Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Imanaged to return to the camp unobserved, though at one point the hairs prickled at the back of my neck, as my instincts told me that I was being followed.
But I heard nothing except the wind rushing through the trees and the water flowing in the river.
With every step, I tried not to think of the little body in the basket I carried.
A sentry sat at the entrance to my tent, snoring.
It would be too dangerous to walk past him so I crawled under the side of the tent at the back, dragging the basket with me.
Celia helped me out of my wet things and held me in her arms while I cried for the poor little soul in the basket, and for the son that I had given away.
She sang softly as sleep overtook me.
Once more the smell of burning and crackle of flames woke me later in the night, the hiss of the fire turning into pitiful mewling wails.
Geoffrey!
Percy sat before me, holding Geoffrey in his arms.
“You abandoned your son,” he said, “abandoned him to his fate.”
Percy, he is safe, can you not see?
“He’ll never be safe and will never see you again, for he now has my eyes.”
He moved closer until Geoffrey’s face came into view, his eyes no longer blue, but black—charred pits to match Percy’s. I opened my mouth and screamed.
“Lady!”
Celia’s voice cut through the nightmare, and the images of Percy and Geoffrey dissolved into the darkness.
“I saw Geoffrey!” I sobbed. “Dear God, what have I done?”
“Shhh, I beg you,” she warned. “You must not wake…”
She broke off as the entrance to the tent was flung back and a tall dark shape strode in. De Tourrard.
“Can’t you keep her quiet, wench?” He addressed Celia.
He touched my shoulder, and I flinched.
“Tsk, tsk, my love; I trust you’ll be more amenable when we are married. Where is my son?”
He picked up the little bundle and cursed, before turning to Celia, murder in his eyes.
“What in the name of the devil is this?” he roared. “This child is dead. You’ve killed him, you worthless slut!”
“Wulfric, no!” she cried.
De Tourrard threw the body to the ground and wrapped his hands around Celia’s throat, choking the life out of her.
“Leave her alone!” I cried. I tugged at his arms but he was too strong and continued to squeeze.
Celia’s face turned red and tears burst from her eyes as she clawed at his fingers and screamed for air.
Her jerking movements grew weaker until a sickening crack silenced her, and her head lolled sideways.
De Tourrard dropped her body beside that of the child.
“Celia!”
I fell to my knees and shook her, though I knew she was dead.
“Guy!” de Tourrard roared.
“My lord?” Guy’s head appeared at the entrance.
De Tourrard prodded the bodies with his toe.
“Bury them in the forest.”
“No!” I cried. “Have you no respect for the dead?”
De Tourrard continued as if I had not spoken.
“Find some rope and secure the lady. Then send someone to care for her in our absence. Rouse the rest. We ride to the village immediately. I have no wish to wait a moment longer.”
“Aye my lord.”
“Wulfric, let me go,” I pleaded, “I have no value to you now.”
He pulled me to my feet by my broken arm, sending a sharp needle of pain through my bones. Turning me to face him he crushed his lips against mine, pushing my mouth open in a forceful, brutal kiss.
“On the contrary my love—we can work on another heir.”
“You’ll have to kill me first, before I let you touch me.”
I struggled in his grasp, but he merely laughed, slipping a hand into my gown and squeezing my breast with his fingers.
“In time, you will learn to enjoy my touch—nay, you shall beg for it.”
He released me as Guy returned with a length of rope.
“Until later, my love. I trust you’ll be more amiable when I return with your betrothal gift.”
He bowed courteously, pressing his fingers lightly over his heart. Though he smiled, his eyes remained hard.
Guy began to bind my hands. I bit my lip, maintaining the emotionless expression I had worn so effectively at Mortlock Fort.
My instincts screamed at me to plead for the life of the man I loved, but my rational mind knew that they would show no mercy.
De Tourrard would relish my fear as salaciously as his foul cousin had thrived on my revulsion.
When he finished, Guy ran a light finger along my arm, then rubbed his knuckles against the front of my bodice where my breast still throbbed from de Tourrard’s touch.
“I’ll enjoy you yet, wench.”
“I am no wench,” I replied. “De Tourrard would not take kindly to you molesting his betrothed.”
“Twice married, mother to a bastard!” he scoffed. “Do you think my master would object to my sampling the stew which has already been ladled out to so many?”
