Page 91 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“Listen to your brother, Harald of Wildstorm.” Agatha said, her voice stern. “You’ll be held accountable for your sins at the day of judgement. But you’ll be judged less harshly if you stay away from her. She has endured enough at your hands.”
A dark mist of anger descended within him, mirroring the angry expression in the nun’s eyes.
“But she’s my wife!”
“Aye, she is,” Agatha replied, her French accent thickening with emotion, “and under the law of the land, I cannot stop you. But I would beg you to abide by a higher power—that of compassion, and decency.”
“Listen to her,” Edwin said. “She needs to heal—in body and mind. If you take her by force, she may never recover and will forever be a madwoman.”
Once spoken, the word could not be erased from his mind.
Madwoman—forever living in a nightmare, plagued by demons only she could see and hear. The terrors—visions of death and decay—that invaded his dreams, would reside in her mind permanently, torturing her at every waking moment.
Would that it had happened to him instead! If only he could sacrifice himself for her! Only now, did he understand the extent of his love—a tangible force that would remain with him until he drew his final breath.
He loved her—God’s holy bones, he loved her! His love for her was unshakeable, matched only by the deep, raw hatred for himself.
“I love her,” he choked, his voice thick with despair.
“I know,” Edwin said softly, “and she knows it also. Give her time, and she’ll emerge from the fortress she has erected round herself. Trust the nuns. They’ll help her to return to you of her own accord. There are some tasks a warrior cannot perform—some battles which he must walk away from, and let others fight for him.”
“Your brother is right, my Lord,” Agatha said, her voice having lost some of its hostility. “Remember that I, too, understand what it means to have failed her, and to wish to atone.”
“Come,” Edwin said, “we must leave her in the hands of these good people. If you want to help your wife, tend to the boy. Your wife would wish it.”
Harald sighed. Edwin was right. Why had he not listened to him in all things?
He nodded to Agatha. “Protect my woman,” he said. “Take care of my Eloise for me.”
“Aye, I will.”
With a regret, and hope, in his heart, Harald watched as the nuns carried his wife inside and closed the door behind them.
Chapter 24
The screaming in Eloise’s head lessened, as the demons surrounding her morphed into gentler shapes, their sharp edges softening into human form.
Her nightmares had been replaced by pure blackness which swallowed her into its blessed embrace. But each time she woke, the voices plagued her once more until soft singing began to dissipate the screams.
A familiar voice became more frequent, a light timbre from her childhood—a voice which had brought her back from the despair so many years ago. A deeper voice joined the first, which faded in and out.
Shapes, once black and red, softened in color, changing into a deep brown, then, finally, a soft, moss green.
She opened her eyes.
She was lying on a cot, in a small chamber. A fur covered her body but couldn’t completely keep out the cold—even the wall hangings shivered in the winter breeze. Someone had placed a tray beside the cot and a familiar smell of broth rose from a bowl on the tray. The light from a single candle flickered across face which bent over her, a face full of love and compassion.
Sister Agatha.
“Lady Eloise, how do you fare?”
Her throat tight and sore, she struggled to response, then she shook her head. Agatha supporting her shoulders and helped her to sit.
“Don’t worry, my lady. I’ll tend to you like before. You’re safe within these walls.”
Safe.
Never again did she wish to see the world outside—a world filled with evil. But if the nuns within these walls knew what she had done, they’d turn her away.
