Chapter Twenty-Two #2
As Jax and Christopher faced off against the mercenary army, trapped like dogs by the lowered portcullis, Bretton, Rod, and John Morgan made haste for the postern gate near the kitchens.
As Rod ran to collect his charger, still grazing by the side of the road, Bretton began to run but a hand in his face prevented his forward momentum.
Startled, he looked up to see John Morgan extending a hand to him.
“Ride with me,” John Morgan said. “We will move faster.”
Bretton looked at the hand in his face. His father’s hand.
He had visions of being a young boy again as his father offered him a helping hand.
The emotions were swirling again, now joined by emotions of fear for Allaston’s safety.
As he heard another scream from inside the castle, he grabbed John Morgan’s hand and vaulted onto the back of the horse.
Holding onto his father, touched deeply by the feel of his father’s big, warm body for the first time in twenty-five years, he gripped him tightly as the man spurred his big Belgian charger along the massive curtain wall of Cloryn Castle in search of the postern gate.
In search of Allaston.
*
Teague had dragged Allaston away from the gatehouse and across the bailey. He had her around the waist, hauled up against his body, as she struggled and fought. He was very strong, however, and managed to carry her up into the keep even as she tried to kick his knees out. It was a vicious battle.
Once inside the keep, Allaston managed to make contact with his tender inner thigh and he faltered, tripped, and ended up dropping her to the ground.
Allaston hit heavily on her right hip but she scrambled up and away from the warrior before he could grab her again.
She ran into the open room with the table where she and Bretton had made love, rushing to the other side of the table, as far away as she could get from Teague de Lara.
He was a big, frightening man and she was understandably terrified.
Teague stumbled into the room behind her, seeing that she now had a big, heavy table between them. His handsome face was dark with anger.
“You thought you could make a difference,” he said, breathing heavily from their struggles. “You thought you could stop that which was already in motion. You cannot stop us, do you hear?”
Allaston, panicked, shook her head at him. “I do not know what you are talking about,” she said. “Why did you grab me like that?”
Teague began to move around the table, noting that with every step he took she took another step away from him. “Grayton was right,” he said. “You are a danger. You have bewitched Bretton. He owes us a measure of glory and I will not let you stop it.”
Allaston was edgy and frightened. Teague was trying to get close to her again and she would not permit it. “I have no idea what you could possibly mean,” she said. “I have not bewitched Bretton.”
Teague came to a halt, wondering how he could get across the table and grab her again. “Aye, you have,” he said, “whether or not you realize it. He is obsessed with you and that means his focus on our campaign, our plans to confiscate your father’s Welsh holdings, is in jeopardy.”
Allaston noted he had stopped attempting to pursue her but she didn’t trust him. She knew he was going to come at her again and was trying to anticipate his next move.
“I want to go home,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “I want to leave Cloryn and never look back. My father is here. Let me go to him.”
Teague studied her. “Bretton is with your father now,” he said. “What do you think they are discussing? If I hold you, I can control them both. They will have to do what I say. You are my path to riches, lady, and I will use you to my advantage.”
His declaration made her blood run cold. “What do you intend to do?”
Teague shrugged, trying to make it look casual. “Lock you up as you should be locked up,” he said. “Or mayhap I will tie a rope around you and dangle you from the top of the keep. Your father would do anything to keep you safe. And so would Bretton, I suspect.”
She frowned. “What good will that do?” she said. “It will not make Bretton fall under your command. He is your commander.”
Teague shook his head. “Not after this day,” he said.
“Even if your father exchanged himself for you, having Jax de Velt as his prisoner would only cause Bretton to become complacent. He would have what he wanted – he would have your father. There would be no incentive to conquer the remaining two de Velt castles as we had planned. You see, I have no emotional investment in you or in Jax de Velt, but I do have an army under my command. And I intend to use it.”
Allaston shook her head. “You are mad,” she hissed. “Those mercenaries will not follow you. They follow Bretton.”
“We shall see.”
