When the soldiers reached a small ridge high above the site Duncan had chosen for the confrontation, Duncan jerked on the stallion’s reins and shouted a command to the animal. The stallion immediately stopped. Duncan used his free hand to grab hold of Madelyne’s jaw. He applied pressure as he forced her to look up at him.
Gray eyes challenged blue. “Do not dare move from this spot.”
He started to let go of her, but Madelyne stayed his hand. “If you die, I’ll not weep for you,” she whispered.
He actually smiled at her. “Yes, you would,” he answered, his voice both arrogant and gentle.
Madelyne didn’t have time to answer him. Duncan spurred his steed into motion and raced toward the battle already unfolding below. Madelyne was suddenly alone atop the stark ridge as the last of Duncan’s soldiers moved past her at a furious speed.
The noise was shattering. Metal clashed with metal, ringing with ear-piercing intensity. Screams of torment mingled with shouts of victory. Madelyne wasn’t close enough to see individual faces, but she kept her attention on Duncan’s back. The gray he rode was easily visible. She watched him wield his sword with accuracy, thought him surely blessed by the gods when the enemy all but surrounded him and he unseated each with deadly slaps from his blade.
Madelyne closed her eyes for just a moment. When she looked to the scene again, the gray had disappeared. She frantically scanned the area, looking for Duncan, and Gilard as well, but she couldn’t find either brother. The battle edged toward her.
She never looked for her brother, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be in the thick of battle. Louddon, unlike Duncan, would be the last one to raise his sword. There was too much risk involved. No, he placed too much value on his life, whereas Duncan didn’t seem to value his own at all. Louddon left the fighting to the men who pledged him fealty. And if the battle turned against him, he’d be the first to run away.
“This is not my fight,” Madelyne screamed at the top of her lungs. She pulled on the reins, determined to leave with as much speed as possible. She wouldn’t watch another minute. Aye, she would leave them all.
“Come, Silenus, we go now,” she said, nudging the animal as she had seen Duncan do. The stallion didn’t move. She jerked on the reins, hard, determined to get the animal to do her bidding. The soldiers were fast climbing the crest and haste was suddenly becoming imperative.
Duncan was infuriated. He had searched but couldn’t find a trace of Louddon. The victory over his enemy would be hollow indeed if their leader escaped again. He glanced a quick look up toward Madelyne and was shocked to see that the battle was circling her. Duncan realized then that he had been so consumed with finding Louddon, he hadn’t given sufficient thought to Madelyne’s safety. He admitted the mistake, damning himself for not having the foresight to leave men to guard her.
Duncan threw his shield to the ground and gave a shrill whistle he prayed would reach his stallion. His heart lodged in his throat as he ran toward the crest. It was a logical reaction, he told himself, this fierce need to protect Madelyne, for she was his captive, and he had the responsibility to keep her safe. Aye, that was the reason he ran to her now, roaring his outrage with as much force as any battle cry.
The stallion responded to the whistled signal, charging forward. The animal would have allowed Madelyne control now, but she lost the reins when he bolted.
Silenus jumped over two soldiers just climbing the top of the ridge, clipping both their heads with his hind legs. The soldiers’ screams carried them back down the hill.
Madelyne was soon in the thick of battle, with men on horseback and more crowding the ground around her, all fighting for their lives. Duncan’s stallion was blocked by the soldiers. Madelyne clung to the animal’s neck and prayed for a quick end.
She suddenly spotted Gilard making his way toward her. He was on foot, holding a bloody sword in one hand and a scarred shield in the other, fending off attack from the left while he thrust his blade forward with the right.
One of Louddon’s soldiers lunged at Madelyne, his sword raised against her. There was a crazed look glazing his eyes, as if he had passed the point of knowing what he was doing.
He meant to kill her, Madelyne realized. She screamed Duncan’s name, yet knew her safety depended upon her own wits. There wasn’t any escape other than the hard ground, and Madelyne quickly threw herself over the side of the horse. She wasn’t quick enough. The blade found its target, slashing a deep path down the length of Madelyne’s left thigh. She screamed in agony, but the sound died in her throat when she hit the ground. The air was knocked out of her.
