Part 11 (1/2)
Crossing the hut in two long strides, he thundered, ”d.a.m.n you, boy! I should kill you where you stand!”
William snapped his head around while Jemmie prudently scrambled to the farthest corner of the hut. ”She's better off as my mistress than your wife, Ballister,” William bl.u.s.tered, but his voice was shaking.
”You're a stupid young fool who deserves to have your liver and lights cooked into haggis,” Duncan growled as he yanked William away from Gwynne. ”But for the sake of your parents, I'll spare you.”
”You think me a poor adversary? I'll show you!” Humiliated, William whipped out his dagger and lunged at his tormentor.
Duncan dodged the attack, but the small hut limited his movement and the blade slashed along his left forearm. Though his face grayed, he caught William's arm and twisted it fiercely to crash the younger man into a stone wall. As Lord Montague caught his breath with fear, George grabbed his younger brother's dagger, then locked William's arms behind his back to prevent further attacks. Gwynne guessed that he hoped disarming William would keep Duncan from doing murder.
But Duncan had no more interest in William. He turned to Gwynne and she went into his arms with dizzying relief. ”Thank G.o.d you're here,” she said raggedly.
”Did he hurt you, la.s.s?”
She shook her head. ”When he came to abduct me, I slipped and hit my head on the bedpost, but that was an accident. He . . . he didn't have time to do worse.”
Duncan's embrace tightened. It took her a moment to realize that he was on the verge of collapse. ” You're hurt!”
His voice dropped until it was almost inaudible. ”The dagger . . . iron.”
She had half forgotten about his weather mage's sensitivity to iron because the subject hadn't come up since their marriage. Yet looking back, she remembered all the small instances of his avoiding iron. Having it pierce his flesh had to be painful and debilitating even if the wound wasn't serious. And perhaps even a slight injury was dangerous to him-she had never come across a discussion of the subject in her studies.
She turned him so that he was supported by the wall and examined the wound. Though it was bleeding messily, it looked shallow and shouldn't be serious unless the iron poisoned him in some way. ” You must remove your cloak and coat so I can bind this until we return to the castle.”
Under his breath, he said, ”Place your hand over the wound and push down hard. That will counter the effect of the iron.”
Though she worried about hurting him, she did as he said, pressing firmly on the injured flesh. Blood oozed between her fingers at first, but his color began to improve.
”Is the wound serious?” Lord Montague asked with concern.
”No,” Duncan replied himself. ”Gwynne is taking care of it.” He glanced at William, whose hands were now secured behind his back. The boy was staring at the earthen floor, his expression equal parts fear and sullen anger. ”The sooner you s.h.i.+p that lad to the colonies, the better. I don't want him within a thousand miles of my wife.”
”You won't press charges?” Lord Montague asked with relief.
Duncan shook his head. ”For the sake of you and your family, and because Gwynne is unhurt, I won't. I can understand anyone becoming enchanted by my bride, but keep William away from Britain until he learns that a real man doesn't act on all his impulses.”
”It shall be as you ask.” Lord Montague inclined his head to Gwynne. ”If you agree, Lady Ballister?”
”I agree.” Gwynne didn't want the boy dead, but she hoped never to see him again. Reaction was setting in, and her hands shook as she bound her husband's arm with a long neckcloth silently offered by George. The bleeding had almost stopped and Duncan's color seemed normal, but she must talk to him later about his reaction to iron. As his wife, she needed to know what to expect.
Montague turned to his son's servant, who was doing his best to look like part of the wall. ”What about Jemmie?”
”He didn't hurt me,” Gwynne said. ”I think he was not happy to be involved in an abduction, but he did not want to be disloyal to his master.”
Jemmie gave her a grateful glance as Montague nodded and turned away. With luck, the servant wouldn't be s.h.i.+pped off to the colonies with William.
George hauled his brother to his feet. ”Time we headed for home.”
Duncan draped his cloak around Gwynne's shoulders and led her from the hut. She avoided looking toward her young abductor. Bitterly she wondered if she would ever dare be friendly again.
