Page 105 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
Moisture pooled in Edwin’s eyes. “Oh, Eloise—what must you think of us!” he cried. “Harald would not forgive me for revealing the truth—but he’ll never know I told you, so perhaps it’s for the best.”
He squeezed her hand, his trembling grip suppressing pent-up emotion.
“He’s unable to see you, because he’s been detained.”
“By the king?”
“Aye,” he said. “For Beauvisage’s murder.”
“But—he’s innocent!” she cried. “You know he’s innocent—surely the king knows it also?”
“Harald has confessed,” he said. “They took him four days ago. Once they’ve finished questioning him he’ll be tried and executed.”
An iron fist pressed against her chest, forcing the breath from her body. Four days!—four days at the hands of William’s torturers…
“I cannot let them punish him for something he didn’t do,” she said.
“That is why he wished me to keep the truth from you. He knew you would wish to prevent it. He asked me to take care of you after—after he has gone.”
So Harald had made the ultimate sacrifice—for what? For her? For his child?
Did he love her after all? His brutality, fed by anger and mistrust from past betrayal, had always been tempered by acts of kindness—small gestures at first, but so unlike what one would expect from a warrior. He was a brutal Saxon warlord with blood in his nostrils—a giant of a man with the ability to crush her with his hands—yet, those very same hands had cradled her, cherished her.
But the last time she saw him, she’d pushed him away, rejected his plea for forgiveness as he knelt before her in this very spot. Had she returned to Wildstorm with him when he’d first asked—might he, even now, be safe at home?
She wiped a tear from her eyes. “When is he to die?”
“Soon,” Edwin said. “He may already be dead.”
She could not let him be punished for her sin! Only now did she understand the depths of his love—he was willing to endure unimaginable torture, and death, so that she might live.
But what life would she have, knowing she’d let him die? It would be as if her hand struck the blow of the axe.
She stood, curling her hands into fists. “We must leave for London, this instant.”
“You cannot go,” Edwin protested, “not in your condition. It’s a day’s hard ride.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I’ll ride to London whether you help me or not—though I’ll find the journey easier with you, rather than without.”
“Harald wouldn’t wish it.”
“ButIwish it,” she said. “You think I could ever be at peace with his death on my conscience? I’ll willingly bear the responsibility for Beauvisage’s death, but do not ask me to bear responsibility for the death of your brother. That is something I could never endure.”
He hesitated and she squeezed his hand.
“Help me, Edwin,” she pleased. “Help me for your brother’s sake, if not my own.”
Edwin bowed his head, as if fighting an inner voice. Then, he nodded.
“May God forgive me, for I know Harald never will,” he said, “but I’ll do as you ask.”
Tears of relief spilled onto her cheeks, and she uttered a silent prayer of thanks.
But there was one more prayer, she feared would not be answered—the prayer that Harald was not already dead.
* * *
The royal courtwas smaller than Eloise expected. Wary of treachery, and weary of rebellion, the king kept few men close to him.
