Chapter Twenty-Two

Cha robh dithis riamh a' fadadh teine nach do las eatarra.

(Two never kindled a fire but it lit betwixt them.)

— Auld Scots Adage

Tamlyn wiggled in excitement, standing atop of the lord's tower. A rider had come telling Challon would soon arrive.

Three days ago, Julian had led his men off, escorting Ravenhawke to see him officially installed as baron of Lyonglen. The first time they had been separated in the three sennights since they were wed. Since Julian was earl, and Damian already a sworn knight of Challon, Julian was to be Damian's overlord. He was pleased to have his cousin as baron there. It would only see Glen Shane more secure.

She had wanted to accompany him, but Challon stubbornly insisted that she remain at Glenrogha. He was still concerned about stragglers from the Battle of Dunbar, lurking in the hills outside Glen Shane.

'Twas strange. Julian's time in her life was measured by sennights. Yet, already his presence only served to tell her how empty it would be without him.

She spied the long column of riders approach, crossing the dead angle. As they neared, she saw they traveled with a woman. The vivid red hair was hard to miss even from this distance. "I might just kick you, Julian Challon. 'Tis not safe for me to accompany you, but all right for another woman to ride in your cadre?"

Gathering her skirts, she dashed inside the tower and down the steps, rushing out to greet the riders as they filed into the bailey. A quick sweep of her eyes deemed all fared well and seemed unharmed, and the woman was—as she assumed—her cousin Aithinne .

Her eyes went to Challon as he dismounted. He looked tired and needed to shave. This was the first time she had seen him with any amount of a beard, as he followed the Norman way of keeping a clean face. Heat flooded her as she wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Would it tickle her nose? She wanted to run to him and jump into his arms, but she was still edgy enough to fear he might not like that sort of well-come before all.

He passed off the reins to Moffet, then looked up to see her standing, waiting for his notice. Typical Challon, he hid his emotions behind that shutter within his mind. She could not tell if he was happy to see her, or displeased because his lady wife bounded down the stairs like a common scullery maid. Well, if he could play games, then so would she.

Tamlyn composed her face into the lady proper and greeted him. "Well-come, Lord Challon. I hope your dealings were settled to your liking and the ride was not too tiring."

For several breaths Julian stared at her, before he then burst out laughing. "The mantle of proper lady does not rest well on my faidhaich ."

"Oh, Challon, hush." Tamlyn practically jumped into his arms.

His laughter continued as he hugged her. "I take it my wife missed me?"

Tamlyn bit his neck lightly. "Had you taken me with you, then you would not have missed me ."

"Tamlyn, I explained why I did not want you to accompany me."

Putting her arms around his neck, she pulled up to his mouth. "Challon, hush and kiss me."

His fingers rubbed the three days growth of beard. "Mayhap I should bathe and shave first."

"Challon…" she growled a warning.

He leaned back so he could study her face, the laughter in his eyes turning serious. "I missed you, wife."

Then, he kissed her. Oh, did he kiss her!

Tamlyn smiled at the brush of his new beard and mustache tickling her, but that did not stop her from enjoying the taste of his lips. His hunger flared to life, pushing him to deepen the kiss, devouring her with a passion that sent her heart slamming against her ribs. Tamlyn forgot they stood in the middle of the bailey, surrounded by his men. He bowed her body to his, holding her tightly.

Pagan nickered as if laughing at them, and pushed Challon's shoulder. Julian broke the embrace and looked around at the midnight steed. "I think he wants his feed and is tired of waiting."

Tamlyn blushed, then looked to her cousin, as Ravenhawke helped her dismount. "Aithinne, well-come. How fareth you?"

As Damian set Aithinne on her feet, she jerked her elbow from his grasp, and flashed him a glare that should have seen St. Giles drop on all fours and croak ribbit. Aithinne marched over to Tamlyn, embraced her, then once more shot Damian a look of disdain.

"Well wishes on your marriage, Tamlyn. I apologize for not being there." She smiled at Challon, then lifted her brow. "So, he went through the rites of the Sword and The Ring ? Mayhap this Norman has value. Am I to stay in the same room? I tire from the ride and need to lie down."

