Duncan didn’t realize he’d shouted until Madelyne let out a frightened whimper. She didn’t have the strength to back away from him, nor did she fight him when he forced her hands away from her thigh and knelt down at her side.
When Duncan viewed the damage, he was filled with such rage, his hands shook as he pried the garment away. Dried blood made it a slow task. Duncan’s hands were big and awkward and he was trying to be as gentle as possible.
The injury was deep, nearly as long as his forearm, and embedded with dirt. It would need to be cleaned and sewn together.
“Ah, Madelyne,” Duncan whispered, his voice gruff. “Who did this to you?”
His voice sounded like a warm caress, his sympathy obvious. Madelyne knew she’d start crying again if he showed her any more kindness. Aye, her control would break then, just like one of the brittle branches she was clinging to now.
Madelyne wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t want your sympathy, Duncan.” She straightened her shoulders and tried to give him a look of dismissal. “Take your hands off my leg. It isn’t decent.”
Duncan was so surprised by the show of authority, he almost smiled. He glanced up, saw the fire in her eyes. Duncan knew then what she was trying to do. Pride had become her defense. He’d already noticed how Madelyne valued control.
Looking back at her injury, he realized there was little to be done about it now. He decided then to let Madelyne have her way.
Duncan forced a gruff voice when he stood up and answered her. “You’ll get no sympathy from me, Madelyne. I’m like a wolf. I don’t suffer human emotions.”
Madelyne didn’t answer him, but her eyes widened over his comment. Duncan smiled and knelt down again.
“Leave me alone.”
“Nay,” Duncan replied, his voice mild. He pulled his dagger free and began to cut a long strip of her gown.
“You are ruining my gown,” Madelyne muttered.
“For God’s sake, Madelyne, your gown is already ruined,” Duncan answered.
With as much tenderness as possible he wrapped the strip of material around her thigh. He was tying a knot, when she shoved against his shoulder.
“You’re hurting me.” She hated herself for admitting it. Damn, she was going to cry.
“I am not.”
Madelyne gasped, forgetting all about weeping. She was infuriated over his comment. How dare he contradict her! She was the one suffering.
“Your flesh will need needle and thread,” Duncan remarked.
Madelyne slapped his shoulder when he dared shrug over his announcement.
“No one is putting a needle to me.”
“You’re a contrary woman, Madelyne.” Duncan said as he bent to pick up her cloak. He draped it around her shoulders and then lifted her into his arms, careful to shield her injury.
Madelyne instinctively put her arms around his neck. She considered scratching his eyes out because of the terrible way he was treating her. “You’re the contrary one, Duncan. I’m a sweet-tempered maiden you would try to destroy if I gave you the chance. And I swear to God, this is the last time I’ll speak to you.”
“Ah, and you’re so honorable you’d never break your word. Isn’t that true, Lady Madelyne?” he asked as he carried her back to the waiting men.
“That is correct,” Madelyne immediately answered. She closed her eyes and leaned against his chest. “You have the brains of a wolf, do you know that? And wolves have very small brains.”
Madelyne was too tired to look up to see how he was reacting to her insults. She bristled inside over the way he was treating her, and then realized she should be thankful for his cold attitude. Why, he had made her angry enough to forget her pain. Just as important, his lack of compassion had helped her overcome the urge to break down and weep in front of him. That would have been undignified, crying like an infant, and both her dignity and her pride were cherished cloaks she always wore. It would have been humiliating to lose either. Madelyne allowed herself a little smile, certain Duncan couldn’t see it. He was a foolish man, for he had just saved her pride and didn’t even know it.
Duncan sighed. Madelyne had just broken her promise when she spoke to him. He didn’t feel the urge to point that fact out to her, but it made him feel like grinning all the same.
He wanted the details from Madelyne, to learn how she’d been injured and by whose hand. In his heart he couldn’t believe one of his own had harmed her; yet Louddon’s men would also try to protect her, wouldn’t they?
