Julie Garwood: Honor's Splendour

His expression remained inscrutable. He kept silent as he watched her remove a small dagger from beneath her cape. She stood close enough for him to capture with his unbound legs, and if her words proved false or her dagger moved toward his heart, he'd be forced to crush her.

Lady Madelyne had no idea of the danger. Intent only on setting him free, she moved closer to his side and began the task of cutting through the thick rope. Duncan noticed that her hands were shaking. He couldn't decide if it was because of the harsh weather or fear.

The scent of roses reached him. When he inhaled the light fragrance, he decided the freezing temperature had certainly muddled his mind. A rose in the middle of winter, an angel inside this fortress of purgatory… neither made sense to him, yet she smelled of the flowers of spring and looked like a vision from above.

He shook his head again. The logical part of his mind knew exactly who she was. The description given to him was accurate in every detail, but misleading too. He'd been told that Louddon's sister was of medium height and had brown hair and blue eyes. And pleasing to look upon, he remembered being informed. Ah, there was the falsehood, he decided. The devil's sister was neither pleasing nor pretty. She was magnificent.

The rope finally gave way, and his hands were freed. He stood where he was, his expression well hidden. The girl came to stand in front of him again and gifted him with a small smile before she turned and knelt to gather his possessions.

Fear made the simple task awkward. She stumbled when she stood up again, straightened herself, and then turned back to him. "Please follow me," she instructed him.

He didn't move, but continued to stand where he was, watching and waiting.

Madelyne frowned over his hesitation, thinking to herself that the cold had surely frozen his ability to think. She clutched his garments to her chest with one hand, letting the heavy boots dangle from her fingertips, and then put her other arm around his waist. "Lean on me," she whispered. "I'll help you, I promise. But please, we must hurry." Her gaze was directed toward the castle doors and the fear sounded in her voice.

He responded to her desperation. He wanted to tell her that they needn't hide, for even now his men were scaling the walls, but he changed his mind. The less she knew, the better his advantage when the time came.

She barely reached his shoulder, yet she valiantly tried to accept some of his weight by taking his arm and draping it around her shoulders. "We go to the visiting priest's quarters behind the chapel," she told him in a soft whisper." 'Tis the one place they'll never think to look."

The warrior paid scant attention to what she was telling him. His gaze was directed to the top of the north wall. The half moon gave the light snow an eerie glow and outlined his soldiers climbing over the top. Not a sound could be heard as his men grew in numbers along the wooden walkway that circled the top of the wall.

The warrior nodded with satisfaction. Louddon's soldiers were as foolish as their lord. The harshness of the weather had sent the gatekeepers inside, leaving the wall unprotected and vulnerable. The enemy had proven their weakness. And they would all die because of it.

He gave the woman more of his weight to slow her progress while he flexed his hands, again and again, trying to force the numbness from his fingers. There was little feeling in his feet, a bad sign, he knew even as he accepted that nothing could be done about it now.

He heard a faint whistle and quickly raised his hand high into the air, giving the signal to wait. He glanced down at the woman to see if she had caught his action, his other hand ready to clamp over her mouth if she gave the least indication that she knew what was happening. But the woman was busy struggling with his weight and seemed oblivious to the fact that her home was being penetrated.

They reached a narrow doorway and Madelyne, believing the captive to be in a dangerously weakened condition, tried to prop him up against the stone wall with one hand while she worked to get the door unlatched.

The baron, understanding her intent, willingly leaned against the wall and watched her juggle his garments and fight the icy chain.

Once she had the door opened, she took hold of his hand and led him through the darkness. A rush of frigid air swirled around them as they made their way to a second door at the end of a long, damp corridor. Madelyne quickly opened it and beckoned him inside.

The room they entered was windowless, but several candles had been lit, casting a warm glow to the intersanctuary. The air was stale. Dust covered the wooden floor and fat cobwebs dangled and swayed from the low-beamed ceiling. Several colorful robes used by visiting priests hung on hooks, and a straw pallet had been placed in the center of the small area with two thick blankets next to it.

Madelyne latched the door and sighed with relief. For the moment they were safe. She motioned for him to sit down on the pallet. "When I saw what they were doing to you, I prepared this room," she explained as she handed him his clothing. "My name is Madelyne and I'm…" She started to explain her relationship to her brother, Louddon, and then thought better of it. "I'll stay with you until first light and then show you the way out through a hidden passage. Not even Louddon knows it exists."

The baron sat down and folded his legs in front of him. He pulled on his shirt while he listened to her. He considered that her act of courage certainly complicated his life, found himself wondering how she would react when she realized his true plan, and then decided that his course of action couldn't be altered.

As soon as his hauberk was once again covering his massive chest, Madelyne draped one of the blankets around his shoulders and then knelt down, facing him. She leaned back on the heels of her shoes, motioning for him to stretch out his legs. When he had complied with her wishes, she studied his feet, frowning with concern. He reached for his boots, but Madelyne stayed his hands. "We must warm your feet first," she explained.

She took a deep breath while she considered the quickest way to give life back to the starving limbs. Her head was bent, shielding her face from the watchful gaze of the warrior.

She picked up the second blanket, started to wrap it around his feet, and then shook her head, changing her mind. Without offering a word of explanation, she threw the blanket over his legs, removed her cloak, and then slowly inched the cream-colored chainse up over her knees. The braided leather rope she used as a decorative belt and a sheath for her dagger got caught up in the dark green bliaut that covered her chainse, and she took the time to remove it, discarding it next to the warrior's side.

He was curious about her strange behavior and waited for her to explain her actions. But Madelyne didn't say a word. She took another deep breath, grabbed hold of his feet, and quickly, before she could think better of it, slipped them under her clothing, flattening them against the warmth of her stomach.

She let out a loud gasp when his icy skin touched her own warm flesh, and then adjusted her gown and wrapped her arms around the outside, hugging him to her. Her shoulders began to tremble and the warrior felt it was as if she were drawing all the cold from his body and taking it into her own.

It was the most unselfish act he had ever witnessed.

Feeling was quick to return to his feet. He felt as if a thousand daggers were being thrust into the soles of his feet, burning with an intensity he found difficult to ignore. He tried to shift his position, but she wouldn't allow it, increasing her hold with surprising strength.

"If there is pain,'tis a good sign," she told him, her voice no more than a husky whisper. "It will go away soon. Besides, you're most fortunate to be feeling anything," she added.