When Alayna regained consciousness again, she was alone in the hut, surrounded by deep silence. Her head ached. A sharp throb in her temples caused her to wince. She discovered she was no longer bound and immediately sat up.
She cried out as her limbs protested. How long had she lain in the same position? Her muscles felt impossibly heavy, making movement painful.
She remembered Glenna and froze in sudden fear. She glanced around frantically. She was terrified of the girl, for she believed Glenna was truly mad in her hatred. And here she was, at her mercy.
The room was empty save the cot she had been lying on and some cold ashes in the hearth. No chairs, no cupboard—nothing. A thick layer of dust covered the floor, showing a few footprints. There were no windows, but light filtered in through the cracks between the planks of the walls, so Alayna knew that it was daytime.
She was starved, but there was no food, nor was there any water. A quick inspection of the door and shutters showed them to be tightened fast. She shoved and pulled with her failing strength before admitting there was no way for her to flee.
Easing back down on the edge of the cot, she thought of Lucien and wondered if he was looking for her or if he counted himself well rid of her. She thought of her mother and the harsh words they had spoken last.
She had to believe that he would come for her. He had promised her that once, and she had believed him. But now, after his change of heart, could she still believe?
She had to.
She held onto that hope as darkness fell.
The scraping sound of a key in a lock woke her shortly after dawn. She sprang awake instantly, scurrying to wedge herself in the corner.
Glenna came in first, followed by an old man Alayna recognized as the one who had taken her from Gastonbury. Glenna gave Alayna a smug look as she assessed her captive cringing, terrified, in the corner.
“She is awake. Give her the food, Jasper.”
The smelly old man came forward, and Alayna shrank away.
“She does not like you, Jasper,” Glenna shrieked, a sharp, cutting sound.
“It don’ matter, girl,” he cackled. “Ye think she don’ like me, jes’ wait till she sees the master.”
“Hush,” Glenna snapped, truly angry. And a little afraid, Alayna saw. “He told us not to speak of him.”
A stale loaf of bread was thrust at her. Though she was loath to take the food from his grimy hands, her stomach would not permit her to indulge her pride. She snatched it, tearing off handfuls immediately and stuffing them into her mouth, trying not to think about the filthy old man having handled it. “May I have water?” she whispered.
No one answered, but Jasper left, presumably to fetch her some. Glenna came closer as Alayna continued to tear ravenously into the loaf.
“How do you fare, my grand lady?” she sneered gleefully. “I can see our baron now as he rides off valiantly to your rescue. He has a surprise waiting for him. It is very touching, really it is. He goes off to save you, ready to risk all for true love.”
“You are mistaken if you think he loves me. He will not come for me.” She was not sure if she believed that or not, but apparently she was convincing enough for the girl to hesitate.
Alayna’s mind had fastened onto something Glenna had said. A surprise? Had they set a trap for Lucien? “What surprise?” she asked.
Glenna was too shrewd not to pick up on her worry. “Oh, my master would not like it if I spoiled his fun, for it is a surprise for you as well.” She leaned back, sighing. “I was so disappointed when John didn’t get you out of the castle for good. He promised me he would. He said he would see you never returned. I was so happy, then, but Lord Lucien—he was so angry! I had thought that he would turn to me.” She brightened, an evil gleam coming into her eyes. “And yet, I find I have another chance. John told me of someone who could help me. And I helped him. And this is much, much better.”
She didn’t seem to be making sense, but Alayna recognized important information was couched in her rambling thoughts. She mulled this over as she finished her bread. When Jasper returned with her water, she gulped it down and asked for more. He fetched it and she had just enough time to drink before Glenna hauled her up and bound her wrists behind her back.
Another puff of powder sent her back into slumber, dimly aware for a while of being slung over the back of a horse before the darkness consumed her completely.
Consciousness came again in the full sun of midday. Her headache was there, and so was her hunger. Both had gotten worse.
