"Aye, my lord."
"See to it while I retrieve her."
He climbed the narrow stairs two at a time and reached the ramparts quickly. He spotted his wife firing another arrow into the skirmish. A bellow of pain from below confirmed her aim was true. He forced aside a brief moment of pride, for fear 'twould soften his anger. When she moved to load another arrow, he caught her arm. She turned, eyes wide.
"Unhand me! There's no time!"
She gave a mighty tug and almost broke free, but he tightened his grip. Around them, the other archers continued, but watched their new lord warily. From the corner of his eye, Royce sensed an incoming arrow and hauled her to the stone, covering her with his body.
"What are you doing?" he shouted.
"Defending my home! Let me go!"
He stood, still holding her arm, and hauled her up with him. He shoved her to the stairs. "Get yourself below at once."
She tried to dart around him but he caught her about the waist. She swung her free arm at him and he ducked to avoid the blow. He lifted her off her feet and carried her to the stair. She clung to her bow while trying to land blows with her free hand. He dodged each one.
"You fool! You need me up here!"
"I need you to obey me for once!"
He descended the stair, tightening his grip on her squirming body. Despite the critical situation, his body responded in a way that drew a curse before he could stop it. Damn her!
He reached her chamber and set her down and released her. She made a dash for the stairs again, but he stopped her. He grabbed her bow and she stilled.
"Release me!"
He shook his head, closing his hand about her wrist and dragging her from the room. Thomas stood at the end of the hall, outside their chamber. Gillian dug her heels into resist, but Royce refused to relent and she stumbled. He turned and caught her around the waist again, hurrying her along. He shoved her into the room.
"Stay here until I come for you." He turned to Thomas. "If the door is locked, she cannot get out?"
"Nay, my lord."
"Nay! You can't do this!" His wife ran toward him, but he quickly pulled the door shut, securing the lock into the latch. Thomas turned the key.
Gillian's pounding echoed in the corridor. Her furious screams might have roused humor in any other situation. He held his hand out.
"Give me the key."
The steward obeyed, pulling the key from the ring with shaking fingers. He placed it in Royce's palm.
"She is to remain here until I say otherwise."
"Yes, my lord."
Royce turned and strode to the stairs, anxious to return to the battle and put an end to it, now that his wife could no longer cause trouble. His anticipation to return to her and dole out the punishment she deserved hastened his step.
The chaos of the battle seemed to diminish. He hurried down the steps and resumed attacking the Welsh invaders. Which one was Godwin? He dispatched a rebel, then another, ears ringing from the echo of screeching steel. He searched the melee but couldn't find Burke. He needed his captain.
He made his way through the last of the skirmishes between his men and the rebels. Bodies littered the bailey, most those of the outlaws, though he noted a couple of Lyndon's men lying lifeless on the ground. Finally, the sounds of the battle faded and died, the last Welshman cut down. Blood and sweat tainted the air and the moans of the wounded mingled with shouts of celebration. Feeling a powerful gaze burning into his back, he turned.
Simon stood across the bailey, glowering as he stood over one of Lyndon's fallen. Gillian's guard's gaze held clear contempt. The man had to go, Royce decided. Thesooner, the better.
Mayhap he could convince the king to take him as one of his soldiers. 'Twould free Royce from two problems Simon presented.
He looked away, again seeking Burke. There, coming from the stables. He headed toward his captain as the doors to the keep opened.
"The baroness has escaped!"
