Untamed (32 page)

“She has loved him since she was a child. She was determined to follow him. She wouldn't listen to me! I tried, lord. God knows how I tried! But she wouldn't listen to me!”

“What are you saying?” Dominic asked in a deadly cold voice.

“She knew she would never be allowed out alone, so she paid a boy to come running up with a tale of injury to you. In all the turmoil, she simply got on her palfrey and ran off!”

“How long ago?”

“Noon, my lord.”

Dominic turned to Simon. “We can overtake her before supper. She couldn't have gotten far on that nag of hers.”

Simon looked dazed. “I wouldn't have thought it of Meg. She fought for your life as though it were her own. Do you really believe she—”

“I believe she isn't here,” Dominic said in a voice that chilled everyone who heard it. “Do you believe otherwise?”

Simon looked at the fear on the faces of the people of Blackthorne Keep. They had no doubt that disaster had come to them once again.

“No,” Simon said. “I believe she is gone. May God damn her soul to ever—”

A single look at Dominic's face cut off Simon's curse.

Eadith looked from one man to the other.

“Waste no time, lord,” she said urgently. “'Tis true, Lady Margaret's palfrey is old, but like as not Duncan will have a better horse waiting for her on up the road.”

Dominic gave Eadith a glittering glance before he turned to the mounted men behind him and
gave crisp, succinct orders. Men obeyed instantly, for none could meet their lord's feral eyes. They had not seen him look so savage even when they had pulled him from the ruins of the sultan's palace with the wounds of torture still fresh and bleeding on his body.

Within moments a long-tongued hound came dancing from the kennels. When shown the tracks of Meg's palfrey, Leaper took off immediately, following the horse's trail. Simon and Dominic pursued at a gallop. The other knights remained at the keep, carrying out their liege's orders.

When Leaper finally came to the steep incline in the forest, she didn't slacken her stride until she discovered the place where the palfrey's tracks were churned and overlaid by the prints of other horses. In a tense silence, Dominic and Simon reined in their hard-breathing horses until Leaper picked up the trail in the forest. The men spurred forward between trees at a reckless pace.

“I see it!” Simon called, urging greater speed from his horse.

Dominic didn't bother. He, too, had seen the palfrey. He had also seen that her rider was nowhere in sight. Eadith had been correct.

Someone had waited in the forest with a fresh mount for Meg.

Barely able to leash his savage temper, Dominic looked back to the road where the tracks of many horses had churned the earth. There was no way to tell which horse Meg rode now. Nor was there need. Only one thing lay ahead on the cart road. Duncan of Maxwell's new estates.

The palfrey trotted toward Dominic. The golden chiming of bells followed every step the old horse made. Dominic spurred his mount forward
and grabbed the palfrey's reins. Tied to the saddle was a rolled piece of parchment and a note written in a priest's fine hand.

Dominic read it with a single, consuming glance. When he looked up, Simon sucked in his breath. It took no great wit to realize that Dominic would sooner kill than speak at the moment.

“Back to the keep,” Dominic said flatly.

Simon asked no questions. He simply followed his brother to Blackthorne Keep. No sooner had the horses clattered over the drawbridge than Dominic began looking into the faces of everyone who ran out into the bailey.

The face he was searching for was not there.

“Send for Eadith,” Dominic demanded.

A stirring went through the gathered servants, but no one spoke until Old Gwyn stepped forward.

“Eadith is gone to the Reevers.”

Though Dominic had expected as much, he couldn't prevent the icy rage from vibrating in his voice.

“Did she leave a message?” he demanded.

“Aye. If you don't wish your wife to become whore to the Reevers, you will deliver the ransom by moonrise tomorrow.”

When Dominic neither moved nor spoke, an uneasy murmur rose from the people gathered in the keep.

“Do they have her, lord?” Gwyn asked.

Dominic's clenched fist opened, revealing fragments of the golden jesses his own small falcon had once worn around her ankles.

“Aye, old woman. She is taken.”

“What price?”

For an instant Dominic's eyes closed. When they opened, the people closest to him stepped back,
instinctively seeking to widen the distance between themselves and the man whose eyes promised all Hell let out for holiday.

“Thrice her weight in gold and jewels,” Dominic said distinctly.

