“Tell me,” she commanded, paralyzed.
“I came as soon as I discovered the truth, for I feared you were in danger.” The smile was back fully on his face when she pulled away to look at him. Della could no longer smell the stink of his breath. Her body could no longer feel. Her eyes could no longer see.
“Tell me who they were? One of Lord Blackwell’s men?” Della mentally ran their faces through her mind. Most seemed too young to have been there.
“Nay. It was Lord Blackwell,” Stuart growled victoriously. He grabbed her arms and pulled her back against his body. Squeezing her painfully, he kept her from running.
“Stuart, Brant is too young. I remember the men being his age now when it happened.” The acute disappointment threatened to choke her. She wanted to vomit.
“Nay, not Brant. His father,” Stuart affirmed. “It was Blackwell’s father. That is why you knew not to trust him at first. You must have felt the blood connection between them. That was before his pagan spells wove over your senses and blinded you to the truth.”
“But how? Why?” She shook her head. Nausea continued to rise chokingly in her throat. Della shut her eyes. “I cannot believe—”
“Think on it Della. Blackwell Manor borders your own land. Mayhap he thought to take your land for his own. Mayhap he was a sadistic barbarian. Your mother was a very comely woman.” Stuart let his hand drop from her shoulder, as if he knew she was not going to leave him. He was right. Her will had drained from her limbs.
Della turned to him, tears streaming freely down her face. She swayed on her feet. “But how—”
“How did he know you would be on the coast?” Stuart broke in with confidence. “Think, Della. His land is not far from here. He would have had spies in your father’s house. A servant would hardly be noticed as she cleans. A small page could have easily been bought. Blackwell would have known exactly where to find you and your mother. Yea, it was even a captain who lured your father to drink that night, was it not? Captains. Ships. Vikings. It all makes sense.”
Della could not deny that his words did indeed make sense. What Lord would not be jealous of Strathfeld land? It was envied, wealthy property with rich soils.
“She died for land?” Della asked in bewilderment. It didn’t seem fair. It couldn’t be true. “For petty greed?”
“Yea. And now, because of your marriage, the heathen’s blood finally possesses that land she died for. If you stay with Blackwell, they will have won. So, it is Blackwell who must pay for the death in place of his godless father.” Stuart clearly thought she couldn’t deny him any longer.
“Nay.” Della shook her head, proving him wrong. As the initial shock wore off, her sanity returned. “I will not punish the child for the sins of the parents. Give me the whole of your knowledge and I will ask Brant to seek out the truth. I am sure he will bring swift justice to the responsible parties.”
“The sins of the parents flow through the blood of their children. It is in his blood, Della.” Stuart paced back and forth, pulling at his short hair until it stood wildly on end.
“Nay. To believe that would be to say Rab deserved to be ill-treated for the adultery of his mother. I cannot give credence to such judgments and I know deep inside, you cannot either. Would you be judged for your father? Would you judge me by mine?”
Stuart stopped pacing and turned his cold, narrowed eyes to her—hating her logic, as it didn’t fall in with his. As he spoke, his words increased in volume until he was screeching at her. “You are coming with me. This is my land. You will be my wife. You will be loyal to me. You will love me. That is the way it should have been, if not for your father’s meddling. I am the rightful heir to the title of ealdorman. I am the true lord of Strathfeld!”
“Nay, Stuart. You are mad.” Della backed away from him in fright. The man before her was a stranger. The boy she had grown up with was gone. Part of her wondered if he’d ever existed. His eyes rolled in his head as he raged more to himself than to her. He flung his hands frantically.
Ready to run from his ranting, she began to turn. Instead, she bumped into an iron clad chest and fell to the ground. Looking up in surprise, she saw Cedric.
“M’lady?” he asked, as he made no move to help her. His arms were folded over his chest. He glanced questioningly at Stuart and then back to her. The knight frowned, his red eyebrows furrowing as he studied her.
Della reached for him, knowing how bad it must look, her talking to a man who was forbidden from entering the castle. When Cedric didn’t help her to her feet, she pushed herself to standing and dusted herself off before looking up at the young soldier.