It was this that had caused his black mood to linger longer than it ought, preventing him from speaking to Elona, telling her what was in his heart. He had no right to press his suit- and yet, now that she was lost, he knew that he would not be able to bear it if he never saw her again.

Once again he cursed the wasted hours they had spent searching the forest, and himself for speaking so harshly to her that she had deliberately defied him. If the worst happened, he would always blame himself.

Elona felt so weary she wished she could sleep for a week. They had been travelling for days, riding hard, she behind her self-appointed protector, forced to hold on to him for fear of falling as her weariness grew by the hour.

'Shall we never be there?' she asked as at last they stopped for rest and food. 'How much further must we go? I am too tired to go on.'

'Tomorrow we shall reach my master's stronghold,' Jedro told her. 'We are making camp now. You will be able to sleep for a while.'

Elona was too weary to do more than nod her head. Perhaps she would sleep that night, though for most nights on her journey she had lain awake, tossing restlessly on the blanket she had been given, the ground hard beneath her. These men travelled light and there was no pavilion to give her comfort and protect her from the elements, and the nights were cold, especially as they travelled further to the north.

Each day she had hoped for rescue, but it had not come. Her captors had hardly stopped in their haste to get her to their master, who had promised to pay them handsomely in gold for their trouble. Stefan's men had moved far more slowly so that the c.u.mbersome baggage wagons were never too far behind. She understood that that was for her sake. Alone, without the comfort of the ladies to consider, they could obviously travel much faster. Perhaps they would catch up with her captors before they reached Danewold's stronghold.

How long would it have taken Stefan to discover that she was not simply lost in the woods? Would he have found the piece of torn veiling she had managed to leave for him? Would he know that Danewold's men had captured her-and would he come after her?

That was the question that haunted her. Would Stefan put himself to the trouble of pursuing Danewold's men?

Surely if he wanted to recover her, he would have made his move long before this? As each day pa.s.sed without the pursuit she hoped for, Elona's hopes began to fade. Perhaps, after all, Stefan did not consider it worth his while to rescue her?

She supposed in a way that she was lucky that Jedro seemed to have taken her under his wing. Though a sly creature, he was better than most of the rough soldiers who formed her guard. She was not afraid of Jedro, though she did not trust him. He had told her it was impossible for her to escape and that it would be better to try and ransom herself from Baron Danewold.

'For if you ran away we should pursue you, lady,' Jedro told her. 'And then others might take it upon themselves to be your jailer-and I cannot answer for what might happen then.'

Elona had suppressed a shudder. From the evil leer in some of the men's eyes as they looked at her, she knew that it was only fear of their lord's anger that kept them from having their way with her-that, and the fact that Jedro had taken it upon himself to be her guardian. She was most afraid of Boris, who had hit her so hard that she was knocked senseless, though she did her best to hide it, staring at him coldly whenever they met.

However, he had kept his distance during their journey. She thought that Boris seemed almost to fear the crafty Jedro, though he was the smaller man and not as powerful. Indeed, all the men seemed to give him respect, and she suspected that the easy manner he showed to her was perhaps a mask to cover a different nature.

She knew that she walked a knife-edge, for these were not cultured knights who lived by a code of honour, and, if challenged, their baser natures might hold sway. Somehow she must live through this nightmare until all hope was gone.

Elona's skin was beginning to itch; she had been given only enough water to drink and none at all for washing. Nor could she have washed her body, had the water been given her, for she was never alone. Even when they rested for a few hours at night, someone stood watch over her.

Her physical discomfort was as nothing to the turmoil of her mind. Besides the constant grief for her father, the hurt of knowing that she would never see him again, was the realisation of her own folly in disobeying Stefan.

He was constantly in her thoughts; her hopes of seeing him kept alive by her determination not to give in to the fear that would otherwise overwhelm her. She was well aware of the fate that awaited her at Baron Danewold's stronghold, for she was her father's only heir and his lands were now hers. The Baron was not the only man who would seize her and her lands for himself if he could; others would also see her as a rich prize, and it was clear that she must marry or be for ever vulnerable, prey to any lawless warlord who chanced upon her.

