At the top of the rise was Elizabeth, and she was not alone. A man, holding the reins of a gray stallion, stood beside her. And even from this distance the prickling along the back of his neck told Raynor it was Nigel Harrington.
His dread enemy.
Betrayed, by Elizabeth.
For a disorienting moment, a haze of rage and disappointment rose up to obscure his vision. Raynor ached at the loss of what might have been. Then he quickly counted himself a fool for ever having contemplated a future that included any kind of trust between them.
All the while he’d been rocked by the discovery of her perfidy, his horse had carried him forward. And now Raynor was close enough to identify Harrington more clearly.
Elizabeth’s horse was drawn close to Harrington, who stood on the ground next to her. He had his hand on her arm. It was a very intimate scene, and Raynor’s blood throbbed at seeing the other man touching his wife.
As Raynor approached, he realized the two were so deep in conversation that they didn’t even notice his arrival. This only served to further fuel his fury.
His pain was too great for him even to contemplate what he would do about Elizabeth’s betrayal. As to Nigel Harrington, there was no question.
He must die.
Drawing his sword without slowing his mount, Raynor let out a cry of challenge. “Stand ready, Harrington!”
The other man looked up to see his enemy descending. It seemed to take only a moment for the threat of Raynor’s presence to register on him. With a harsh sound of anger, Harrington swept Elizabeth from her horse to hold her before him. “Come then, Warwicke!” he bellowed.
Raynor felt a stab of sheer panic pierce his chest as he realized Nigel meant to use Elizabeth as a shield.
And in that moment, Raynor lost himself, body, mind and soul. He loved her, for now, for all time. For one heart-wrenching second, he knew a sweet relief that was cleansing in its intensity. At long last, the feelings he’d tried so hard to suppress found release. But, just as quickly, that joy was gone, replaced by the reality that Elizabeth did not deserve his love. She had betrayed him.
Without even pausing to consider, Raynor pulled hard on the reins. No matter what his wife had done, he could not endanger her, even to get to Harrington. His stallion reared at the sudden halt, pawing the air wildly. For a moment, Raynor had some difficulty keeping his seat, but he managed to do so.
When he’d calmed his horse, his gaze went to Elizabeth, who stood before Nigel, her sapphire eyes round with horror and guilt.
His heart sank even further.
If he’d had any doubt as to her culpability, seeing her shamefaced reaction settled it once and for all.
“Come then, Warwicke,” Nigel gibed again, his light blue eyes alight with cruelty. He tightened his hold on Elizabeth. “Do you not wish my death above all things? What makes you hesitate?” Then he laughed, as if this last question were indeed very funny.
Raynor clenched his teeth on the rage that made his blood thrum. He did wish for Nigel’s death above all things. But he could not risk harming Elizabeth.
Nigel seemed to sense Raynor’s defeat, for he laughed spitefully. “Lay away your sword, Warwicke.”
Raynor hesitated.
“Did you hear me, Raynor?” the other man growled. He reached into his belt and withdrew a small but viciously sharp-looking knife. Without preamble, he pressed it to the pale column of Elizabeth’s throat. “I will kill her, and gladly. If only for the sake of seeing you suffer as you have made me.”
Raynor knew Harrington was telling the truth.
Elizabeth’s eyes pleaded with her husband as the knife pricked her throat and a drop of blood stained her creamy flesh.
Raynor’s heart throbbed anew at the sight of her blood, spilled by his enemy’s weapon. Seeing her sustain even the slightest injury was like a hot knife in his gut.
God help him, but he loved her for good or ill. And no matter what she had done, he could not change that.
He was trapped by his own heart, just as he’d always feared. Raynor was completely incapable of acting in his own interests because of his feelings for a woman. The knowledge should have been staggering, but he only felt a strange sense of inevitability.
He’d been born to love Elizabeth. It was as inescapable as time, and just as unstoppable.
With a bellow of frustration and rage, Raynor cast his sword aside.
