Chapter 25
Rhys blocked the partially open door with his body.
“I am not leaving you,” Heather said, though her blood ran cold with fear, knowing how evil Haidar could be.
There was no time to argue with her. Rhys scooped her up, carried her to the hole and dropped her down into it, hoping the fall caused her no harm. He then quickly snatched the ladder up out of the hole and shut the trap door. Then he went to face his nemesis.
Heather recalled the dangling rope just in time and swung her hand out hoping to grab hold of it, and she did.
Pain ripped through her shoulder, but she did her best to ignore it.
She swung around so that she could brace her feet against the wood plank wall as she pulled herself, with some difficulty, higher up along the rope.
She lowered her feet once her hand touched the trap door.
She let herself hang there a moment, regaining her strength, and then she used her shoulder, gratefully not the sore one, to push open the door.
It was a struggle once the door was open to work her way through it and when she finally did, she lay on the floor breathless, though not for long.
She forced herself to her feet, remaining crouched down as best she could so as not to be seen and took a moment to shove the ladder back down the hole in hopes that Rhys’ warriors would soon arrive.
Remaining crouched down, she worked her way to a hole in the wall behind the partially open door and peered through it.
She was able to see her husband and the man he faced.
While Rhys stood alone, his enemy did not and fear gripped her heart when she saw the many warriors standing behind Haidar.
He was nothing like Heather expected. But then what was a man who was capable of such horrifying evil and enslaving so many supposed to look like?
He was a head shorter than Rhys and his body was thick in the waist. His hair was dark and long and drawn back and he wore a full beard.
His features were not unattractive, but then neither were they memorable.
He wore dark garments with a sash around his tunic and he held himself in a regal manner.
It was when she focused on his dark eyes and heard him speak, his accent foreign to her that a shiver ran through her. It was as if the devil himself spoke and this time Heather quivered with fear.
“You disappoint me, Rhys,” Haidar said. “And you know how I repay those who disappoint me.”
“You no longer rule over me, Haidar, so have your say and take your leave.”
Haidar’s voice took on a threatening tone that would shiver the bravest of men.
“Not until I get what I have come to this barbaric country for...revenge for taking my wife and unborn child. And please do not bother to deny it. It took some time, but imagine my disappointment, my pain, and my anger when I discovered that you had taken Anala. I do not think you want to know how I felt when I learned that she died giving birth,” —he paused— “to my only son and that he died along with her.”
Rhys continued to remain silent.
Haidar smiled. “I remember well how often I made you fornicate with the slave women and how often I took pleasure in watching you do so. Two, three, you even did four slaves for me in one night. I imagine you take your wife that often, which means she will be with child soon.” His smile faded.
“I am going to take what you took from me—your pregnant wife. And if she has a daughter, I will see the child dead, but if she has a son, I will raise him as a fine slave. Then I will see that she gives me many sons, if not...I will see her die a slow death.”
“I am going to kill you,” Rhys said.
Haidar laughed. “That is not possible.”
“I believe that is what you told me when I asked what I must do to win my freedom.”
Haidar’s smile faded. “Your wife will be mine. Your child will be mine. And perhaps if your wife pleases me enough—you have taught her to take you in her mouth, have you not? If not I will give her daily lessons. As I was saying, if she satisfies me—in various way—I will spare you a slow, agonizing death and kill you quickly in front of her.”
“Your death will be fast, though more painful than you ever imagined,” Rhys said.
“You do not have the courage it would take to kill me.”
Rhys took a step toward him. “I have something more powerful than courage—I have hate!”
Haidar smiled. “That is what I am counting on.”
He signaled his men and they soon were gone, leaving Rhys’ warriors to find him standing alone when they burst out of the cottage one after the other until several circled him. More of his warriors suddenly spilled out of the woods, forming another protective barrier around him.
Rhys did not question how they got up through the trap door with the ladder gone.
They had been trained to escape from various difficult places and situations.
He was more concerned with his wife, having dropped her down the hole, the fall a far better fate than being taken by Haidar.
