Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(140)

* * * * *


Della watched Brant go. Her heart leapt wildly into her throat to choke her more effectively than the gag.

He thinks I had something to do with this. He doesn’t care for me. Brant, come back, don’t leave me, let me explain.

Her limbs shook. The gag made it hard to breathe. She panicked when several minutes passed and he didn’t return. Then, finally, she heard footsteps coming back to her. She looked hungrily at the door, waiting for her husband to reappear. It wasn’t to be. In his place stood Gunther, a frown marring his brow.

Gunther pulled the gag from her mouth and then moved to slowly unbind her wrists. His actions were distant, as he made no sign of pleasure at her recovery.

“Brant!” Della yelled, her hoarse voice barely audible. Her dry mouth made it hard to speak, but she tried anyway. Screaming louder, she croaked desperately, “Brant, come back. You don’t understand!”

“M’lady,” Gunther stated calmly. She kept straining to be free and it halted his progress to untie her wrists. “Let it be fer now. He cannot hear you anyway.”

“Gunther, you have to get him. You don’t understand,” Della pleaded, trying to jump from the bed even as he untied her feet. She sat up and grabbed at his arm. “Please. You must stop him.”

Gunther took in her pleading face. “He will not listen to me. Besides, he has already ridden back toward Strathfeld.”

“Nay,” Della wailed. She pushed from the bed as he finally finished with her ankles and stumbled toward the door. Her feet had been bound so tight they stung as blood rushed into them. Her legs weakened and she stumbled into Gunther’s chest.

Gunther held her slight weight against him. Her eyelids lowered as blackness threatened to consume her. Della’s head rolled slightly before she caught it. Taking a deep breath, she fought the oncoming swoon. “Gunther, you must believe me. I had naught to do with this. Stuart kidnapped me. He was the one trying to rid me of our child. Gunther, I love Brant. I could never kill—”

“Wait.” Gunther broke into her tearful confession with a frown. A look of bleak understanding came across his face. “You carry Brant’s child?”

“Yea. Methinks he may not have known until he saw Serilda with the knife. But I told Rab, and the boy surely must have told Brant.” Della trembled, her words rushed and incoherent in her desperation. “Did he not tell you?”

“Nay.” Gunther moved out of her way, nodding as if in understanding. Della sank wearily onto the cot. “It is why he thinks you are to blame fer this treachery. Did you not tell him once that you would… It doesn’t matter.”

“Gunther, please,” Della began desperately. She collapsed back on the bed as tears streamed down her face in despair. Her hand jerked into her long hair, pulling it roughly from her face. Then, sitting, she looked at the splintered chamber door. “I need to tell him.”

“Hush. I know well, Della, that you had naught to do with this. I have seen you with Rab. You have too big of a heart to murder a child before he takes his first breath.”

Della again stood as her world stopped spinning. Her feet wobbled under her weight and Gunther lifted a hand to her elbow for support. She was too tired to wipe the tears from her eyes. Seeing Stuart’s dead body, a wave of nausea rushed over her. The fact that she was free finally hit her and she shook violently.

“Oh, Stuart,” Della whispered in grief. Her face paled and she shook her head sadly. In death, he resembled the boy she loved so much, and her heart ached for him. But, even as she mourned him, she knew his death was the only way she would be free of him. “You were the foolish one, dear cousin. Mayhap death will bring you a peace life could not.”

Gunther let her go as she shrugged out of his grasp. He moved to the door and waited patiently as Della kneeled by her cousin to close his eyes. Then, taking the satchel at Stuart’s waist she searched for the ring he had taken from her—her wedding band. In the pouch, she found a white square cloth with a spot of blood. Inside it was her ring.

“What is that?” Gunther leaned over to see.

“My ring,” Della said. “Methinks this must be Stuart’s blood.”

“Nay.”

Della gasped at Serilda’s voice. She’d forgotten the woman was there.

“It’s yer maidenhead from yer checking. I gave it to him so he would be the only man to possess it.” Serilda’s pale lips barely moved as she said the words. Her eyes turned to the dead man and a light smile entered her troubled gaze for a passing moment. Then, as the breath hissed from her lungs, she stopped moving.