Elona wept silent, bitter tears as she lay upon the hard ground that night. They had been upon the road so many days and yet Stefan's men had not caught up with them. Surely they must have done so if he had intended to pursue them? If he did not care enough to follow her.. .but she would not give in! She would rather die than be wife to a man like Baron Danewold.

'You must ride for Banewulf,' Stefan had told d.i.c.kon once it was clear what had happened to Elona. A piece of torn veiling had been discovered and there were signs of men and horses having been in the woods. 'Tell my father that Danewold's men have stolen Elona and that we are setting out in pursuit immediately.'

He had hoped at first that he might catch up to them before too many hours had pa.s.sed, but Elona's captors had had several hours' start on them, hours that Stefan bitterly regretted having wasted. At first he had believed she had merely got lost in the woods, not thinking that Danewold's men would have continued to follow them all this time.

He cursed himself for the lost hours, for no matter how hard he pushed himself and his men, those they pursued were always ahead, seeming to know the wild countryside through which they travelled far better than he or his own people could.

He believed that they would be heading for Danewold's stronghold and his fear was that he would not catch up with them in time, a fear that gnawed at his stomach like a hungry rat, giving him no peace. The news had reached him at court of John de Barre's death, but he had not told Elona; he did not wish to spoil her pleasure in the entertainment offered her there. Time enough for that when they reached Banewulf.

He was afraid for Elona, knowing as he did that Danewold would consider himself safe from retribution. The Baron must believe that, with her father dead, he had nothing to fear.

By heaven! If that rogue laid a hand on her, he would die for it. A red mist of rage possessed Stefan as he rode. Danewold would think himself secure in his northern stronghold, but he had reckoned without Stefan, and, if d.i.c.kon had reached Banewulf safely, the men garrisoned there. Combined, they would make a considerable force that few could stand against.

If Elona had been harmed-or dishonoured, perish the thought! It was too painful to contemplate. The thought of her innocence being taken from her by that vile rogue was unbearable. If that had happened, Stefan would show no mercy. He would strike down every last one of the devils who had stolen her if it cost him his life.

For what would his life be to him if harm had come to her?

Stefan faced the fact of his love at last. Elona meant more to him that he could ever have dreamed. Her loveliness, her innocence, her spirit were all qualities he prized in her. And there had been times when she looked at him, when she clung to him, as if needing his strength, when he had believed she felt something for him.

The agony of loss was strong in him as he pushed himself and his men even harder. They could not be far behind now. If their luck held, they would catch up with Danewold's men that night.

Suddenly his horse stumbled, throwing Stefan forward. Such was the speed at which he had been travelling that neither he nor his mount had had time to realise that the ground gave way suddenly to a steep incline. He fought to retain his balance, but could not hold on and was thrown over the horse's head, striking his own against the ground as he fell.

They were riding into Baron Danewold's stronghold. Elona shivered in the chill wind that whipped her long hair about her face, but as much from fear as from the cold. She had hoped, longed, for rescue, but nothing had happened to stop her being brought to this place and now it was too late. She sensed that it would take a small army to breach the defences of these stout walls-and who would bother to send an army to rescue her? If Stefan had not cared enough to follow her, no one else would take the trouble to save her.

She was but one woman, insignificant and of no political importance. Had her father or brother lived. . .but she had no one to care what became of her. Clearly Stefan had not thought it worthwhile to pursue her. Why should he? He had forbidden her to leave the camp and she had disobeyed him. He was probably relieved to be rid of her, thinking her a wilful child and not worth his trouble.

Her thoughts had grown gloomier as the days and hours pa.s.sed and the crushing sense of loss, both of her father and of the man she loved, had weighed heavily upon her. But she would not give in tamely, she decided. No matter what the Baron threatened-what he did to her-she would not let him break her spirit. She would fight him to the last, and at the end she would die rather than submit.

