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“Nay. Her mind is too feeble for such a journey. She prefers the solitude of her apartments.” He pulled his knee onto the cushion, set his cup on the floor, and began to untie her plaits.

As his fingers touched her hair and removed a strip of leather, a shiver went through her.

“Are you still cold? Shall I put my arms around you for warmth?”

She attempted a nervous giggle. “I was not expecting your touch.” Melissa’s mind reeled with the thought of laying with this man and fought the urge to protect her belly with her hands. If he found out she carried Rolf’s child… Another shiver went through her and she closed her eyes.

“I thought you would be accustomed to a man’s touch.

Or is it gentleness you do not recognize?

I’ll have the skin flayed from his body.

” His fingers curled around a lock of her hair and he yanked it painfully as he spoke.

A cry escaped her throat. “Ah, my love. I am sorry, but thinking of him touching you sends me into a rage.”

He stood and walked behind her. The other plait soon lay free on her shoulder.

Charles pulled her mass of blonde hair across her back.

He hummed lightly as he combed the damp waves with his fingers.

She felt his face on the back of her head as he breathed in her scent.

His hands slowly closed around her neck, rubbing gently then tightening.

He murmured in her ear, “I protect what I love until it betrays me.”

He let go suddenly; Melissa gasped for air, clutching at her throat. The door closed, and the slamming of the bolt told her she was a prisoner again.

***

The Duke of Sunderland maintained control through fear.

Every servant refused to make eye contact let alone speak to her.

He had left her alone for two days and there had been no word from Merlin or Rolf.

Anger began to sizzle in her breast. She needed a sign or she needed to come up with her own plan.

She had finished a lunch of poached salmon and delicious marrow tarts. At least the baby was eating well. The door opened and a stocky soldier with dark hair entered the room.

“I am to escort you to the duchess’ apartments, my lady.” His face stoic, he remained waiting at the door. “You are to bring your belongings.”

Melissa began to laugh. A soft chuckle at first, then doubling over in a full-blown guffaw. “I came with the clothes I wore and naught else. So I believe I am ready.”

Her jailer walked her down the narrow steps, through the hall, and out into the bailey.

The sun had finally returned. The warmth upon her bare head felt glorious and warmed her soul.

Her natural optimism returned. Beyond the original keep and bailey was another castle with tall spires.

She wondered at the Roker generations who had built their own additions or versions of Sunderland.

It was a haphazard collection of beautiful architecture within the curtain walls.

No wonder Charles had been so eager to renovate the property.

“You look stunning this afternoon.”

Her body went stiff at the sound of Roker’s voice. “I am honored you allow me to visit your mother.”

“In truth, the wizard waits with a small army at the bottom of my hill. It will be easier to keep you safe if you are at the far end of Sunderland. If he thinks a siege will drive me out, he will be disappointed. I have supplies for at least a year.” He put his hand under her loose hair and pulled her by the neck.

His nails bit into her tender skin, and she cried out in pain.

“Make no mistake, you will be mine if every man down there must die.” The scent of garlic and stale wine washed over her face.

Her stomach clenched then rebelled. She retched, covering his fine leather boots with vomit.

As she clutched her middle, his hand smacked her across the face and sent her reeling onto her backside.

“When they begin the attack, dragging their heavy siege weapons up the hill, I will come for you. We will pick them off one by one while you watch.”

The guard looked on her with sympathy once Roker had stormed off. He helped her to her feet and slowly guided her up the stairs and into the castle.

The Duchess of Sunderland lived in apartments just above the great hall.

It was the newest castle out of the all the structures and looked over the narrow sea.

The gilded doors opened inward, and when Melissa stepped over the threshold, the doors slammed shut.

The click of a lock echoed in the outer hall.

Melissa pounded on the door then sank to the floor, softly crying.

“Poor child, come here.”

An elderly woman sat in a window seat on a thick cushion made from cloth of gold. Her hair was pulled back into a long, gray plait and hung down one shoulder. With a simple kirtle of brown wool, Melissa would never have guessed her to be of noble blood.

“I had hoped my son would not continue this fantasy. Did he hurt you?”

“Nay but I am a prisoner.”

“As I am. We will keep each other company then.”

Melissa’s heart sank. This woman had been her hope. Her sigh must have been audible.