Her cloak followed her to the ground, landing in a heap on top of her shoulders. Stunned, and in a state of near shock, Madelyne’s concentration suddenly focused on pulling the garment around herself, a slow, arduous process she became obsessed with completing. The pain in her thigh was so consuming at first that she thought she would die from it. And then a blessed numbness settled in her thigh and in her mind, giving Madelyne new strength. She stood, feeling dazed and confused, clutching her cloak to her breasts as she watched the fighting men around her.
Duncan’s stallion nudged Madelyne between her shoulder blades, nearly knocking her back down to the ground. She regained her balance and leaned against the animal’s side, finding comfort in the fact that the horse hadn’t bolted away when she had fallen. The animal acted as a barrier as well, protecting her back from assault.
Tears streamed down her face, an involuntary reaction to the scent of death that permeated the air. Gilard yelled something to her but Madelyne couldn’t understand what he was shouting. She could only watch as he continued to make his way toward her. He yelled again, his voice more forceful, but the order mingled with the clash of metal scraping metal and became too garbled to comprehend.
Her mind rebelled over the carnage. She began to walk toward Gilard, believing that was what he wished her to do. She stumbled twice over the legs and arms of slain warriors spewed like discarded garbage upon the ground, her thoughts only of getting to Gilard, the one man she recognized in this forest of destruction. In the back of her mind lived the hope that he would take her to Duncan. And then she would be safe.
Madelyne was only a few feet away when Gilard was challenged from behind. He turned to meet the new opponent, his back unprotected. Madelyne saw another of Louddon’s men grasp the opportunity, raising his blackened sword into the air as he rushed toward the vulnerable target.
She tried to scream a warning but her voice failed her and only a whimper escaped.
Dear God, she was the only one who was close enough to aid him, the only one who could make a difference. Madelyne didn’t hesitate. She grabbed one of the discarded weapons from the stiff fingers of a faceless corpse. It was a heavy, cumbersome mace thick with spikes and dried blood.
Madelyne held the weapon in both her hands, struggling over its weight. Clutching the blunt end, she half dragged, half carried the weapon as she hurried to position herself behind Gilard, her back nearly touching his. And then she waited for the enemy to make his attack.
The soldier wasn’t daunted, as Madelyne presented a weak defense against his armor and strength. A glimmer of a smile soured his face. Yelling a defiant shout, he rushed forward, his long, curved weapon slicing the air with deadly intent.
Madelyne waited until the last possible second and then swung the mace off the ground in a wide arc. Terror lent her strength. She meant only to deter his attack, but the spikes protruding from the circular bulb of the weapon severed the chain links of the soldier’s coat of mail and entered tender flesh concealed beneath.
Gilard finished his fight against the frontal attack, turned swiftly in his bid to get to Madelyne, and very nearly knocked her down. He was just in time to see the killing, watched, as Madelyne did, the enemy soldier drop to the ground with a scream trapped in his throat and spikes of the club embedded in his middle. Gilard was so astonished over what he had just witnessed, he was momentarily
speechless.
Madelyne let out a low moan of anguish. She folded her arms in front of her waist and doubled over. Gilard thought she acted as though she had been the one to receive the injury. He sought to help her, reached out to gently touch her shoulder.
Madelyne was so consumed with horror over what she had just done, she wasn’t even aware of Gilard any longer. The battle had ceased to exist for her.
Duncan had also witnessed the killing. In one swift action he mounted his stallion and goaded the animal toward Gilard. The brother jumped out of the way just as Duncan reached down and grabbed hold of Madelyne. He lifted her up with one powerful arm and all but slammed her into the saddle in front of him. God proved merciful, for her right side took the force of the impact and her injured thigh was barely jarred.
The battle was almost over. Duncan’s soldiers were chasing Louddon’s retreating forces down the valley.
“Finish it,” Duncan yelled to Gilard. He jerked on the reins, directing his mount up the hills again. The animal raced away from the battlefield, his breeding and strength obvious now as he galloped with amazing speed up the treacherous terrain.
