“Alyx,” Raine murmured. “Now can you see why I cannot go to the King? Chatworth is mine. I will have his head before we are finished.”
“What!” she gasped, pulling away from him. “You’re talking of revenge.”
“He has killed Mary.”
“No! He did not!” She looked away, damning herself for saying that.
Forcibly, he turned her face back. “You have not told me everything in Gavin’s message. How did Mary die?”
“She . . .”
His fingers tightened on her jaw, the pain causing her tears. “Tell me!” he commanded.
“She took her own life,” Alyx whispered.
Raine’s eyes bored into hers. “She was of the Church, and she would not have done that if she had no reason. What was done to her?”
She could see that he had guessed, but he was pleading to be told he was wrong. She could not lie to him. “Roger Chatworth . . . took her to his bed.”
Violently, Raine shoved Alyx across the room. As he stood, he threw back his head and let out a cry of such despair, such rage, such hate, that Alyx cringed at the foot of the cot.
Outside, everything was unnaturally quiet, even the wind having stopped.
Glancing up at him, Alyx saw that he was beginning to tremble, then shake, and as he lowered his head, she saw that pure hate was causing the convulsions. Instantly, she left the floor to throw her arms around him.
“No, Raine, no!” she pleaded. “You cannot go after Chatworth. The King—”
He pushed her off him. “The man would be glad to have fewer nobles. He will take Chatworth’s land as well as mine.”
“Raine, please.” She pressed herself against him again. “You cannot go alone, and your brothers are searching for Bronwyn. And what of the people out there? You cannot leave them to murder each other.”
“Since when has your concern been for them?”
“Since I am in a terror of your being killed,” she answered honestly. “How can you fight Chatworth? Your men are not here. You do have soldiers, don’t you? Does Chatworth have knights?”
“Hundreds,” Raine said through clenched teeth. “He is always surrounded by men, always protected.”
“And if you went to him would he meet you fairly, one to one, or would you have to plow through his men first?”
Raine looked away from her, but she could see her words were making sense. How she wished she knew more about the nobility! Honor, think of honor and whatever you do, don’t mention money, she warned herself.
“Chatworth is not honorable,” she continued. “You cannot deal with him in the way of a knight. You must work together with your brothers.” Silently she prayed they were not so hotheaded as Raine. “Please, wait until you are calmer. We’ll write to your brothers and work out a plan together.”
“I am not sure—”
“Raine,” she said quietly, “Mary has been dead for days. Perhaps Chatworth has already been brought to justice. Perhaps he has escaped to France. Perhaps—”
“You try to coax me. Why?”
She took a deep breath. “I have grown to love you,” she whispered. “I would die before I stood by and watched you be killed, and that is what would happen if you attacked Chatworth alone.”
“I do not fear death.”
She looked up at him in disgust. “Go, then!” she yelled. “Go and give your life to Chatworth. No doubt he’d like that. One by one he can destroy your family. And you will make it easy for him. Come, I will help arm you. You will wear your finest armor. We’ll strap on every weapon you own, and when you are invincible, you can ride out to face this Chatworth’s army of men. Yes, come on,” she said, grabbing his armor’s breastplate. “Mary will be pleased to look down from heaven and see her brother hacked to bits. It will give her soul great peace.”
Raine’s look was so cold she felt it piercing her skin.
“Leave me,” he said at last, and she did.