Nigel threw back his head and laughed with triumph.
Fixing the other man with a gaze that fairly bled hatred, Raynor growled harshly, “Harm her further and I shall kill you slowly. And only after torture so exquisitely painful you will beg for that end.”
He turned his tormented gaze to his wife, his eyes dark as umber. Despite his anger, Elizabeth could see fear for her clearly etched on his harshly chiseled face.
In that moment, Elizabeth knew he loved her.
But what good would come of that love, she did not know. For it was equally clear that he thought she had betrayed him. Love, fear and hatred warred on his face as he met her gaze.
And was it not true? Had she not betrayed him by even speaking with Harrington? She should have ridden for the keep and fetched Raynor immediately.
Tears sprang to her eyes even though she fought against shedding them. It was too much. To at last discover he loved her, only to have him hate her, too. She could not bear it.
Somehow she must make Raynor see that she had not meant to do ill.
Elizabeth held out her hand. In spite of the knife pricking her throat she cried, “Raynor! It is not as you believe! I did not ask him to come here! My only sin is one of omission. I knew you would kill him if I told you he was come!”
“Quiet, slut,” Nigel growled, and pulled her head farther back. The knife stung, and she felt a new trickle of wet on her throat.
“Harrington, I will kill you,” Raynor threatened, starting forward. But he stopped short when Nigel held her even tighter. If Raynor had heard her words, he gave no sign, for his eyes remained hard on hers.
Nigel taunted, “You, my lord fool, are in no position to make such rash statements. Were I you, I would not waste breath on them.” To Elizabeth’s horror and surprise, he chuckled, seeming to enjoy this game immensely. “I could kill her this instant, and you could do nothing.”
Elizabeth knew she had been wrong, wrong to protect this man’s life. Obviously he was mad, whether over losing the members of his family or for some other reason. It mattered not why. What did matter was that he clearly was incapable of ever being an uncle to Willow.
Raynor had had the right of it all along. She longed to tell him she was sorry.
But what he said next made a chill of despair run down her spine.
Raynor fairly spat the words. “You and she are of like mind, Harrington. She is as faithless as you in her loyalties. But be that as it may, the woman is my wife, and what I have I keep to me.”
Nigel laughed again, almost gleefully. “Oh, Raynor, my most clever opponent. You could not be more wrong in your assessment of your wife.” He gave Elizabeth’s black hair a vicious tug. “It is I who have been betrayed by her. She sent a message telling me she would not help me to see Willow. I came here to try to make her change her mind, to see reason, but she refused.”
The expression on Raynor’s face did not change. Would nothing sway him? Even as Elizabeth wondered why Nigel would defend her by explaining what had really happened, her answer came.
Nigel snickered. “I wish you to know, Raynor, that she has been loyal to you, that she loves you as you do her. It will give me great pleasure to think of your agony while I take her myself. For take her I will.”
Raynor leapt to the ground and started toward them, but Nigel pushed the knife deeper to Elizabeth’s throat, and she cried out in pain as the blood trickled afresh. “Stay back, or she will die here before your very eyes.”
Elizabeth watched the frustration and helplessness play over her husband’s face. She longed to help him. Raynor was a man who hated not being able to control his surroundings. This would be agonizing for him.
Nigel spoke again, his tone unexpectedly reasonable. “There is a way, Warwicke.”
Warily Raynor watched him, saying nothing.
The other man went on when he saw that no reply was forthcoming. “Willow. You bring the child to me, and your wife is yours.”
Raynor tipped back his head and howled his rage and frustration like a wolf caught in a trap.
Despite his previous bravado, she felt Nigel tremble behind her.
And even Elizabeth, who loved him, was not immune to the stark fury in her husband.
“Never! Not while there is a breath in my body!” Raynor screamed. “You will not lay a filthy hand upon her!”
