THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

escape.
      “Why?” she kept asking aloud. Why had he bothered to show her such consideration and warmth to only yank it away come dawn? Was he schizophrenic or something?
    The twenty-first century certainly hadn’t invented madness, so yes, he could well be clinically insane, and no one here would dare lay a hand on him for fear of reprisal. He was, after all, the MacDougall—-the Black. No wonder she’s wife number four! Had he killed wives two and three? Probably. Had he lived in her time, he’d be the one kept in isolation on an island, not her.
      Heart pounding erratically, she walked the keep in her mind. If she could get down to the third floor unseen, she could circumnavigate the fortification on that level to the portcullis stairway leading to the quay. There’d be guards above and below, but most would be busy. She crossed to the window overlooking the bailey, hoping to spy something to hide behind until everyone went to the hall for the midday meal. Nothing appeared large enough. Fine. She’d just have to find a storeroom to hide in until all but the tower guards went to the hall. She could be in a boat and pulling away by the time a tower guard could reach the quay. So long as the guard didn’t give immediate chase in another boat, she might be able—
    The solar door swung open and Beth spun, poker held over her shoulder like a baseball bat.
    White faced, Rachael raced to her. “Madame!”
    The poker fell from Beth’s hands as fresh tears welled. Arms out, she rushed to greet her friend. “Oh, Rachael, I’ve been so scared!” Sobs ripped from her throat as Rachael’s arms embraced her. “He...he threw me on the bed...and after all we’d shared...and then he screamed...” She sucked in a deep breath. “And I didn’t know what to do...I couldn’t get away and then...he raised his fist and I...I...”
    “Ssh. Ssh, my lady, come.” Rachael wrapped a protective arm around her and led her to the foot of the bed. “Sit and tell me all, but slowly.”
      Beth buried her face in her hands and continued to sob. “I don’t know...what happened. One moment he was...” She hiccuped. “We made love last night. He’d been so gentle and I’d been so happy. And then I got up...” she grabbed a lung full of air, “...and started getting ready for the day and the next thing I know he’s shaking me like a rag doll and I’m sure I’m about to die...and...”
      Rachael brushed the hair from Beth’s face and whispered, “Tell me about the blade, mon ami .”
      “The blade?” Beth sniffed as she studied the concern etched on Rachael's finely boned face. What blade? “Oh, your pretty knife. I’m sorry. He took it. I don’t know where it is now.” Beth wiped the tears from her face, heaved a heavy sigh, and hiccupped again. “I didn’t even get a chance to finish shaving my damn armpits.”
    Rachael stood abruptly. Her voice rose as she waved in agitation. “Are ye saying all this—all yer crying and himself storming about like the wrath of God—is because ye wanted to shave yer ARM PEETS ?”
    Why was she upset? “Rachael, all I know is that one minute I’m as happy as a lark and the next I’m facing a madman.”
    Rachael shook her head and collapsed on the edge of the bed. “My petit chou , the MacDougall isna wode—-mad—-as ye think, but terrified. He thought ye about se suicider —-to kill thy self.”
    “ WHAT? ” Beth bolted to her feet, mouth agape. “Why would he think such a thing?”
    “ Oh, mon ami . ‘Tis a wonder he isna wode with thinking it happening again.” Sensing Beth’s confusion, she said, “Ah, I see ye ken not.” She heaved a huge sigh and patted the bed. “Sit. ‘Tis a sad tale of deceit and deception I am about to tell ye. When we have this sorted, ye can then tell me of the tupping.”
    ~#~
     
    Still upset, in part because of his brutal handling of Beth—in the past he’d been the one pounding sense into men for beating their wives—-and in part due to his great disappointment, Duncan returned to the fourth floor.
    Outside the solar, he scowled at the guard. Why were peals of laughter coming through the door? What in God’s holy name could Beth possibly find humorous about their current state of affairs?
    Women!
    He kenned them not and would go to his grave in the same ignorance. Growling, he turned away.
    Mayhap, God had placed women on earth to drive men into their cups and then into early graves. He had certainly consumed