The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) (3 page)

“If she is among the dead I can count her as another rebel killed,” he replied irritably.

“And if she’s not among them?” he persisted.  Roland was like a starved wolf, eager for a hunt and kill to take his mind from the reality he refused to face.  He had spiraled down into a life of debauchery, losing himself nightly in drink and the comforts of a woman he cared nothing about. 

“She may be innocent.”

Roland scoffed as if innocence no longer existed in the world where a woman as gentle as his wife would be brutally killed.

It seemed the weight grew heavier by the day.  He looked at the man who was once a doting father and who now no longer spoke the names of his son and daughter.  He was a man who laughed often and now his face only bore a grim expression.  Without him to bring reason to the madness Damien created he
felt as if he was being buried in a landslide.

They
watched as the line of women grew.  “Get the servant Lottie and see if any of these are her mistress.”

Damien turned his back on the woman as she went through the dead.  He did not want to see her reaction for in this small keep she was sure to know them all.  The report came back she was not among them, something Damien had already suspected.  He looked again at the Commander, Alec the lord had said.  His wife had helped lead them and the woman who had stood her ground so bravely had been standing beside him when he fell.  The handsome man fought for her not for the lord, again he wondered if he was the woman’s lover.  With a husband like Adlam, Damien couldn’t very well blame her. 

He had no intention of killing the woman in the dungeon.  He put her there to keep her safe until he could deal with her.  Damien didn’t know what he would do with her, they were still far enough from their destination that she would be a handful but he couldn’t leave her here.  He told himself it was because she might come after them.  She might kill them as they retreated, but if he truly believed that he would have already killed her.  It was best to save his decision for another time.  Locked away, out of sight he hoped she would be out of his mind but instead he felt he would go out of his mind because she was out of his sight.  From the moment he saw her up on the wall, her sun streaked brown hair flying wildly about her head, the lights casting off its colors in vibrant sheens he wanted her.  He had taken a great deal of satisfaction killing her husband, the traitorous worm, not even loyal to his own blood.  He felt even more confident now about killing him for that made the woman in the dungeon a widow.  It also made her a rebel.  It made her his enemy. 

He stalked angrily to his waiting mount and vaulted into the saddle.  He and a contingent of knights rode the grounds surrounding Langley.  They had taken control days before but did another sweep for rebels.  He was relieved to find none.

Every crevice of the castle was searched, its contents spilled out into the courtyard.  While the castle’s treasures were being sought wood was being stacked along its walls so the heat would bring the stones crumbling down.  Would it be easiest to let her burn in the dungeon?  He watched the men scramble about while the survivors were kept under guard.  They would be released once they were ready to move out and not a moment before.  Phantom shifted beneath him, feeling the discontent of his rider.

They would eat before lighting the walls
, the last meal to be eaten in them.  They would ride out before full sunset and travel throughout the night to reach Staward around dawn.  He would wait to make a decision on the woman when they were ready to leave.  Too many things needed to be completed before it was necessary to worry whether she would go or stay.

They ate and he was pleased to see his men took food to those who would be left homeless after this day.  Soldiers they all were, but that did not mean they liked what they were ordered to do any more than Damien because the strife it created for these people was horrific.  Lottie brought the children from the corner and approached the dais tentatively. 

“Might I feed the children, my lord?” she asked humbly.

Damien looked at the two children and noticed their mother’s defiant chin marked both.
  The boy sported freckles he had seen splattered lightly across his mother’s nose and cheeks.  He couldn’t leave the children here without their mother and either their mother would die this night or she would be his prisoner.  By order of the king he should have already killed these children and their mother to wipe their lines from the face of the earth. 

“Feed the children then pack only enough belongings to carry.  We will leave after the meal.”  Was he now a traitor to the crown?

The servant looked afraid but she did not argue and moved the children away to eat.  He watched both children glance many times from their table below him.  They had gone from sitting at the position of power at meals to the servants’ table.  He could see even they understood the gravity of this.

Damien took his time eating his meal and he was the last to stand which began a whirlwind of activity.  He sent Cyrille and Roland to their positions to give the orders to light the walls.  Then it was time to deal with the woman.  He moved down the steps, taking the torch from the entrance and the key to the shackles.  He moved slowly, expelling the darkness with his light.  He remembered what it was like to be chained up in a place like this.  A place worse than this since he suspected the lady had been the first inhabitant here for a long time. 

When he reached her it was to find her crouched in the corner.  He stopped outside her chain length and studied her.  She was a small thing, he was surprised she had enough height to swing the battle ax without it driving into the dirt.  She also looked to not have the strength to wield it but he knew she was far stronger than she looked. 

Her face was filthy.  Her tears had made it so as she struggled there in the dirt.  Her arms rested on her knees as she crouched there, her hair hanging in her face, her hands trembling.  Her wrists and fingers were bloody where she had fought the manacles.  Slowly she stood, her legs shaking as she came to her full height.  She wore the torn garments of a man and he had not noticed before but they held the blood of his men and hers.  The tunic had been ripped and a cut lay across her right shoulder and across her chest.  Though the cut was not life threatening it appeared to be painful for the woman.  How had he not noticed her state?  Because she had had a challenge in her light brown eyes and he was more intent in subduing her than looking at her.  Now she was conquered.

“Lady Keri, I have come to tell you we are ready to light the walls on fire.  I leave it to you to decide whether you will die here or leave this place with me.”

The wall supported her trembling body before her knees gave out and she fell in a heap in the dirt.  She sat there, her head down, her shoulders hunched forward, her hair shrouding her face.

