Page 28 of Ena’s Surrender

Renault nodded in understanding, a silent indication he wouldn’t fight.

Two men entered the room, men he did know by name. They grasped his arms with force but did not look at him. He didn’t speak as he was led to the castle. After all, there was no justification to offer.

They would have no sympathy for his plight with Ena. Nor could he tell them out of fear they would seek her out and exact retribution. Anyone from the Scottish Middle March was their enemy. Not someone to save.

Certainly not someone to love.

The thought slammed into him as he was led from the brightness of an extraordinarily sunny day into the icy darkness of the castle. Chills prickled over Renault’s skin and the menacing rhythm of wooden-soled shoes striking the floor echoed off the stone walls around them.

He had knowledge that could save him, the information Ena had provided to ensure he remained safe during the upcoming raid. Except that he’d rather cut out his own liver and present it to the Earl of Bothbury than give him Ena’s trusted secret.

Nay, such a consideration was not even an option. Renault would face his punishment.

The English Middle March Warden sat on his dais in the great hall. He set aside the slice of venison he was eating and rose to his feet. “You’ve been one of my primary sources of information for some time, Renault.”

The soldiers who had come for Renault did not leave. Definitely not a good sign.

The young earl came closer with slow steps and stopped in front of him, eyes bright with the blood lust of vengeance. “I trusted you and you betrayed us all.”

Renault said nothing. He’d learned early on in his youth never to concede to a wrongdoing until it was mentioned first by another. Volunteering his transgressions would do him no favors.

“Someone said they saw you attack one of your fellow soldiers.” The earl set his jaw. “What say you to this?”

Renault’s heartbeat thundered in his chest, pumping raw energy in his veins. With nowhere to go, it pooled in his stomach, churning with anxiety against the ale he’d consumed earlier.

“There was a woman in that cottage with no one to protect her,” Renault said.

The earl’s mouth dropped open, incredulous. Whatever he had been expecting from Renault, it was not this.

“She is our enemy,” Bothbury said. “The Scots wouldn’t hesitate to break through the door of a hut where a lone woman cowered in fear.”

“Then why act as they do?” Renault demanded in a fury of emotion. “If you hate them so much and refer to them as barbarians, why do you behave like them?”

Rage flashed in the Earl of Bothbury’s face and Renault knew he had pushed too far.

“Retaliation.” The earl’s lip curled up. “We wouldn’t do it if they did not.”

Renault matched the man’s disgust with his own. “And so, it will continue until the end of time.”

“You attacked one of your brethren.” The Earl of Bothbury’s mouth drew in a thin line. “A man you considered a brother, if I am not mistaken.”

The warden’s words were like a hot dagger sliding between Renault’s ribs and piercing the very center of his heart. Clearly, Walter had told after all. And if Walter had spoken, Ena would not be safe in her home. Not if he had confessed where she lived.

Renault drew in a pained breath. “I did as you said.” His response came without the fire of his previous replies.

The earl nodded, his eyes sharp with ferocity. “Then I sentence you to death. But not until you’ve rotted in the dungeon first.” He addressed the soldiers, “Take him out of my sight.”

Rough hands grasped Renault’s arms. Though he was willing to walk of his own accord, they tugged at him, so his feet tangled against one another and he stumbled. They relished dragging him over the unforgiving stone floors that knocked against his knees without mercy.

He couldn’t blame them. A month ago, he might have reacted with the same vehemence. Before he’d gotten to know his enemy. Before there had been a face on those they were attacking.

Before Ena.

Something in his chest crumpled with a pain so vicious, it blotted out the physical abuse he endured on his way to the dungeon. He would never see her again. The dank air of the dungeon hit him at the same time as its damp chill. Darkness swallowed them along with the excited shouts of other prisoners trapped within the bowels of the castle.

Renault scarcely heard them any more than he did the soldier’s scorn and hatred. Not when his own thoughts roiled with such anguish. Ena would wait for him and he would never come. Their future together had ended before it could even begin. Because of him.

And if Walter confessed where the cottage was, Bothbury might already know its location. Ena could be in danger.