Christina turned and saw a group of heavily armed men striding into the room. Their plate mail and helms were splattered with blood and mud. In their hands, each held a sword, gore dripping from the blades. There were more than a dozen knights, but one in particular caught Christina's attention.

He walked in the group’s center, slightly ahead of the others, carrying his helm under his arm. Although Christina was fortunate enough to have never come face to face with Lord Renault Brandon before, she knew that he stood before her now. And she was stunned by what she saw. As much as she wanted to, she could not pull her eyes away from the man.

The Scourge of Salzburg should have been a beast, an inhuman, slathering dog with wild red eyes. But instead, this man was tall and broad-shouldered and obviously muscular under his armor. Luxurious black hair grazed his shoulders, and intelligent eyes were deep set in a chiseled face. His only physical imperfection was a scar running down his right cheek all the way to the jaw.

There were many stories about how Lord Brandon came to bear the scar, faded now after many years, each more gruesome than the last. The most recent tale Christina had heard was that a young boy had attacked him with a fireplace poker, while defending his 10-year-old sister from being raped by Lord Brandon's men. The story went on to recount the punishment inflicted on the boy. It was too grotesque for Christina to contemplate.

So how could a man, power-mad, cruel, and brutal, be so extraordinarily handsome? Surely something in his face would offer a hint of his black soul. But there was little time for Christina to consider it. The Pain of Prague stood mere feet away. Fear was thick in the room.

Christina's father was spluttering, his face turning unnatural shades of purple. "Lord Brandon! Yes, welcome to Ellsworth Castle, my Lord. Isn't that the civilized way of things? A man welcomes another man to his home, even if the guest is a conqueror? Then they can discuss surrender terms over a nice glass of wine and everyone behaves like gentlemen?"

Sir John was panting. His wife and younger daughter moaned and clung to each other. Christina's heart raced, and she was nearly paralyzed with fear over her fate and that of her patients. But at the same time, she still possessed the presence of mind to be embarrassed by her family.

Lord Brandon strode across the great hall toward Sir John. As he moved, his eyes seemed to note every detail around him, and Christina was no exception. He did not pause, but simply looked her up and down appraisingly. She felt naked and vulnerable before his cold scrutiny. One hand flew involuntarily to the cleavage revealed by the low neck of her gown. Lord Brandon smirked at the gesture then directed his attention to Christina’s father.

"Sir John, you are welcoming me to your home? What a generous sentiment, especially since it is actually my home. I would say the only home you can welcome anyone to is a dark cell in the bowels of this castle." Lord Brandon spoke calmly, even pleasantly. He might as well have been discussing the sale of a heifer as the fate of an entire family.

Sir John’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. There were a few strangled sounds that could barely be heard over the whining of Lady Frances and Tilde.

Lord Brandon continued. "And as for your plans to escape, I'm afraid they are out of the question. I know every inch of this castle like the back of my hand and no one will get out without my permission. Also, don’t insult me by trying to fight your way out. It would be a shame if any more of your men died trying to defend your pathetic life today. Especially since they are now my men."

Sir John finally found his voice. "My Lord, please take pity on me and my poor family. My daughter, Tilde, she never did anything to harm you, nor my wife, Lady Frances. Please, my Lord, let us go with our lives and we shall never trouble you again."