Her head lifted proudly as Jedro reached up to help her dismount. She gave him a look of cold disdain for he had lied to her, promising to help her escape, but in truth he had guarded her too closely for her to have a chance of escaping on her own. She realised now why the other men showed him respect; he was as sly as a serpent and possibly just as dangerous.

'Do not despair, lady,' he said softly to her as she would have turned away. 'It was my duty to bring you here, but perhaps all is not yet lost.'

'You have the tongue of a serpent,' she said and moved away. The fear was gripping at her insides, churning and eating at her as she saw the Baron with his steward. He had seen her and his triumph was evident in his evil leer.

'So you are here at last, lady,' he said as he came towards her. 'I have antic.i.p.ated your coming and am eager for our wedding.'

'You had no right to bring me here against my will,' Elona cried, her eyes flashing. Temper flared in her, temporarily banishing the fear. 'I have no wish to marry you, nor shall I. You cannot make me.'

'Come, Elona,' he said, his narrow-set eyes boring in on her angrily. 'You surely do not believe that you can resist me? Your father flung my offer in my face. I was not good enough for his daughter-but now he is dead and you are here, my prisoner. Who is there to stop me doing as I will with you? I think that, once I have had you in my bed, you will be glad enough to take your vows.'

Elona stared at him, unable to think for a moment, but then inspiration came to her and she raised her head, looking into his face mockingly.

'I am your prisoner,' she said, 'that I cannot deny, but if you imagine that I am friendless you are wrong. I am betrothed to Stefan de Banewulf and he will not allow what you have done to me to go unpunished...'

'You lie!' Danewold's ugly face became uglier with temper, his nostrils flaring. 'It was to his brother you were to be promised.'

'That was before Stefan discovered that he loved me,' Elona replied. 'We were betrothed at court and the contract we signed bears the King's seal. If you violate that, you could be called to account by his Majesty-'

'd.a.m.n you, wench, you lie!' The Baron stepped closer as if he would strike her, but she lifted her head proudly and something in her eyes stayed his hand. He stroked his beard, studying her face. 'Yes, you lie. I would have heard of this if it were true.'

'You will see,' Elona said, her manner much calmer than she felt inside. 'Stefan will come after me. He will bring others to besiege your keep and raze it to the ground, if need be. Harm me and you will pay the price with your head.'

Danewold's eyes flickered with uncertainty. He was furious that she should dare to speak out against him. No other woman had ever dared to answer him back, and he would not stand for it from her-and yet, there was a chance that she was telling the truth.

'Take her to her chamber and keep her close,' he said to one of the men about him. 'By the stink of her she needs a bath. I like my women to smell clean.'

The insult was meant to sting, but Elona was glad of the respite. Thank goodness his men had not let her take time to clean herself! Elona swallowed the insult, following the servant who beckoned her into the keep, taking her through the great hall, which was cold and dark and comfortless, to a winding stair at the far end.

'Your chamber is above in the tower,' the servant told her. 'You will find women there to do your bidding, lady. I go to order hot water for your comfort.'

Thank you,' Elona said 'What may I call you?'

'Friedrich, my lady. I serve my master-but I apologise for your poor welcome here.'

Elona inclined her head, but did not answer. His words were soft enough, but she would trust no one in this place; even the women who would serve her must be treated warily.

They were waiting for her within the chamber she had been given, a small round room with barely enough s.p.a.ce for her bed. Surely the Baron did not expect her to live here? The walls seemed to press in on her and she felt that she could not breathe. If this were truly to be her home she would find some way to escape, even if it meant ending her life.

Two women came towards her as she entered, their faces schooled to smiles of welcome, though she could see they were uncertain how to behave towards her. They did not know whether she was their mistress or their master's hostage.

