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over. Although most left the chapel, many stood just outside the fence waiting to see what would happen between them.
    Lord Orrick appeared at her side and Lady Margaret stood at his. Joanna held her breath about what was to come. She was not strong enough to fight him physically. Only Lord Orrick could do that and she was not certain that he would. They all looked at Lord Braden.
    “I will ask you once more, Lady Joanna, to relinquish your claim of sanctuary and come peacefully from this place with me.” His deep voice echoed through the chapel. The calm tone surprised her, for she assumed that he would yell out his demand at her. Lord Braden did touch her hand and she jumped at the contact.
    Joanna looked at his face and, for a moment, she believed the words he spoke. She heard some promise, some enticement, buried deep within them and she wanted to take his hand. But, the stories and the terror grew inside of her until she could not bear it.
    “Nay,” she whispered. “Nay, I will not leave this place willingly to go with you.”
    She drew back her hand inside the cloak and wrapped her arms around her to await his response. Expecting an immediate and angry retort, she was amazed at the silence. And when she finally scraped enough courage together to dare a look at his face, she found him scrutinizing hers with a blank expression.
    Lord Braden simply nodded at her and stepped back away. Turning, he walked swiftly to the door of the church and called to one of his men. After giving some quiet instructions, he faced her again.
    “I do not understand your need to seek sanctuary here, Lady Joanna, but I have decided that I will not break the bond given by the priest. I will not interfere with your need to examine your conscience in this matter and make your peace with God and your confessor before coming with me.” He smiled then, a wicked smile, and bowed to her and the lord and lady of Silloth. “Take whatever time you need, my lady.”
    Lord Braden waited at the door until his man returned. With her sack. He placed it on the bench and spoke. “My lord, if you will see to the lady’s comforts as you offered, I would consider myself in your debt.”
    Stunned by his easy agreement, Joanna watched as Orrick and Margaret followed him out of the chapel. She could hear his words as he spoke of breaking their fast in the hall. Letting out her breath, she realized that she had lived through the worst moment of her life and that she was safe. When everyone was gone and the chapel returned to its quiet state and the sun shone outside the doorway, the truth of the situation struck her.
    She had not gained a safe haven, she’d set up her own prison and Lord Braden, warlock of Wynwydd, held the key.

Chapter Six
    T he next three days passed in a blur. Items for her comfort were delivered to the chapel, all by Lord Braden’s order. He did not present himself during that time, but she spied him walking by the chapel a few times when she tried to enjoy the sun’s warmth. Now, there was a wooden folding screen to give her a measure of privacy. A mattress overstuffed with feathers to use on top of the benches that formed her pallet. A chair and embroidering frame to keep her occupied through the day.
    Her company increased as well in numbers and frequency. There were always several of Lady Margaret’s women to share her meals and more in the evenings when the gossip and chatter turned to their favorite subject—their husbands.
    The best things were the clean clothes and the bath. Two chemises, two gowns with matching tunics and new stockings. Soft leather slippers and even some veils to cover her unruly hair. Each time a servant arrived, it was all with the compliments of the lord of Wynwydd.
    The bath was one she would never forget. The weeks of being in the same clothes, sleeping on pallets on the floor and not washing off the dirt that offered her some disguise were horrible. Then, the bumps and bruises she’d gained on