Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] (42 page)

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.