“I see,” he said after a moment. “My son is dead and all you can speak of is behaving civilly. Where is the outrage that my son wasuncivilly killed in your castle?”
Isabel could see a grieving father before her, but it seemed to her that there was more to it. Jerome seemed slightly off beyond the normal burden of grief. It was in his eyes, in his movements. There was no reason here, no balance.
Something told her to be on her guard.
“I have repeatedly conveyed my condolences for this unhappy situation,” she said. “But I have also explained to you that your son was attacking a young woman—most brutally, I might add. What did you expect? That he would simply be allowed to do as he pleased and harm a young woman who was resisting his advances?”
Jerome’s eyes widened. “A whore who teased him!”
“An innocent young woman who was wrongfully accused of such a thing,” Isabel replied firmly. “I have told you that this situation was manipulated by another girl out of jealousy. Your son happened to be a tool she used and nothing more, but what she did not force him to do—what no one forced him to do—was brutally attack a young woman who had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.”
Jerome began to look at all three of them again, his eyes darting from one to the next. He stood up from his position against the chair, backing away as he pointed to the occupants of the chamber.
“I may not be as powerful as de Lohr, but I have friends and allies, too,” he said. “Mayhap I cannot raze Lioncross, butI can create such havoc as you cannot possibly imagine. I can have archers anywhere, striking at your fathers and brothers and children. I can send men to ravage your women and burn your villages. I can make it so that you are looking over your shoulder every day for the rest of your life, wondering when I am going to strike next and who shall be my next victim.Youare responsible for this, Lady Isabel, and I swear upon my son’s dead body that Axminster shall never be safe again. I will do these things unless I have satisfaction!”
He was shouting by the time he finished, shaking his finger at Douglas, at Eric, and even at Isabel. Douglas was preparing to launch a verbal assault against the man, but Isabel lifted her hand to him, indicating he keep still. She had been the mistress of Axminster for many years.
She was going to handle this.
“May I ask what satisfaction you require?” she asked.
Jerome’s eyes fixed on her. “I am not a fool,” he said. “I can demand you turn de Lohr over to me, but I know you will not. Even if you did, his father would get involved and my entire family line would be destroyed. But the truth is that my family line isalreadydestroyed. Stolen away from me when de Lohr killed my son. He took away my lineage. I have no more. But I want more. That which I have lost must be replaced.”
Isabel wasn’t following his train of thought. “How can it be replaced?”
Jerome seemed to cool again. His face relaxed, or perhaps it simply morphed into an expression that was a harbinger of things to come. There was something flickering in his gaze.
Something unsavory.
Now, the lack of reason and balance would be revealed.
“The girl my son has allegedly attacked,” he said. “Who is she?”
Isabel frowned. “Allegedly?” she repeated. “I will let you see her. You will see the bruises and cuts upon her person and the lump on her head the size of hen’s egg. There was noallegedattack, my lord. Your son most definitely attacked her and there is proof.”
“Who is the girl?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Tell me and I will answer you.”
“Answer me now and I will tell you.”
Jerome stamped his foot violently. “You will tell me what I wish to know!”
Suddenly, Douglas was between Isabel and Jerome, his hulking presence filling up the air. “If you do not speak politely to the lady of the keep, I will throw you from the window,” he growled. “Grief does not give you the right to command Lady Isabel.”
Jerome was both frightened and enraged. “You will not make demands of me, de Lohr!” he shouted. “You are a murderer!”
“And your son was a motherless deformity with the moral values of a goat.”
Jerome picked up the chair with the intention of throwing at Douglas, but Douglas yanked it out of the man’s hands and tossed it aside, leaving no barrier between him and Jerome. If Douglas charged, there was nothing to stop him. As Isabel swiftly grabbed Douglas’ arm and tried to pull him back, Douglas jabbed a finger at Jerome.
“Do that again and you can join your son in hell,” he snarled. “I will not warn you again.”
Eric had to help Isabel pull Douglas away from the confrontation. He had both hands on Douglas, dragging him away, as Isabel faced Jerome.
“You are fortunate that I do not let Douglas loose on you,” she said, her patience in the situation waning. “Tell me what you want and be done with it.”
