her next to him, and surely that was the reason he now felt such contentment.
Duncan pulled the cover up over the two of them. He was about to put his arm around her waist and move her closer to him, but Madelyne was quicker. She scooted up against him, until her backside was snuggled up most intimately against the junction of his thighs.
Duncan smiled. Lady Madelyne had obviously become accustomed to having him near, too, and his arrogant grin was all because he knew she wasn’t aware of it… yet.