Donnell’s gaze was steady on the old man. “Alas, my lord, I cannot,” he said. “I have come on behalf of the lady’s husband. I am ordered to bring her to London.”
In his grasp, Emberley flinched. “Never!” she screamed. “I am not going to London.”
Donnell pressed the dirk against her neck and she gasped as it drew blood. “You do not have a choice, Lady de Moyon,” he told her. “Your husband has ordered me to return you to London and I shall.”
Emberley struggled not to panic for she knew if she did, all would be lost. “Please,” she sounded calmer. “Please do not dothis. I do not want to return to Julian. I cannot. Please do not force me.”
Donnell’s harsh stance wavered. In fact, he was still reeling from having found Lady de Moyon at Trelystan in the first place. It had been a wild stroke of luck. When he had first seen her crossing the bailey with the children, he thought he had been imagining it.
When he had set out to the Marches a week prior, his heart still wasn’t in the search. He hadn’t truly expected to find anything, perhaps hoping he wouldn’t, and was vastly shocked to see that Lady de Moyon was, in fact, at de Lara’s holding. Everything Buckland had suspected had been correct, and Kevin de Lara had indeed smuggled Lady de Moyon out of Dunster those weeks ago.
But the fact remained that she was here and Donnell had captured her. It was his duty to return her to her husband no matter how he felt about it. He was a soldier and did as he was told.
“I must do my duty, Lady de Moyon,” he told her. “Your husband is expecting you.”
Emberley closed her eyes and the tears streamed down her face. Lord de Lara stepped forward, a hand outstretched pleadingly.
“Please,” he begged softly. “Do not take her. I will pay you handsomely to forget you ever saw her here.”
Donnell looked at the old man. “I will tell Baron Buckland that your son absconded with his wife and that you have been hiding her from her husband,” he said. “I am sure he will be extremely displeased. You will forgive me for not accepting your offer.”’
He moved towards the keep entry, knife still to Emberley’s throat as the men from his escort began backing away from de Lara’s soldiers. It was clear they had the advantage so no onemade a move to stop them, but the tension was thick and brittle. Eyes were riveted to Emberley and Donnell, her miserable face and his serious one. As they reached the doorway, Romney suddenly came around and groaned, pushing himself to his knees. Donnell caught sight of the young boy and nodded to one of his men.
“Bring him,” he told him.
The soldier moved to Romney, who hollered and kicked as the man captured him. Lord de Lara followed the escort party as they backed out of his keep.
“Please,” he continued to beg. “There must be some manner of agreement we can come to. I will offer you a great deal to leave them here and not tell de Moyon of their location.”
Donnell was already on the top step leading down into the bailey, the dirk pressed up against Emberley’s neck bringing a small trickle of blood. “Be fortunate that I am not demanding the rest of the children,” he told him,” but I suspect they are well protected now and I do not have enough men to fight for them. But I have the lady and the heir, and that will have to suffice at the moment.”
“I do not want to leave my babies,” Emberley wept. She had lost the fight against fear and despair. “Please do not do this.Please.”
“Perhaps you should have thought of the consequences when you fled Dunster,” Donnell said quietly.
“I fled Dunster to save my life,” she spat even as he pulled her down the stairs. “If you take me to Julian, I will never see my children again. He will kill me!”
“I have my orders, Lady de Moyon.”
She suddenly came to life, kicking and swinging at him. Donnell wasn’t able to pull the dirk away from her before she drove the sharp knife into the side of her neck and blood began to gush. She gasped and stopped fighting, her hands flying to herneck as blood poured down her slender white flesh and onto the top of her shift. Lord de Lara gestured to his men.
“Bandages,” he hissed. “Hurry. Before she bleeds to death.”
Two of his men disappeared but the rest remained, following Donnell and his escort party as they hauled Emberley and Romney down the stairs. Lord de Lara’s men returned with wads of linen bandages and Lord de Lara extended them to Donnell about the time he reached the bottom of the slippery, stone steps.
“Please,” he said. “Let me give these to her. She is bleeding all over.”
Donnell could see that– her hands and the top of her surcoat were a bloody mess. He nodded shortly and Lord de Lara rushed to Emberley’s side, pressing the linen on the wound. She was pale, grasping the wad and holding it fast.
“Thank you,” she looked at him, her big, blue eyes glimmering with tears. “Please… tell him….”
Lord de Lara shushed her softly. He didn’t want her saying too much because it was apparent that de Moyon’s men didn’t know Gart was involved in the lady’s disappearance. Lord de Lara was happy to be the decoy and allow them to think it was his own son who had abducted Emberley. That way, Gart could have the element of surprise on his side.
“Have no fear, sweetheart,” he shushed her again. “He will know everything. Be strong and cooperate. All will be well.”
She was beginning to cry. “My babies….”
Lord de Lara had her bloodied hand and he kissed it. “They will be well cared for, spoiled as they have never been spoiled. We will take excellent care of them.”
