An Oath Sworn (10 page)

Aching that he'd hurt her to any degree, Colyne brushed away several strands of hair from her face. “'Twill only feel good from now on. I swear it.”

Slowly, the fragments of pain on her face faded until only desire glowed. “The discomfort has gone.”

“Just feel,” he whispered, nuzzling the curve of her neck, then easing up to savor her mouth. With slow, tender strokes to show her what she meant to him, he set the pace. With his next stroke, her body began to quake.

“Colyne!”

“That is it,” he urged and quickened the pace. As she arched against him and her body began to convulse, he drove deep and found his own release.

Sated, he rolled to his side and drew her with him, never having felt so complete. Sadness tightened his chest. “If I could,” he whispered, aching at the thought of letting her go, “I would wish this moment forever.”

Alesia tensed and then tried to pull away.

Her flash of guilt reminded him of her request to wait until the morning to tell him what she was hiding. A sword's wrath, he needed to know. “What is wrong?” When she would have turned away, he caught her chin.

Her eyes pleaded with his. “Do not ask me now.”

“How can I nae? We made love, have given ourselves to each other in the ultimate act of trust.”

Silence echoed between them, warm with the scents of their lovemaking.

She didna reply.

Hurt, Colyne searched her face, trying to understand why she hesitated. “A few hours will change naught.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “I know that far too well.”

Fear, hard and cold, raked through him. The last time he'd seen her cry had been when they'd buried his friends murdered by the English. By the grace of God, could her secret begin to match such a travesty?

Then, as if impaled by a sword's blow, he understood what drove her guilt, what had her pulling away from him even now. Colyne didna want to believe she'd lied to him. “Tell me.”

Red rimmed her eyes. “Whatever happens between us from this moment, I shall cherish the love we made this night. Neither will I forget you. Please remember that.”

“Who is he?” Colyne demanded, praying he was wrong.

Her breath hitched. “My betrothed.”

“
B
etrothed?” Colyne boomed.

Marie flinched. The true depth of her betrayal weighed heavy on her soul.

Fear that Renard's men would find her as she traveled through the unfamiliar Highlands had convinced her to ask Colyne for his help in reaching Glasgow. But it offered no excuse for their intimacy.

Eyes narrowed, Colyne released her and stood. He stalked the chamber. The candlelight, which had cast a golden glow over his body as they'd lain entwined, gleamed upon his nakedness, accentuating each taut stride. Now he looked more like a confined beast than her lover.

Shame filled her. However wrong her actions, she could not forget the feel of his hands upon her skin, their fine-tuned strength that could wield a blade as well as make love to her with infinite tenderness.

Each step he took expanded the emotional distance between them, his silence far more unnerving than if he'd spoken. She couldn't just sit here. She had to say something. Anything.

With the sheet secured around her, she slid her legs over the edge of the bed.

His eyes cut to her. “Stay away.”

Marie swallowed hard. Damn her selfishness. She'd never meant to hurt him. She needed to make him understand that she'd wanted this time with him to take with her, for once they parted they couldn't see each other again.

Her hand trembled as she fisted the sheet. How had she allowed the situation to unravel to such disrepair? “I only wanted to—”

Colyne rounded on her. “We made love, Alesia. Does that nae mean anything to you?” At her hesitation, he stormed over. “Answer me!”

“
Oui
,” she whispered, her heart breaking. She'd allowed her desires to guide her. Her self-serving decisions were no better than those of the gentry she abhorred.

With a curse, he prowled the chamber, pausing where a small table held their uneaten fare. Colyne turned. Deep lines dredged his face, but his eyes . . . Her breath faltered.
Mon Dieu
, his eyes were raw with hurt.

“How could you allow me to take what by right belongs to another?”

Marie straightened her shoulders. She deserved his wrath. “I never believed I would experience what you have made me feel. When I did. . .” She shook her head. “I am sorry.”

His eyelids narrowed as he stepped closer, his body towering over hers. “Sorry? You kept me ignorant of your betrothal because you wanted me? Bedamned! My feelings are nae something to be used on a whim!”

She swallowed hard. Except for not revealing the contents of the missive he carried, Colyne had been nothing but truthful. “I never meant to—”

“How can you dismiss your pledge to another man and nae understand the gravity of such a decision?”

“I was desperate.” Her reason sounded weak even to herself.

He scoffed. “Desperate?”

