Page 89 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“We must take her to Wildstorm, and tend to her there,” Edwin replied, “though she’ll let none near her, save the child.”
“Bind her,” Wulfstan said, “then she cannot harm us.”
“I’ll not treat her like an animal!” Harald bellowed. “She is my wife.”
“Perhaps I can help.” Maeda said. She pulled a phial from her skirts.
“Would you poison her?” Harald asked.
She shook her head. “’Tis a sleeping draught. I often gave it to her. She grows calm when she takes it. I can give her enough to send her to sleep, and it won’t harm the babe she carries.”
The babe!
The child still grew inside her.
No—not the child.
Hischild.
“Very well,” Harald said.
Maeda advanced on Eloise, Edwin one step behind.
“Sweet lady, I have your potion,” she said. “It makes you feel better, remember?”
Eloise stared at her, eyes wary, but she remained still.
Maeda removed the stopper from the phial.
“Drink this.”
Edwin moved to take the child, then Eloise sprang forward, shielding the boy with her body.
“Help me, Wulfstan!” Edwin cried. Between them the two men forced her to the ground. Her screams grew desperate, pleading for mercy—the same screams that had invaded her nightmares. But Harald now knew they weren’t nightmares, but memories—memories of what Beauvisage had done to her.
Edwin poured the potion into her mouth. She thrashed her limbs, fighting to the last. At length, her movement subsided as the drug took effect, until with a cry of defeat, she sank back, quiet at last.
Edwin stroked her forehead, his expression filled with sorrow and guilt.
“Good woman, fetch something to cover her with.”
Impotence and shame prevented Harald from moving, and he watched while Maeda took a fur from a trunk beside the bed and wrapped it round his wife. Asleep at last, she could now be cared for.
But what would happen when she woke?
Chapter 23
Night had fallen when they sighted Wildstorm. The absence of clouds to blanket the earth rendered the winter air cold and unforgiving. Stars winked in the sky—small pinpoints surrounding the moon, its pale face staring reproachfully at the earth, bathing it in a cold blue glow.
The tower, almost complete, stood behind the hall, a silent sentinel protecting the people within. Yet he’d been unable to protect the one he cared for most.
The wheels of the cart jolted against a rock and a muffled cry rang out. She was beginning to wake again.
Harald signaled the party to stop. He dismounted and approached the cart, Edwin following. Huddled in blankets, Maeda held Eloise in her arms—the old woman having refused to leave her.
His wife’s face looked a pale gray in the moonlight. Dark marks covered her features—bruises where Beauvisage had struck her. Each time Harald looked at them, his chest constricted with guilt.
He had envisioned such a heroic act—him riding in to save her—but that vision had blackened before him. It was his duty, as a warrior and husband, to protect her. Yet at the end his brave little wife had to rely on herself. She had committed an unspeakable act which no woman should have to undertake.
