Page 83 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
A property near Exeter, the hall, ruined by fire
A slim chance, but it was all he had.
“Exeter,” he said. “As soon as we return to Wildstorm, we’ll summon the men then ride hard to Exeter.”
But it had been three days since Ralph had taken Eloise. Given his brutal treatment of her in the past, he may already be too late.
Chapter 21
“This is the place, my Lord,” Wulfstan said.
The ruined building jutted out from the ground in the twilight.
“Are you sure?” Harald asked. “It looks deserted.”
“It’s the estate the blacksmith said his mother has been working.”
Harald shook his head. “We’re in the wrong place.”
“Then where do we look?” Wulfstan’s voice grew impatient. “We’ve circled Exeter for two days. There’s nowhere left to look.”
“What say you Edwin?” Harald’s jaw no longer throbbed where his brother had struck him, but the ache in his heart increased with each property they searched.
“This is the place,” Edwin said. Beauvisage was granted a ruin, was he not?”
“The king granted it months ago,” Harald said. Surely it would be a ruin no more.”
“A man such as Beauvisage, would view the effort of building a new hall too much. Better to keep his gold and seize another estate.”
“You speak in riddles.”
Edwin turned towards Harald, his brown eyes reproachful. “He wants Wildstorm,” he said. “The first moment I saw him, he looked at your estate with envious eyes.
How was it that Edwin possessed the ability to crawl into the skin of another man—or woman—showing an insight which Harald lacked. Edwin’s eyes penetrated the minds of others as one who looks into a pool of clear, still water. For Harald, the water was clouded—when he attempted to stir it, the murkiness only increased, making clear sight impossible.
Two brothers were never more dissimilar—one, bright and intelligent, the other strong, resilient, yet unable to see what was in plain sight. Between them they had the qualities of a great man. But alone…
Alone, Harald had let himself fall into the trap which Beauvisage had spun, weaving Harald’s prejudice, mistrust and ignorance, to form a trap, which had cost him the one thing he treasured more than Wildstorm itself.
Eloise.
Harald spurred his horse on.
“Come—Wulfstan, brother—if this is the place, it’s time I reclaimed my wife.”
* * *
“Good evening my lady whore.”
Eloise opened her eyes to the cold blue which had awoken her.
She didn’t know how many days she had been at Ralph’s estate. He kept her confined in a small, windowless chamber. Other than the day they’d arrived when she caught a brief glimpse of a blackened ruin, she’d seen nothing of the world outside. A single servant occupied the building which smelled of damp and smoke—an old woman who brought her meals, occasionally speaking in her thickened country accent.
Her other companion was a small child and she’d cried with anguish the day Ralph had pushed him into her chamber. Having noticed her fondness for Alfred, the lame child she had tended to at Wildstorm, Ralph had taken him, to strengthen his hold over her.
When Ralph sent for her, she let her mind drift, slipping sideways and back through the years to happier times when she was a child playing with Henri. It forged a barrier against the world—a world in which she no longer wished to live. When he finished with her, he returned her to her cell, her body aching with fresh bruises, where she curled into the corner, seeking comfort from the solid stone walls, cradling her belly, praying that the babe she carried would not be harmed.
Occasionally, to torture her mind as well as her body, Ralph would take Alfred, ignoring the child’s pitiful squeals as he dragged him out of the chamber. When the child returned hours later, silent, and broken, she took him in her arms, whispering words of comfort.
