Her head snapped up to him, the pale green eyes blazing. “I amnotmy father,” she snarled, tears and mucus raining down her face. “Whatever my father did was well before my time, andyou and I have traversed this subject before. Whatever he did, it is in the past. I do not hold the same views as he once did. When I see things such as this, all I can think of is the pain and terror this woman must have suffered. And the child… Sweet Jesus, he was just a little boy. Why did you have to kill him?”
She was weeping loudly and Bretton knew everyone could hear her. Reaching out, he grabbed her so hard by the arm that he nearly snapped her neck. Pulling her up against him brutally, when he spoke, it was through clenched teeth.
“I told you to be careful how you spoke to me,” he growled. “This will be your final warning.”
Allaston wasn’t intimidated. She was too emotional to care. “Or what?” she countered as if daring him to make good on his threat. “What will you do? Will you put me on a post as you did this woman? Then I say do it, do it now. You want to hurt my father, don’t you? You want to draw him to Cloryn? Imagine how hurt and shattered he will be to see me on a pole by the gates. You will put me there, of course, won’t you? In a place of honor to be seen by all?”
She was out of control and he shook her again. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Keep your mouth shut and get on your horse.”
Allaston shook her head, struggling to pull away from him. “I willnot,” she said. “I am not going anywhere with you. Lock me in the vault or put me on a pole as you did the rest of these poor people. I am not afraid of you, de Llion. You are a weak, pathetic man to do this to people who were only defending what belonged to them. You are amonster!”
Bretton almost struck her in that instance but something prevented it. He wasn’t sure what because his emotions were running wild, but something stopped him from taking his hand to her. Somehow, he just couldn’t do it. Still, she had embarrassed him, humiliated him, and there was only one wayto deal with insubordination. If he didn’t, he would lose the respect of his men and he knew it.
Men were watching him, men who would see any sign of weakness from him and exploit it. He had no choice. Everything was building up inside him, thoughts and emotions that were threatening to explode in every direction.Damn her!Pushing Allaston to the ground so that she fell squarely on her bum, he turned and marched for Lady Miette.
Bretton was a man of incredible strength. It took him little time to push the pole down so that Miette was lying in the dirt. Frustrated, infuriated, Bretton put a foot on the woman and held her firm as he yanked the pole out of her body, which wasn’t a great feat considering she was mostly a dried cluster of skin and bones at this point. There was no blood, no innards. With the pole in his hands, he turned to Allaston, who was still sitting on the ground, watching him with a hysterical expression. His features darkened as he marched over to her.
“Get onto your hands and knees,” he rumbled.
She looked up at him as if she didn’t understand the question. “I…?”
“I said roll over onto your hands and knees!”
He shouted it so loudly that it reverberated off the walls. Startled, and realizing what he was about to do, Allaston showed surprising control. Hysterical one moment to calm the next, she gazed at him steadily.
God’s Beard, had her mouth finally gotten her into trouble? Had she finally signed her death warrant with her uncontrollable tongue? Allaston could hardly believe it, but the proof was in front of her. Bretton was poised and ready to move. He was ready to ram the pole into her body, in one end until it came out of the other. She knew it was going to hurt. She understood the concept. She just hoped she could bear the pain without pleading forgiveness from the man. She’d rather diethan ask for his forgiveness for what she said because she wasn’t sorry in the least. Hewasa monster. Perhaps all of those silly notions about him having kindness and understanding beneath all of that warfare were just foolish dreams. Perhaps all of those feelings she thought she might have for him were simply bouts of madness.
“So you are going to kill me,” she said. It was a statement, not a question. “I am not surprised. My death should not matter in the least to you considering how many people you have killed. When my father comes, you make sure to tell him that I met my death bravely. I am not afraid. At this moment, I have more courage than you do.”
Bretton was so angry that he was grinding his teeth. “We shall see,” he said. “Get on your hands and knees.”
She simply stared back at him, mulling over the command. After a moment, she shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “I will not make this easy for you.”
Her attitude was only serving to infuriate him more. “I will have my men hold you if that is your wish.”
She gaped at him, knowing he would probably do just that. Her fight was with him, not with the men who would try to hold her down. She didn’t want to lose control of the situation, not now. She was coming to think that perhaps he wouldn’t impale her after all. There was something in his eyes, some flicker deep in the brilliant blue depths that told her he had no intention of doing to her what he’d done to countless others. The man had confided in her, protected her, and laughed with her for these past few weeks. An odd relationship between a captor and captive. Something told her he wasn’t going to kill her. It was a hunch she had. She decided to play it.
Slowly, she rolled over onto her belly, propping herself up on her hands and knees with her buttocks facing him. If hewas truly going to impale her, that would be the point of entry. Presenting her arse to him, she lowered her head and waited.
His response wasn’t long in coming.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lioncross Abbey Castle
“Chris!” Edward deWolfe stuck his head into de Lohr’s solar where the man had been working over some documents. “Come quickly!”
Startled up from his desk, Christopher made haste from the solar, following Edward who was showing distinct signs of excitement, into the great hall of Lioncross. The big room was part of the keep and it was scented with fresh rushes that had been replaced that morning, giving off a strong greenery smell. There weren’t any dogs in the hall because Lady de Lohr didn’t like the smell of dogs, and Christopher entered the fragrant room on Edward’s heels only to find one of his soldiers standing near the hearth, slurping up a cup of wine that a servant had brought to him. When the man saw de Lohr, he quickly put aside the cup.
“My lord,” the soldier, bearing the blue and yellow de Lohr tunic, greeted his liege. “I have just come from the northern borders of your lands. I was on patrol with four other men and we saw it on the horizon, north of Pearl Lake.”
Christopher was listening intently. Edward leaned over into his ear. “North of the River Arrow,” he told the man helpfully. Christopher waved him off.
“I have no idea what the man is talking about yet,” he said, focusing on the soldier. “What did you see?”
The soldier took a deep breath, his gaze moving between his liege and Edward. He was an older man who had been at Lioncross for many years. In fact, he had grown up on the Marches. He didn’t like what he was about to say, as it dredged up old fears from days long past, days he hoped were gone forever.
“At least one thousand men,” he said. “A very big army is heading in our direction.”