"St. Giles stays in that room. You may use my old room," Tamlyn answered Aithinne, who was still staring daggers at Damian. "Why does that no' surprise me? He be so adept at usurping what be no' his." Tilting her nose up as she passed him, Aithinne strode into the lord's tower with the grace of a queen.

Her cousin was taller than Tamlyn by a hand's width, and it lent Aithinne a willowy appearance Tamlyn had always envied. Their hair was a similar shade, though Aithinne was threaded with a reddish cast as if kissed by fire. So alike in their faces people oft assumed them sisters rather than cousin. Aithinne's eyes were a deep brown with green flecks to them, though they still held that witchy, catlike appearance denoting her Ogilvie blood.

Wearing the expression of a cherub, Damian smiled. "Good day, Tamlyn. Hope you have some roast-suckling ready for I am fair starved."

"I fear not, but if you whisper to cook now, I am sure by nightfall it shall be ready. Cook has a soft spot for you," Tamlyn teased. Challon's arm came around her shoulder and she reached up to link her fingers with his.

Julian chuckled. "See there, Cousin. I could arrange a marriage for you and you could have roast-suckling every night of the year."

Damian stared at the back of Aithinne as she entered the tower. "I wouldst be most pleased someone looks upon me with kindness. "

Damian's vivid green eyes hungrily took in how Challon held her to his side, how she had slid her arm around her husband's waist. Tamlyn saw the same sadness and envy still there, but not as strong as before. Now, he seemed confused.

"If you both will excuse me—I am off to woo my lady love." Damian headed to the stairs nearly at a run.

Tamlyn watched St. Giles take the tower steps two at a time. "He plans to woo Cook?"

Challon kissed the side of her head. "I wish, lady wife, you had warned me the Lady Aithinne resembled you to some extent."

"Some extent? She favors me a lot. You have to be up close to see the difference in eye color. Whilst the hair is near mine, she has that beautiful glint of red to hers."

The fiery cast made her seem more vibrant, causing Tamlyn to feel washed out in comparison. Aithinne always managed to appear the proper lady, a skill she had never mastered. Tamlyn suddenly feared Challon might look at her and now find her lacking next to her beautiful cousin.

Fearful what she would see in his eyes, she admitted, "I always felt plain beside her."

He stopped on the top of the staircase and turned her to face him. Crooking a finger, he used it to lift her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon, wife. There is not one thing I would seek to change about you. Howbeit, I wish you had prepared me. When first I laid eyes upon her, she was half in shadow. I thought you had disobeyed me and ridden ahead to Lyonglen. I was ready to turn her― you ―over my knee for disobeying. Poor Damian. I am sure it totally befuddles him, has him tied in knots."

"Why should it upset Damian so?"

"Ah, that is Damian's secret. I am not sure I should tell." He kissed her slowly, and then started again for the Great Hall .

"Why is Aithinne furious with him?" Tamlyn clearly had more of the tale to hear to make sense of his prattle.

"That is her secret to tell. I shall say this―Damian has demanded she marry him," he warned, waiting for her reaction.

Tamlyn smiled at the notion. It suddenly seemed so right. "They would suit. Why be Aithinne so upset by his asking? "

"The words demand instead of ask have been tossed about." Challon kissed her forehead, clearly not caring the whole fortress looked on. "Seems the Lady Aithinne dislikes an arrogant stranger telling her that she has no choice but to wed him."

Tamlyn laughed aloud.

???

"Oh, Tamlyn, I sink in a quagmire." Aithinne sniffed, then nibbled on a slice of dried apple. "It might be worry…only, I fear I be with child."

"With child?" Tamlyn echoed, then smiled putting a hand to her stomach. "I might be, as well."

" Beltaine ?" Aithinne asked.

Tamlyn nodded and hugged herself. "I took Challon to the orchard."

Aithinne's eyes went wide. "Beneath your tree?"