And when his warriors had come across her, they would have seen that she remained there until he gave orders otherwise.
He was, however, eager to know that she had not been harmed in the fall. He turned to one of his warriors and asked, “Lady Heather waits unharmed beneath the cottage?”
“Lady Heather was not there,” the warrior said.
With a sharp order for his men to move, they parted quickly, clearing a path for him to hurry along and into the cottage.
Rhys gave a quick look around and got no response when he called out her name.
How could she have gotten up here if he had taken the ladder away?
He shook his head. His wife was a resourceful woman, so if she did make it back to this room where would she be and why not answer him?
He turned his head and looked at the partially open door.
If she had been hiding behind it this whole time, then she would have heard every word between him and Haidar.
He stepped around the door and there in the shadows of the corner, crouched down, her arms hugging herself tightly, and her face paler than he had ever seen it. ..was his wife.
Rhys bent over and scooped her up into his arms and before pressing her tightly against him, her arms eagerly went around his neck, then she buried her face against his chest as if she was attempting to hide away.
One step out of the cottage and his men once again circled him, and it was not until they reached the keep’s stairs that his warriors dispersed, though they lingered close by.
Pitt burst out of the keep as Rhys took the stairs up two at a time.
“Seal that passageway so that it can never be entered at either end ever again,” Rhys ordered as Pitt yanked the door open for him. “Haidar made himself known. We will talk later.”
“Anything you need?” Pitt asked as they walked through the Great Hall.
“Time alone with my wife.”
“I will see that you are not disturbed,” Pitt said and went to do the Dragon’s bidding.
Once inside their bedchamber, Rhys sat on the bed, continuing to hold his wife.
He said nothing; he simply held her. She had heard things she should never have heard and learned things about him she should have never learned.
And the worse part was that she would never forget what she heard, it would forever haunt her.
“I am so sorry, Quinn” she whispered against his chest.
He drew back, forcing her to raise her head and look at him. “What did you say?”
“Quinn. I realized who you were a short time after arriving here,” she said. “The more I learn about your horrible ordeal, the more I realize why you have kept the truth from me. But it is not necessary any longer, I love you. I have always loved you and will always love you, no matter what.”
He set her on her feet and walked away from her. “I am not Quinn.”
“There is no reason to hide who you are from me.”
He turned to her, anger and sorrow filling his eyes. “Quinn died, I buried him myself.”
“No, you are my Quinn. It breaks my heart to know you were enslaved and suffered so horribly and I am so very grateful that you have returned to me.”
“I am not Quinn. He tried to survive. His heart ached to see you again and his love for you never wavered. He was desperate to get back to you, but he was not strong enough. It was my word I gave him the night he lay dying that brought me here.”
Heather shook her head. “No, you are my Quinn, I know you are.”
“Quinn is dead. He is never coming back.”
Tears ran down her cheeks as she rushed over to him and pounded his chest repeatedly with her small fists. “No! No! You are lying. You are Quinn! Quinn! Quinn! Please God—tell me you are Quinn!”
Rhys let her pound at him and when she stopped, her sobs nearly robbing her of breath, he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
He laid her down and climbed in beside her, easing her on her side to rest back against him.
He wrapped his arm around her and rested his leg over her two, keeping her as tightly pressed against him as he could, and then he listened to her cry herself to sleep.
* * *
Heather woke with a wince and rolled off her sore shoulder. She jumped when a crack of thunder sounded. Rain tapped at the window and gray skies lingered. The dreary weather matched her thoughts, and she pulled the blanket tighter around her.
She was relieved to find herself alone. She was far too confused and upset to see or speak to anyone, especially her husband.
She had been so sure that Rhys was Quinn.
Had she been so upset about being wed to the Dark Dragon that she saw something that was never there?
Had she wanted Quinn so badly to return to her that she imagined she saw him in Rhys? Or could she be right?
I buried him myself.
The words stung her heart. Could it be true? Was Quinn dead and buried in a foreign land? She fought back her tears.