“God's blood,” Simon said, stunned. “He can't mean that. It would beggar Blackthorne Keep!”

“That is the point,” Dominic said. “I am to be stripped of my ability to support my knights. Without them, the keep will soon fall. Not that I will know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been instructed to deliver the ransom with no more than one knight to attend me. It is reasonable to conclude that I will be slain despite the good priest's protestations to the contrary.”

“You can't do this. 'Tis madness!”

“Aye,” Dominic said savagely. “'Tis madness indeed.”

W
HEN
M
EG FINALLY WAS PERMITTED
to dismount, she was sore and stiff from the brutal ride. Surreptitiously she glanced around at the Reevers' illegal keep. Nothing she saw reassured her.

There were more than twenty men lounging around the rude forest bailey. Only one man wore the expensive trappings of a knight, and it was obvious that the battle gear had seen better days. The remainder of the men were little more than bandits, poachers, and felons.

Guards sat idly along the edge of the ragged palisade that ringed the bailey. None but the knight had ever been numbered among Duncan's companions. Rough of manner, raggedly clothed, only the Reevers' weapons seemed to have received any care. Swords and knives gleamed in the light from a bonfire that served the needs of both warmth and cooking.

The men watched Meg with blunt lust or animal indifference as she limped over to a big oak and collapsed at its base. Neither the coarse men nor her own bruised body bothered her nearly as much as the waking dream that had come to her during
the grueling ride…a newborn babe laughing up at her with eyes of Glendruid green.

Have you bled yet, small falcon?

No
.

Nor would Meg for nine months more, if she had dreamed truly.

Dominic, will you ever know your child? And if you do, will you believe it is yours?

A hand shook Meg roughly.

“Get up, witch, and serve your betters their supper,” Eadith said.

“Eadith! What are you doing here? Did they steal you, too?”

The other woman smiled bitterly. “I haven't a silver coin to my name. Why would any man steal me? Nay, I came to the Reevers willingly.”

“Water does find its own level, doesn't it?”

“Mind your tongue, witch,” Eadith said, slapping Meg smartly. “I have waited long for this. Move your donkey's arse and serve us supper or I'll give you to Edmond the Cruel for instruction in your new profession.”

When she would have struck Meg again, a knight who was somewhat less ragged than the others stepped forward and jostled Eadith aside.

“Rufus wouldn't like that,” the knight said calmly to Eadith. “He plans on using the witch first. Any marks on her, he wants to be the one to put them there. He was quite clear about that this morning. Remember?”

Eadith's mouth flattened into a sour line, but she made no move to strike Meg again. Eadith knew very well that Rufus had plans for the Glendruid witch. It had been Eadith who had put many of the plans into the Reever's thick head.

“Is this how you repay Blackthorne's kindness?” Meg asked, rising and adjusting her mantle around
her shoulders against the damp mist and covetous eyes of the Reevers. “Treachery?”

“What kindness?” Eadith asked scornfully. “I was the daughter of a keep as great as Blackthorne and I was turned into a common servant.”

“Your keep fell to the Normans.”

Anger tightened Eadith's already drawn features. Her pale eyes flashed like an animal's with reflected firelight.

“It was not a fair battle,” she said curtly. “They came upon the keep through treachery.”

“Fair or foul, the result was the same,” Meg said. “Your family and husband were slain and you were thrown on the mercy of neighbors who fared no better than you. You were a homeless, childless widow when Lord John rescued you, gave you a respectable position, and promised to find you a husband.”

Eadith smiled thinly. “But first, John tried to make me pregnant.”

Meg's breath came in sharply.

“Didn't you know?” Eadith said coldly. “The lord of the keep tried to rut on every female before he gave permission for her marriage.”

Though Meg began to speak, Eadith gave no opening.

“John promised every girl the same—breed his child and become mistress of the keep. But it never happened, because after his cursed witch wife left him, his staff became so limp no seed ever came from it no matter what whore's tricks were tried.”

A shout from the boundary of the rude forest camp distracted Eadith. Rufus was returning to the bonfire with more supplies from Carlysle Manor. As Meg watched, all but one knight and a ragged poacher with downcast face crowded around to see what bounty the manor had supplied this day.

“Ale?” shouted one Reever questioningly.