“He would have your bowels, and you know it,” I snarled. “He wants a son. The mother of that son is worth more to him than a mere stew. Find yourself a whore—if one can stomach the prospect of lying with you.”
He gripped the front of my gown, and his face darkened with a mixture of lust and anger. Before he could do anything de Tourrard’s voice roared from outside.
Guy sneered. “Until later, my lady.”
“You can depend on it,” I challenged, determined not to be cowed.
His eyes narrowed, but he left, his fear of de Tourrard overshadowing his lust for me.
The wait for de Tourrard’s return was almost too much to bear, and I trained to hear sounds of fighting from the village. My son was in danger again. My only hope was that Jack and Lily had heeded my warning and left by the river with Geoffrey. Would Vane be with them?
Vane…
At the mere thought of him my skin tightened as if he were near. I almost expected him to be in the tent with me, knowing how quiet his movements always were. The man guarding me smiled coarsely, exposing a row of rotting teeth, and I closed my eyes.
Lisetta!
My eyes snapped open. I could have sworn I’d heard his voice.
“My love,” I whispered.
My companion shifted to his feet, his clumsy motion so unlike Vane’s smooth, quiet movements.
“What is it, madam?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Stay where you are.”
He came closer. My nostrils twitched at the smell of stale sweat, and I cringed inwardly as he reached out to touch me.
Before I felt his hands on my skin, a shout came from outside. He drew his sword and almost tripped on his way out. Heavy footsteps accompanied voices which faded into the distance, replaced by silence.
Now was my chance. I lifted my hands to my mouth and pulled at the knot with my teeth. It started to work loose but before I could free my hands, the sentry returned, his breath coming out in in a wheeze.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
He shook his head, but I persisted.
“I insist upon you telling me if my life is in danger.”
Oh, the irony! I was in more danger in de Tourrard’s care than I could ever be at the hands of whoever, or whatever, had caused the disturbance outside.
“A man was spotted on the edge of the forest. We suspect it was one of de Beauvane’s men.”
I stiffened with hope but he read my thoughts.
“He fled when he saw he was outnumbered. He won’t be back.”
For much of the night I heard the men calling to one another, their voices circling my tent, moving back and forth as they patrolled the area. Who—or what—had approached the camp had awakened their senses. I would not be able to escape unnoticed.
Eventually, heavier footfalls heralded de Tourrard’s return. He strode into the tent, covered in blood and smelling of smoke, a smile of triumph on his face, Guy beside him.
De Tourrard nodded in my direction.
“Get her on a horse. We ride immediately.”
Guy led me toward his horse then lifted me up and mounted behind me. Almost at once, we set off at a hard pace.
We rode for the rest of the night and most of the following day until it grew dark again.
When we finally stopped the horses were exhausted, their eyes wide and bloodshot, their breath coming in heavy rasps, sending visible puffs of air into the cold evening.
My limbs ached, and I was desperate to remove myself from Guy’s presence, from the torrid whispers in my ear and the sweaty, aroused body against me.
De Tourrard helped me down from the horse and led me toward the camp where his men had already started a fire.
“I need a moment of privacy,” I demanded.
“Guy will attend to you.”
“No, I-I need a lady’s privacy.”
“Nonsense, my dear.” De Tourrard’s voice was quiet, but had a harsh edge to it. “I would not forgive myself if you became—hmm—lost in the woods. Guy will protect you.”
I sighed in defeat. Guy followed me to a bush, thick enough to conceal me from his direct gaze but close enough to the camp to be within calling distance. As much as I loathed de Tourrard, it was his authority and possessiveness that protected me from Guy’s attentions.
After I finished, I pulled my skirts back down and looked out beyond the bush into the darkness. It reminded me of the moment after the fire at Mortlock Fork when I’d had my chance to flee. Little had I realized then where the real danger lay.
I had done all I could to ensure Geoffrey’s safety. Now I had only myself to be concerned with. Guy was nowhere to be seen. I could sprint into the forest and be gone. De Tourrard no longer had a hold over me.
Standing up I stepped out of the bush, taking care where I placed my feet to ensure I made no sound. In the distance I heard de Tourrard issuing orders to his men. I took another step, picking my way over the ground. Two more steps and I would break into a run.
A twig snapped and I turned to see Guy leering over me. He had been watching me all along. He licked his lips and smiled.
“Did you like what you saw?” I challenged.
He nodded. “Aye, I did. I shall enjoy you when my time comes.”