Nigel answered Raynor with nearly equal fury, the obsession with having what he wanted obviously driving him beyond his fear. “You bastard!” he cried. “Who are you to deny me my right? She is my own flesh—my daughter. Not yours, as you so boldly lie. For lie you do. I know you do not believe the child is yours. You could not. I know Louisa told you I raped her. You can’t deny me my right to my child. I will stand for it no longer.”
Elizabeth felt the words like a cold shock of ice through her veins. What was he saying? Nigel was Willow’s father? He was Louisa’s brother, although only by marriage. And he’d just admitted he’d raped her.
“No!” Raynor shouted, trying to deny the facts even now.
But one look at her husband’s face told Elizabeth the truth of it. It was there for her to see, in the taut line of his jaw, the hatred burning in his eyes as he focused all his attention on the man behind her.
Were Elizabeth not so filled with anger, revulsion and fear herself, she would have found it in her heart to almost feel sympathy for the man who held her. For when Raynor did get his chance for revenge—and there was no doubt he would, judging by the look in his dark eyes—she would not wish to be in Nigel’s place.
Then, as the truth of what Nigel had just said sank into her, so many things became suddenly clear. Jean had said Louisa had birthed the babe only six months after arriving at Warwicke. Elizabeth had thought he might be jealous that the babe was not his, but Raynor’s anger at that time had been caused by the knowledge that his friend had been raped by her own stepbrother. It explained why Raynor had appeared so angry to the serving woman, even while he was so unstintingly kind to Louisa. And this also explained why Louisa had hated her brother, had been the one to beg Raynor to keep her child from seeing him. Raynor’s determination to convince everyone that Willow was his child now made sense.
Raynor was past the point of speech. He stood there, his attention a fixed point of hatred. He’d neither blinked nor showed any sign of acknowledging anything Nigel said since that one-word denial after Harrington divulged the fact that he was Willow’s father.
As if realizing he would get no further with Raynor at this moment, Nigel began to back toward his horse. Even as he climbed atop the gray, he never let up the pressure of the knife on Elizabeth’s throat.
She was forced to follow him.
Raynor never moved, but watched them intently for some opportunity to act.
The blade was so tightly pressed to her throat that Elizabeth was incapable of even speaking. Fear made her follow Nigel Harrington’s every movement. An even greater fear of what he would do to her once he got her to his own castle made Elizabeth watchful of any opportunity to break free from her captor. Soon she found herself seated before him on the gray, her hope dwindling like mist in sunshine.
Still holding tightly to her, Nigel rode up to Minerva and gave her a sadistic kick in the side. The horse reared and galloped away. Then he did the same to Raynor’s mount. Now there would be no way for her husband to ride after them.
As they swung around to ride away, she tried to turn her head, to meet Raynor’s gaze one last time, to plead with him to forgive her. Nigel prevented her with another tug on her hair. Tears came to her eyes, but they were not from physical pain.
It was only when they were nearly to the edge of the clearing that her chance came.
A rabbit bolted across their path, and Nigel’s horse shied. He reached down to grab at the reins with the hand holding the knife.
Realizing that it was this moment or none, Elizabeth pulled free of his flailing arms and threw herself to the ground.
The stallion reared above her, and she covered her head with her arms as she screamed.
The slashing hooves came down but scant inches from her face, and she screamed again. It was then that Elizabeth felt herself being dragged free of the impending danger. Strong arms lifted her away and up into a protective circle.
For a moment she was disoriented by the speed with which the rescue had occurred.
“Are you hurt?” Raynor asked through her confusion.
Though she was shaking, Elizabeth raised her head from his chest to look at him. “Nay.” Her breath came in uneven gasps.
“I will kill him!” Raynor shouted in a voice that left no doubt that he was making not a threat, but a promise.
It had all happened so quickly that Nigel was still working to get his mount under control. When he saw that Raynor’s attention was on him now, instead of Elizabeth, he gave the animal a vicious kick, sending it surging forward, away from his enemy. Yet his cowardice did not stop him from calling out a warning over his shoulder. “You will pay for this, Warwicke, and dearly.”