"Aye. The blossoms were so thick they blanketed the ground. His black mantle on the white blooms...it was like a dream. The whole night was magical."

"No wonder you glow with happiness." A glint of envy flickered in Aithinne's eyes.

"How far along do you think you are, Aithinne?"

Her cousin bit down on the apple piece. "The apples ease queasiness. It started the past three afternoons. I always heard 'twas morning sickness that was a first sign. Howbeit, Oonanne says sometimes it hits a woman late in the day. Are you experiencing it?"

"Not yet, but Bessa said it should come soon. So, who be the father and how long?"

" Beltaine . The Auld Ones must have had a bit of mischief afoot that night." She sighed. Going to the narrow window, she opened the wooden shutter and stared out at the fading sun.

"But you were no' at the May Day rites―"

Aithinne laughed sardonically. "You might say I held my own ceremony."

"I do no' understand. You speak in riddles, just as Julian does since his return." Tamlyn went to unpack her cousin's kirtles, fold them, and place them in the wardrobe.

Abruptly, Aithinne broke down crying. Tamlyn rushed to her and held her, rocking her troubled kinswoman. "Oh, Tammie, I have made a muddle of everything, and I do no' know how to put things right."

"Hush, sweet cousin, you shall sicken. Surely, 'tis no' as bad as you envision."

"Oh, 'tis likely worse. Much worse."

Challon opened the door, knocking as he pushed it wide. "Tamlyn, sorry to interrupt you, I fear you need come tend your silly husband."

Tamlyn gasped as she saw blood dripping down his hand. "Challon, what have you done?"

"Hush, wife, 'tis only a small cut. I was not paying attention to what I did in the lists, and Gervase sliced the back of my wrist. Teach me to leave my vambraces off. 'Tis minor, just see me bleeds like a stuck pig. I need you to bind it for me."

Tamlyn half nodded to Aithinne. "We shall talk more later. Sorry."

"Go care for your husband, Tamlyn. My troubles will still be here."

???

Tamlyn fed Challon a choice piece of meat, and then held the cup to his lips. He rolled his eyes, but took a drink.

"Wife, 'tis naught but a scratch." Julian held up his arm and wiggled his fingers. "See. Bessa pronounced the wound pure. And it was my left wrist not my right, so I am capable of feeding myself."

"Aye, Challon." Tamlyn poked another piece of roasted pork to his mouth as if he had not said a word.

He enjoyed Tamlyn fussing over him, liked how he could set her blushing when he stared at her. Devilishly, he leaned forward and ate the succulent meat from her fingers. When she went to pull back, he caught her wrist and slowly he sucked her first finger into his mouth, drawing on it rhythmically. His tongue swirled around it. She shivered. Bloody hell, he had intended to tease his witch, but his body complained he had been away from his wife for too long, thus he was in torment as well.

"Tamlyn, I go to seek my bed. I be beyond weary," Aithinne said, interrupting. She glared over their heads to St. Giles on the other side.

"I shall get you settled. Come." Tamlyn paused. "If you will excuse me, Challon?"

He nodded, reluctantly letting go of her hand. "Do not tarry, wife. I find I am weary and need to see my bed, as well. "

Damian watched the two women leave, his thoughts clear upon his face. "'Tis amazing to see them together. You see the differences when they are side-by-side, but it tossed me when we entered Lyonglen."

"Tossed you? I was ready to spank the Lady Aithinne before I got close enough to see she was another woman. Once she moved in the light, I saw how she resembled Tamlyn, yet was so unlike her."

"I see a few differences. Still, it is startling."

"Have you considered―" Julian started, only to be cut off.

"Do not bother saying I told you ." Damian leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his hands over his face. "My mother oft said the dreams were always truth. Where they become twisted was when you try to make situations fit the dreams, rather than allow the dream to match circumstances."

"So, now you have seen Tamlyn is not the face in your visions, what shall you do?"

"Marry the lass… somehow. She hates that I came to take over for my grandfather. I gather she was very close to him."

Julian sipped the wine. "Understandable, with him raising her as his ward. I am sorry, Damian, that he died before we reached there."