Duncan decided to wait for his answers. He needed to get his anger under control first. And Madelyne needed care and rest now.
It had been difficult to banter with her. Duncan wasn’t a man used to masking his anger. When he was wronged, he attacked. Yet he had understood how close Madelyne was to breaking down. The retelling would upset her now.
When they were once again on their way, Madelyne found escape from her pain, snuggled against Duncan’s chest. Her face rested under his chin.
Madelyne was feeling safe again. Her reaction to Duncan confused her. In her heart she admitted that he wasn’t anything like Louddon, though she’d take to her deathbed before she told him that. She was still his captive, after all, his pawn to use against her brother. Yet she really didn’t hate him. Duncan was merely retaliating against Louddon, and she was caught in the middle.
“I’ll escape, you know.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the thought aloud until Duncan answered her. “You will not.”
“We are home at last,” Gilard shouted. His gaze was directed on Madelyne. Most of her face was hidden from view, but what he could see showed a very tranquil expression. He thought she might be sleeping and was thankful. In truth, Gilard didn’t know how to proceed with Lady Madelyne now. He was in a damn awkward position. He’d treated her with contempt. And how had she repaid him? Why, she’d actually saved his life. He couldn’t understand why she’d come to his assistance and longed to ask. He didn’t though, because he had a feeling he wouldn’t like her answer.
When Gilard saw the walls looming into the sky ahead of them, he nudged his mount ahead of Duncan’s so that he could be the first to enter the lower bailey. By rite and tradition, Duncan chose to be the last of his men to enter the safety provided by the thick stone walls. The soldiers liked this ritual, for it reminded each of them that their overlord placed their lives above his own. Though each man had pledged fealty to Baron Wexton, and each willingly met the call to join him in battle, every one also knew he could depend upon his lord for protection as well.
It was an easy alliance. Pride was the root. Aye, each man could also boast of being one of Duncan’s elite soldiers.
Duncan’s men were the best-trained soldiers in England. Duncan measured success by inflicting trials ordinary men would have found impossible to meet. His men were considered to be the chosen few, though they numbered near to six hundred in all when an accurate count was taken and all were called to fulfill their forty-day requirement. Their might was revered, whispered about by lesser men, and their feats of remarkable strength recounted without need of exaggeration to liven the telling. The truth was interesting enough.
The soldiers reflected the values of their leader, a lord who wielded his sword with far greater accuracy than all challengers. Duncan of Wexton was a man to be frightened of. His enemies had given up trying to discover his weakness. The warrior showed no vulnerability. He didn’t appear to be interested in worldly offerings. No, Duncan had never taken gold as his second mistress as others of his rank had so done. The baron presented no Achilles heel to the outside world. He was a man of steel, or so it was sadly believed by those who wished him harm. He was a man without conscience, a warrior without a heart.
Madelyne had little knowledge of Duncan’s reputation. She felt protected in his arms and watched the soldiers file past. She was curious over the way Duncan waited.
She turned her attention to the fortress in front of her. The massive structure sat at
op a stark hill, without benefit of a single tree to give relief from the severity. A gray stone wall circled the fortress and must have been at least seven hundred feet in width. Madelyne had never seen anything so monstrous. The wall was tall enough to touch the bright moon, or so it seemed to Madelyne. She could see a portion of a circular tower protruding from inside, so tall that the top was hidden from view by heavy clouds.
The road to the drawbridge curved like a serpent’s belly up the rocky climb. Duncan nudged his mount forward when the last of his men had cleared the wooden planks spanning the moat. The stallion was eager to get to his destination, prancing a nervous sidestep that jarred Madelyne’s thigh into aching again. She grimaced against the sting, unaware she was squeezing Duncan’s arm.
He knew she was in pain. Duncan looked down at Madelyne, took in her exhausted expression, and scowled.
“You’ll be able to rest soon, Madelyne. Hold on just a little longer,” Duncan whispered, his voice ragged with concern.
Madelyne nodded and closed her eyes.