She was on the ground somewhere out in the open, her hands still bound behind her back and she was not alone. Voices floated on the air from behind her. Glenna and Jasper. And a third. Deep and authoritative and strangely, hauntingly familiar…
This was their master. He was here with them now, she realized.
She struggled to roll over. She wanted to see her enemy, the one whose orders held her captive. Something dreadful was forming inside her, a hideous suspicion. That voice.
“Ah, the good Lady Alayna is awake!”
Footsteps, then a boot wedged into her underside and prodded her onto her back so that she rolled and saw her kidnapper at last.
A shnek tore from her throat to take life in the trees and echo into the forest. It sounded in the quiet of the wood, and not far away, Lucien heard it and spurred his destrier to move faster.
Alayna’s reaction won her a mirthless laugh from her kidnapper. Edgar du Berg, the presumed-to-be-dead Lord of Gastonbury, stood before her.
“What a greeting from my merry widow, would you not say, Jasper?”
The disgusting man cackled. Edgar looked terrible, bent and small, quite different from the blustering brute who had forced her into marriage. His face was thin, his frame near to emaciated. He noticed her horrified assessment and nodded.
“Yes, it is pathetic, is it not? My handsomeness is gone, and my health nearly, as well. Your new husband did this to me. Oh, I forgot, he is not your husband in truth.” The ruined mouth stretched in what used to be a charming smile but what was now a grotesque twisting of the slack lips. “I am.”
“You are dead,” she said finally.
Edgar laughed again. “Oh, no, dear wife. Not dead. Your new baron did not kill me, as you see. He did run me through, to be sure, but fate decreed that near-fatal blow miss the vital organ that it had been aiming for. The physician who attended me could not explain it, saying that perhaps my innards are not properly arranged as they should be. That may very well be, as I am rumored to have no heart. Who is to say the rest of me is not similarly missing? I myself chose to believe it was divine providence.”
His hard eyes studied her revulsion. “I may never regain all that blow cost me. But I could not wait my vengeance to find out. It is amusing, is it not, wife? De Montregnier returns from the dead to kill me out of his quest for revenge, and now I rise out of my grave for a vengeance of my own?”
Alayna could barely comprehend what she was hearing, what she was seeing before her very eyes.
This, then, was the trap they had set.
As if her thought had conjured him, her husband’s voice suddenly sounded in the thick forest mist like a blade slicing through flesh.
“I am here,” the deep timbre rang out. “I have come alone. Show yourselves, and show me also that my wife is well.”
Edgar’s mouth twisted, his eyes glowed. Reaching down, he grabbed a fistful of her clothing and pulled her roughly to her feet. With a shake, he brought her face only inches from his. “Keep yourself quiet, bitch, and do exactly what I say. Your life is worth nothing to me but the vengeance it will bring. Glenna tells me he loves you, and so you will serve me well. But dare defy me, and you will die.”
She would have spat at him, but he spun her around, shoving her ahead of him as they walked out of the shelter of the trees to the bank of the lake. Across the water, she saw Lucien waiting beside his great warhorse.
He looked calm, standing with his legs spread wide, his arms folded before him. When Alayna and Edgar stepped out from behind the cover of the trees, his casual facade dropped.
“Du Berg!”
Edgar smiled wickedly. “Aye, my lord baron,” he called mockingly. “’Tis I and my lovely wife, Alayna.”
“I killed you!”
“Wrong, de Montregnier, though just barely did you fail. You foolishly entrusted my body to some men who were faithful to me. When they discovered I had survived, they saw me to a physician.”
Lucien stared mutely at his enemy, his confused thoughts whirling in undisciplined tumult. He tried to concentrate, but the look of terror on Alayna’s face distracted him. “What is it you want?” he called at last.
Edgar shrugged. “A simple bargain. I hold here our dear Alayna. I was once quite entranced by her beauty. But I tire of her spirited ways. So I seek a simple trade.”
