Hours passed and cold replaced the burning heat in him. Brand remained where he had fallen, the chill of the earth seeping into his back, his shoulder aching dully now. The household must have retired for the night.
He sighed.
Flight had offered him nothing. The forest had not swallowed his rage, nor had pain absolved him of his madness. It was all useless.
It would not do, he thought. He might be losing his reason, but he was no coward.
Once dawn arrived, he would send her back to Wiltshire and only visit when news of the child's birth reached him. He would not succumb to the madness of his loins, except he did not know how he could stay from her even though dawn was near.
A few minutes later, he realised he could not and accepted defeat.
Pulling himself from the ground, he hissed through his teeth when his shoulder protested. Every movement sent a dull ache through him, but he ignored it. He began the slow walk back to Mainecroft Hall, heading for Madelyn's chambers.
***
