An Oath Sworn (23 page)

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Authors: Diana Cosby

BOOK: An Oath Sworn
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With unsteady fingers, she flipped through the hand-penned parchment. Through the blur of her tears, she read the inscription.
My dearest, Marie. Your birth is a blessing. You are a daughter who fills me with joy and one whom I welcome into my life, home, and heart. One day, when you are grown, my greatest wish is that you too may be blessed with a child created by love.
Your father, Philip IV
The fragile parchment shook in her fingers. Marie closed the volume and slid it on the ledge, then clenched her fists.
Gaston had lied.
Anger knotted into a hard ball in her chest. The bastard thought he could convince her that she was unwanted, sway her to believe she could ever stop loving Colyne or the child she carried.
Her anger shoved up another notch. The bastard had played on her fears of love, her doubts that any man would want her if not for her royal tie. Before she'd met Colyne, she might have believed his words.
No longer.
Through Colyne's trust, friendship, and patience, he'd taught her that she was a woman a man could love, not because of the royal link but because she had a good and honest heart. With Colyne, she felt complete.
Marie glanced to where Gaston remained cloistered in the shadows with the stranger. What other devious decisions had he made? Did they extend to her abduction? Grabbing her cloak, she ran out the door.
Mon Dieu
, she would find out!
 
Crouched in the shadows along the wall, Colyne listened to the hushed conversation between Marie's betrothed and a stranger who'd stood in the back of the great hall during the evening meal.
From the coat of dust clinging to the man's garb, he'd ridden hard to reach this assignation.
With quiet steps, Colyne edged closer.
He could now move without pain or dizziness, but his recovery did little to ease his troubled mind. Marie's celebratory dinner this eve had been a potent reminder of her impending marriage, a union that would transpire unless he found evidence linking the duke to her kidnapping.
An owl hooted in the distance. A gust of wind swept past, thick with the scent of rain.
He took in the clouds churning overhead, slowly robbing him of the guiding moonlight. Silver rays faded. Except for a wavering glow of light cast by the torches, blackness shrouded the castle.
The scrape of leather sounded nearby.
Bedamned! He flattened himself against the stone.
Caught within the wind, the soft murmurs of the distant guards and the chirp of crickets filled the night.
Colyne made another slow sweep. Satisfied the sound had come from a distance, he crept closer.
The rustle of clothing sounded from the entrance to the wall walk.
He stilled, his eyes narrowing.
With stealth, a cloaked figure moved from the stairs.
Another gust of wind whipped past. Fragments of moonlight cut through the break in the churning sky. The silver rays exposed several strands of honey-colored hair whipping about the secured hood. The clouds roiling overhead closed, smothering the person in blackness.
Marie!
 
With care, Marie edged closer to where the duke whispered in the shadows with the stranger, her anger at being made a fool still running hot. She strained to hear their conversation.
“I told you never to come here,” Gaston snapped.
The man shuffled his feet. “Your Grace, I—”
“Silence! If anyone should hear, 'twould cost us both our lives.”
Their lives? Anger melded with apprehension. She pressed closer. “I am sorry,” the stranger replied.
Her betrothed glanced around. As if satisfied no one was about, he faced the man. “Why are you here?”
“With our abduction attempt exposed, the Duke of Renard fears for his life. He beseeches you to arrange his passage back to England immediately.”
“I told him I would take care of matters as soon as it was safe,” Gaston hissed. “Inform him that he is to remain hidden, and I will send word when all the arrangements have been made. You will never visit me here again. Is that clear?”
“
Oui
, Your Grace.”
Sickened, Marie closed her eyes. Her betrothed had participated in her kidnapping. Damn him, he would pay for his treachery.
Gaston shook his head and lowered his voice.
Marie leaned forward, but their words were too soft for her to understand. Keeping low, she crept closer.
“The Duke of Renard also states the remainder of the payment will be sent once he is safe.”
Her betrothed cursed. “ 'Twas not the agreement we made.”
“I am but a messenger,” the man rushed out, his voice trembling with fear.
“Be gone,” Gaston snarled.
“Aye, Your Grace.”
Mary's will! If they looked in this direction, they'd see her! Marie turned toward the tower, but her slipper caught against the stone. Her pulse racing, she steadied herself.
“Did you hear something?” the stranger asked.
Moonlight flickered to expose the harsh lines of Gaston's face. Fury, then macabre satisfaction settled in his eyes, leaving her chilled to the bone. “Marie. 'Tis a pity you have followed me.”
Chapter 22
S
haking with a mixture of rage and fear, Marie stepped back from her betrothed, keeping his accomplice in sight. “You helped plan this,” she said with contempt. “And what else are you involved in?”
The duke lunged.
Marie tried to run, but he caught her.
With a jerk, he hauled her against his body. “You should have gone to sleep as I insisted,” he hissed. “Now, when they find you sprawled on the ground below, 'twill be with regret that I inform your father that your delirium returned.” His expression mocked sadness.
She shook with fury. “When my father learns of your deceit, 'tis your life that will be—”
Gaston clamped his hand over her mouth, muffling her scream. “You worthless bitch! No one will be able to hear you until it is too late.” He gave an indignant grunt. “Now you know too much. Had you listened to me, you, along with the Scottish bastard's child, would have lived.”
 