“Oh, I am certain it is quite obvious. Her freedom for your life.”
Lucien smiled.
“Du Berg, that is a ridiculous proposal. As my wife will tell you, I married her only for personal gain, to solidify my claim to your shire. There is nothing more between us, and I keep her benefit whether she lives or dies. You speak the truth when you say she has a wicked tongue. ‘Twas a great relief to me when the message arrived of her being abducted, but Henry’s justiciar was still in residence and it would look unseemly if I did not at least attempt the rescue.”
“Liar!” Glenna’s voice rang out. “He loves her, I tell you.”
“Glenna,” Lucien groaned, “you have persisted in that belief because you could not accept the fact that I did not desire you. It had naught to do with my wife, but that you simply did not interest me.”
“Nay! Nay! I was to be your leman until you—”
“Never,” Lucien snapped coldly.
“You were consumed by her before you wed. I sneaked upon you one night—you cried her name out when you slept.”
“No doubt I was having a nightmare,” he said, and shrugged.
“Enough!” Edgar roared. “De Montregnier, will you surrender in exchange for your lady’s life?”
It was Lucien’s turn to swagger. “Du Berg, you err. She is not my wife, she is yours. Therefore I will lose no honor if I fail in this rescue.”
Stunned and mute in disbelief, Edgar and Alayna watched as he mounted the destrier and kicked the great horse forward, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck!”
And with that he rode off.
In the silence that ensued, Alayna stood numb. Enough doubt existed in her heart to cause a single tear to roll down her cheek. She struggled not to succumb to despair. As Eurice would tell her, she had to believe.
But he had been very, very convincing.
She was not even aware that Edgar had released her and stalked away toward his small band of men, a group of five ragged miscreants. He was as confused and bewildered as she.
Glenna, devastated by Lucien’s cruel admonishment, collapsed into a heap and began to rock back and forth, keening shrilly. Du Berg glared at her, then after a moment’s consideration, he took a sword from one of his men and strode up behind her. With a flash of steel he brought the weapon down to bear with all the fury of his frustration, and the mad girl fell silent forever.
Stuffing her hands in her mouth to stem her scream, Alayna trembled at the thought she might be next. Edgar looked at her as if he were wondering the same thing, but he went back to commiserate with his cronies.
It was only a matter of time before he would dispatch her as remorselessly as he had Glenna. After all, if Lucien didn’t want her back, she was of no use as an instrument of revenge.
Without any warning, a thunderously loud crash sounded and the ground trembled. From out of the trees, a horse and rider emerged in one clean leap to land squarely in the middle of the camp. With his sword already drawn, the rider skillfully maneuvered the steed over to several of the men. The trained warhorse reared up on its hind legs to trample three of the men while his rider wielded the great broadsword to bring down the others.
It was over in a minute. Then the rider turned to face Edgar, who stood alone.
Lucien smiled, offering a slight bow to du Berg. He dared risk not so much as a glance to Alayna, keeping his eyes on his enemy.
Edgar’s look was bitter. “So you do have some interest in the lady?”
Lucien did not answer. He looked far different from the casual fellow he had appeared to be across the lake. His face was unreadable. His only response was to lift his sword to his old nemesis’s chest.
“Would you kill an unarmed man?” Edgar said slyly.
Lucien’s eyes narrowed. Dismounting, he unsheathed his dagger from his belt and tossed it to his opponent.
“Now do you consider us fairly matched?” Lucien snapped impatiently.
“Aye.” Du Berg nodded craftily, obviously excited that his opponent had fallen so easily for his trick.
“Good,” Lucien commented. Without further preamble and without error, he deftly sank his sword deep into the man’s throat, slicing cleanly into the artery. The blood spurted out to drench Edgar’s tunic, soaking him in an instant. As the realization of death dawned, his look turned from dismay into an expression of immeasurable terror as he contemplated the just rewards of his life.
