“Alex, you were relieved,” Kevin reminded him again. “Had you been there the entire time and seen me return alone, what would you have done?”

“I would have asked the whereabouts of Lady Gwendolyn, sir.”

“Precisely,” Kevin ground out. “You ordered her to seek my regard, did you not?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Go with Hugh, Alex. Follow his instruction.”

“Nay, sir.” Alex stood defiant.

“Come then.” Kevin finally relented in frustration. “I’ll waste no more time.”

“We’ll be but hours behind,” Hugh assured them as he turned back to the holding.

Gwen regained consciousness surrounded by total darkness. She lay on a damp, soiled floor, confused and in pain. Unfortunately, her confusion didn’t last long. Her entire body started shaking as she relived each second that they had chased her. Every blow that Malcolm delivered—first with his fists and then with his boot after she’d been knocked to the ground.

She tried to outrun them. She even tried to fight them. In the end, she was powerless. They even laughed at her. Fresh tears ran from her eyes and she reached for her medallions. She gasped when they weren’t there. Then she screamed. Her wedding band was gone too.

She shuddered as she remembered Malcolm’s taunts. She had no doubt that he’d see them through. They were going to kill her. And when Greylen came to collect what was left of her, they would kill him as well.

If that wasn’t enough to make her want to die right then and there, she had to live with the knowledge of why. Live with that for whatever time she had left.

It was entirely her fault.

She had let them take her, and now she had placed her men in danger. All because she wanted to run…all because she didn’t seek her guard. How could she have been so stupid? “Orders are given for a reason, wife.” Why hadn’t she listened? If only she had turned around.

Her despair lasted for hours. Then she felt her dagger against her hip, and with it, the tiniest spark of hope. She knew what she had to do, and resolved that she would.

She wiped away her tears and crawled along the damp surface. She had to be in the dungeons below Malcolm’s keep, in a cell no more than ten feet wide and ten feet deep. Thick wooden posts barred the opening, secured with a heavy metal lock.

A strange calmness overcame her. The same that she had felt when she realized she had a weapon. It wasn’t enough to gain her freedom, but that wasn’t important anymore. She began humming as she pulled away the hair matted against the side of her face.