'I am the Lady Elona de Barre,' she announced, raising her head with a flash of pride. She was a lady of rank and would be treated as such. 'Your names are?'

'I am Roberta, my lady.'

'And I Philippa.'

'I need water to wash and a change of clothing,' Elona said, determined to a.s.sert her authority at once. 'And I am hungry, for I have been given nothing but bread, water and a hard cheese that I could not eat these past few days.

'I shall fetch food.' Philippa said at once. 'Roberta will bring you clothes, my lady. I fear we have only a plain tunic to offer you for the moment, but at least it will be clean.'

'I shall have your own clothes washed,' Roberta a.s.sured her as the other woman departed. 'When do you expect your goods to arrive, my lady?'

'I do not expect it,' Elona said tartly. 'I am here against my will and shall not remain long.'

Even as she finished speaking there was a knock at the door and, when Roberta answered it, a servant entered bearing a wooden tub. Others followed him into the room, carrying jugs filled with water, which they poured into the tub, before leaving as swiftly as they had come.

Once they had gone, Elona bid Roberta bar the door before helping her to disrobe. She slipped into the water, closing her eyes as she felt the ease of aching limbs in its relaxing heat.

Roberta brought her scented soap and then departed. She smoothed the soft substance over her arms and body, relishing the feel of the water on her aching limbs.

The serving wench had gone through a curtained alcove into a small s.p.a.ce where clothes were stored and did not return until Elona called to her to bring her drying cloths.

She was wrapped in a large cloth as she stepped out of the bath and gently dried before being helped into a clean tunic, which she tied with her own girdle of gold threads.

It was one of the girdles that Stefan had bought for her. Elona realized, and the thought brought tears to her eyes. She tried to hold them back, but the memory of those happy days at court flooded into her mind, making her feel what she had lost all the more keenly.

'Ah, no, do not weep, my lady,' Roberta said. 'He is a brute and tears will not help you. If you wish to avoid his attentions, you must use your wits.'

'Use my wits?' Elona looked at her sharply. 'What do you mean?'

'My master is not known for the cleverness of his mind,' Roberta said, a scornful twist about her mouth. She was a plain girl, slender but with a square, flat face and snubbed nose. 'I am fortunate that he does not notice me-but there are others here who have wept bitter tears because of his b.e.s.t.i.a.lity.'

'I have heard that he is cruel,' Elona said, hesitant still, yet inclined to trust this girl despite her resolve not to. 'But what can I do if he is determined? It is my wealth, my father's lands, he wants, not my person.'

'You are beautiful,' Roberta said, 'and he will take pleasure in humbling you if he can, but, as I said, he is sometimes slow witted, though he thinks himself clever. You must find a way to keep him at bay until help can come to you.'

If help came... Elona was not sure that it would, though she had told Baron Danewold that Stefan and his men would come after her. Pray G.o.d that he did!

'I am betrothed to Stefan de Banewulf,' she said, deciding to keep up the pretence. 'He will come and he will demand satisfaction of the Baron if he harms me.' Pray G.o.d that he did come!

Roberta nodded, looking thoughtful. 'If the betrothal was conducted legally, it would be a bar to your marriage-but it cannot prevent him taking you to his bed. Once he has despoiled you, your betrothed may seek to have your contract set aside. My master's steward will tell him this... You must think of another reason to hold him off, lady. Otherwise he will send for you and-'

'Supposing I was carrying my betrothed's child?'

Roberta looked shocked at the idea. It was something that no chaste lady should ever allow to happen and she was a moral girl. To behave so wantonly was a sin.

'My lady...'

Elona smiled and shook her head. 'No, no, do not look like that. It is not so. I have never lain with a man, but supposing I could convince the Baron that it was true. A man would take revenge against someone who dared to lay hold of the woman who carried his child, would he not? And a knight as brave and true as Sir Stefan de Banewulf would be certain to take revenge on the man who had despoiled his lady, would he not?'

Roberta smiled and nodded her agreement. 'This is true, my lady-but you must give the Baron proof of your condition...

