An Oath Sworn (8 page)

He shook his head.

“What does—”

He rounded on her, the anger in his eyes making her breath catch. “If we are caught and you are ignorant of the content, there is a chance you will be allowed to live.”

Allowed to live? She glanced to where he'd hidden the document. What information could be so important that men would kill for it? Gold? Rebel plans for an assault against the English? The location of hidden arms to fuel Scotland's effort for independence?

“If the threat is so great,” she asked, temper seeping into her voice, “should I remain with you?”

“Aye,” he said, his words laden with regret. “With the men aware you are with me, you are already involved. At least while you travel at my side, I can protect you.”

Protect her? He was all but weaving on his feet. After the strain on him this day, his shoulder had to be near useless from the pain. If the knights had discovered them before they'd safely crossed the stream, how long would he have held his own? An ache built in her throat.

By the grace of Mary, as much as she wanted him to guide her to the nearest port to seek passage to France, he needed the freedom to travel unimpeded more. She ignored the weariness filling her limbs, the residing chill from crossing the frigid water. She could make it on her own. Hadn't she been doing so until she'd come across him? “Go on without me. I am only slowing you down.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a weary smile. “You are. And if I was wise, I would leave you with the first person I knew I could trust.”

Her heart ached. “It is not a matter to make light of.”

“Nay, far from it.” He scrubbed his face, the tiredness of his expression wiping away any lingering traces of humor. “From the first, I have found myself torn over what to do about you. “ Desire kindled in his eyes, warming her blood. “As wise as it would be to let you go, I canna.”

At his admission, Marie couldn't help but embrace the thrill in knowing he wanted her—a woman he believed to be a noble. Not the king's daughter. She sobered. Intimacy with Colyne would not be a trifling matter. She sighed. For now, she would cherish each moment they shared. “Then let us go.” Marie shot him a teasing glance as she forced her feet to move. “That is, if you are able to travel.”

“Is that the way of it, then?”

“Oui.”
Pushing herself, she kept pace as they started up another incline.

“I think I misjudged you,” Colyne said after they'd traveled a distance.

“Misjudged me?” She tensed. Had she done something? Said something to give away her birthright?

“I thought you were stubborn. Now I understand; 'tis determination.”

Heat crept up her cheeks. She'd allowed her fears to make her jump to a false conclusion. “I have been called both.”

In the moonlight, he glanced toward her. “I have nay doubt. 'Tis your determination that amazes me. Who are you, Alesia?”

The softness of his words did naught to ease the question's unnerving impact. “A woman who is bound to duty, monsieur,” she said, her words more formal than she'd intended.

“Monsieur?” At her silence he arched a speculative brow. “ 'Tis more than duty.”

She longed to tell him the truth, but doing so would solve nothing and change everything. For once she wanted to be seen not as a king's daughter but as a woman. She hungered to know a man without questioning the sincerity of his words.

“Do not,” she said when he made to speak. The simple command severed the air between them like a dagger in the night.

Colyne's eyes darkened with desire as he stepped toward her.

Tempted to retreat, Marie stood her ground. But she couldn't dismiss the potency of his nearness or the need his presence inspired.

“Why do you withdraw when I mention your past? I care for you, wish to know you better. And, from the way you return my kisses, you have feelings for me as well.”

She started to turn away, but he cupped her chin. Fissures of warmth seeped through her where his fingers touched. His gaze seemed to penetrate her, to search her mind for answers. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

Shaken by the unsteadiness of her own voice, Marie turned away. “Does it matter?”

“I do nae want it to, but when it comes to you, aye.” Colyne breathed. “You make me feel desires I had believed lost.”

Did he speak of Elizabet?

“Alesia?”

Though whispered, his use of her second name screamed her deception. How could she care for Colyne and offer him lies? But she had no choice. Scotland's fate depended on her reaching her father. “I find myself drawn to you as well.” She would give him that but naught more. To admit her growing feelings would add more heartache to an already painful separation.

“Drawn to me?” he asked, his annoyance clear.

“We must go. We have tarried here overlong.”

His jaw tightened. “You feel naught for me but mere attraction?”

She struggled to quell her frustration. “We are cold, wet, and tired from our journey. Now is not the place to discuss the depth of how we feel for the other.” His gaze fell to her mouth and heat slid through her body, unleashing words she'd meant to withhold. “You make me want you when I have no right.”