~   ~   ~   ~

Keri waited for this nightmare to end.  How her life had changed in five days.  She had thought she had a hard life being married to Bryson.  The man outright repulsed her.  He was a man she had not chosen, or a man her father would have chosen but King Henry II owed Bryson a favor.  The favor had been her and her hefty dowry and as the only heir to her father’s wealth he would gain that one day as well.  The first time she had seen Bryson was on her wedding day.  In the beginning she had tried to make the best of the union, dressed as a wife should, behaved as a wife should, but she came up short being a wife to Bryson.  The man had a lascivious appetite.  After her daughter, Waverly, was born she crept into Bryson’s chamber and promised to kill him as she held a knife to his throat if he ever tried to come crawling back into her bed.  She had apparently scared him sufficiently enough for he never bothered her again.  He did seek his recreation in the beds of other women.  The only emotion she had with that knowledge was sympathy for the other women.  As long as she did not have to look at him she did not mind being married to him.  But it was all going to come back and punish her now.

The darkness that had been driving her mad had been cast away moments ago when The-man-on-the-gray-horse returned.  Her first urge was to fling herself at him to cling to him for dear life and beg him to take her with him to the ends of the earth if that was where he was going.  She stood to do that but that was all she could do.  Her body was riddled with fatigue, from the battle and the fight afterward here in the dark, chained to the wall.  Now as she stood in the light she was thankful no one had witnessed her defeat, for it was here it had come.  Not when the gate was breached, not when The-man-on-the-gray-horse carried her down here but when she fought the chains he had put on her.  They had remained strong, the manacles had not yielded to her fingers and the chains had not weakened against her strength.  She looked down at her hands that had turned into raw flesh from her wrists to her fingertips.  Nails were missing from her hands, the tips and knuckles were bloodied from digging at the hard steel.

He put the torch in a nearby sconce and moved back in front of her. Just out of her reach.  Didn’t she have to fight to the end of her breath?  She was the last, it all rested on her shoulders and she couldn’t bear it.  She sank back to the floor, her body too tired and dry to produce the tears she had been shedding for hours.

“I have your children,” she heard him say, his voice echoing in the heavy silence.  Fear seized her, he would kill them, desperation built in her knowing she had only the strength to lift her head and look at him.  “They will be going with me.  As subjects to the King they are his property.  As his vassal I can speak for the King and offer you your children if you prove yourself to be a willing subject of his authority.”

The-man-on-the-gray-horse stood proudly before her.  His broad shoulders were back, his spine straight as he looked down at her.  How frightening he was with his dark shoulder length hair shrouding the face dominated by a strong jaw line and chin, but mostly by those cold piercing eyes.  He did not gloat of his victory.  He was offering her quarter, a reason to live for a life outside the castle walls.

“What then?” she croaked out, for life was never as simple as the church vow to honor and obey a husband.  How could a vow to a king be any different?

“He might see fit to place you in a position much as it was before.”

“What until then?”

The quiet bore in on them as he studied her, his strong frame never wavering.  His head cocked to the side, “you are mine.”  His words hung heavy in the air as she looked at him. 

Quiet echoed in the chamber and defeated exhaustion weighed her down and Keri dropped her head.  After a moment she nodded.  It was a full minute longer before she heard the
key releasing the chain from the wall.  Still she sat there in the dirt wondering how she would ever find the strength to walk.  The-man-on-the-gray-horse stooped before her, brushing her hair from her face then raised her chin to look down in it. 

Without a word he balled the chain and laid it in her lap.  Not wasting a moment for her to retaliate he scooped her up in his arms, one strong arm under her legs, the other cradling her back.  He held her against his broad chest.  He walked from the torch he had brought with him, plunging them momentarily into darkness and she had a heady feeling wash over her at being in the darkness alone with this knight who was responsible for so much destruction.  Before she could contemplate if it was fear or something foreign creating the feeling they emerged into the light of a torch at the bottom of the steps. 

He sat her on her feet and with quick work released her wrists from the iron cuffs that had chafed them raw.  “Remove your clothes,” he demanded of her taking a step back.

She felt like a fool standing in the light of the torch, her mouth hanging open as she stared at him.  Her pulse immediately quickened then felt as if it would seize in her throat.  What awaited her outside this prison that she would have to be naked?  If he was going to take her he could do so without her complete nudity.

A scowl nit his dark brows together over his devilish eyes.  “Remove your clothes or I will remove them for you.”  His voice was deadly, she knew he would.  Her chin lifted a notch and she was ready to defy him on the matter until he took one angry step toward her.  She made quick work of the clothing and finally stood before him naked even down to the boots he made her abandon.  She watched his eyes travel over her slowly and she felt a chill race up her spine.  It was all she could do to keep her body from quaking when he stepped to her, towering over her.  She looked up into his dark countenance and wondered what was in his head because she could read nothing on his face.  He seized her hands, pulling them away from guarding her breasts against his view.   The back of his knuckle grazed her nipple and she felt she would shoot out of her skin.  He clamped the manacles back around her wrists and it was all she could do to keep from crying out, not at the pain but the finality of it.  Removing the cloak from his shoulders he draped it around hers.  She sucked in a breath that made him chuckle as he bent and scooped her quickly into his arms and began the ascent of the steps.

At the top The-man-on-the-gray-horse sat her on her feet and gave her just enough time to gather the cloak around her before he flung the doors to the dungeon open.  The site before her made her stagger and this time it wasn’t the gentle touch of the man’s hands but the manacles biting into her flesh as he yanked her upward that kept her from falling.  She followed docile for the moment, fighting to keep the cloak closed with her every step.  The struggle was forgotten when she saw Alec lying among his men.  She fell to her knees at his feet and the man that held the end of her chains let her.  Sorrow racked her body as she laid a hand on his bare feet, stripped of his boots, only coldness met her hand.  She moved up his body to the wound in his stomach, and then her eyes fell on his neck.