His gaze burned into hers, and then he shook his head with a frustrated sigh. “Are you nae aware that your betrothed will realize that you have been with another man when you go to his bed?”

“It will matter not to him.” A sad fact she'd long since come to accept. She could have been hideous, crippled, or a harlot having known the favors of numerous men, and for the royal connection, they still would have sought her hand.

“Your betrothed will nae care?” Colyne arched a skeptical brow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It is difficult to explain.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Try.”

What should she tell him? That he'd been the first man who'd cared for who she was and not for her birthright? Or that for the first time in her life, she had grown to cherish every moment spent with a man who was not her father?

And as horrible as her actions in giving herself to Colyne were, a part of her, however wrong, would savor the love they'd made. If he walked away and never spoke to her again, at least she would have the memory of this night.

“My father . . .” So caught up in the passion flaring between them, she'd not considered her father's reaction if he learned of the loss of her innocence. He would be furious with her, more so in light of her betrothal. And what would he do to Colyne?

Have him imprisoned?

Killed?

She couldn't allow Colyne to bear punishment for her sins. He'd only taken what she'd freely offered. Any wrong was hers to bear, but would her father view it as such?

Marie stared at him, unsure, hurting, and afraid. With his life possibly in danger, she couldn't reveal her father's title. But Colyne deserved some explanation. Neither would she expect forgiveness.

“Your father?” he prodded.

Taking a deep breath, she scraped together her composure as taught by the years of being a king's daughter. She found it heartbreaking at how calm and poised she could be when her entire life lay crumpled at her feet. “My father arranged the marriage.”

He gave a curt nod. “ 'Tis common.”

“It would be, except he gave me the right to choose the man I wed.” She hesitated, damning what she must say, words he deserved to hear but would never truly understand. “I do not love him, nor have we met.”

He unfolded his arms from his chest. “Your father gave you a choice to marry for love, yet you promised yourself to a stranger?”

The heat of his words and the disbelief made her want to curl into a ball and weep. “I never expected to meet someone like you.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “After my time spent with you, I find it hard to believe you would have settled for anything in your life.”

She exhaled. “I was tired of men falsely trying to gain my attention, and treating me as if I were a simpleton. Though I do not love my betrothed, my father assured me he shall treat me with respect. The other men . . .”

“The other men!”

Marie interlaced her hands so he wouldn't see them shake. “They sought to bind themselves to me to gain an alliance with my father. He is a powerful lord,” she finished on a whisper.

Colyne watched her, his gaze shrewd. “A strong allegiance is often part of arranged marriages. You are a beautiful woman, Alesia. Could they nae see that as well as your intelligence?”

“Men driven to gain power see not the beauty in a well-crafted sword, only the lethal bite of the blade.”

“If they bid for your affections with anything but sincerity, they were fools.”

Fools or not, if Colyne knew the truth, it would change how he viewed her. “I should have told you before of my betrothal. I meant to, but the days passed so quickly and there was so much on my mind.” She drew a calming breath. “Tonight, I was afraid if I told you, you would leave me untouched. I wanted this night with you to cherish. But my fears of a lonely life are little excuse for my actions.” She paused, gathered her courage. “I was selfish. It is just that . . .”

“What?”

That I love you.
The unexpected revelation shocked her to the core. She must be wrong. She cared for him deeply, but love?

Mary's will, with her future already pledged to another, she could never contemplate a life with Colyne. And as much as she wanted to, she didn't dare inform Colyne of her royal tie.

She stared up at him, wanting him to see the truth in her eyes as she spoke. “You make me feel what no other man has. When you kiss me, touch me, you make me want what is forbidden.” Shame filled her at her words, but she forced herself to continue. If not her pledge, she could give him this. “You made me understand what it is like to be truly wanted—for me, not for the prestige I can bring a man.” Her breath hitched. “I was wrong. I am sorry.”

He stared at her for a long moment and his anger fell away to frustration. On a rough sigh, he stepped forward and cupped her chin. “I am sorry as well.”

She'd prepared herself for his condemnation but not his empathy.

A tense second passed.

Then another.

The pain she witnessed in his expression stole her breath. Marie lay her head upon his chest. “I beg of you, do not hate me.”

“I canna. Even after . . .” He stroked his thumb against her cheek. “God help me, I still want you.” Colyne drew back and studied her. “There may be a way.”

“A way?”

“Aye. I shall speak with your father on your behalf.”

