How in God's name was she going to save him?

They reached the heavy door that led to the courtyard. The baron pushed it open so forcefully the hinges unbuckled. The door shredded into planks against the stone wall. Madelyne was pulled through the opening, into an icy wind that slapped her face and made a mockery of her fervent belief that the man she had untied less than an hour past was daft. No, he wasn't daft at all.

The proof surrounded her. Over a hundred soldiers lined the inner courtyard, with more climbing over the top of the stone wail, all as quick as the rising wind and as silent as thieves, and every one of them wearing Baron Wexton's blue and white colors.

Madelyne was so overwhelmed by the sight, she didn't even notice her captor had stopped to look at his men as they gathered in numbers before him. She bumped into his back, instinctively reached out to grab hold of his hauberk to balance herself, and only then realized he'd let go of her hands.

He didn't give the least indication she was there, hovering behind his back, clutching his garment as if it had suddenly become her lifeline. Madelyne realized she might appear to be hiding, or worse, cowering, and she immediately braved a step to his side so that one and all could see her. The top of her head reached the baron's shoulders. She stood with her shoulders straight, trying to match the baron's defiant stance, praying all the while her terror wasn't discernible.

Lord, but she was scared. In truth, she wasn't overly afraid of death; it was the dying that came before that terrified her. Aye, it was the thought of her own behavior before the foul deed was completed that made her feel so sick inside. Would it be quick or slowly drawn out? Would she lose her carefully nurtured control at the last minute and act the coward? That thought so upset her, she almost blurted out then and there that she wanted to be the first to feel the blade of death. But pleading for a quick end would also make her a coward, wouldn't it? And then her brother's prediction would be fulfilled.

Baron Wexton had no idea of the thoughts racing through his captive's mind. He glanced down to look at her, took in her tranquil expression, and was mildly surprised by it. She looked very calm, almost serene, yet he knew her manner would soon change. Madelyne was about to witness his revenge, beginning with the total destruction of her home. No doubt she'd be weeping and begging for mercy before the deed was done.

One of the soldiers hurried over to stand directly before the baron. It was obvious to Madelyne that he was related to her captor, as he had the identical color of blackish-brown hair and the same muscular bearing, though he wasn't nearly as tall. The soldier ignored Madelyne, addressing his leader. " Duncan? Do you give the call or do we stand here all night?"

His name was Duncan. Odd, but hearing his family name did help lessen Madelyne's fear. Duncan… aye, the name seemed to make him a little more human in her mind.

"Well, brother?" the soldier demanded then, giving Madelyne their relationship and the reason the baron allowed such an insolent attitude from his vassal.

The soldier, surely a younger brother from his youthful appearance and lack of battle scars, then turned to look at Madelyne. His brown eyes mirrored his contempt for her.

He looked as though he might hit her. Why, the angry soldier even took a step back, as if he wished to put more distance between himself and the leper she had suddenly become.

"Louddon isn't here, Gilard," Duncan told his brother.

The baron's comment was given so mildly, Madelyne was immediately filled with new hope. "Then you will go home, milord?" she asked, turning to look up at him.

Duncan didn't answer her. She would have repeated her question if the vassal hadn't interrupted her by yelling a litany of crude remarks. His gaze was fixed on Madelyne as he spewed forth his frustration. Though Madelyne didn't understand most of the foul comments, she could tell they were sinful just by the frightening look in Gilard's eyes.

Duncan was about to command his brother to cease his childish tirade, when he felt Madelyne take hold of his hand. He was so astonished by her touch, he didn't know how to react.

Madelyne clung to him and he could feel her trembling, yet when he turned to look down at her, she looked composed. She stared at Gilard. Duncan shook his head. He knew his brother hadn't any idea how terrifying he was to Madelyne. In truth, Duncan doubted Gilard would care if he did know.

Gilard's anger suddenly irritated Duncan. Madelyne was his captive, not his opponent, and the sooner Gilard understood how she was to be treated, the better. "Enough!" he demanded. "Louddon's gone. Your curses won't bring him back."

Duncan suddenly jerked his hand away from Madelyne's. He threw his arm around her shoulders, nearly knocking her over in his haste, and then pulled her up against his side. Gilard was so astonished by the obvious show of protection, he could only stare open-mouthed at his brother.

"Louddon must have taken the south road, Gilard, else you would have spotted him," Duncan said.

Madelyne couldn't stop herself from interfering. "And now you'll go home?" she asked, trying not to sound overly eager. "You can challenge Louddon another time," she suggested, hoping to take the sting out of their disappointment.

Both brothers turned to look at her. Neither answered her, but the look on their faces implied they thought she had a broken mind.

Madelyne's fear began to intensify again. The chilling look in the baron's eyes nearly made her knees snap. She quickly lowered her own gaze until she was staring at his chest, shamed to the core of her soul that she was proving to be so weak in character. "I'm not the crazed one," she muttered. "You could still get away from here without being caught."

Duncan ignored her comment. He grabbed hold of her bound hands and dragged her over to the very post she'd released him from. Madelyne tripped twice, her legs weak with fear. When Duncan finally released her, Madelyne leaned back against the splintered wood, waiting to see what he would do next.

The baron gave Madelyne a long glare. It was an unspoken command to stay there, Madelyne decided. Then he turned until his shoulders blocked her view of his soldiers. His muscular thighs were braced apart and his big hands were fisted on the tilt of his hips. It was a battle stance that clearly challenged his audience. "No one touches her. She is mine." Duncan 's powerful voice rang out, washing over his men with as much force as the icy pellets hurling down from above.

Madelyne turned to look at the door to Louddon's castle. Surely Duncan 's voice had reached inside, alerting the sleeping soldiers. Yet, when Louddon's men didn't immediately pour into the courtyard, Madelyne decided that the fierce wind must have swept away the baron's voice.

Duncan started to walk away from Madelyne. She reached out and grabbed hold of the back of his hauberk. The circular steel links cut into her fingers. She grimaced in pain, yet wasn't certain if her reaction was caused by the abrasive links or the infuriated look on the baron's face when he turned back to her. He stood so close, his chest was actually touching hers. Madelyne was forced to tilt her head back in order to see his face.

"You don't understand, Baron," Madelyne blurted out. "If you'd only listen to reason, you'd see how foolish this plan of yours is."

"How foolish my plan is?" Duncan repeated, astonished into bellowing by her brash statement. He didn't understand why he wanted to know what she was talking about, but he did. Hell, she'd just insulted him. He would have killed a man for less. Yet the innocent look on her face, and the sincerity in her voice, indicated she wasn't even aware of her transgression.