Page 80 of A Knight’s Vengeance

A convulsion shook him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he crumpled to the floor.

As though from a great distance, Elizabeth heard Mildred cry her name. A chair crashed against a wall. Without looking at the dais, she knew Geoffrey had leapt to his feet.

Panic shrilled inside her. She bolted for the stairwell.

Behind her, footfalls pounded.

Her pursuer grabbed her braid. Yanked her back by her hair’s roots.

She screamed.

Geoffrey spun her around, her hair twisted around his arm, his face contorted with rage. “What have you done?”

Words refused to form on her tongue.

He grabbed her arms and shook her. Hard. “Answer me!”

Elizabeth trembled. “I⁠—”

“You poisoned the ale, aye?” he bellowed. “Aye?”

She could not deny him the truth. She nodded.

With an angry roar, he threw her to the waiting guards. He looked at the servants and men-at-arms who knelt beside Dominic’s motionless body, whispering and shaking their heads. His gaze narrowed on Mildred. “You”—Geoffrey pointed at her—“will care for him. You will watch over him day and night. You will do whatever is needed to ensure he lives. By God, he had better live, or you will rue the day you were brought to this keep.”

His head swiveled. He stared at Elizabeth, his gaze so bitter, so pitiless, she fought a sob. She struggled against the guards’ hold, but they pinned her arms to her sides.

“Take the lady to my solar. If she tries to escape, lock her in the dungeon.”

As the guards escorted Elizabeth from the hall, Geoffrey hurried to Dominic’s side. The circle of castle folk stepped back, parted, and gave him space to crouch down on the soiled rushes.

Dominic’s face looked as white as a shroud. His jaw hung slack. Thank God he still breathed.

Geoffrey bowed his head, and his eyes squeezed shut. Rage, guilt, and gut-wrenching fear boiled inside him in a violent tempest. How many times had he awakened in the hospital at Acre, to find Dominic sitting by his bed, a calming presence in Geoffrey’s world of physical torment and emotional anguish.

Dominic was the one person Geoffrey trusted with his life. He would not let Dominic die. He had not been able to save his father or his brother, but he would save his friend.

Shoving to his feet, he gestured to the men-at-arms awaiting orders. “Take him to his chamber. Make sure he is comfortable.”

Mildred fought the guards that restrained her. “Lady Elizabeth and I did not plan to hurt him or anyone else. You must believe me.”

A half-smile twisted Geoffrey’s mouth. “You are responsible for his life now, and your lady’s.”

Concern shivered across the matron’s face. “I will do what you ask. Please, milady⁠—”

Geoffrey’s jaw clenched. Rage buzzed inside him with a vicious sting. He stared at the wooden staircase that led up to the landing and his solar.

He strode toward the stairs.

The silence in Geoffrey’s chamber dragged. Arms clasped to her chest, Elizabeth paced before the hearth, her strides breaking the sunshine and shadows playing across the floorboards.

Oh, God, the waiting was torture.

Any moment, Geoffrey would walk in and mete out her punishment, whatever that might be.

She glanced at the table between the two chairs. Gone were the wine, sweetmeats, and fine linens—the cultured trappings. Today, light gleamed on the scarred wood. Today, she did not doubt she would see the rough side of de Lanceau’s character, the part that fed his anger and his thirst for revenge.

Pushing her shoulders back, she resumed her fretful pacing. She must not lose courage. She would face whatever torment de Lanceau ordered for her with dignity and⁠—