Chapter One #3
Lysabel’s smile faded and tears pooled in those big eyes. “He is my husband,” she said tightly. “He may do as he pleases. It is his right.”
Trenton frowned. “That is nonsense,” he said. “Answer me. Why have you not told your father?”
Lysabel’s gaze trailed to the man she’d married, now trussed up and gagged, and the only emotion on her face was that of clear and present fear.
She was terrified even to look at him.
“He can do nothing,” she finally said, looking up to Trenton. “Please, Trenton… do not tell him. I beg you. And if you are taking my husband, then I should go with him. He will want me with him.”
Trenton cocked an eyebrow. “You are not going with him,” he said. “You will remain here, far away from him. Where he is going, there is no return.”
Lysabel’s eyes widened. “Why do you say this?”
“Because it is true. Henry wants your husband. He will not return.”
Before Lysabel could reply, Anthony was suddenly standing next to Trenton, edginess in his manner. “We must leave now,” he said quietly. “There is no more time to delay and Adrian is prepared to create the diversion.”
Trenton nodded, but he returned his attention to Lysabel, who was gazing up at him rather anxiously. He felt an odd stab to his gut because of it, but there was no time to explore that sensation. Anthony was correct; there was no more time to delay.
“I wish I could remain and catch up on the many years we have not seen one another,” he said, “but I must go. You will not tell anyone that you saw us. For all you know, you were asleep and when you awoke, your husband was gone and you do not know where he has gone. Do you understand?”
Lysabel’s eyes started to fill with tears again and she shook her head, fearfully. “I cannot,” she said. “If I do not summon his men, he will become angry.”
“He is not returning, Lysabel. He cannot hurt you again. I will make sure of it. You must believe me.”
Lysabel moved to stand. It was clear that she didn’t believe him in the least, conditioned after years of abuse on how to behave with her husband.
Terror fed her actions. But the moment she tried to stand on her feet and straighten up, she crumpled back onto the bed, her hands on her torso.
As she gasped in pain, Trenton bent over her with concern.
“He has hurt you badly, hasn’t he?” he growled.
She shook her head, struggling to swallow away the agony she’d experienced many times before. “It is nothing,” she said. “You cannot help.”
Trenton was a man of little emotion, but he did have a temper.
When it was unleashed, there was no stopping it and, at this moment, he could feel the spark of temper rising in his belly.
It was bad enough for a man to beat a woman, but in seeing how injured Lysabel was, an old friend, it was more than he could take.
“It is something,” he said in his low and raspy voice. “He has badly injured you and I would be willing to bet my life on the fact that this isn’t the first time.”
Lysabel had her left arm wrapped around her torso.
She knew from experience that Benoit had broken a rib or two, and she knew her eye would be bruised come the morrow from the heavy blow he’d dealt her earlier.
Trenton said her husband wasn’t coming back, but how could he be so sure? Fear kept her silent.
“You must go, Trenton,” she whispered. “Please, go before my husband’s men come.”
Trenton didn’t push her. He could see how frightened she was and that stab to his gut was only growing worse. Heavily, he sighed.
“Do you at least have someone to tend you?” he asked, rather kindly.
“Aye,” she whispered, turning away. “Please go.”
“I will,” he said. “But first, I want you to tell me the truth. Has he always beaten you?”
In spite of attempting not to push the subject, he was.
He couldn’t help it; that odd stabbing in his gut was sparking something more than his temper.
It was sparking the first true experience with compassion and sympathy that he’d had in a very long time.
He watched her as she forced herself to stand up straight again and pushed herself off the bed.
But in doing so, she lifted her right arm, which was heavily bandaged.
Trenton caught on to the wrapped arm and he pointed at it.
“Did he do that?”
He was asking her through gritted teeth, an angry sort of question, and Lysabel looked him in the eye, showing him dignity he hadn’t seen before.
She was standing strong, holding her bandaged arm against her cracked ribs, facing him regardless of the anguish she was feeling.
Benoit had beat on her for years. But in spite of that, he hadn’t been able to crush her spirit or destroy her nobility.
The Wellesbourne strength was still there.
“Go, Trenton,” she said, more forcefully. “If you remain any longer, I am afraid you will not make it out at all. I will not tell you again.”
He could see in her face that she meant it.
She wasn’t going to answer any of his questions, no matter how much he asked them, and the truth was that it wasn’t any of his business, anyway.
That pretty little girl he remembered from his youth had grown into a magnificent woman who had ended up in a horrific situation.
It wasn’t her fault. But the truth was that he couldn’t leave her, knowing her situation and not doing something to help.
That wasn’t in his nature. In that moment, Trenton made a decision that, in hindsight, was going to affect him for the rest of his life.
But it would be one he would never regret.
For an old friend, he knew what he had to do.
Turning away from Lysabel, he gave silent orders to his men.
A hand signal had Adrian rushing from the chamber and into the darkened manse to create a diversion that would allow them to complete their mission.
Another hand signal had Anthony and Timothy rushing for the one grappling hook they had left, wedging it into the windowsill on the inside and then waiting several long and anxious minutes until the men below began running towards the kitchen yard to the north side of the manse.
A fire, they were saying, and the faint scent of smoke could be smelled on the cold night air.
Adrian had evidently created quite a distraction and as the garden below cleared of de Wilde’s men, Anthony and Timothy bailed over the side of the window, shimmying down the rope and waiting for their prize, which Trenton would lower from the window.
But Trenton didn’t lower Benoit at all. As Anthony and Timothy watched, Trenton simply tossed the man from the window, head first.
He was dead the moment he hit the ground.