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“I do, sir. I know his mother.”
“Then see if you can find him. Perhaps a word with him would clear up any mystery. It seems a bit too slight to accuse a fine man of crimes on such a small report.”
“Yes, sir,”
“You locate this fellow, and if not, I’d suggest you forget your suspicions. You are often a frivolous slave.” Mountbane thought on. “Why would you care, madam? Seems to me that you and Sir Tristan have been estranged more than you’ve been together.”
“No woman likes to see her husband leave her for another woman, no more than a man would enjoy his wife brooding for another man.”
“You truly think Lady Charlotte has some affection for your husband?”
“She’s been smitten for three years, sir, just as Tristan has been in love with her.”
Mountbane bade the woman go, though he dwelt on this discourse for some time, as it seemed to verify certain suspicions he had harbored in secret.
d
Having dispensed with his two men, with strict instructions not to return to the castle for a week, Tristan led the Lady Charlotte through the woods on horseback. It was her first time astride a horse, and the poor woman found the ride difficult and slow. They were together though, and that gave them cause to rejoice. Until they were beyond Mountbane’s reach, they knew their journey was a dangerous one.
At the outset, they made their trek in the direction of Sir Guy’s enclave, however, after having gone some distance, Tristan moved off the main thoroughfare—which was only a mere path—in the direction of the retreat where he and Charlotte would first make a temporary home. He had plans for venturing to a more permanent residence far from Ilusia’s grasp and the long reaches of Lord Nor’s imperious hand. But the timing of this matter was important, complicated by the threatening seasonal rains. Traipsing through deep mud would only hamper their travel.
The further they went, the more their freedom grew on them as a comforting cloak—though they said little of their elation for fear of jinxing their trip. It was enough that they were close to each other and the promise of a life they both could shape in the fashion that suited true lovers.
As dusk approached, the shadows inside the forest trees grew thick and heavy—surely as weighted by fear as they were the time of day. Though she’d been elated earlier in the day, Charlotte’s premonition of doom seemed to cloud any mirth that she had enjoyed the more they ventured into the darkness. She was afraid to speak of her concerns. Tristan was a most determined man—who would not think kindly about her trepidation.
“Perhaps we should stop for the night,” she wondered aloud when it seemed as though any sign of a decent path had disappeared.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, but they kept moving, inching their way forward in the dark.
When Tristan stopped his mount, he listened, and Charlotte listened too; but he didn’t speak. The moment demanded quiet. They began again, only to stop a second time to listen to the woods. A third time, they heard the distinct rustle of leaves and undergrowth; they felt a breeze on their cheeks and a tingle of apprehension raced up their spines.
“Move forward fast,” Sir Tristan suddenly lurched forward grasping the reins of Charlotte’s horse in an attempt to take them both out of the reach of what haunted them. And yet, his intuition came too late. Any act, save sprouting wings and flying free of the forest, was too slow to save them.
Clutched by unseen hands, Charlotte toppled from her horse; while a dagger hit Sir Tristan knocking him off his animal. The pair was captured by two disparate bands of Mountbane’s warriors, taken separately from the woods, each small company moving in opposite directions. While their voices were gagged into silence, their hearts were screaming to the other so their inner ears would hear.
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte was taken to the tower of Mountbane’s castle, left to herself for nearly three days before someone finally entered the tiny room. Though she might have wailed for someone to take notice, she had little desire for any such activity. Sure that her plans for loving Tristan had been destroyed, there was little left to live for.
“Why it’s Charlotte here!”
These were the first words uttered to her in days. She didn’t have to turn to know their source. Her husband’s sarcasm was so common to her ear, she could hear his vileness even when he wasn’t speaking.
“How sad you look.”
She turned to him, her expression blank.
“Are you hungry, perhaps?”
“You know I must be.”
“You must think me the devil, Charlotte, but then, it was you who betrayed me.”
“I won’t argue with you, husband, because I wouldn’t even want to win the battle.”
“That despondent, how miserable for you. But I will feed you.” He thought that might lift her spirits, but it did not. “My mind’s been working so feverishly to find some penance that would befit this crime of yours,” he went on. “I think I might have found the very one that would satisfy me.”
“Before your throw me in the dungeon?”