“Come and sit down next to me. You must be Melissa. Your mother and I have been friends for many years. She wrote to me not long ago, telling my of your wedding.” The lines in her face deepened with a bittersweet smile. “She did not exaggerate your beauty.”

“Then my mother knows you are trapped here?” she asked, wiping her eyes and face.

“Nay, my son allows me to read my correspondence but I cannot reply.”

Melissa sank into a chair and looked around the room.

The windows were large and allowed in a generous amount of light.

This would have been a good room for needlework or reading during the afternoon.

The tapestries in the wall were of excellent quality and brightly sewn, as well as the rugs on the floor.

A trestle, two padded benches and two chairs took up one corner; a chess table and two more chairs were placed in another.

Two doors on the opposite wall most likely led to antechambers.

“This is all my fault, you know. I spoiled him unbearably as a boy. He was our first and only child after thirteen years of marriage. My husband warned me but I did not listen.” The old woman’s brown eyes grew shiny with tears. “He’s dead, you know.”

She nodded, remembering the conversation about the duchess’ breakdown after his death. “Charles told us you locked yourself in your husband’s chambers, lost in grief.”

The woman cackled. “Lost in grief? My son did not allow me to grieve before he put me away. Come here and sit at my feet. My eyes are fading and I want to see you better.’

Melissa complied and settled onto a cushion on the floor. “Lady Roker, why—”

“We should not be formal. We will be together for a long time, child. Call me Maud.”

NO! “Why would he lock you away?”

“I know he murdered his father.”

Her heart stopped in mid beat; her hands turned to ice. “But he was murdered by the Scots.”

She shook her head emphatically. The grey plait swung back and forth across her shoulders.

“Charles was always a mean-spirited child. He did not like to be crossed and threw great temper tantrums when he did not get his way. My husband, George, disciplined him but I never could. As he grew older, he learned to hide his temper and strike out in more subtle ways. When he was thirteen, the cook would not allow him to sample the Easter sweets before the banquet. He poisoned her cat that night.”

Melissa’s hand went to her mouth as the duchess continued her story.

“We never knew what would anger him. Charles has always been unpredictable. His abuse spread to people. Whoever said or did something he disliked, they or something they loved would be mutilated or die. My son is very clever. One would never know what was going on his mind. You didn’t guess, did you?

His father began to figure it out. The duke made excuses for the boy at first, but then threatened him and finally beat him. ”

“But to kill your own father?” Melissa was horrified. If she had known this before, she could never have remained calm with his hands on her body.

“We both realized that it would not be wise to let him marry. The thought of that in itself almost killed my husband, but he feared to let Charles’ seed continue the Roker line.

According to the betrothal agreement, the wedding would take place during your sixteenth year.

We postponed that until your eighteenth year, hoping against hope to find some cure for him.

When the priest called him a ‘bad seed’, we knew it was hopeless.

“George told him the betrothal was off, and Charles flew into a rage. He told his father to start counting the days he had left on this earth. A new duke would soon take over Sunderland. One week later, he was dead. An arrow shot through each eye.”

Maud put her hands on each side of Melissa’s face, her tears wet with sorrow. “If only I could turn back time, my child. Please forgive me. We wanted to spare you this.” Her eyes closed before she yawned then slumped against the wall in sleep.

Melissa paced the room, listening to the duchess’ light snore.

Charles was mad. A lunatic. Tears of frustration burned her eyes.

Not now. You cannot cry now. Opening one of the doors on the other side of the room, she discovered a bed chamber.

There were books stacked on a table and a bundle of letters wrapped in a ribbon. It must belong to Maud.

The second room smelled musty and held a smaller bed with an adequate mattress.

She opened the shutters of the narrow window to air out the space.

Below, the cliffs jutted out in rigid points.

The water crashed violently against the rock, water spraying high into the air.

This structure had been built directly against the curtain wall.

No walkway surrounded it; no guards needed to keep watch over a precipice.

As she leaned against the wall, considering her plight, the amulet began to vibrate.

She gripped it tightly in one hand. Caaaa!

Melissa turned to see a falcon on the windowsill.

She fell to her knees before the bird. His eyes bore into her; his head moved up and down, inspecting her. Your cheek. He hit you.

She shook her head, blinking her eyes to make sure he was real. “I am unhurt. Please be careful.”

The bird’s feathers ruffled. He will regret this. I shall return tonight. No words would come so she nodded. The falcon lifted its feather and soared out of sight.