Damian exhaled and nodded. "Strange. I should feel something, I suppose. I never met the man. He shunned my mother, disinherited her for marrying a Norman. After her marriage, she lived in Mortain, never to set foot in her beloved Scotland again. 'Tis hard to feel for a man who never cared enough to see you because you were half-Norman. Even so, I feel an odd loss. Aithinne resents my assuming the title. Had I not, someone else would have come. Tamlyn seemed to have a quick grasp of that logic."

"If you marry her, Coinnlear Wood shall become yours as well. Between my united holdings of Kinmarch and Glenrogha, Guillaume as lord of Lochshane, Destain lord of Kinloch, and you assuming command of Lyonglen and possibly Coinnlear, we are building a secure future here."

"Yea, Edward might again have to curry favor with the Dragon of Challon." Damian lifted the golden challis in salute before taking a drink.

Tamlyn returned, coming to stand by his chair. "She rests. Bessa said she would look in on her later. If it be all right with you, Julian, I shall be going up now. I find I am wishing for bed as well. "

Julian saw her eyes dance. Minx. "Very well. Have Moffet bank the fire and I shall be along shortly."

She rocked on impatient feet. "Not too long, Julian. My feet have been cold whilst you were absent."

He took her arm and pulled her down for a kiss. The taste of cider was still on her lips, but not half as intoxicating as his Tamlyn. Nuzzling the hair at her ear, he whispered, "Bank the fire in the hearth, but not in my lady wife, eh?"

"Aye, my Lord Dragon."

Damian watched her go. "She is good for you, Julian. I have not seen you this happy for years."

"Aye." Julian sighed, reflecting on the prize Tamlyn was. "She is worth... everything. Edward had no idea what a prize he was giving me. I am damn lucky, indeed."

"I raise a cup to the mighty Dragon of Challon…brought low by love madness!" A drunken Sir Dirk's slurred words rang through the hall. His eyes glazed from the drink and the demons that ate at his insides.

"Love madness?" The words jumped from Julian's mouth before he realized he had spoken them.

"Aye, 'tis a distemper—and you, my lord—" Getting to his feet, he gave a mock, sweeping bow. "—mayhap be beyond cure. It can make a lapdog out of the strongest. Rot our brains."

"Distemper?" Julian probed, wondering what maggot had gotten into Dirk's mind. A fortnight ago, he had sent word to Dirk's brothers he wanted the man gone. Unfortunately, thus far, there had been no reply.

Damian slammed his golden cup down hard on the table to draw Julian's attention from the knight. "Sir Dirk dips into the wine barrel overly this night. Pendegast, close thy mouth—before you ruin our digestion with bilious prattle."

"Any healer will attest to the truth. Go ahead and ask them. Just make certain to speak to a male one, not some female witch, who plies you with love filters. 'Tis a disease, say I. As with any disease, there is a cure. Does not our Church say women corrupt us, weaken us? No man should suffer such indignities to his honor and pride. Women shouldst know their place. Obey their lord. A man never permits them to lead them around by his cock." Dirk failed to notice he had no one backing his boisterous swagger. Any sane man wouldst never dare such audacity before Julian Challon.

Julian jumped to his feet, his hand already on the hilt of his sword.

Damian touched his arm, and cautioned lowly. "Ignore him. His words spew forth from a green fount of jealousy."

"The healers bleed a man…draw out foul poison crippling spirit and body." Dirk smiled, but there was no mirth to his malignant expression. "To sear wounds and prevent infection you slap hot iron. For a man to cure this insidious sickness that saps his soul, he must swive another woman. Then and only, then shall he rid his soul, mind and body of this dark malady. If that does not work, he needs to discover that all women are alike. From lowly serving wench to high born lady, willing to lay with any man when his back is turned. A man is a fool if he thinks any one of them is special above others. A lady screams her pleasure same as the lowest swine girl. 'Tis sad when our mightiest warrior is brought low by cock fever."