Taking back his sword, Lucien observed the gaping hole left in its wake. He noted with satisfaction the torrential outflow of life’s blood spilling forth from the fatal wound, watching until at last his adversary fell facedown in the dirt, there to die.
“Now, let us see if you can find a physician to heal you from that.”
He stepped away, stooping momentarily to retrieve his dagger. Within a flash, he was before Alayna, crouching down to where she lay on the hard forest floor. Without a word, he passed his short blade over her bindings to free her hands. As soon as this was done, he swept her into his arms.
She pressed closer, savoring the steely embrace as his arms crushed her to him. She wanted to shout her relief, her joy, but her emotions had no voice. She merely clung to him, glad to be alive and safe in his embrace and giddy with the knowledge that he had, after all, come for her.
He pulled away, taking her face in his large hands to stare fiercely into her tear-filled eyes. They swam before him like pools of emerald.
“Did you believe my ploy that I did not want you?” he asked. She nodded, still unable to speak. “I told you, lady. I will always come for you.”
She smiled, and the sob broke free from her at last. “You were rather convincing!”
Lucien nodded silently, drawing her up to stand with him. “Come away,” he prodded gently, and they walked to his horse. Lifting her onto the destrier’s back, he swung up behind her, and they left death behind them as they rode toward Gastonbury.
Sighing, she leaned her head against the hard chest while he cradled her fiercely in his arms. How she loved this man, her husband.
Nay, not husband. Her love, to be sure, but now there was nothing legal to bind them. She found that she could not banish her fears after all.
Just before they cleared the woods, Lucien stopped, dismounted and pulled her down to the ground with him. “Before we return, we must set things aright,” he announced.
“Yes,” she answered.
“There is something you must know,” he said. He stood staring back at her, so unsure of himself that it showed. “Listen to me, Alayna. When I found you were taken, I cursed myself, and my damnable pride.” Reaching out, he took her hands in his. “I punished you unfairly and I hurt you deeply, I know. I can never take those things away, except to beg your forgiveness and pray you will give it.”
The tears slipped unchecked down her cheeks. He cocked his head to one side as he wiped the wetness away.
“I can see that this news comes somewhat unexpected. I can tell you, I was no less surprised to find out the truth of it myself. It was a difficult thing to come to terms with. Love has not been a part of my life for a very long time. I…it was hard for me to accept.”
“You love me?” she asked incredulously.
“Hopelessly, I am afraid.”
Aye, it was there in his eyes. If she had not known it before, it was here now, for he was saying it outright, and it was real and true and somehow wondrously and completely believable.
“Lucien, I love you, as well,” she said. “I have for a time. I would have spoken of my heart, but I was afraid.”
“Aye,” he nodded. “I know I have behaved badly.”
“Badly?” she cried. “More like an incredibly stupid, totally ignorant buffoon whose brain challenges the least—”
“I quite get the idea, madam.”
“Well, you were horrid!” she declared, half teasing, half serious.
“Aye, my love, and I will make it up to you. We will have a lifetime to make amends.” Lucien suddenly became tentative. “Unless you wish to return to London.”
She met his gaze warily. She wanted him to forbid her to leave him, to beg her to stay.
“Do you wish me to leave?” she prodded, waiting breathlessly for his response.
“Of course I do not, what kind of idiot would I be to wish that? Nay—do not answer that.” He cast her a self-deprecating look that won him a quick smile. “I just finished declaring my heart. Of course I want you to stay. I want you with me, always.” Letting out a groan, he raked his hand through his hair. “Dear God, I am doing almost as terrible a job of this as I did the first time.”
“On the contrary. You are doing quite well.”
He took her face in his hands again, his eyes caressing her warmly as his voice spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Alayna, please marry me. Again. Because I love you, and I cherish you, and I do not wish to face a future without you.”
Her smile was brilliant. “Aye, my love, I will indeed marry you however many times it takes to stick.”