"The Lord protect you," Simon whispered. He handed her the dagger and turned to make his way to the gates. The old man had gotten only a few feet away from his mistress when he was knocked down to the ground by Duncan 's brother. Gilard, in his haste to attack another of Louddon's soldiers, accidentally bumped into the servant. Simon made it back to his knees, when Gilard suddenly turned, as if he'd just realized there was another enemy closer at hand.

Gilard's intent was obvious to Madelyne. She screamed a warning and ran over to stand in front of Simon, using her body to shield the servant from Gilard's blade.

"Stand aside," Gilard yelled, his sword raised.

"Nay," Madelyne shouted back. "You'll have to kill me to get to him."

Gilard immediately raised his sword higher, suggesting he'd do just that. His face was mottled with fury. She thought Gilard was more than capable of killing her without suffering a moment's remorse.

Duncan saw what was taking place. He immediately started running toward Madelyne. Gilard's temper was known to be fierce, yet Duncan didn't worry that his brother would harm Madelyne. Gilard would die before breaking a command. Brother or not, Duncan was Baron of Wexton holdings and Gilard his vassal. Gilard would honor that bond. And Duncan had been most specific. Madelyne belonged to him. No one was to touch her. No one.

The other servants, nearly thirty in all, also witnessed what was happening. Those not close enough to freedom hastened over to stand as a group behind Simon for protection.

Madelyne met Gilard's furious stare with a composed expression, a tranquility that belied the destruction going on inside her.

Duncan reached his brother's side just in time to observe Madelyne's bizarre action. His captive slowly lifted her hand to her hair and then pushed the thick mass of curls away from the side of her neck. In a voice that sounded quite calm, she suggested that Gilard thrust his blade there, and if he pleased, to be quick about it.

Gilard looked stunned over Madelyne's reaction to his bluff. He slowly lowered his sword until its bloodied point was facing the ground.

Madelyne's expression didn't change. She turned her attention to Duncan.

"Does your hatred for Louddon extend to his servants? Do you kill innocent men and women because they're bound by law to serve my brother?"

Before Duncan could form an answer, Madelyne turned her back on him. She took hold of Simon's hand and helped him to his feet. "I've heard that Baron Wexton is an honorable man, Simon. Stand beside me. We'll face him together, dear friend."

Turning back to Duncan, she added, "And we shall see if this lord is honorable or if he be no different from Louddon."

Madelyne suddenly realized she held the dagger in her other hand. She hid the evidence behind her back until she felt a tear in the lining of her cloak, and then slipped the knife inside, praying the hem was strong enough to hold it. To cover her action, she shouted, "Every one of these good people has tried to protect me from my brother, and I'll die before I see you touch them. 'Tis your choice."

Duncan 's voice was filled with contempt when he answered her challenge. "Unlike your brother, I don't prey on the weak. Go, old man, leave this place. You may take the others with you."

The servants were quick to comply. Madelyne watched them run to the gates. His show of compassion surprised her. "And now, Baron, I've one more request. Please kill me now. I know I am a coward for asking, but the wait is becoming unbearable. Do what you must."

She believed he meant to kill her. Duncan found himself astonished by her comments once again. He decided that Lady Madelyne was the most puzzling woman he'd ever come across. "I'm not going to kill you, Madelyne," he announced before turning away from her.

A wave of relief washed over Madelyne. She believed Duncan had given her the truth. He'd looked so surprised when she'd asked him to get the foul deed over with… aye, he was giving her the truth now.

Madelyne felt victorious for the first time in her life. She'd saved Duncan 's life and would live to tell about it

The battle was finished. The horses had been released from the stables, and chased after the servants through the opened gates seconds before new flames of destruction devoured the brittle wood.

Madelyne couldn't summon up an ounce of outrage over the destruction of her brother's home. It had never belonged to her. There were no happy memories here.

No, there was no feeling outrage. Duncan 's revenge was fitting retribution for her brother's sins. Justice was being served this dark night by a barbarian dressed in knight's clothing, a radical to Madelyne's way of thinking, who dared to ignore Louddon's powerful friendship with the King of England.

What had Louddon done to Baron Wexton to warrant such a retaliation? And what price would Duncan have to pay for his rash action? Would William II, upon hearing of this attack, demand Duncan 's life? The king was apt to please Louddon if he commanded that action. Louddon's hold on the king was said to be unusual; Madelyne had heard it said that they were special friends. And only last week had she learned what the whispered obscenities really meant. Marta, the stablemaster's outspoken wife, had taken great delight in revealing the vileness of their relationship late one evening, after she'd swallowed too many swigs of ale.

Madelyne hadn't believed her. She'd blushed and denied it all, telling Marta that Louddon had remained unmarried because the lady he'd given his heart to had died. Marta had scoffed at Madelyne's innocence. She eventually forced her mistress to admit to the possibility.

Until that evening, Madelyne hadn't realized that some men could act intimately with other men, and the realization that one was her brother and the other reported to be the King of England made it all the more repulsive. Her disgust had turned physical; Madelyne remembered she'd thrown up her dinner, giving Marta quite a laugh.

"Burn the chapel." Duncan 's order carried throughout the courtyard, pulling Madelyne's thoughts back to the present. She immediately picked up her skirts and ran toward the church, hoping she'd have time to gather her meager possessions before the command was carried out. No one seemed to be paying her any attention.