Colyne halted as he inched forward, the duke's news slamming through his mind.
She was carrying his child?
At Marie's gasp, Colyne tamped down the elation and edged forward. He had to save her!
In the slashes of errant moonlight, terror widened Marie's eyes as her betrothed wrestled her toward the edge.
The bastard! Colyne charged Gaston.
“Your Grace,” the stranger shouted, “behind you!”
The duke turned, giving Colyne much-needed time. Teeth clenched, he caught Gaston's neck, wrenching him backward.
Marie broke free.
“Run!” Colyne shouted as he plowed his fist into the duke's jaw.
Instead, Marie gasped. “Behind you!”
Colyne whirled.
Dagger in hand, the stranger charged.
With a quick twist, he evaded the man's attack. Before the assailant could slow, Colyne caught his forearm, jerked him forward.
The stranger dropped to his knees, his hands scraping at the stone. Momentum slid him forward, and a cry ripped from his lungs as he tumbled off the wall walk. Seconds later, his body thudded against the earth.
Gasping for breath, Colyne rounded on the duke.
Deep lines savaged his face as the noble, his sword raised, charged.
Fury toward this man who had dared to threaten Marie's life backed Colyne's swing. Metal scraped metal as he deflected the aggressor's blade.
At the duke's next attack, Colyne ducked. Forged steel hissed over him by mere inches. Taking advantage of Gaston's lowered weapon, he charged.
Blades screamed.
Locked.
Colyne shoved. The duke stumbled back.
Sweat poured down Colyne's face as drove forward with a series of brutal swings. He would nae lose her. She was his life. “Cede!”
“To a Scot?” With a curse, Gaston bore down on Colyne, narrowed the gap, swung.
Colyne repulsed the blow, drove his blade forward. The slide of the duke's flesh against the honed steel offered its own reward.
In shock, Gaston gaped at the wound across his left arm, a clean line severing skin from bone. Brows slammed together in outrage. “For that you will die!”
The thud of steps echoed as the guards rushed toward them. “Halt!” one of the king's knights ordered.
Eyes blazing, the duke attacked.
Colyne repelled the blow. “This,” he said between clenched teeth, “is for Marie!” He sidestepped and thrust, sank the tip of his sword deep into the noble's gut.
The duke's weapon clattered to the ground, slid across the stone, wobbled at the edge, and then tumbled over. Eyes wide with shock, the duke stared at the blood staining his tunic in a slow, sluggish trail and collapsed to his knees.
Colyne glared at the noble. He'd almost cost Scotland their much-needed aid, had played a part in both Stephano and his family's as well as Douglas's murder, had hurt Marie and had endangered their child's life. The bastard would never harm anyone again. Colyne lifted his sword to deliver the fatal blow.
Marie stepped forward.
“Non!”
Colyne's fingers trembled on the hilt. “He deserves to die.”
“He does,” Marie agreed, her voice unsteady, “but his shame will be greater if his sentence is delivered by my father and witnessed by his own serfs.”
As much as Colyne yearned to end the bastard's life, he lowered his weapon. He would allow the king to mete out the deserved punishment. “Why did you help to abduct Marie?”
Defiant eyes lifted to Colyne. Silence
“For the coin my abduction would bring,” Marie said.
The duke glared at her.
“I overheard him and the man with whom he met.”
Colyne motioned the guards as they halted around them. “Arrest the Duke of Vocette for conspiring against King Philip.”
The knights seized him.
“When you are interrogated,” Colyne stated, his words like ice, “ 'twill be intriguing to see what devices they choose to acquire your confession. Methods I have nay doubt will have you praying for death long before 'tis served.”
Fear curdled in the man's eyes, and he tried to shove to his feet. His legs gave, and he landed hard. Wide eyes, panic swept his gaze. “
Non
,” he begged, “if you have any mercy, kill me now.”
“Mercy?” Marie said with disgust, “you have earned none.” She nodded to the guards. “Take him to the dungeon.”
“I will help you,” Gaston pleaded, as the guards hauled him away. “Give you whatever amount of coin or lands you request.”
The knights shoved the duke into the turret, his pleas for death echoing in his wake.
His heart pounding, Colyne drew Marie into his arms.
Her body trembled against his. “I was so afraid!”
“You are alive.” Colyne swallowed hard, brushed the pad of his thumb against her cheek. “You are with child? I am—”
“Marie?” the king's voice boomed with fear.
With her in his arms, Colyne faced the powerful ruler.
Her father, followed by several of his knights holding torches, closed in. A pace away, they halted. King Philip's fierce gaze narrowed on Colyne. “I demand to know what is going on!”
“Colyne saved my life,” Marie stated with pride.
The sovereign arched a doubtful brow.
“Sire,” Colyne said, “there is a man lying in the bailey below. Moments ago, he met with the Duke of Vocette in secret, a rendezvous both Lady Marie and I overheard.”
The king's eyes shifted to Marie. “Is this true?”
“
Oui
. They discussed my abduction. It seems Gaston was involved in the entire scheme, and it was he who led them to me.”
A muscle worked in her father's jaw. “This explains why you were so easily taken.”
“Aye,” Colyne agreed. “His accomplice also revealed that the Duke of Renard is still in France. He is hiding until arrangements are made for him to sail back to England.”
A humorless smile touched the king's lips. “Arrangements will be made, but far from those he expects. Renard will regret that he dared to try to sway my support from Scotland by abducting my daughter.” Beneath the torchlight, the king's gaze grew somber as he assessed Colyne. “Twice now you have aided me. I offer you my greatest appreciation.”
Colyne bowed.
His face taunt with worry, King Philip gazed upon his daughter. “I feared for your life. Had anything happened to you . . . I love you, Marie.”
 
