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betrayal, everything was chaos. I needed to do this so badly…” She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I knew you would try to stop me if you found out about the child.”

“Try? Hell no, I wouldn’t have tried. I would have bloody well succeeded, even if that meant I had to tie you bodily to the bed.”

“And he has to ask me why I didn’t tell him?” she murmured with a shaky laugh and Gareth frowned, not wanting to understand.

“Perhaps you may have a point,” he said grudgingly at last. “I see that, but I hope you can also see my point.” He stared at his trencher, not seeing his congealed meal. “You shouldn’t be doing this. I thought it was a frighteningly dangerous folly even before I knew about the baby. But now, my God! You are not just putting yourself in jeopardy but also your child, and I’m responsible.”

“But if I don’t put me and my child in jeopardy, I will lose Robert and that’s something I am unwilling to contemplate.” She pulled the blanket more securely around her shoulders to ward off the chill. “That makes it all my responsibility, my choice, not yours.”

“My God, you can be unbelievably stubborn.”

“Thank you.”

He laughed despite himself. “I didn’t mean that as a compliment, trust me.”

“I know, but fortunately for you, I’m quite prepared to take it as one.”

With that, an uneasy truce grew between them.

Imogen tried to put up with his excessive fussing with as much grace as possible, and in return Gareth tried to keep his worried disapproval to himself. Neither was entirely successful.

But they tried.

“When will we get to the fortress?” Imogen asked tightly, not able to bear the silence a moment longer. She held on to the cup Matthew had given her but her throat was too tight to even try to swallow the contents.

“If we break camp at dawn, we should reach the fortress around midday,” Gareth said neutrally.

“So close,” she murmured.

“So close that I can almost hear Robert complaining about how long it has taken me to get out of there and back again,” Matthew said bracingly as he moved to stoke the fire. He caught Gareth’s gaze and raised a meaningful brow in Imogen’s direction.

Gareth followed the look, then lowered his eyes to stare into the fire for a second.

“I hope they have him chained up well,” he said musingly.

Imogen moved her head in his direction sharply. “Why?”

“Because it should slow him down a bit. Once they unchain him, he’s going to kill me. And that is before he finds out that not only have I put his wife through this ordeal, but she is also pregnant. Yes, I think I would definitely like some iron holding him in place when I tell him that.”

Imogen chuckled but once she settled into her furs for the night, all her worries and fears returned to her in a rush. She was haunted by what ifs.

What if Roger had already won? What if…

No, it couldn’t be so. She wouldn’t even try to imagine her world without him. She tried to block all such dark thoughts by conjuring up memories of Robert, of loving him, of laughing with him, of being held by him.

Just before dawn she found herself desperately praying for just one chance to put everything right.

They were all so caught up in their own thoughts, no one noticed as Mildryd slowly stole from the camp and disappeared into the night.

Ian paced up and down in front of the well-lit altar, his impatience to have it all done with reaching screaming point. Roger was already an hour late and there was every chance it would be several more hours before he bothered to arrive. That was how the game was played and Ian had no choice but to keep waiting if he wanted to have even the slightest chance of finally being free of it all at last. A life entirely free of Roger and his dark webs of intrigue? It was almost impossible for him to imagine, he realized with a disgusted snort. In his experience, the webs that Roger spun were endless. No one ever escaped them, and struggle against them seemed only to entangle the victim further.

Ian had found that out so long ago, he could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t bound to Roger.

There were distant memories of having a normal life, but they were so hazy and remote that they no longer meant anything. He could remember the first time he ever met Roger, however, with a vivid intensity.

He had been so young, so full of pride and purpose. He had waited so long to begin his knight training that he could scarcely believe that the day had arrived at last. It was that enthusiasm that had made him such pathetically easy pickings for Roger. Even back then Roger had been able to mesmerize and charm when and whomever he wanted.

He had always enjoyed collecting souls.

Ian had all too quickly and easily fallen under the spell of the older boy. It was infuriating now to remember that he had actually been flattered when Roger had included him in his exclusive circle of friends. It had taken him too long to realize that the Roger he had admired was just an illusion, something conjured to fool the world.

And when he did realize, it was too late. When things started to go so terribly wrong there had been absolutely nothing he could do to stop them, but he had been so frightened by it all that he had actually abandoned his dreams of becoming a knight. He had turned to the church instead and in the monastery he actually found some peace. It had protected him from Roger’s dark schemes and offered him some forgiveness. He mightn’t have been a very good priest, but being one was good for him.

But in the end even the great and powerful church hadn’t been able to protect him from Roger, Ian thought with a bitter

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