'How can I do that?'

'Trust in me,' Roberta said. 'And tell no one. Philippa may be trusted to serve you well, but she is hopeful of marrying my master's steward and might not keep your secrets, my lady.'

'But why should you help me?' Elona looked at her intently. 'You do not know me and you might be punished if it were discovered that you had interfered with your master's plans. Why should you risk punishment for my sake?'

'My cousin was but twelve when my master forced her to his bed,' Roberta told her and her eyes flashed with anger. 'The things he did to her shamed her so that she took her own life by jumping into the moat the next morning and drowned there. I hate him and I would not see you suffer as she did.'

Elona nodded, seeing the truth in her eyes. Jedro had betrayed her, but perhaps this woman would help her. She had little choice, for there was not much time. Once the evening wore on and the men began to drink, the Baron would send for her.

'Then I shall trust you-tell me what I should do...'

Elona felt better when she had eaten. Her stomach had protested at the rich food, but she had eaten her fill, for it was a part of her plan with Roberta.

It was evening now and she had been left in peace for most of the time, alone with her thoughts, which were so gloomy that she found it difficult not to give way to despair. The plan she had worked out with Roberta was cunning and might serve to hold the Baron at bay for a few days-but unless someone came to rescue her, in the end he would discover that she was lying.

Lying on the hard couch, which was all that had been provided for her, Elona closed her eyes against the tears. She would not think of her ultimate fate if no rescue came. She thought instead about Stefan, about the way he had looked at her, smiled at her, and of how she had felt inside. How she wished that he had taken her to his bed. If she were truly carrying his child, how happy she would be!

Feelings of loss and need swept over her. She loved Stefan so much and she might never see him again. If that were the case, then she might be driven to the terrible sin of taking her own life-just as Roberta's cousin had-but she would fight the Baron to the last in the hope that someone might come for her.

Surely Lady Alayne's husband would not allow his wife's kinswoman to be forced into marriage against her will? The thought that perhaps Sir Ralph might come himself raised Elona's spirits once more. Perhaps after all she was not as alone as she had feared.

Her courage lasted until it was nearly dark and then the Baron sent for her to come to him. Her heart raced and she looked at Roberta fearfully, knowing what likely fate awaited her.

'What shall I do?'

'Take this now.' Roberta pushed the small earthenware flask into hand. 'It will take some minutes to work, but when it does it will be horrible.'

Elona hesitated, then took it and swallowed the contents hurriedly before Philippa could return from the inner chamber where the clothes were kept and the two women slept on straw pallets.

What did it matter if the potion poisoned her? Elona thought recklessly as she tasted the bitter liquid and gagged on it. Better that she should die than live to be that man's thing, used and abused as he willed. Besides, she was inclined to believe that Roberta was truly on her side, not like the crafty Jedro who had promised much and delivered nothing.

'Do not worry, the effects are temporary,' Roberta a.s.sured her as she gave her a wan smile and went out.

Walking down the twisting stone stairs to the huge, shadowy hail below, Elona was aware that a large gathering of men was present. Clearly the Baron followed the old custom of dining with his men and did not have a private chamber. Perhaps he slept on the floor with his men too, she thought, lifting her head as she caught the stink of unwashed bodies and other odours that wafted about the hail. The only light came from torches flaring from iron sconces on the wall, which gave off a pungent odour. Dogs were hunting in the filthy straw that covered the floor, looking for discarded bones and sc.r.a.ps of food that were dropped when the men became drunken and careless.

One of the dogs growled at her as she pa.s.sed, her skirt brushing against its mangy body. She ignored it, refusing to flinch as it bared yellow fangs at her before one of the men kicked it out of the way. No wonder the poor brute was so fierce if that was its usual lot, she thought, and lifted her head proudly.

The Baron lived in a way her father would have thought beneath him, and her body recoiled at the thought of being forced to live with these people. Much better that she should take her own life!