Panic swept her as she thought of Colyne approaching her father. “Do you not think if I believed there was a way to stop my wedding I would?”

“If you were given the option to choose your betrothed,” he continued, “ 'twould seem that your father will understand it would be a mistake to allow you to marry a man you do nae love?”

“It is impossible,” she said, her words cool as she struggled for calm. Duty weighed heavy on her shoulders, concerns she could not dismiss.

Even for Colyne.

But a part of her wished for his intervention because his heart was involved. A wish. Though he cared for her deeply, it was far from love. Aching, she started to turn away.

He caught her hand. “I will meet with your father. Mayhap ending your betrothal will be as simple as paying the promised dowry.”

However much she wished it, nothing he could say would alter her destiny. She shook her head. “My vow has been given. My father will not change his mind.”

A smile touched his mouth. “Your father may dismiss a common knight, but there is something I have nae told you.”

She remained silent. Whatever he was about to share would change nothing.

He laced his fingers through hers. “I am a knight, aye, but as well, the Earl of Strathcliff.”

“A Scottish lord?” Marie wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Loving Colyne, had she met him before her betrothal, given his title and status, her father would have happily granted her permission to wed him.

“Alesia—”

Colyne's use of her second name was a blunt reminder of his ignorance of her royal tie.

And the danger.

“I am sorry, but your nobility changes naught.” He stared at her, his confusion tearing her apart. By the grace of Mary, she'd made what should have been a beautiful bonding a disaster. She needed to put distance between them; it would be wise. Sensible. And she would, with the oncoming dawn, but hours remained until then, precious time she would savor. “Make love to me again, Colyne. Give me this one night with you.”

“How can I—”

“I know it is wrong,” she rushed out. “More than I have the right to ask.”

Blue eyes narrowed. “On the morrow I will make arrangements for us both to sail.”

“And for that I give you thanks.” Trembling at the thought of letting him go, she stood. “You must accept that once you depart, we cannot see each other again. Ever. Please, lay with me until dawn.” She struggled to swallow. “But if you choose otherwise, I understand.”

“If I spoke with your fa—”

“My father will not change his mind.”

 

Alesia might be convinced that he couldna sway her father to end her betrothal, but Colyne believed otherwise. “Who is you father?”

Silence.

So be it. Once he'd delivered the writ to King Philip, he would seek the noble out and speak with him in private. 'Twould nae be difficult to find an influential lord who had a beautiful daughter named Alesia who had journeyed to Scotland as a missionary. And a woman who had served her people as a healer. Whatever the price to release her from her betrothal, he would pay.

She believed her decisions took away his responsibilities toward her; he disagreed. Though unaware of her betrothal, he'd known of her chaste state.

Still, he'd allowed intimacy.

Aye, he could blame his actions on her impassioned request, of how she'd pressed against him and destroyed his will, but he refused to use excuses for a choice he'd made. With his every intimate touch, he'd known his decision, had accepted its consequences.

After experiencing her untutored passion, the guileless sensuality of her every move, he'd wanted more than what one night would give them.

“I need you, Colyne.” Desire-filled eyes searched his with desperation. “If it is within you to forgive me for what I now ask, make love to me.”

Her desperate plea cut through his musings. His body hardened as his mind relieved images of her beneath him. “Alesia—”

She unbound the sheet and stood naked before him. Illuminated within the golden candlelight, her breasts, full, round, and tempting, lured him. “Do you still want me?”

He silently groaned. Want her? Colyne's gaze feasted on her tempting curves, at how the shimmering light slid over her as he wanted his hands to, and doubted he'd ever get his fill.

A sword's wrath! He should walk away. He wasna a green lad unused to joining with a woman or the pleasures the act inspired. But as her scent of woman and lavender teased his senses, never had he wanted anyone as much as he wanted her. If he were to be damned, then so be it.

Pulse racing, he crossed to her, claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss. He would find a way to right this wrong.

 

Dust-streaked sunlight stole through the aged window to expose the room in a dim glow. For a selfish moment, Colyne held Alesia, who slept in his arms, and enjoyed the hazy peace. It didna matter that he lay within a downtrodden inn or that, somewhere in the city, Renard's men searched for him and wanted him dead.

For this one instant, he was content.

Though caution had advised him nae to touch her again after their heated discussion, his body had burned at how throughout the night she'd reached for him over and again.