Duncan had discarded his cloak and his shield during the fight. He used his hands now to protect Madelyne’s face from the branches swaying into their path.
She wanted none of his thoughtfulness. Madelyne shoved against him, trying to make him let go of her, preferring the hard ground to his loathsome touch.
Because of him she’d killed a man.
Duncan didn’t try to quiet her. Safety was his primary concern now. He didn’t let up his pace until they were well away from the threat. He finally reined his stallion to a halt when they entered a cluster of trees. It was quiet there, and protected as well.
He was furious with himself for placing Madelyne in such danger. Duncan turned his attention to her now. When he saw the tears streaming down her face, he let out a frustrated groan.
And then he sought to soothe her. “You can quit crying, Madelyne. Your brother wasn’t among the dead. Save your tears.”
She hadn’t even been aware she was crying. When his words registered, Madelyne became so enraged over his misinterpretation of her distress, she could barely form an answer. The man was despicable.
Madelyne wiped the tears away from her cheeks, took a deep breath, gathering fresh air and new fury. “I didn’t know what true hate was until today, Baron. But you’ve given the vile word new meaning. As God is my witness, I’ll hate you until the day I die. I might as well,” she continued, “I’m damned to hell anyway and all because of you.” Her voice was so low that Duncan was forced to lean forward until his forehead was touching Madelyne’s just to hear her words.
She wasn’t making any sense at all.
“Aren’t you listening to me?” he demanded, though he kept his voice as soft as hers had been. He felt the tension in her shoulders, knew she was close to losing control, and sought to calm her again. He wanted to be gentle with her, an unusual reaction to his way of thinking, but he excused his conduct by telling himself that it was only because he felt responsible for her. “I’ve just explained that your brother is safe, Madelyne. For the moment,” he added, deciding to give her honesty as well as comfort.
“You’re the one who isn’t listening to me,” Madelyne returned. Tears began to fall again, interrupting her speech. She stopped to brush them aside. “Because of you I’ve taken a man’s life. It was a grave sin and you’re just as much to blame as I am. If you hadn’t dragged me along with you, I wouldn’t have been able to kill anyone.”
“You’re upset because you killed?” Duncan asked, unable to keep the astonishment out of his voice. Duncan had to remind himself that Madelyne was only a woman, and the strangest things did seem to upset the weaker sex. He also weighed all that he’d put Madelyne through in the past two days. “I’ve killed many more,” he said, thinking to ease her conscience.
His plan failed. “I don’t care if you’ve killed legions of soldiers,” Madelyne announced. “You don’t have a soul, so it doesn’t matter how many lives you take.”
Duncan didn’t have a ready answer to that statement. He realized that it was pointless to argue with her. Madelyne was too distraught to think logically, and surely just as exhausted. Why, she was so upset, she couldn’t even raise her voice to him.
Duncan cradled her in his arms, tightening his grip until she stopped struggling. With a weary sigh he muttered, more to himself than to her, “What am I to do with you?”
Madelyne heard him, and her answer was swift. “I don’t care what you do with me.” She jerked her head back and looked up at him. Madelyne noticed the jagged cut just below Duncan’s right eye then. She used the cuff of her gown to mop the stream of blood away, but she contradicted her gentle action with angry words. “You can leave me here, or you can kill me,” she informed him as she dabbed at the edges of his cut. “Nothing you do makes any difference to me. You shouldn’t have taken me with you, Duncan.”
“Your brother came after you,” Duncan pointed out.
“He did not,” Madelyne contradicted him. “He came after you because you destroyed his home. He doesn’t care about me. If you’d only open your mind, I know I could convince you of the truth. But you are too stubborn to listen to anyone. I find it pointless to speak to you. Aye, pointless! I vow I’ll never speak to you again.”
Her tirade took the last of her strength. Madelyne finished cleaning his abrasion as best she could and then sagged against his chest, dismissing him.
