Prisoner of My Desire by Johanna Lindsey

despicable cur had taken every last remaining man-at-arms with him, as well as every last horse.
    She had then thought briefly of taking herselfoff to the town to hide there, to leave the keep open with naught but the servants to greet Fulkhurst’s army. But this was a man set on vengeance as well as on conquering, and such a man might well burn the town down in search of Gilbert—or the new lady of Kirkburough. Escaping into the woods as Lyons’ substitute had done would not serve either. On foot, without money, she would not be able to rescue her mother before Gilbert discovered what she had done.
    She was forced to follow Gilbert’s instructions this time, because there was naught else she could do. But she would make no demands. She would wait and see what terms were offered and go on from there. It could not be known that the keep was completely defenseless. The portcullis was down, the gate closed. From without, Kirkburough looked a strong keep. She did not doubt that she could wrest favorable terms from the warlord for herself and the servants.
    And once she had met Fulkhurst and taken his measure, mayhap she could appeal to him for help. If he was no worse than Gilbert, she would offer her wardship to him. Of course, he already had three of her properties in hand, and was not like to give them back. She would not mention them. She had others still in Gilbert’s control—but Fulkhurst intended to take all that was in Gilbert’s control anyway, for himself. God’s mercy, she truly had naught to bargain with—nay, she could assist Fulkhurst. She knew Gilbert’s plans, could warn of his return. But would the warmonger believe her?
    Mildred had wanted to go with her to the gatehouse, but Rowena convinced her to stay in the hall and do what she could to calm the servants. She took four of the menservants with her, for she had not the strength to raise the portcullis by herself. But she had waited almost too long. Fulkhurst’s army had arrived, was just beyond arrow range, and the sight of it, five hundred strong and armed for war, with nigh fifty mounted knights, sent the men she had brought with her into a panic.
    They wanted only to run and hide, and she could not blame them when she felt the same. Yet she could not allow that, and her own fear added a coldness to her tone as she calmly explained that if they did not stay to help her, they would die; that either the enemy would kill them after crashing the gates open—or she would. The men stayed, though they cowered on the floor of the gatehouse, well away from the arrow slits.
    Rowena watched, willing herself to calmness. So many knights. She had not expected that. And the red dragon breathing fire, aye, it flew on several pennants clearly seen, and many of the knights had it emblazoned on the trappings of their war-horses. It was indeed Fulkhurst, though she could not guess which of the mounted knights was him.
    It did not take long before one man separated from the mass and rode up to the gate. He was not heavily mailed, not a knight, then. At least forty of the men-at-arms were also mounted, though not on the large destriers, and this was one of them.
    He had a carrying voice. Rowena heard everyword clearly, she just did not believe them. No terms, no assurances. Complete surrender or complete annihilation. She had ten minutes to decide.
    There was naught to decide. Even if it were a bluff, which she doubted, she could not call it, for the men she had brought with her did not wait to hear her decision. They rushed to open the portcullis without her order to do so, and she could not stop them. All she could do now was go down to the bailey and wait for the army to enter.
    The knights came in with swords drawn, but there was not a soul left in the bailey other than Rowena, who stood on the lower step of the keep. They did not seem surprised to find it so. And those sent to secure the walls did so quickly, without much caution or wariness that they would find