“Nay, methinks it’s still too soon to risk—” His mouth snapped shut and he quickly turned his head to the sound of two approaching horses. The grip on her hand tightened as he pressed her more firmly against his arm.
Brant!
Her heart soared in hope only to have it fall again as she recognized Cedric and not her husband. He galloped to them, swinging off his horse to land on the ground with a heavy thud. Seeing her, Cedric gave her a mocking bow and quick smirk before turning to Stuart.
“You are late!” Stuart growled. His grip on Della’s hand loosened somewhat as he jerked her forward, forcing her with him toward the dismounted knight. “What news do you bring from the castle?”
“We are here now.” Cedric spat next to Della’s feet. She jumped out of the way, pulling as far back from the man as she could manage. She watched the tree line, hoping to see Brant hidden within it, but found nothing.
“What are you letting her out for?” another man interjected. “She should be tied to a bed.”
Della turned sharply toward the voice. She could not see the man’s face for he was hidden behind his horse. A chill worked over her spine at the sound.
“William’s horse lagged behind,” Cedric complained. He ignored his riding companion’s growl. “I told you that nag you stole would slow us down.”
Della watched carefully as the man, William, came into view. He was large and dark, with a pointedly devious gaze. She felt the blood run from her face and her stomach lurched. Terrified, she tore her arm from her cousin’s grip. Stuart let her go. Suddenly, a rush of memories flooded her, memories from the night of her mother’s death. She backed away from them.
Della remembered William’s face. He had been there. He’d spurred the other men on, leading them and encouraging them. How could she have forgotten it? She remembered his long black hair, how it framed the hard plains of his face, giving him a demonic cast in the orange firelight.
Black! They all had black hair and looked like foreigners from the far south! They were not Vikings. Why would my father tell me they were Vikings? No wonder they were not caught. They looked for the wrong men.
“Della?” Stuart asked, at her horrified gasp. He studied her face grimly. Reaching his hand to her, he curled the tips of his fingers as if to beckon her forward. Della denied the offer with a terrified shake of her head. She felt like a small child, cowering in the corner of her nightmares. Stiff and helpless, a flood of horror gripped her heart and pumped fear into her very being.
“He was there,” Della whispered when she was able to utter a sound. She continued to back away. Her eyes stayed fixed on William, afraid if she blinked he would disappear and would never be caught. She pointed at the evil man. “You are the one. You tied my head to the post. You made me watch.”
William glared at her, his expression confused. Her breathing quickened. How could he not know? Not immediately remember? Had his deeds over the years been just as bloody? Had they not marred his soul as they had hers?
Slowly, a smile of recognition crossed William’s face. He nodded in remembrance before calmly stating, “The child we let live.”
“You made the others… You murdered my mother. You killed her. You raped and burned her.” Tears rushed down her face. Bile rose in her throat as the screams from the past echoed in her ears. She turned her desperate, pleading gaze to Stuart. “Stuart, it was never the Vikings. It was him. He did it. You must—”
“You have grown well, child,” William broke in with a delighted laugh, his voice crackling in darkness. He didn’t look as she imagined a villain would. His face was broad and proud, scarred only a little by pockmarks. His teeth, though a few were missing, were only slightly yellowed. But his eyes were deadlier than she could have ever recalled. He watched her closely and her panic only made his eyes glow in pleasure. “Methought I should see you again. You look like your mother. You have her eyes, as did I for a time—until they rotted.”
“Why?” Her hand went to her throat. “Why did you kill her? She was a kind woman.”
Stuart’s stunned expression turned to a scowl of fury as he hissed at William, “I told you to stay out of her sight. I warned you. You have ruined everything!”
“Tell her, Stuart. Tell her why her mother died. Tell her of your father’s greed for land. Tell her why I tied her head so your father could watch and command us from behind her. Tell her how he drank her brother’s blood to seal his pact with hell.” William laughed in wicked satisfaction, thoroughly enjoying the moment. He didn’t take his eyes from Della as he spoke. Stuart’s face turned dark in his fury.