“I love you too, Father.” Tears rolled down her face as Marie ran to him and gave him a big hug, her doubts and fears falling away. The bond between them was solid. Never again would she doubt that he wanted her in his life.
A sincere smile touched her father's mouth. “But I shall never become used to your independent ways.”
Colyne stepped forward. “A fact I am more than willing to take charge of, Sire.”
Brow arched, the king studied the Scot.
Pride filled Marie as Colyne held her father's gaze with fierce resolve.
“I am aware the situation is far from proper,” Colyne stated, “but I am requesting permission for your daughter's hand in marriage.”
“And your reason?” the king demanded.
Tenderness creased Colyne's face as he turned toward her with a look so filled with love that her heart ached. “Because, Sire, I am in love with Marie. I want to care for her, to help raise our child, and to cherish her for the rest of her life.”
In the torchlight, wonder shone in her father's eyes as he glanced from Colyne to Marie. “Child? Is this true?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she nodded. “
Oui.
”
A happy smile curved her father's face. “In light of recent events, I hereby end your betrothal. You are free to marry the man you choose.”
She gave him another hug. “You have made me so happy.”
He nodded to Colyne. “You have my blessing.” The king pressed a kiss on her brow, and then stepped back as Colyne moved to her side.
Happiness pouring through her, Marie turned.
On an unsteady breath, Colyne cupped her face. “I love you, Marie. I want to grow old with you, to share the happiness of our every day, and to hold you as we watch our children grow. Marry me; you are all I need to make my life complete.”
Emotion tightened in her throat as she stared at the man who was her life, her love, and who she wanted to be with forever. She threw herself into his arms.
“Oui!”
 
In the candlelit chamber, Marie stared at Colyne, their bodies still joined from making love. “When I think of you almost dying—”
Colyne silenced her with a gentle kiss, his taste stealing over her, tempting her to make love with him yet again. “ 'Tis over now. A fortnight has passed since Renard was captured.”
Memories lingered of how, when her father had learned the location of the English noble's hiding place, he'd stormed off to personally make the arrest. “He will regret his part in the deceitful plot.”
“Aye, with his life. But”—Colyne kissed her until her thoughts hazed—“I can think of many things to do this night besides talking of your father's anger, or of those who would try to usurp Scotland's freedom.”
She shuddered against him, this moment fulfilling her every hope and dream.
“I love you, Marie. Never will I tire of telling you so.”
“Nor I you. You are my heart, my life. Never did I believe I would find a man who would want me for myself.” She smiled. “Then I was blessed with you.”
Tenderness mingled with the passion in his eyes. “ 'Tis I who am blessed.” He claimed her mouth in a tender kiss, and with excruciating slowness, he tasted her, unhurried, savoring. When he nipped at the skin along the curve of her throat, she could only groan as she basked in his every touch.
Hours later, Marie lay beside Colyne, her pulse still racing from making love. A smile touched her lips as she caught sight of her worn copy of the tales of King Arthur, which she'd received in her eighth summer.
Throughout her life she'd believed the brave knights who graced the pages were naught but characters crafted to entertain children and make grown women sigh. But it'd turned out they were true. Like Sir Lancelot, Colyne had ridden into her life, swept her away, and won her heart.

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