Lady Madelyne was a paradox. Duncan was nearly undone by the tender way she touched his face when she tried to repair his injury. Duncan didn’t think she had even been aware of what she was doing. He suddenly remembered how Madelyne had faced Gilard when they were back in Louddon’s fortress. Aye, she’d been a contradiction then too. Madelyne had given Gilard a serene look while he shouted his frustration, yet all the while she’d clung to Duncan’s hand.
Now she raged at him while she ministered to him. Duncan sighed again. He rested his chin against the top of Madelyne’s head and wondered how in God’s name such a gentle woman could be related to the devil.
The numbness was wearing thin. Now that the surge of anger had abandoned her, Madelyne’s thigh began to throb painfully. Her cloak hid the damage from Duncan. She believed he was unaware of her injury and found perverse satisfaction over that fact. It was an illogical reaction but Madelyne couldn’t seem to think with much reason. She was suddenly so tired, so hungry, and in such pain, she couldn’t think at all.
The soldiers joined their leader and within minutes they were headed for the Wexton fortress. An hour later it became gritty determination that kept Madelyne from voicing complaint.
Duncan’s hand accidentally brushed against her injured thigh. Her cloak and gown offered little cushion against the burning agony. Madelyne held her scream. She slapped his hand away, but the fire from his touch lingered, inflaming the injury to an excruciating level.
Madelyne knew she was going to be sick. “We must stop for a moment,” she told Duncan. She wanted to scream at him, to weep, too, but she had vowed he wouldn’t destroy what was left of her gentle disposition.
Madelyne knew he’d heard her. His nod acknowledged that he had, yet they continued to ride, and after a few more minutes she came to the conclusion he had decided to ignore her request.
What an inhuman beast he was! Though it offered her little comfort, she mentally listed all the vile names she wished to yell at him. She summoned up every foul word she could remember, though her vocabulary of crude words was limited. It satisfied her, until she realized she was probably sinking to Duncan’s level. Damn, she was a gentle woman.
Her stomach wouldn’t settle. Madelyne remembered her vow never to speak to him again, but she was forced, by circumstances, to repeat her request. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to be sick all over you.”
Her threat got an immediate reaction. Duncan raised his hand, giving the order t
o halt. He was off his horse and lifting Madelyne to the ground before she could brace herself in preparation.
“Why are we stopping?” The question came from Gilard, who had also dismounted and was hurrying over to his brother. “We’re almost home.”
“Lady Madelyne,” Duncan answered, giving Gilard no further information.
Madelyne had already begun the torturous walk toward the privacy the trees offered, but she paused when she heard Gilard’s question. “You can just stand there and wait for me, Gilard.”
It sounded like an order. Gilard raised an eyebrow in surprise, turning to his brother. Duncan was frowning as he watched Madelyne, and Gilard concluded his brother was irritated by the way Madelyne had just spoken to him. “She has been through an ordeal,” Gilard rushed out in excuse, lest Duncan decide to retaliate.
Duncan shook his head. He continued to watch Madelyne until she had disappeared into the forest. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, frowning as he tried to figure out what was bothering him.
Gilard sighed. “She is ill perhaps?”
“And, and she threatened to …” Duncan didn’t finish his comment, but started out after Madelyne.
Gilard tried to stay him with his hand. “Give her some privacy, Duncan. She’ll return to us,” he said. “There isn’t anyplace she can hide,” he reasoned.
Duncan shook his brother’s hand away. He’d seen the look of pain in Madelyne’s eyes, noticed, too, the extreme stiffness in her gait. Duncan instinctively knew an unsettled stomach wasn’t the cause. She wouldn’t have favored her right side if that was the case. And if she was about to throw up, she would have run, not walked away from the soldiers. Nay, something was wrong and Duncan meant to find out what it was.
He found her leaning against the side of a gnarled oak tree, her head bent. Duncan stopped, not wishing to invade upon her privacy. Madelyne was weeping. He watched as she slowly lifted the cloak away and let it drop to the ground. And then he understood the true reason for her distress. The left side of her gown was shredded to the hem, and soaked with blood.
Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] Page 38
