Brant knew that hand. The ring he had placed on his wife’s finger gleamed under the light of Edwyn’s torch. He stormed forward and grabbed Della by the wrist, hauling her up and out of the passage in one swift motion. She screamed in surprise and he shoved her behind his body as he peered down into the hole. Satisfied she was alone, he turned his blazing eyes to her.
“Br-ant,” Della stuttered in astonishment. She rubbed her wrist where he’d grabbed her, searching the other two men before turning back to her irate husband. Her words deceptively innocent, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same thing.” Brant kicked her discarded torch aside as he loomed over her.
“Come, Edwyn, this is not our fight.” Gunther ducked out of the secret chamber. The old seneschal quickly leaned over to shut the passageway entrance before following the soldier.
“I was walking,” she answered as soon as the men left. Della stumbled away from him, maneuvering to put a table between their bodies for protection.
“With whom?” His tone deadly in its seriousness, he followed her. Shoving the table out of the way with one hard push, he felt small satisfaction as it screeched along the stone before crashing to a stop against the wall. Della jumped at the noise.
“I don’t like the accusing tone in your voice, Lord Blackwell.”
“You will like the beating I give you even less, lady wife,” he snarled viciously at her. He’d been so scared, so worried, so jealous that she might be with Sir Stuart. “Who with?”
“No one.” The words were breathless. He wanted to believe them, but how could he? “I was walking alone.”
“You dare to go outside the castle on your own? Unescorted?” Brant seized her about the shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “What were you about?”
“It’s not as bad as all that,” she protested weakly.
“Oh, yea?” Brant gave her another hard shake. He saw the fear in her and lessened his grip. Even now, he couldn’t hurt her, not like the warrior in him wanted to. Gritting his teeth, he asked, “Then why was the manor turned upside down looking for you?”
“You were worried about me?” She tried to hide her smile, but failed. “You were worried I was gone?”
“Yea,” he whispered, entranced by the way her smile dove into his chest to stop his heart. Her eyes twinkled just so, making him forget his suspicions.
“I didn’t think you would notice.” She bit her lip. “You really looked for me? You knew I was gone?”
“Naturally, I knew.” He kept his fists at his side, uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. “You were not at the eve meal as you properly should be.”
“Then you were only worried you would look bad in the main hall.” Della nodded. Ice fell over her expression, hiding what he thought might be disappointment. It was too hard to be sure. He wanted so much for her to feel something for him that he didn’t trust his judgment when reading her. How did he know any tenderness in her face wasn’t his own mind grasping for a reason to hope?
“Where did you go?” Brant tried to ignore the rise and fall of her chest. The soft globes of her breasts were just beyond his reach.
“I was outside the castle walls.” Her shoulders relaxed, as if she realized he wasn’t going to beat her. “Walking.”
“Could you not walk within the bailey?” His hands loosened a bit more, unclenching at his sides.
“Yea, but I wanted to be alone. Have you ever just wanted to be alone? Away from the prying eyes of servants and knights?”
Brant studied her eyes. She looked so earnest that he found himself believing her.
When he didn’t answer, she lifted her hand to his face, brushing her palm against his whiskered cheek. “I did naught that you would consider dishonorable. I promise.”
Brant wanted desperately to trust her. Foolish as it might be, he did. The alternative was too painful. That she could be unfaithful hurt too much. “You are not to leave the castle again without my permission and I will inspect this exit later with Gunther. We may have it stoned in.”
Della nodded, though she clearly wasn’t happy with the decree. His flesh stung where her hand met his cheek. The familiar smell of her, mingling with the freshness of the forest, sent longing throughout his very being. He missed her touch, her attentions. He missed the way she felt against him. But he was a warrior, a soldier. Men like him didn’t feel such deep emotional need, not for a woman, not for a wife. The emotion was too strong, too uncertain. Mayhap the spell was of her doing, for she ensorcelled him.