Duncan and Gwynne hardly spoke on the ride back to the castle, but he kept a close eye on her. Though the lump on her temple where she hit the bedpost was turning alarming colors, she rode with her head high and her back straight. With his cloak rippling in the night air, she looked like a warrior queen returning from battle.
The summer sun rose early this far north, and the sky was pale in the east by the time they finally returned to their bedroom. The bed had been made up again with fresh blankets, and Lady Montague had sent a maid up with a tray of steaming tea and food. Presumably she was grateful to see her youngest son intact.
After the servant left, Gwynne tossed Duncan's cloak over a chair, then wearily touched the spot on the bedpost where her head had struck. ”And to think that all I wanted last night was a few hours of sleep. Instead, I got an adventure.”
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his brow against hers. ”Adventures are overrated. I prefer a good night's sleep every time.”
She locked her arms around his waist. ”Thank G.o.d you found me so quickly. If you had been even a few minutes later . . .” She shuddered.
He hugged her back, hating to think how narrowly disaster had been averted. ”Would you like some tea? Much as I long for our bed, we must talk.”
”Agreed.” She poured them each a cup of tea, steam rising in the cool dawn air. Even with tangled hair and draped in his shapeless banyan, her beauty made him ache.
After handing over his tea, she took a chair and cradled her cup between her palms. ”Your reaction to iron was frightening. Were you in . . . in danger of your life?”
He sank into the opposite chair. ”I am no more nor less likely to die by the sword than any man, but any touch of iron weakens me. Not only does it block my power, but it reduces my physical strength as well, even if the wound itself is minor, like this one.”
She nodded thoughtfully. ”No wonder you're so careful to keep iron out of your life, and why you didn't want to talk about your sensitivity. It wouldn't do to let enemies know of your weakness.”
He gave a scowl of agreement. ”The real danger is that in a situation like last night, iron would make me incapable of defending myself, or you.”
She took a swallow of her cooling tea. ”I could feel you wielding power when you came into the hut. Did you use a spell to control William?”
”I was so furious that if I'd used a spell directly against him, I might have done murder. Instead I used a calming spell so he and his servant wouldn't be inclined to fight. It worked on Jemmie, but William was too obsessed by you to be fully controlled.” He sighed. ”Despite his crime, killing him would have been wrong since he was not entirely responsible for what happened.”
Gwynne straightened, her expression outraged. ”Do you think that I encouraged that silly boy?”
It was light enough now to see the pure line of her profile against the window. ”Not deliberately. You couldn't help yourself.”
”Am I such a flirt?” she asked, unmollified. ”I hadn't thought so.”
”You behaved with complete propriety.” He smiled without humor. ”I'm the fool for not recognizing what was happening sooner. All of the signs were there. In fact, from the beginning I'd sensed that you had untapped reservoirs of power, but you were so sure that you had no magical ability that I disregarded my instincts.”
She frowned. ”I don't have any power, except a small amount of intuition and rare moments of foreknowledge. No more than many mundanes have.”
”On the contrary, sweeting.” He considered with weary curiosity the complications that lay ahead. ” You're an enchantress. That's why William couldn't resist you.”
FIFTEEN.
G wynne's mouth dropped open with disbelief. ”You think I'm an enchantress who can dazzle men out of their wits? I've had a few admirers, but Lady Bethany has more, and she's fifty years older than I.”
”There's more than a touch of enchantress in Lady Beth,” Duncan agreed. ”But in this area of power, she is nothing compared to you. You must have studied enchantresses. What is the most striking aspect of their power?”
She thought about what she'd read on the subject. ”A dash of enchantress isn't uncommon among Guardian women, but true enchantresses are quite rare-only one appears every generation or two. Their power is dormant when they are maidens. It is only awakened after they first lie with a man.” Those were the facts, but Gwynne couldn't connect them with herself. Plain Gwyneth Owens, an enchantress? Absurd!
Duncan's gaze became distant, and she realized he was studying her not as a husband but as a mage.