“Aye,” Rufus said as he dismounted, grinning.

He walked to the fire and dragged off his helm, revealing the coarse mane of red hair that was the source of his name.

“Is there food?” Eadith asked rather sharply.

“Meat, bread, and cheese.”

“What about a wench?” called another Reever.

“We're promised one of the kitchen wenches as soon as she quits bleeding.”

“Why wait?” muttered one of the Reevers. “She'll be bleeding when we finish, like as not. One wench isn't enough to service us.”

Meg acted as though she hadn't heard. Beneath the mantle her hands went instinctively to her womb. A chill that had nothing to do with the damp morning condensed beneath her skin.

“Any word from the Norman bastard?” Eadith asked.

A shrug was the only answer Rufus gave. His eyes lit when he saw Meg standing on the opposite side of the fire.

“Stand by me,” he commanded.

Outwardly calm, Meg walked around the fire toward Rufus, stopping well short of him. The look in his eyes as he watched her made her stomach clench and bile rise in her throat.

The expression on Eadith's face was both irritated and resigned. The Reever's well-known lust for the mistress of Blackthorne Keep had been one of the levers Eadith had used to pry Rufus from Duncan's side. She was in no position to complain when Rufus displayed that lust for all to see.

“Do at least wait until moonrise tomorrow,” Eadith said impatiently. “Rutting on her will be much more satisfying when the Norman bastard is here to watch.”

Nausea rolled through Meg. The chill beneath her skin went deeper, despite the bonfire's heat.

“What madness is this?” she asked with aching calm.

“No madness,” Eadith retorted. “'Tis but revenge against the Norman bastard and the Glendruid witch who is his whore.”

“What revenge.”

There was neither question nor emotion in Meg's voice, simply an unnatural calm that came as ice possessed her soul.

“You should have let the Norman bastard die of the poison I gave him,” Eadith said savagely. “Then I could have persuaded Duncan to take the keep and all would have been well. But the bastard lived and I shall have my revenge despite your interfering.”

“Duncan. Where is he.”

Again Meg's voice was flat, toneless, almost inhuman.

Eadith shrugged. “Gone north with his knights and good riddance. The border clans will cut short that traitor's life before he can enjoy the fruits of his treachery.”

“He is not one of you.”

“Aye,” Eadith snarled. “We have no traitors left among us. Except you, witch, and we won't have you long.”

Meg's unblinking stare made the Reevers look from one to the other with growing uncertainty. Muttering ran through them as they measured the uncanny stillness of their Glendruid captive.

Only Eadith was undeterred by Meg's unflinching green eyes. The vengeance Eadith had sought since her family's defeat by Normans was finally within her grasp.

“Let me tell you what is waiting for you, traitor,” Eadith said with relish. “At moonrise tomorrow your
bastard lord will arrive with thrice your weight in gold and gems.”

A hidden motion of Meg's body made her remaining jewelry shiver musically. The small cries were stilled almost as soon as they began.

“We will take the ransom,” Eadith continued. “Then you will be given to the Reevers while your husband watches. When there is no more sport to be had from either of you, we will kill him.”

Meg said nothing.

“Are you too slack-witted to understand what your siding with the Normans will cost you?” Eadith demanded angrily. “Soon you will know what I endured. You will be orphaned, widowed, childless, and defiled!”

The tilt of Meg's head made golden bells chime. It was the only sound she made for several breaths.

“Dominic le Sabre will not come for me,” Meg said.

“He will come. He must. Else you die.”

“Then I die. Send for a priest to shrive me.”

The certainty in Meg's voice finally penetrated Eadith's triumph. She stared in shock.

“What are you saying?” Rufus demanded, stepping so close that Meg had to tilt back her head to see his face. “Of course Dominic will come to your rescue. Without you, he will lose Blackthorne Keep.”

“To whom?” Meg asked flatly. “Duncan will not take it. You cannot.”

“We can,” retorted Rufus. “We will.”

“'Tis a pity I will already be dead,” Meg said, stepping back to look around the camp. “I would enjoy seeing this scabrous band attack Blackthorne Keep. Once the Sword stopped laughing, he would gut you and leave you for the crows.”