With that, he suddenly vaulted over the table and Allaston screamed in surprise, ducking under the table and scrambling to the other side.
Once on her feet, she made a dash for the front door, screaming again when she realized Teague was right behind her.
She flew down the stairs, realizing he was making a grab for her as she ran, and suddenly ducked to the side so he sailed right past her, falling down the last several stairs and landing in a heap.
As Teague picked himself up, Allaston went on the run again, screaming once more when he made a swipe at her legs.
Running around the side of the keep and heading for the kitchens and, hopefully, the postern gate, she saw the other commander, Dallan, coming at her from the direction of the great hall.
He didn’t seem particularly concerned until he saw Teague staggering after her, and at that point, he headed in Allaston’s direction.
Terrified to see the second commander coming after her, she screamed yet again as she darted off towards the kitchen yard, racing through the opening in the wall.
Her goal was the postern gate but she could see that it was guarded by several men, so she changed direction and ran for the kitchen itself.
There were several things there that she could use to protect herself with.
There was no way to escape so she knew she would have to fight.
Now, it was coming down to defending her own life.
Those weeks ago when she had been abducted from Alberbury, she had believed she was already dead.
Those weeks in the vault, she had wished for death.
But she realized she wasn’t ready to die.
If these bastards wanted her, then they were going to have to work for it.
She was a de Velt, and a de Velt was a fighter.
Uldward was in the kitchen when she ran in.
Dallan was right behind her and she tried to slam the door in his face, catching his hand in the doorjamb.
As Dallan howled, Allaston ran through the kitchen, past a shocked Uldward, and launched herself from the small, square window that faced the keep.
By that time, Dallan and Teague had shoved the door open again and were knocking things over in their haste to grab her legs before she could make it completely through the window.
Seeing this, Uldward let the mass of hot coals that he had been stoking for the bread oven tumble onto Dallan’s right leg, burning through his breeches in a second.
It also ignited the tattered edges of his linen tunic.
Dallan howled as his tunic began to go up in flames, knocking back into Teague, who made a desperate swipe for Allaston’s leg just as she fell from the window to the other side.
There were many implements leaning against this side of the kitchen and she grabbed an iron spit, one used to roast carcasses over an open flame.
It wasn’t too heavy and it was sharp on both ends, but as she started to run away, she saw Teague emerge from the kitchen and head in her direction.
Caught, she doubled back and ended up trapped between the keep and the kitchen, boxed in, as Teague was closing the gap.
“Stay away!” Allaston yelled, wielding the iron spit. “If you come any closer, I will be forced to defend myself!”
Teague came to a halt. “You are trapped, Lady Allaston,” he said. “Put down the spit and I will not harm you. Use it against me and I will not be so kind to you when I capture you. And I will capture you, so consider your actions from this point on very carefully.”
Allaston wouldn’t back down. It wasn’t in her nature. “Nay,” she shook her head. “I will not surrender without a fight. I will not let you take me, do you hear? You shall not have me.”
Dallan came out of the kitchen, beating down his burnt tunic, and he came up behind Teague, looking between the commander and the lady with a good deal of curiosity and irritation.
“What goes on here?” he demanded of Teague. “Why are you chasing her?”
Teague wouldn’t take his eyes off Allaston. Like any good hunter, he kept his eye on the prize. “Because she will ensure that Bretton behaves and does what he is told,” he said. “Help me capture her. She cannot fight off both of us.”
Dallan shrugged, as he didn’t really know what was going on and didn’t particularly care, but he nonetheless did as Teague asked and moved wide, trying to distract the lady while Teague moved up on her from the other side.
She was boxed in, with nowhere to go, but they wanted to capture her without anyone losing an eye. A frightened lady was a fearsome thing.
Their movements terrified Allaston. She knew it was only a matter of time before they captured her but she wasn’t going to surrender easily. She began swinging the spit wildly, daring them to come close, hoping to clip someone very badly in the process.
“Stay away, I say!” she screamed at them. “I will not let you have me, do you hear? I will kill you if you try!”
“And I will help you.”