Julian tossed his dagger. It landed between Dirk's first and second fingers. The thrum of whispers fell silent as he slowly strode to the table. Julian stared at the knight, unblinking. That fixed stare spoke tomes, causing even Dirk to turn away. Reaching out, he snatched the knife back, and then used the tip of the blade to pare his fingernail. "You were saying?"

Dirk sat down and reached for his cup. "Nothing, my lord."

"What I thought. Keep that vulgar tongue behind your teeth, eh?" Julian's lashes flicked disdain.

Dirk's jaw muscles flexed visibly holding back the fury, but he said naught.

Spinning on his heels, Julian headed for the doors.

Damian followed Julian from the hall. "You would do well to send that pup back to his brothers."

"I plan on it. I sent word to his brother to recall him." Julian strode from the Great Hall . "The prickles up my scalp tell me I may regret not using my dagger to slice that insolent throat."

"Good, because if you do not send him from here I shall end up doing worse. I found him trying to corner Aithinne in her room just before supper. She said at first, he thought her to be Tamlyn. I trust him not. Tamlyn or Aithinne―I do not want him near either woman."

"Do not worry. He is gone, or I fear I shall have to kill him. "

Pausing to glance back to the arrogant soldier, Damian asserted, "You might have to stand in line, Julian."

???

Julian closed the door to his chambers, his eyes searching for Tamlyn. Solace flooded him when he heard her on her knees, putting a brick of peat in the fire. His witch wore only a thin chemise that left little to his imagination. She turned and gave him a grin. The firelight nearly rendered the thin gown transparent. His heart sped up, thundering against his ribcage.

Sitting on the bench, he unlaced the ties about his boots. "On your knees and on a bear rug―lass, my heart beats a tattoo." A smile spread across his lips. "And that chemise—you may as well be naked."

She sighed, her expression turning simple. "You mislike it? You wish me to remove it?"

There was little doubt, Tamlyn was playing temptress. And playing it damn well.

"Such decisions you foster upon me, wife." His wife. Soon she would quicken with his son. It was nearly enough to bring him to his knees. Two wishes he had harbored, a dream he had nurtured in his hardened heart. "You naked and upon your knees, or you in a gown created of moonbeams? My mind spins in awhirl."

"Julian, what does me on my knees have to do with anything?"

His laughter erupted. "I see I am failing in my husbandly teachings."

"I think this some game you play. You are lord of the keep with me groveling at your feet?" She started to rise.

Julian swooped and caught her under her arms. He kissed her hard and quick, tasting the cider on her sweet lips. "Oh, I would like you at my feet…but not groveling."

"I mistrust that glint in your eyes." Tamlyn reached out and rubbed her thumb over his face. "With that beard, it makes you appear a brigand."

"I shall shave it off in the morn. This night, I have other plans." He spun her around and pushed her to her hands and knees on the fur. "Have you ever seen a stallion cover a mare?"

"But that is—"

His right hand smoothed up the back of her thigh and over her firm derrière, relishing the firelight playing over it .

"Julian, I am not sure I want to get bit on the neck." Tamlyn glanced at him over her shoulder, as he pushed the chemise over her arse and then up to her breasts.

He aided her up on her knees as he pulled the thin rail over her head, and tossed it aside. Guiding Tamlyn to lean back against him, he nibbled on her neck as he palmed both breasts. Taking her earlobe into his mouth, he sucked and then bit down. Not hard, just playfully.

"Mayhap a small bite?" He laughed as he fondled the responsive flesh. Tamlyn's breath was raspy, and her breasts grew harder, her nipples distending, showing the depth of her arousal. "I lay siege to my lady."

Tamlyn made no response other than mewing kitten sounds at the back of her throat. Julian held her for a moment, their bodies spooned, allowing the emotions to play out in him. Possession. Desire. Need. Aye, need, but more than just the flesh. Tamlyn was the end to his long, lonely road. She brought him warmth, laughter and so much more. The power of what he felt for her humbled him, and words were simply too feeble to explain what pulsed through his body, his soul.

