For an instant, she thought he was going to leave, until her uncle came strolling out from behind the chapel. He was clad in his thick cloak with the ermine collar and lined with fox fur, his silver broach glittering in the September sunlight, his hair sleek and smooth as his voice.
“Greetings, Sir Rheged,” he said genially, although his eyes were far from friendly. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Have you forgotten something?”
“Not I, but apparently you forgot you are supposed to be an honorable man. You played me false, DeLac, and all who fought in your tournament. This box is no more made of gold than I am, and the jewels are just as false. If you have a drop of honor in you, you’ll give me a more worthy prize.”
With a shrug of his beefy shoulders, her uncle answered as if he were innocence itself. “You received the prize that was offered. I never said it was real gold, or that the jewels were gemstones. It was on display in the hall the night before the melee, and you were quite welcome to examine it then. If you did not...” Her uncle spread his hands wide, as if to say, “What fault is it of mine?”
“And why such anger?” he continued. “Have you not won another victory? Will that not add to your fame and fierce reputation? Surely that was worth the effort.”
Rheged regarded the man with undisguised disdain and answered in Welsh. Whatever he said, it was obviously no compliment.
“Leave my castle, Sir Rheged,” her uncle ordered, all vestige of amiability replaced by indignant anger, “or I’ll order my guards to—”
“What?” Rheged demanded, his voice low and hard. “Try to make me go? If that’s your notion, think again, my lord. I have my sword.”
“And I have twenty archers with arrows nocked and aimed right at your head,” her uncle returned.
A quick glance at the wall walk confirmed the truth of what he said.
Rheged threw the box onto the ground with such force the lid flew off and it skittered to a halt inches from her uncle’s toe. “Twenty men to one. Why am I not surprised?”
He gestured at the windows surrounding the yard, proving that he, too, was aware that they were being watched by more than the men and servants in the yard. “Soon all will know what kind of honorable nobleman you are. Then we shall see how many friends you have at court.”
“More than you, at least,” her uncle retorted. “More than some peasant of a Welshman will ever have, no matter how well he fights or how many walls he climbs. Indeed, a monkey could have done what you did to earn your knighthood, so don’t think to threaten me. Now get out, Sir Rheged, before I have you shot.”
He would do it, too, Tamsin knew. Leave, Rheged, she silently urged, instinctively stepping forward.
The Welshman glanced at her, his expression unreadable, before he turned his attention back to her uncle. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have expected better from a man who’ll give his niece to a greedy, lecherous lout like Blane.”
“My niece’s marriage is no business of yours!” DeLac cried as Tamsin stood frozen where she was, rooted to the ground, afraid to move a muscle lest she make things worse. “And you’ve got the only prize you deserve. Now go, before I order my men to kill you where you stand!”
“Very well, my lord, who has given a prize worthy of the giver—false and cheap, good for show, but lacking any true value,” Rheged replied as he threw himself into the saddle. “Keep your prize and be damned!”
“Get out and never return, you stupid, stinking Welshman!” her uncle shouted.
Rheged lifted his horse’s reins, but instead of heading for the gate, he rode right at Tamsin, turning his horse at the last moment.
In that same moment, he reached down and grabbed the back of her gown. Gasping with shock and dismay, she kicked and struggled as he hauled her over his lap.
“Put me down! Let me go!” she cried with desperate panic. Ignoring her, he punched his horse’s sides with his heels and, with her slung over his horse as if she were a sack of grain, rode out through the gates.
Chapter Five
“Stop! Let me down!” Tamsin cried, noise and confusion surrounding her as she fought to get off the swiftly moving horse, despite the fear of falling to her death.
But Rheged held her tight, and as they passed beneath the portcullis, she could understand nothing of the shouts, except for Mavis calling her name.
And then her uncle ordering his men to shoot.
Something hit her calf. Like a bee sting, only worse. Her leg was wet. With blood?
“Stop!” she gasped again, trying to be heard over the pounding of the horses’ hooves and shouts from the castle. “Please...stop....”
Regardless of her desperate cries, Rheged didn’t stop.
* * *
He wouldn’t until they were well away from Castle DeLac, when it would be safer, Rheged thought as he held on to Tamsin with all his might so she wouldn’t fall. Thank God they had some time before DeLac’s men could mount and give chase.
At least she’d stopped struggling. Because she’d fainted, apparently. No surprise, that, considering how shocked and frightened she must have been at his impulsive act. He had never been impulsive in his life. Until today. Until he’d...
The magnitude of what he’d done hit him like a rock thrown from a great height. He’d abducted a woman, a noblewoman, stolen her away from an uncle with wealth and power and influence with the king. He’d acted without thinking.
Foolishly.
Although he hated the thought of Tamsin—or any woman—married to a man like Blane, he had no right to interfere. Regardless of the consequences, he must take her back at once, he told himself as he began to turn his horse. Perhaps there would be no serious repercussions if he left her near—
Myr suddenly shied, as if there was a snake at his feet. Or he was hurt.
Rheged slipped from the saddle, his motion making Tamsin moan. She must be waking up from her swoon. Then he saw the blood dripping from her foot onto the road beneath.
God help him! She’d been struck by an arrow! He could see the shaft protruding from her cloak where it had pierced her calf. He knew from experience that such a wound must be tended to at once. They had to return to Castle DeLac immediately, even if the jostling of the ride would make her bleed more and although every sense told him it was about to rain.
He grabbed Myr’s bridle and started back just before the rain began to fall. It wasn’t droplets or a drizzle, but a downpour. They would both be soaked through unless...
The coal burner’s hut! It was little more than a ruin, but it was a shelter.
Leading his horse from the road into the wood, he hurried toward the hovel. He looped Myr’s reins around a bush and lifted Tamsin down. She groaned softly as he carried her to the hut and kicked open the ramshackle door. The hard-packed floor was bare, and a circle of stones with
