Outlaw (Medieval Trilogy 3)

“Later,” Cayley said, her voice a raspy whisper, and she patted her chest with the flat of her hand.

“Good.” Bjorn couldn’t hide the amusement he felt as she tried to regain her composure and hide the fact that her face had turned crimson. “Now, we must find Wolf. Since he’s not returned, he’s at the chapel waiting for our return, or on the road, or at Dwyrain.”

He’s in the prison, Bjorn, where you were once chained. Bjorn turned swiftly, reaching for his sword as he saw the crippled sorcere

r step into the golden shadows of the campfire. A speckled owl sat on his shoulder and he held the reins of two fine horses in his hands. “Hagan of Erbyn has a small army of men that we can join,” he said, the men staring at him as if he were the ghost of some great Welsh warrior. “The lady left him and rode day and night to Dwyrain. His soldiers moved more slowly but they will reach the gates of the castle soon.” No one had heard him approach, nor had they heard the sound of his horses’ hooves.

“God be with us, ye’ve got that flappin’ beast with ye!” Odell exclaimed, leaping backward at the sight of the sorcerer and his winged friend. The bird’s head swiveled to pin the wiry man in his wide-eyed stare. “Owl stew is what ye’re good for, and nothin’ more! Git!” Odell waved his arms at the bird, but the owl only settled in and gave a soft hoot. “Bloody Christ, just what we need!”

The magician heeded him not. ’Twas as if he hadn’t heard a word of Odell’s chatter. “Wolf needs our help. If we hurry, we can join Hagan of Erbyn’s army and try to save him.” The sorcerer somehow locked his gaze to that of each and every person gathered around the fire. “If we do not come to his aid—and soon—I fear that he, Robin, Jagger, and those in the castle who have been his spies will surely die.”

“Jack?” one man asked.

“Aye.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yea,” the sorcerer said sadly. “The Lady Megan as well.”

“ ’Tis time to collect my part of the bargain.” Holt swayed slightly as he glanced over his shoulder to the hallway. Leaning against the doorway, he said, “Leave us be, guards—I want no one to disturb us.” Then, weaving, he entered her chamber and closed the door behind him.

Dread clamped around Megan’s lungs. Throughout the gloomy day she’d watched from her window as the gallows was finished, nails pounded into place, a thick noose swinging ready from a crossbeam. The thought that Wolf would lose his life on that monstrous scaffold turned her stomach, and now, facing the man who was her husband, the self-proclaimed baron who had ordered Wolf’s death, she recoiled. “All of the prisoners have not been released.”

“ ’Tis only a matter of time.” He fumbled with his belt and she smelled wine souring on his breath. “You and I, wife,” he said, his eyes finding hers, “have wasted too much time already.”

“Nay, I—”

His head snapped up and his lips turned bloodless with rage. “Do not dare defy me, wench, for we struck a deal and you, if you want to see any more of that sorry lot of prisoners released, will do as I say.”

She bit down hard on her tongue rather than telling him to fly straight to the portals of hell. A breeze swept through the half-open window, rattling the shutters and causing a stir in the fire. Amber coals glowed brighter and flames crackled.

“Or would ye rather see the young one—Robin, I think he’s called—hanging from the end of a rope? Is that what ye want, his death on your head?”

“He’s but a boy,” she protested, knowing that Holt had her cornered.

“And a traitor to Dwyrain.” His jaw grew tight, his countenance unforgiving. Fury flared his nostrils. “Now, Megan, test me no more.” His belt dropped to the floor, the buckle smacking the stones with a heavy chink. She jumped. Oh, God, this was really going to happen. She would have to lift her skirts to this … this monster she detested. Frozen for a second, she watched as he tossed his surcoat onto the foot of the bed and began working the laces of his mantle. “Did you hear me, woman? If ye do not strip yourself of your clothes, I’ll do it for you and I’ll make you watch while not only Wolf but his band of thieves and Judases are killed one by one!” With a final tug, the mantle fell free and dropped to the floor.

Megan’s heart beat in fear.

Advancing upon her, his eyes gleaming bright with the reflection of the fire, Holt stretched out a hand and ran one long finger over the slope of her jaw. Her skin crawled and she fought the urge to slap the damning hand away. What did it matter if he touched her tonight or later in the week? She was doomed to lie with him, to pretend that the child within her was his progeny. She had no choice if she was to protect Wolf’s babe, but she’d never been the kind of woman who let her fate be decided for her. For as long as she could remember, she’d been vocal and demanding about what her life should be. Her independence had been her undoing in the end, and her father, deciding she could not make the right choice, had betrothed her to Holt.

Now her enemy of a husband bent closer, the stench of consumed wine with him as he pressed his lips to her cheek and neck. Her skin prickled in revulsion and she couldn’t imagine the torture of letting him bed her.

Could she lie with him night after night? Nay! ’Twas unthinkable, but she had only a few days and then each of the prisoners would be released. If she allowed Holt to think that she enjoyed him, that she couldn’t wait to be with him, there was a chance he would no longer lock her in her chamber. He might even remove the guard from her door. If he were duped into believing that she’d accepted her lot as his wife, he might not have her watched so closely and she would be allowed to roam the castle freely. She knew more about Dwyrain than anyone within the castle walls, for she and Bevan had, while growing up, explored every staircase, attic, loft, and cellar. If given a tiny bit of freedom, she could find a way to release Wolf.

She had allies, she thought, as Holt’s hand reached for the tie holding her tunic over her breasts and his hot breath feathered across her collarbones.

Father Timothy, and surely the carpenter, the nursemaid Rue, and others loyal to Ewan. Surely the outlaws would come for their leader, and Hagan of Erbyn was due to arrive on the morrow unless he, infuriated with her for deceiving him and stealing away into the night, had returned to his family.

The tunic opened and she shivered with loathing. “That’s better,” he breathed against her skin before looking up and pressing hot, insistent lips to hers. She couldn’t kiss him back, but neither did she push him away. His tongue slid into her mouth and she nearly gagged. Please God, no! she silently screamed as his weight pressed her down to the bed. Tears burned behind her eyes as he stripped off her clothes, ripping them in his hurry, dropping them onto the floor by the bed along with his own tunic, breeches, and purse.

With great effort, she closed her eyes and pretended that she wasn’t in the room, that what was happening to her body had naught to do with her. His hands were rough against her breasts, tweaking and pushing them, giving her no pleasure, and when he slid his knees between her own bare legs she scooted upward on the bed, as far from him as she could get.

“Do not try to escape from me, wife,” he ordered. “ ’Tis time to give up your virginity.”

Oh, God, soon he’d know! There would be no blood, no ripping of her maidenhead. Then he’d realize that she’d been with another man. Surely he was not so stupid that he would not discern who that man—the father of her child—was. Eventually, he would know the babe wasn’t his.

Holt growled into her ear, “I have waited long for this, planned for it, dreamed of it, been more than patient since you arrived at the castle. Taking your virtue will be more satisfying than killing your brother—”