Snaking his left hand down, his fingers sifted through the dark curls, smiling as they touched liquid fire her body oozed for him. With his middle finger, he pushed into her, feeling her body close greedily around it, the soft internal ripples as she moved toward her release. He kept up the tormenting motion, the slow in and out that caused her hoarse approval, all the while furiously working on the lacings of his hose with his other hand.

He almost sighed, as he tugged them open. "Is my lady ready to surrender or must I ram down her walls of resistance?" Tamlyn's answer was to push back against his groin. "Alas, my lady must learn to open her portcullis."

Using his chest, he pushed her forward to her hands, as he slid into her liquid fire. Keeping his finger inserted and using his thumb to circle her little female button, with two strokes, she came apart. Her cry echoed against the solar's stone walls. Julian wanted this feeling to go on, instead his body responded by following her.

There was no holding back, no making it last. The release was blinding, pushing his head to spin. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he fell to his side, pulling Tamlyn to spoon against him. Mayhap next time he would make this last .

Or the time after...

???

Tamlyn rounded the corner to the barracks tower, searching for Julian. She thought he had been working Damian, but she had not seen either of them in the lists. Glancing inside, she saw men on pallets resting, others working on their weapons, or playing lots in the corner.

Her breath sucked in and held as she spotted Sir Dirk there with three other men. That same oily feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she had experienced the day he thought to rape her roiled through her belly. She did not want to be anywhere near the man, so she started to back out.

"Lady Challon, you seek something?" Dirk smiled.

That expression sent a chill to crawl up her spine. Mayhap 'twas poor Aithinne's having the sickness in the afternoon putting ideas in her head, but she'd felt faintly queasy this past hour. Standing before Dirk Pendegast only made it worse.

"I seek my lord husband."

Dirk glanced to his two friends and smiled. "I believe he went toward the stables with Lord Ravenhawke."

"Thank you," she said coolly, and turned to leave.

"Want I should escort you there?" Sir Dirk moved forward.

She looked down her nose at him, a considerable feat since he was so tall. "No need. Vincent walks with me."

Tamlyn stalked to the stable, hearing Vincent ten paces behind her. One of the older squires serving Challon, he would likely be knighted within the next year or so, and move on to take up one of his family's holdings in Normandy. She was sure Julian's squires were bored, and maybe a little humiliated at having to play watcher over her, but Challon insisted she have one of the squires with her at all times while she went about her duties. She thought it nonsense. For the past ten years, she had run Glenrogha and never had a guard dogging her every step. Challon was unimpressed with her logic. In fact, he was quite stubborn. In this, his will ruled.

Not seeing anyone about the stables, she moved through the long rows to the door on the other side, thinking Challon might be in the paddock. Stepping out, she glanced around, though still seeing no one. To her back, she heard a muffled cry, then the light coming through the inside was blacked out by a man's body.

The Kenning blazed forth, making her heart speed up. She was concerned for Vincent, but knew at this instant she needed to get away from here, run to the safety of Challon.

Her dread was confirmed when Sir Dirk stepped into the light. She swallowed the cold nausea rising within her, trying to tamp down on her fears, to hide the visible reactions. Too vividly, she recalled how he fed off a woman's terror. She would not gift him with what he wanted most.

Tamlyn tried to think, but this man scared her witless. She had seen into his soul, and there was such poison rotting there. She found him an extreme contradiction. Likely, most women would find him attractive physically. All the same, what resided within the man rendered him as repulsive as a leper.

"I am sorry. I guess Lord Challon is not here after all." He moved closer. "I came to inform you."

She told herself to run, but her feet seemed rooted to the ground. Desperate, she searched for a path to breeze past him without touching him. Instead of thinking clearly, she just wanted to vomit. The pounding in her head saw it impossible to think. This man had been tied to posts and whipped because of his attack on her. She knew he blamed her for the punishment. Even someone weak with The Kenning could sense his thoughts.

"That was kind of you. You should not have bothered. If you will excuse me, this day I am busy and have little time to tarry. Challon shall be upset if I do no' finish my duties." She tried to move around him, but he caught her arm in a hard grip.

