Page 88 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“Tell us what happened here, Maeda.”
“Who are you?”
Edwin gestured toward Harald. “This man is her husband, come to claim her.”
“No!” Maeda cried. “Please leave her—she’s suffered enough at a man’s hands. I’ve been taking care of her.”
“Taking care of her?” Harald roared. “Isthat…” he gestured toward his wife, “someone who has been taken care of?”
“She won’t let anyone near her,” Edwin said. “What’s to be done?”
“The child,” Maeda said. “She wouldn’t harm him.”
“What child?”
“The boy, Alfred. Let me find him.”
“No,” Harald said. “You brought her to this—you’re not to leave these grounds.”
“He’s within these walls, my Lord.”
“Go with her, Wulfstan,” Harald said. “Make sure she doesn’t leave the building.”
When Wulfstan returned with the woman, a young child was with them. Harald recognized the lame orphan boy from Wildstorm. The boy’s features were still recognizable, despite the bruises on his face. When the child saw Eloise, he showed neither fear nor revulsion.
“My lady.” Alfred’s voice, barely audible, had more effect on her than Harald’s. She shifted her focus to the child, her expression turning from one of murder to recognition.
“Alfred, stay back,” Maeda warned. “She has a knife.”
Ignoring her, he limped toward Eloise. He held out his hand and took another step until he almost touched her. With a child’s innate reaction to a cornered wild animal, the instinct a boy loses when becomes a man, he hesitated and waited.
After a moment, she lowered the knife, and beckoned to him.
“Child.”
Oh, that soft voice! Harald had never thought to hear it again.
Edwin placed a restraining hand on Harald’s arm.
“Let her be, brother,” he said. “Trust the child. She won’t respond to force—perhaps the innocence of a child will be her salvation. It was so once before.”
“Innocence?”
“Aye, brother. Other than your wife, the child is the only innocent soul in the room.”
Edwin spoke the truth. They were all guilty—and Harald, the guiltiest of them all. He had driven her to this, as surely as if he’d been the one to imprison and brutalize her in this hideous ruin.
Harald watched the small, lame child accomplish what he—a large, strong warrior—could not. The knife clattered to the floor and she drew the boy into her arms.
“He can no longer hurt us, Alfred,” she whispered. “You’re safe now.”
“Eloise!”
On hearing Harald’s cry, the she held the child tightly in a protective grip.
“You shan’t take him!”
“What can I do?” Harald cried. She couldn’t bear to be near him, or even hear his voice. Would she ever be whole again?
