“I’ll stay.” She drew in the edges of her cloak and regarded her father. “I suppose I deserve to know the plans for my future.”
“The plans have not changed. You already know that the High King’s men came to escort you to your wedding. And this man slaughtered half of them.” Brodie’s face turned thunderous when he turned to Raine, speaking in the Norman tongue. “What right have you to interfere? I should have you slain, here and now.”
Raine stood his ground, taking Carice’s hand. “I would not try it, were I you.” He rested his hand upon his own sword in a silent warning.
The Normans closed in around them, and his commander signaled for him to come forward. Raine didn’t want to leave Carice, but he saw no alternative. He squeezed her palm again and in a low voice asked, “Will you be all right?”
Her expression held sadness. “I would have been all right if you’d kept your promise. What does it matter now?”
He deserved that, he knew. But after he left her side, he glanced back to ensure that she was protected by her father. When he reached Sir Darren’s side, the knight ordered, “Walk with me.”
The man’s expression was unreadable, and Raine couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Darren led him to the outskirts of the camp, and then dismissed the sentries at the boundaries. “I am glad you kept your word.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
His commander stared out into the darkness. “You have been too eager to give your own orders instead of following mine.”
“I brought her here, as you commanded. And now, we must bring her to Tara.”
“You could have brought her to us sooner, had you taken her as a prisoner.”
Raine shook his head. “She was far weaker than I thought. I managed to help her rebuild her strength enough to make it this far. But she is still unwell.”
His commander didn’t disagree. “Nonetheless, the High King wants his bride. And you will accompany her father to Tara, to ensure that she arrives there.”
Raine made no argument, for he fully intended to accompany Carice. Although she was upset and angry with him, he intended to make matters right between them.
Yet, now that their arrival was imminent, he couldn’t stop thinking of Carice’s prediction, that King Henry would never let his sisters go. The man had a violent temper, and anything might set him off.
What if Elise and Nicole were already dead? His mood darkened at the thought. Was it right to murder the High King for a sovereign he no longer respected?
Sir Darren paused a moment and said, “Do not forget your task, Raine. You seem to be wavering in your orders.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” But he was trying to decide whether or not to go through with it. Carice had made him realize that the Normans were indeed expecting blind obedience. And the truth was, he wasn’t like the other soldiers. He held no true loyalty to King Henry—not anymore.
“I saw the way you were looking at Lady Carice. I warned you not to get too close to her.” Darren turned to face him. He studied Raine a moment, his eyes narrowed. “You swived her, didn’t you?”
The crude words ignited a rage within him. His hands clenched and he turned on the man. “Don’t speak about her in that way.”
“You did.” A smile curled across the Norman’s mouth. “What do you suppose her father will say when he learns what you’ve done?”
Raine seized Darren’s tunic and twisted the fabric. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell the High King that you’ve defiled his bride? Tell her father that his daughter is no longer a virgin?”
Raine swung his fist at the man’s jaw and sent Darren staggering. Blood trickled from his commander’s lip, and his thin smile stretched. “Perhaps I’ll sample her for myself. Or I’ll let our men have her...unless you do as you’re told.”
“I will slit your throat if you touch her.”
Darren unsheathed his own blade. “I could have you killed right now for such a threat.” In the firelight, the iron gleamed. “Your life belongs to me, de Garenne. You have no freedom, no will of your own. I own you.”
Raine gritted his teeth, knowing that the knight was trying to provoke him. And he’d already fallen into the trap, admitting how much Carice meant to him. They would use that against him now.
From behind him, two soldiers seized him. He could have fought them off, but when he saw the look in his commander’s eyes, he knew that Carice would suffer if he dared to disobey. It didn’t matter that her father was here with his men. Brodie Faoilin could not protect her from the Norman soldiers.
“Take him to the center of the camp,” Sir Darren commanded. “He will receive fifteen lashes for defiance.” He moved in closer, crossing his arms over his chest. “I would have thought you’d learned to hold your temper, Raine.”
He said nothing but let the men lead him away. He knew the whipping was meant to punish him for striking his commander, to remind him of his place. To break him.
