His voice was as cold as his mouth was cruel. Rowena did not know what to make of him. He must know she was lady here by her very dress, yet he was treating her like a field serf, and that terrified her.
“La-lady Rowena Bel—Lyons,” she got out in a mere squeak.
“No longer lady. Henceforth you are my prisoner.”
Rowena nearly sagged in relief. At least he did not mean to cut her down right there on the steps. And a prisoner was not so bad and was only temporary. Most of noble birth were given fine quarters for their confinement, and allowed all courtesies due their status. But what did he mean, no longer lady? He still held her in that painful grip, waiting.
For what? For her to argue against his making her a prisoner? Not with him, she would not. From what she had seen and heard thus far, he was worse than Gilbert. But what should she have expected of a man who reached for a league if you took a scant inch from him?
She was becoming unnerved, knowing that he stared at her, but she was too afraid to look up to confirm it. Finally he turned with her still in his grip, only it was to literally throw her into the mailed chest of one of the men who had come up behind him.
“Take the prisoner to Fulkhurst and install her in my dungeon. If she is not there when I arrive, there will be more than hell to pay.”
The man behind her paled. Rowena did not see it. She was ashen herself, verily, near to fainting from those ominous words.
“Why?!” she cried, but Fulkhurst had already turned away to enter the keep.
Chapter 12
Mildred found him in the chamber she had come to dread entering these past few days. The tall candles had burned out from Rowena’s last visit to this room just before dawn, but he had found a new one and stuck it on the metal spike of the candlestand. His men were plundering the keep, taking all of value that they wanted. She could not imagine what he was doing here when a glance should have told him there was naught in this room save that bed.
She hesitated to speak. He merely stood there, staring down at the bed. He had removed his helmet, but his coif still covered his head. He was a very tall man. And those wide shoulders reminded her of…
“What do you want?”
She started, for he had not turned to notice her there at the door, nor had she made a single sound. And he still did not turn. Instead he bent down and dragged the long chains out from under the bed, and she watched, fascinated, as he slowly draped the two lengths around his neck like a layered necklace, the ends left hanging from his shoulders to his waist. She shivered, wondering why he would take the chains unless he meant to use them on someone.
“Answer!”
She jumped that time, and stammered, “They—they said you are the Lord of Fulkhurst.”
“Aye.”
“Please, what have you done with my lady? She has not returned—”
“Nor will she—ever.”
He turned as he added that last word, and Mildred staggered back. “In God’s mercy, not you!”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a menacing curve. “Why not me?”
Mildred thought about running. She thought about begging. She thought about her sweet Rowena in this man’s hands, and she wanted to cry.
“Ah, God, do not hurt her!” she cried her horror aloud. “She had no choice—”
“Be quiet!” he roared. “Think you aught could excuse what she did to me? Her reasons matter not. By my sworn word, no one does me an ill without paying for it tenfold.”
“But she is a lady—!”
“That she is awomanonly saves her life! It does not change her fate. Nor will you. So beseech me not on her behalf, or you may find the same fate for yourself.”
Mildred held her tongue as Warrick passed her to enter the chamber across the way. But he knew she still hovered about the new doorway, wringing her hands, tears gathering and spilling from her soft brown eyes. He might be indebted to her, but if she made another entreaty for that flaxen-haired bitch, he would indeed send her to his dungeons as well. He did not give warnings twice.
The much larger chamber was fit for a lord with its costly, though meager, comforts, yet it held little of a personal nature to denote whose chamber it was. But Warrick knew. He flipped open the only chest there and the abundance of rich apparel within confirmed his thinking.
Still he asked, “Hers?”
Mildred found the voice lodged in her throat. “Aye.”
