Page 39 of Come the Morning

“Aye.”

“You’ll be there?”

“I swear it.”

“Take care, m’lady. If you swear to me, make a vow, I’ll not let you break it. You would imperil your immortal soul, and your life, and we wouldn’t want that to happen. Not when you court death so frequently with such determination.”

“I said I’ll be there,” she told him.

He watched her, nodding. “You will be,” he said softly. “And still, I give you one last chance to think this through. Is this a bargain you really wish to make?”

She inhaled and exhaled nervously. “Aye!”

He suddenly turned away from her. He strode across the room and stared into the flames that burned in the fireplace. “I’m not going to help you escape, you know,” he told her harshly. The anger that deepened his voice was all the more unnerving. “I’ll allow you to leave the room. You’ll have to escape the fortress again.”

“I didn’t expect your help,” she said anxiously, moistening her lips. She looked longingly to the door.

“You could be brought back to the fortress within minutes,” he warned her.

“I know! Leave that to me, I know how to escape the fortress,” she told him.

“So it seems,” he said dryly. He spun around, staring at her again. “But if you’re caught, and you’re wed to this Norman lout, how will you carry out your vow to me?”

“If I’m caught again, I’ll agree to whatever the king demands. And I’ll no longer be a prisoner.”

“But what about your intended husband?”

“There are always ways to …”

“Deceive an old man?” he suggested. “Especially a wretched, decrepit, Norman lackey.”

“You’re being horrible, despicable,” she told him.

“No,” he said seriously, “I’m in the process of making a bargain. I want to be sure you’ll keep your part of it. I’m not being wretched, just thorough.”

“I don’t owe anyone anything. I’m being manipulated against my will, so what I do to or against a Norman who remains little more than an invader can be of little consequence to me. I’ve made no vows to anyone, no promises. The king makes promises for me. I will keep my part of the bargain I have made with you!”

She felt as if she were being wound more tightly with each passing second. She kept seeing the door. A thick door, yet once opened, it was a gateway to freedom. Freedom. Anything that she could say or do to escape seemed right at the moment.

“So that is it?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Your final word?”

“Aye, that’s it!” she snapped.

He lifted a hand, indicating the door. “Go.”

She kept her eyes on him all the while that she slipped past him, anxious to reach the door. She was certain that he planned some trick, that he would stride forward and accost her as she reached the exit. But he didn’t make a move. He watched her impassively, yet she noted the pulse beating furiously against his throat. He stood so very still, allowing her to leave. She was almost quit of him. What did it matter?

What matters, she thought,is the way that he stares at me. As if I were a witch or a demon, some godforsaken creature, horrible in the extreme.

She opened the door, and still he watched her. He was going to pounce upon her, like a tiger, a prowling wolf, and when he did, he would rip her to shreds. He would wait, and watch—he had watched her before, letting her suffer through the night!—like a cunning predator, and at the last possible moment, he would make his move.

But he didn’t. She opened the door, and exited the room. She leaned against the door for a split second, expecting it to explode open behind her. But it didn’t. She took a deep breath and tore down the hallway.

Her footsteps were almost silent as she sped for the doorway. She had no idea of the hour, but it was fully night, and the darkness and shadows would hide her once she reached the courtyard. She couldn’t take any more chances. She had to slip into the stables, find her horse, and think of something to say to the night guard. On horseback, if she cleared the gate, she could reach the bridge, cross over, and ride hard. Stop for no one, nothing.