“There will be no one but Thomas the Strong left to marshal the keep's defenses,” Eadith cut in. “He is able enough, but stupid.”

“Simon will fight as fiercely and cleverly as Dominic.”

“Simon won't be there,” Rufus said. “We told Dominic that he could have one knight accompany him with the ransom.”

Meg nodded. “I see. That knight will be Simon the Loyal, of course.”

“Yes,” Rufus said, smiling with satisfaction.

“'Tis your plan to murder them both.”

“There was no other choice after the Norman bastard survived and began doting on you—and you on him,” Rufus said. “It was clear there would soon be an heir. If an heir was born, Blackthorne Keep would be lost to us.”

“So you tried to murder my husband during the hunt,” Meg said. “But we escaped.”

“You escaped Rufus,” Eadith said. “But you didn't escape
my
snare.”

“Ah…It was you who made Marie ill so that I would stay behind.”

“It was a pleasure to watch the whore vomit. It was an even greater pleasure to watch the Norman bastard's face when he finally returned and I told him you had run off to join Duncan of Maxwell.”

“That was stupid of you,” Meg said neutrally.

Eadith smiled.

“You are too greedy for revenge,” Meg continued.

“How so?”

“You want Dominic to ransom me, yet you couldn't resist twisting the knife by telling him I ran off to another man.”

Eadith shrugged. “No matter. It will just make the bastard's desire to pursue and punish you all the greater.”

“Then you were the one who kept spreading gossip that Duncan and I were lovers.”

Though there was no question in Meg's voice, Eadith answered, relishing every word.

“Aye. Seeing the bastard's jealousy was very sweet. You cast your spell most thoroughly, witch. And now you will pay.”

Meg's soft laughter was more shocking than curses could have been. Uneasily the Reevers shifted and looked at the descending darkness as though expecting ghosts to rise from the damp ground.

“Ah, handmaiden,” Meg said. “You have outsmarted yourself. 'Tis no great task, granted, but 'tis very amusing to watch.”

The cool scorn in Meg's voice was like a whip laid across Eadith's body.

“What are you ranting about?” she demanded.

“Enthralled? The Sword?” Meg laughed once, a sound that made the Reevers flinch. “Eadith, you are a fool to the soles of your feet.”

Meg turned to the Reevers. When she spoke, her voice carried clearly despite its eerie calm.

“Hear me, Reevers. Dominic le Sabre wants Blackthorne Keep, not me. If he gave me jeweled jesses and seemed to hang on my every smile, it was in hope of seducing a child from my body, not because I
enthralled
him.”

Eadith began to speak, only to be silenced by an abrupt gesture from Rufus.

“Why should my husband give a king's ransom for a faithless Glendruid witch who, even if she is fertile, will not give him a male heir?” Meg asked reasonably. “Dominic kept me only because the vassals would have risen up if he set me aside.”

“All the more reason for him to ransom you,” Eadith retorted.

Once again Meg laughed, and once again Reevers
looked aside, wishing themselves well away from the lady who faced them with such amused certainty of their defeat—and her own death.

“You are so greedy yourself,” Meg said to Eadith, “yet you don't allow for greed in others.”

“Speak plainly,” Eadith snapped.

“Thrice my weight in jewels and gold will beggar Blackthorne Keep.”

“Aye!”

“Who pays for the knights that protect vassals from the likes of you?” Meg asked gently. “Who pays the taxes that will refill the keep's coffers to buy knights? Whose lives will be made living hell if their lord is impoverished?”

A muttering ran through the Reevers as they understood what Meg was saying.

“Aye,” she agreed. “The vassals pay. They like me well enough, but they like feeding their children better.”

“Don't listen to her,” Eadith said quickly. “She'll enthrall you just as she—”

Rufus cuffed Eadith into silence with casual brutality. Meg kept talking, knowing she might well receive the same treatment herself at any moment.

“While you stand here and count the ransom you will never receive,” Meg said, “I'll warrant that the lord of Blackthorne is appealing to the archbishop to have our marriage annulled.”

Frowning, Rufus yanked absently at a lock of his long mustache.

“An abbey should be inducement enough for the annulment,” Meg continued gently, relentlessly. “But since Dominic is such a clever tactician, he will probably offer a fine stone church as well.”

“What of—”