"That is a lie. You lead the mighty Dragon around by an invisible ring through his nose. Or mayhap, I should say… his cock."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her mouth was so dry it hurt to swallow. Not wasting any more time on deliberation, she pulled her knife from the belt at her waist and swung at him. He met the arc with a counter blow that numbed her. The sgian dubh flew out of her grip. Not hesitating, she kicked out, catching him full in the groin, sending him to his knees. She spun to run. He lunged to grab her kirtle, and used it to slam her to the ground, the force causing her head to spin and her vision to darken. Frantically, she struggled not to lose consciousness .

Tamlyn clawed her way to her knees, but the mud would not let her stand. The slimy muck sent her feet out from under her, hitting harder the second time. The third.

With a sly smirk, Dirk tried to stand in the mud saw his legs go flying out, and he landed hard on his backside. He crawled forward, pinning her legs with his weight. He laughed, mocking. "Challon's lady is in the mud. But then, you like to get fucked in the dirt, do you not? With everyone watching. I took a hundred lashes for you, bitch. My back still heals. I plan to get my worth out of riding you hard. Mayhap the mighty Dragon will see how ridiculous it is to let a woman lead him around like a gelding."

"Challon shall kill you." She delivered the truth.

Tamlyn swung out with her fist, bashing into his nose. She hoped to drive the bone back into his brain, but she had not been able to get a strong swing. The punch stunned him, but not enough. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned them over her head, manacling both finally with one hand. Putting his knee hard to one thigh, he forced her other leg wide.

Finally, her fear found wings, as she gave out with one loud, long scream. Dirk slammed his fist against her jaw.

Darkness swam around her, sucking Tamlyn under.

???

Julian dismounted Lasher, unease prickling up his spine. He glanced around the bailey, yet all appeared to be naught but typical late afternoon activities.

Tamlyn .

Panic swelling in his chest, he glanced up to the tower, seeking the stained-glass window. Fey whispers told him she was not there. He whipped around the inner ward, eyes searching desperately for what was discordant. Suspicion bubbled as he spotted two of Dirk's men leaning casually against the outside of the barn door.

"Something is wrong." Nearly unable to draw breath, he turned to Damian as his cousin dismounted his grey steed. Damian glanced at the stables, then to Julian, clearly sharing his disquiet. As he opened his mouth to reply, a scream split the stillness of the calm afternoon.

Julian did not hesitate. Damian followed.

As Julian ran, he heard Damian calling to the guard, "To Challon! To Challon!" Men did not hesitate, but grabbed the nearest weapons and came running. Terrified, Dirk's men bolted. Julian paid them little attention as he ran into the stable. He would deal with them later. Halfway into the barn, he saw Vincent face down in the hay. He rushed past. Damian could check on the lad's condition.

"You rutting bastard!" Julian snarled his blind rage, as he saw Dirk pinning Tamlyn in the mud. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and sent him flying, slamming him up against the side of the barn. With a feral growl, he rammed his knee hard to Dirk's groin―hard enough to do damage.

"Seize him," he ordered Damian, as Dirk fell to his knees retching.

Julian rushed to Tamlyn and knelt beside her, wanting to touch her, to hold her, but fearing she would reject his comfort. A knife twisted in his chest. He could hardly breathe as he stared at her disheveled condition. The bruise on her chin where Dirk had hit her with his fist. Scratches and scrapes on her arms and legs. Deep bruises already forming on her thighs. Blood under her fingernails.

Tears filled her large amber eyes, as he helped her sit. Her hand trembled as she touched her fingers to her bruised lip. The shaking growing worse, she refused to meet his eyes.

Whipping off his mantle, he wrapped it around her, as he helped her to her feet. She was so weak she could barely stand, so he lifted her into his arms.

He wanted to kill Dirk—here and now—but knew he needed to get her upstairs and to bed before she fainted.

"Take him to the pit. Round up the other two. I shall pronounce judgment on the morrow," Julian commanded before carrying Tamlyn from the ward.

Her body trembled as she curled her head against his chest.