Frustrated, furious, Allaston sighed harshly and turned away. She couldn’t stomach looking at the man any longer. She started coughing, struggling with the illness that was sweeping her, and trying not to succumb to the depression that grasped at her like cold, knowing fingers. Those fingers knew she could be easily snared given her circumstances. As Allaston grappled with her emotions, she could hear the knight’s joints popping as he shifted on his big legs.
“My name is Bretton de Llion,” he said, his raspy voice low. “I was born in Wales at a castle called Four Crosses. It is north of our location, near Powis Castle. When I was five, a great plague swept through the Marches, destroying everything in its path. Castles were burned, men put to the stake and murdered, and babies crushed. The plague soon came to Four Crosses and killed my father, my mother, and my sister. That plague had a name– Ajax de Velt.”
Allaston, who had been facing away from him, remained still as his words sank in. Even when the full impact hit her, she didn’t look at the man because, suddenly, everything was coming clear. Now, she understood why he had taken her from Alberbury without benefit of further explanation. Aye, she understood a great deal now.
As she’d know on that bloody, terrible night when Alberbury burned, the knight, now given the name of Bretton de Llion, had come to the priory with a purpose. He had been seeking a de Velt, but the mystery had been his purpose. Now, he had revealed it. Allaston was no fool. She could smell vengeance upon the still air of the cell. She knew what her father had done those years ago. Her parents had never hid the fact, although the man Jax de Velt was today was quite different than the man he was years ago. The man back then had been an animal.This knight, this big and horrible knight, was out for vengeance against that animal. Allaston’s depression deepened.
“Just kill me now and be done with it, then,” she muttered. “That is why you took me from Alberbury, is it not? To kill me? Then do it and let us be done with this madness.”
Bretton continued to stare at her. He was very good at remaining impassive. “Who said anything about killing you?” he asked. “I do not intend to kill you, at least not at the moment.”
Allaston sighed heavily. “Is that so?” she asked, turning to look at him with dark-circled eyes. “If you do not intend to kill me, then you must intend to punish me somehow for what my father did to your family. That is the only reason I am here, is it not? I will say again that if you intend to torture me, get on with it. Your hesitation and your mind games do not impress me. If you are going to make me suffer, then do it.”
Bretton met her gaze without flinching. It was difficult to tell if she had angered him with her slander against his behavior because he hadn’t reacted one way or another. The man had a good deal of self-control. That much was clear. After a moment, he folded his big arms across his chest.
“I am not intending to impress you or tease you,” he said. “But you wanted to know why you are here. Now you know.”
Allaston shook her head, her dark hair stringy and dirty along her cheeks. “You have told me that my father killed your family,” she said, “but you have not told mewhyI am here. What do you intend to do with me?”
She had a point. Bretton cocked an eyebrow. “That should be obvious,” he said. “I intend to use you to get to your father.”
Allaston stared at him then she burst out in weak, taunting laughter. Illness and fatigue had weakened her manner and she found she had little control over what she said. She felt so terrible that it didn’t matter any longer. She’d spent three weeksin this hellish hole. The only way out was death and she was coming to welcome it. She was so very, very tired.
“Is that it?” she asked. “You intend to use me as bait? Lure my father to his doom? He is too smart for that and too smart for you. You have wasted your time, knight, and now you would waste my life with your foolish plan. He will never come. You will have to think of something else if you plan to engage my father.”
Bretton didn’t react for a moment and Allaston didn’t particularly care one way or the other. She coughed heavily after the laughter faded and averted her gaze once more, too sick to give in to the fear that had clutched at her these many weeks. Now that she knew why she was here, it all seemed so foolish and wasteful. As she lost herself in a powerful coughing fit, Bretton broke from his stance.
One minute he was standing near the cell door and in the next, he was unsheathing a sharp dirk that was strapped to his left forearm. Allaston saw the flash of the knife as he descended on her, flinching away from him just as he grabbed her hair. He snatched the entire bunch of her dark hair, which hung loose to her knees and, looping the mass in his fist, he used the dagger to cut through the loop and therefore cut off about two feet of her hair.
Allaston gasped as she watched the man come away with a big fistful of her hair. She grabbed at her remaining strands to see how much he had cut off and was met by blunt-cut ends that were about the length of her buttocks. Her hair had been very long before and was now just simply long, glorious strands of liquid silk. Her eyes flew to Bretton accusingly and he met her gaze, as impassionate as always.
“We shall see how foolish my plan is when your father receives your hair as proof that I hold his daughter captive,” he said, sounding rather confident. “We shall see if that brings him to my doorstep.”
Allaston was furious that he had cut her hair. “It willnot.”
“We shall see.”
“And if it does not?”
Bretton cocked a dark eyebrow. “Then mayhap I shall use you as a concubine,” he said, watching her pale cheeks flush red. “What could be worse to the almighty de Velt than to have his daughter a slave of an enemy? I shall impregnate you, again and again, and teach my sons to hate their grandfather. I shall breed an army of warriors against Jax de Velt from the loins of his own daughter.”
Allaston was overwhelmed with the horror of his suggestion. “You cannot,” she hissed. “I am destined for the Church. I am to be a Bride of Christ!”
Bretton cocked his head, a thoughtful gesture. “A bride, aye,” he said slowly. “But not of Christ. Mayhap I will wed you myself, a further insult to de Velt. I will send the bloody bed linens from our wedding night to him to show him that I have taken his flesh and blood as my own, to do with as I will. And you still do not think that will bring the man to my doorstep? Think again.”
Allaston gazed at him with more hatred than she had ever experienced. In fact, she was wild with it.
“I will kill myself before I let you touch me,” she snarled. “You will lose your bait, your captive… you will lose everything!”
Bretton had little doubt that she meant what she said. “Mayhap,” he said quietly, eyeing the woman. “But I would not worry about taking your own life. Whatever illness you have will more than likely kill you before you can take a dagger to your throat.”
Allaston nodded with great flourish. “One can only hope,” she said. “As long as I am dead before I have to feel your filthy hand against my flesh, that is all I am concerned with.”
Bretton actually cracked a smile, thin and without humor. “Then I will have to take you before you rot away from whateveris killing you,” he said. “I prefer my women pliable. The only way you will be pliable is if you are too ill to fight back.”
Allaston’s hatred was turning to rage. “Touch me and you will regret it,” she hissed, “for I will fight you to my dying breath.”
He didn’t doubt her for a minute.
