The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,68

back.

Her heart ached for him as her captors pushed and shoved her along despite her tripping, awkward pace. Finally, the men shrouded her in a blanket like a corpse. Even her head was covered. There was no concern for her shoes getting wet or her knee becoming injured when they slung her body over a man’s shoulder and—moments later—over a horse’s back. They would surely kill her while transporting her if this spoke of their level of care. The one bright spot in that would be the errant bastards would never see a farthing of her fabled dowry if she did not make the trip alive.

How could these traitors hide what they did in a keep held by Danes? Was there no one loyal to Wulf to spot this hasty retreat from the inner keep? Perhaps all the battle remained to the south. She supposed that could account for the knaves’ ease in removing her from the central tower.

In low voices, she heard men discussing which exit to use from the keep. Someone must have helped these Saxons enter from the inside. She guessed Alchere had left behind more supporters than Wulf had guessed, and she kicked herself for not becoming more involved in his questioning of the men who remained. Would she have been able to spot those who would not be loyal to him?

Or was the widow Margery the only enemy from within? Gwendolyn had known all along she was trouble. Just not how much.

Blinking away tears of frustration, fear and pain, Gwen feared she would never see Wulf again if Godric succeeded in removing her from the castle. Why hadn’t she wed him when she had the chance? Would that have prevented Godric from taking her? Now, she would never get to tell Wulf that she didn’t need a declaration of undying love to be his wife. That she understood a man of few words didn’t necessarily equal a man of few emotions. That she loved him.

Her certainty of that fact made her all the more determined to escape Godric. She could not allow Wulf to return from battle only to find another woman had disappeared or—she inhaled a steadying breath—died. Heaven knew, Godric’s men did not treat her like an intended bride. Perhaps he only stole Gwen in revenge against Wulf for besting him a sennight ago.

A heavy rider climbed on the animal near her. She tried frantically to clutch the horse’s sides when the man whipped the beast’s flank to get it moving, but with her hands tied, the best she could do was steady herself with her elbows. At least they did not move very fast. Judging by the slower, halting way it moved, the animal was a donkey. A plaintive bray quickly confirmed her suspicions. Did that mean she stood a better chance of not cracking open her head if she chose to roll off its back on purpose?

Because no way in Hades would she depart her home if she had any strength left in her body to fight. She’d nearly escaped the strongest warrior in Christendom on two different occasions; she would not be bested by a brigand bastard like Godric.

Before she could determine the best direction to heave herself off the animal, however, she heard a familiar voice thick with the accent of the Danes.

“Someone here knows where she is.” The unleashed fury in Wulf’s raised voice stoked hope inside her. “And if I do not start hearing answers right now, you will lose your chance to tell me forever since I will ask Erik to hack out your tongues with his axe.”

Gwendolyn closed her eyes under the woolen blanket and let the mixture of relief and fear wash through her. Wulf could not see her. So while it helped to know he was near, he had not yet discovered her hiding place on the back of a donkey.

And by the sounds of it, the scene was about to become a gruesome one if she didn’t act fast. Godric’s tongue could go, but she rather hoped Wulf would not follow through on the threat with anyone else.

“Mmpf!” She struggled against the donkey, lifting her chest the little bit she could with her elbows pressed to the animal’s side.

It was more difficult than expected to move. Still, she wriggled and yelled behind the gag.

“My lord,” a Saxon voice called out.

Had someone seen her movements?

“Thor’s hammer.” Wulf shouted the oath as if he expected his god to come down with that particular weapon