The poor baby, surely feeling the wildly erratic beat of my heart, began to wail, but Wallace ignored him as he grabbed me, one hand on each of my arms griping so tightly that I winced. “I’m ashamed of you,” he spat. “A royal duchess and this is the way you behave? You haven’t just been living with them, out here in this muck! You’ve become one of them, haven’t you?”
I glared at him, his mockery causing me to despise him more than I’d ever done before. “You should be ashamed of yourself! You ran like a coward when Hohenzollern needed you and now, you grasp at something that doesn’t exist!”
Despite the fury that contorted his features, I still didn’t see it coming. When Wallace raised his heavy palm and slapped me across the face, I stumbled. I didn’t even have time enough to scream before his hand cracked down again, this time knocking me to the ground. George was wailing so piteously that it tore at my heart, but I’d been blinded by the explosive pain in my face and all I could do was cling to him.
“St-step away from her.”
My head swiveled around to see John standing behind us, his face pale and frightened and Antony’s dagger held so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white.
“Ah, who’s this?” Wallace’s voice and smile were light and derisive.
“Don’t… don’t touch her,” he insisted in the terrified voice of a child trying to defend his mother. “Go now. Get out of here.”
“Oh, I intend to. And I’ll be taking my wife and son with me,” Wallace replied in the easy, unconcerned manner of a lion being threatened by a cub. “You look to be a good, strapping lad, but you still have some growing to do. Why don’t you put that knife down before someone gets hurt? There’s a good lad.”
My vision was still blurred and my cheek was numb. My heart was beating so quickly that I feared I might faint, but I knew that was not an option. Now I had both of my sons to protect and the only way I could see to do that was to give Wallace what he wanted. “John, please go to the house.”
“But, lady mother, I—”
“Listen to your mother, boy.” Wallace’s voice held too much contempt for my liking, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it.
“Please, John. I need you to obey me.”
John looked at me, his eyes so full of hurt and betrayal that it nearly broke my heart in two. Yet, he did not move, his eyes going to something beyond me.
“She’s right, son—you should listen to your mother. And put that knife back where you got it. You won’t be needing it.”
I spun around so quickly that I nearly toppled over. Yet, the sight of Antony coming to our rescue was enough to quiet me. “You too, Cecily,” he issued, his voice firm and controlled. “I believe it’s time for George’s nap.”
My eyes went between the two men. Antony seemed as calm as I’d ever seen him, yet I knew the signs: his tense shoulders and clenched jaw told me he was ready to do battle, if need be. Wallace was surveying him with narrowed eyes and a sneer on his lips, assured as ever that there was no battle he couldn’t win. Fear rose in my throat and made me indecisive.
“Cecily,” he prompted, his voice growing in authority.
“I’ll… I’ll be waiting for you,” I said, turning away from the two of them and walking to my son. When I reached John, he offered me his hand and I took it, walking with him to the house and resisting the strong urge to look back over my shoulder.
“Do you think father will be alright?” John asked as soon as we’d entered the house.
I closed the door behind us before turning to him. I saw that he was trying to be strong, to be a little man, but there was no mistaking the way his lip trembled. I knelt on the floor and opened my arms to him. “Of course, sweeting,” I murmured when he ran to me. “Of course. Your father will return to us, don’t doubt that.”
John began to quiver in my arms and George still wailed. I very much felt like doing the same myself, but I knew that I had to remain strong for the boys’ sake. I held them close to me and patted John’s back, unable to take my eyes off the closed door.
* * *
As soon as George’s cries had abated, I’d put both him and John to bed early. I doubted very much that John would be able to sleep, but if I had to keep pretending to be strong, I would surely falter. Although I believed in Antony with all my heart, I needed to come up with a plan in case Wallace should somehow best him. I knew nothing but trickery would allow him to do it, just as I knew that Wallace was not above using any ploy to get anything he wished.
If only we could get to the Geralds’ without attracting any attention. Perhaps we could slip out the backside of the house and go quietly down the road. But what if George cried and drew attention to us? What if we heard the sound of swords clashing? I couldn’t risk subjecting John to such a thing.I didn’t know how I myself could bear it.
I paced the house helplessly, agonizing at the decision to be made when it felt that there wasn’t much of a choice at all. When I heard the first sound of steel against steel, I couldn’t help it: I was at the door as quickly as my feet would carry me. Opening it a crack, I peered out just in time to see Wallace slash toward my husband. Antony side-stepped it quickly, bringing his sword up to meet the attack. My heart jumped to my throat and lodged itself there. Truly, I could feel it pulsing there and making it hard for me to breathe. I knew that I should go back inside, that I should be trying to form some sort of escape route, but now that I knew they were fighting, I couldn’t look away.
Antony did not try to harm Wallace. I could see his lips moving and knew that even now he was probably trying to reason with him. What Antony did not know was that when he wanted something, when he was in a rage as he seemed to be now, the duke could not be reasoned with.
Wallace moved with the agility of a wild cat, jumping and thrusting his weapon with the expertise of years of training. I had never asked after Antony’s own swordsmanship, but he parried and met every one of Wallace’s attempts to injure him. I could see that the duke was not taking it well. Every time Antony blocked his sword, his face reddened until he looked like a ripened tomato. Wallace was dangerous at the best of times; when he was angry, he was a man to be avoided at all costs.
Almost unaware of what I was doing, I slipped outside the door, closing it softly behind me. I moved forward a few feet before I crouched down low in the grass, trying to obtain a better view while still remaining hidden. With every clash of swords, my pulse quickened until I felt certain that I’d faint and be helpless to my children regardless of the outcome.
Wallace charged forward, swiping at Antony’s middle, an attack which my husband staved off. When Wallace immediately pulled back and aimed his sword at Antony’s shoulder, he was not quick enough and I heard the sickening sound of flesh being hit.
I would never know if Antony had grunted in pain, for I was on my feet in an instant, a horrified scream tearing past my lips. Antony never turned his head toward me, but Wallace made the mistake of looking my way. I could see the surprise and confusion warring on his face, only for a second, but it was long enough for Antony to step in and disarm him. When I saw his sword fall to the ground, quickly pinned with the tip of Antony’s boot, my breath began to come out in jagged gasps.