Duncan intercepted her just when she reached the side entrance. He slammed his hands up against the wall, blocking her on both sides. Madelyne let out a startled gasp and twisted around to look up at him.

"There isn't any place you can hide from me, Madelyne."

His voice was soft. Lord, he sounded almost bored. "I hide from no one," Madelyne answered, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.

"Then you wish to burn with your chapel?" Duncan asked. "Or perhaps you think to use the secret passage you told me about."

"Neither," Madelyne answered. "All of my possessions are inside the church. I was on my way to fetch them. You said you weren't going to kill me and I thought to take my things on my own journey."

When Duncan didn't respond to her explanation, Madelyne tried again. It was difficult to form a coherent thought, however, with Duncan staring at her so intently. "I'll not ask you for a mount, only my clothing from behind the altar."

"You'll not ask?" He whispered the question. Madelyne didn't know how to react to it, or the smile he now gave her. "You truly expect me to believe you've been living in the church?"

Madelyne wished she had enough courage to tell him she didn't care what he believed. Lord, she was a coward. Yet years of painful lessons in controlling her real feelings served her well now. She gave him a tranquil expression, forcing her anger aside. Why, she even managed to shrug.

Duncan saw the spark of anger ignite in her blue eyes. Such a mockery it was to the serene expression on her face, and so quickly gone, he was convinced he wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been watching her so intently. She controlled herself with amazing skill for a mere woman.

"Answer me, Madelyne. Do you wish me to believe you've been living in this church?"

"I haven't been living there," Madelyne answered when she couldn't stand his intense stare a second longer. "I only hid my things so that I could make my escape in the morning."

Duncan frowned over her statement. Did she think him daft to believe such a fool's story? No woman would leave the comfort of her home to journey during these harsh months. And where would she have him believe she was going?

He made the swift decision to prove her story false, just to see her reaction when her lie was discovered. "You may get your things."

Madelyne wasn't about to argue over her good fortune. She believed that by giving his approval, Duncan was also agreeing to her own plan to leave the fortress. "Then I may leave this fortress?" She blurted out the assumption before she could stop herself. And Lord, how her voice shook.

"Aye, Madelyne, you will leave this fortress," Duncan agreed.

He actually smiled at her. Madelyne worried about the change in his disposition. She stared up at him, trying to read his mind. A futile undertaking, she quickly realized. Duncan masked his feelings very well, too well for her to decide if he was telling the truth or not.

Madelyne ducked under his arm and ran down the corridor into the back of the church. Duncan was right behind her.

The burlap satchel was just where she'd hidden it the day before. Madelyne lifted the bundle into her arms and then turned to look at Duncan. She was about to offer her gratitude, yet hesitated when she saw the look of surprise on his face again.

"You didn't believe me?" Madelyne asked. Her voice sounded as incredulous as he looked.

Duncan answered her with a scowl. He turned and walked out of the church. Madelyne followed him. Her hands were shaking now, almost violently. Madelyne decided that the horror of the battle she'd witnessed was just settling in. She'd seen so much blood, so many dead. Her stomach and her mind rebelled, and she could only pray she'd be able to maintain her composure until Duncan and his soldiers left.

The moment she cleared the structure, fiery torches were hurled inside. The flames were like hungry bears, devouring the building with savage intensity.

Madelyne watched the fire a good while, until she realized she was clinging to Duncan 's hand. She immediately pulled away from him.

She turned and saw that the soldiers' horses had been led inside the inner bailey. Most of Duncan 's men were already mounted and waiting for his order. In the center of the courtyard stood the most magnificent of beasts, a huge white stallion, nearly two hands taller than any of the other horses. The blond-haired squire stood directly in front of the animal, trying without much success to keep the reins in his hands. The fiesty animal no doubt belonged to Duncan, a fitting beast for the baron's stature and rank.

Duncan motioned her toward the stallion. Madelyne frowned over his order, yet instinctively started walking toward the big horse. The closer she got, the more frightened she became. In the corner of her confused mind a black thought crystallized.

Dear God, she wasn't going to be left behind.

Madelyne took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She told herself she was just too distraught to think clearly. Of course the baron wasn't going to take her with him. Why, she wasn't significant enough to bother about.

She decided she still needed to hear his denial. "You don't think to take me with you, do you?" she blurted out. Her voice sounded strained; she knew she hadn't been able to keep the fear out of her voice.

Duncan walked over to Madelyne. He took hold of her satchel and threw it to his squire. She had her answer then. Madelyne stared up at Duncan, watched him swiftly mount, and then extend his hand down to her.

Madelyne began to back away. God help her, she was going to defy him. She knew if she tried to climb the distance to the top of his demon horse, she'd disgrace herself by fainting, or worse, screaming. In truth, she believed she preferred death to humiliation.

She was more frightened of the stallion than she was of the baron. Madelyne was sadly lacking in her education, and possessed none of the most basic riding skills. Memories of very young days, when Louddon had used those few riding lessons as a tool to inflict submission, still visited her on occasion. As a fully grown woman, she realized her fears were unreasonable, yet the fretful child inside her still rebelled with stubborn, illogical fright.