When they reached the courtyard, Duncan quickly dismounted and then lifted Madelyne into his arms. He held her firmly against his chest, and then turned and started walking toward his home.
Soldiers lined the way. Gilard was standing with two men in front of the castle doors. Madelyne opened her eyes and looked at Gilard. She thought he looked perplexed but couldn’t reason why.
It wasn’t until they’d gotten closer that Madelyne realized Gilard wasn’t looking at her. Why, his attention was drawn to her legs. Madelyne glanced down, saw then that her cloak wasn’t hiding her injury any longer. The tattered gown trailed behind her like a shredded banner. Only blood covered her, flowing a stream down the length of her leg.
Gilard hurried to open the doors, a double entry that dwarfed the men. A rush of warm air greeted Madelyne when they reached the center of a small hallway.
The area around her was obviously the soldiers’ keep. The entryway was narrow, the floor wooden, and the men’s quarters located on the right. A circular stairway took up all of the left wall, curving wide steps that led to the housing above. There was something oddly disturbing about the structure, but Madelyne couldn’t figure out what bothered her until Duncan had carried her halfway up the steps.
“The stairs are on the wrong side,” Madelyne suddenly said.
“Nay, Madelyne. They are on the correct side,” Duncan answered.
She thought he sounded amused. “’Tis not on the correct side,” she contradicted him. “The stairway is always built on the right side of the wall. Anyone knows that well enough,” she added with great authority.
For some reason, Madelyne was infuriated that Duncan wouldn’t admit the obvious flaw in his home.
“It’s built on the right unless it is deliberately ordered built on the left,” Duncan answered. Each word was carefully enunciated. Why, he acted as though he was instructing a dimwitted child.
Why Madelyne found this discussion so important was beyond her. She did though, and vowed to have the last word on the subject. “It’s an ignorant deliberation then,” she told him. Madelyne glared up at him and was sorry he wasn’t looking down at her to see it.
“You’re a stubborn man.”
“You’re a stubborn woman,” Duncan countered. He smiled, pleased with his observation.
Gilard trailed behind his brother. He thought their conversation ridiculous. Yet he was too worried to smile over their foolish banter.
Gilard knew Edmond would be waiting for them. Aye, the middle brother would certainly be inside the hall. Adela might be there as well. Gilard realized he was concerned for Madelyne now. He didn’t want her to have any unpleasant confrontations. And he hoped there’d be time to explain Madelyne’s gentle nature to his brother Edmond.
Gilard’s worry was temporarily put aside when Duncan reached the second level and didn’t turn to enter the great hall. He took the opposite direction, climbed another stairway, and then entered the mouth of the tower. The steps were narrower and the procession slowed somewhat by the sharp curves.
The room at the top of the tower was freezing. There was a hearth built into the center of the circular wall. A large window had also been added, right next to the fireplace. The window was wide open, the wooden shutters flapping loudly against the stone walls.
There was a bed against the inside wall. Duncan tried to be gentle when he placed Madelyne on the covers. Gilard followed behind them and Duncan issued his orders to his brother as he bent to pile chunks of wood into the fireplace. “Send Gerty with a trencher of food for Madelyne, and tell Edmond to bring his medicines. He’ll have to use his needle on her.”
“He’ll argue over it,” Gilard commented.
“He’ll do it all the same.”
“Who is Edmond?”
The softly spoken question came from Madelyne. Both Duncan and Gilard turned to look at her. She was struggling to sit up, and frowning over the impossibility of the task. Her teeth started chattering from the cold and the strain, and she finally collapsed against the bed again.
“Edmond is middle brother to Duncan and me,” Gilard explained.
“How many Wextons are there?” Madelyne asked, frowning.
“Five in all,” Gilard answered. “Catherine is oldest sister, then Duncan, then Edmond, then Adela, and lastly me,” he added with a smile. “Edmond will care for your injury, Madelyne. He knows the ways of healing, and before you know it, you’ll be as fit as ever.”
“Why?”
Gilard frowned. “Why what?”
“Why would you want me fit as ever?” Madelyne asked, clearly puzzled.
Gilard didn’t know how to answer her. He turned back to look at Duncan, hoping he’d give Madelyne answer. Duncan had started the fire and was now closing the shutters. Without turning around, he commanded, “Gilard, do as I’ve instructed.”
His voice didn’t suggest argument. Gilard was wise enough to obey. He made it to the door before Madelyne’s voice caught up with him. “Don’t bring your brother. I can take care of my injury without his aid.”
“Now, Gilard.”
The door slammed.
Duncan turned to Madelyne then. “For as long as you are here, you’ll not contradict any of my orders. Is that understood?”
He was advancing upon the bed with a slow, measured stride.
“How can I understand anything, milord?” Madelyne whispered. “I am but a pawn, isn’t that the way of it?”
Before he could frighten her, Madelyne closed her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest, an action meant to ward off the chill in the room.
“Let me die in peace,” she whispered quite dramatically. Lord, how she wished she had the strength and the courage to yell at him. She was so miserable now. There’d be more pain coming if Duncan’s brother touched her too. “I do not have the stamina for your brother’s ministrations.”
“Yes, you do, Madelyne.”
His voice had sounded gentle, but Madelyne was too angry to care. “Why must you contradict everything I say to you? ’Tis a terrible flaw, that,” Madelyne muttered.
A knock sounded at the door. Duncan yelled out as he walked back across the room. He leaned one shoulder against the mantel above the hearth, his gaze directed on Madelyne.
Madelyne was too curious to keep her eyes closed. The door protested with a squeak as it was opened and an elderly woman appeared. She carried a trencher in one hand and a jug in the other. There were two animal skins tucked under her arm. The servant was a plump woman with worried brown eyes. She darted a hasty look at Madelyne and then turned to curtsy awkwardly to her lord.
Madelyne decided the servant was afraid of Duncan. She watched the poor woman, feeling great compassion for her as she tried to balance the items in her hands and genuflect.
Duncan wasn’t making it any easier on the woman either. He gave her a curt nod and then motioned her to Madelyne’s side. Not a word of encouragement or kindness did he utter.
She placed the trencher of food next to Madelyne and offered her the jug. “By what name are you called?” Madelyne asked the woman. She kept her voice low so Duncan wouldn’t overhear.
“Gerty,” the woman answered.
The woman remembered the covers she held under her arm then and quickly moved the trencher to the wooden chest next to the bed. She covered Madelyne with the blanket.
Madelyne smiled her appreciation and that encouraged Gerty to tuck the sides of the animal skins against Madelyne’s legs. “I can see you’re shivering to death,” she whispered.
Gerty had no knowledge of Madelyne’s injury. When she pushed the fur against her injured thigh, Madelyne squeezed her eyes shut against the excruciating insult and didn’t say a word.
Duncan saw what had happened, thought to yell a rebuke to the servant, but the deed was already done. Gerty was handing Madelyne her food now.
“Thank you for your kindness, Gerty.”
Madelyne’s approval amazed Duncan. He stared at his captive, took in her tranquil expression, and found himself shaking his head. Instead of lashing out at the servant, Lady Madelyne had given her praise.
The door suddenly flew open. Madelyne turned, her eyes wide with fright. The door bounced against the wall twice before settling. A giant of a man stood in the doorway, his hands resting on his hips and a fierce scowl drawn across his face. Madelyne concluded with a weary sigh that this, then, was Edmond.
Gerty scooted around the big man and hurried out the doorway just as Edmond advanced into the room. A trail of servants followed, carrying bowls of water and an assortment of trays with odd-shaped jars on them. The servants placed their trays on the floor next to the bed and then turned, bowed to Duncan, and left. They all acted like scared rabbits. And why wouldn’t they? Madelyne asked herself. After all, there were two wolves in the room with her and wasn’t that enough to scare anyone?
Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] Page 39