Desire flamed hot in his eyes and her heart ached. All her life she'd wanted a man who made her desire him. Now she'd found a man who'd given her that.

Was she wrong to want Colyne? To yearn for a man who wasn't hers to have? And if she walked away without knowing true passion, would she regret her decision in the empty years ahead, married to a man she didn't love?

Colyne skimmed the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. “At times, our emotions are nae something we can dictate.”

“As with Elizabet?” she threw out, ashamed but desperate to create much-needed distance between them.

A
t the mention of Elizabet, Colyne braced himself for a barrage of emotions. With Alesia aware of his first love, he should have anticipated the question. Truth be told, with his heart broken since her marriage, he'd smothered his feelings and tried to avoid having time to think, or to feel.

Except, as he stared at her, the storm of expected grief never came. A sword's wrath, how did the emotions he'd struggled to banish since she'd married suddenly vanish? Why did he nae ache at the mere thought of her?

Confused, he exhaled. “I have known Elizabet's family since my youth. Somehow, over the years and without expecting to, I fell in love,” he said, surprised at the ease at which his thoughts unfurled. “Before I told her of my feelings, she married another.”

“I am sorry.”

At Alesia's quiet words, his body began to hum a soft warmth. As if blasted from a catapult, he understood. 'Twas she who had allowed him to heal.

But it made little sense. Aye, she was beautiful and he desired her, but he didna love her. Within days they would part and he would . . .

Miss her.

Greatly.

He dismissed the pull of emotions, the ache inside him at the thought of her leaving that refused to go away. 'Twas fatigue that muddled his thoughts, nae more.

Unsettled, Colyne began walking east. “We must keep traveling.” However much he wanted her, 'twas imperative to keep his focus on delivering the writ. And he needed to remember how little he knew about the lass.

Regardless of much he wished otherwise, he must use caution.

 

Shielding the afternoon sunlight with his hand, Colyne scanned the heather-strewn field.

“What is wrong?”

At the nervousness in her voice, he glanced over. “Naught, I was but searching for any sign of English troops.” He refused to admit that part of his unrest came from his wanting her, as well as his bewilderment at how she'd made the pain of losing Elizabet fade.

Alesia scoured their surroundings with a tight frown. “You think we are in danger?”

As much as he wished to reassure her of their safety, he could nae. “Though we have spotted nay sign of our pursuers for two days, 'tis unwise to tarry in a field where we could be easily seen.”

After one last sweep to ensure 'twas safe, he led her into the distant woods. From there they crossed several fields thick with brambles, the air rich with the smell of grass and a blend of wild herbs, as well as the potent scent of a distant moor. Every so often, he picked up the faintest trace of the sea.

Colyne took in the familiar rolling fields and the sweep of the distant forest, pain twisting his gut.

“Are we close?”

“Aye. We will arrive at the outskirts of Glasgow this night.” There, he would check for any ships preparing to depart. The possibility existed that he could sail on the morrow.

And leave Alesia.

Forever.

His chest tightened at the thought. As if he had a blasted choice? He needed to reach King Philip posthaste. He didna have the luxury to remain with her until a ship arrived equipped with cabins befitting a lady.

But she would be safe.

Robert Wishart, the Bishop of Glasgow, a friend he'd known since his youth, resided here and would ensure her safe passage to France. And sadly, he was a man to whom Colyne needed to break the news of Douglas's death.

Colyne smothered his melancholy thoughts. Though close to Glasgow, danger surrounded them. 'Twas unwise to mull over leaving her for fear of letting down his guard on any front.

“Except for a crofter's hut,” she said, “I have seen no sign of a village, much less a glimpse of the sea.”

“I have kept our path off those normally traveled.”

“A wise choice.”

At the fatigue in her voice, he glanced over. Though she kept pace, her body had begun to tremble. He'd planned on traveling straight through to meet with the Bishop of Glasgow, which would take several more hours. But she was exhausted. He needed to find a place closer for her to rest.

'Twas nae as if he was delaying their parting. Tiredness etched the lass's face and weighed her every step. That he could never quite push the questions of what about her drew him had little to do with his change of plans. Their delay would give them a few extra hours together, naught more. And what of her secrets? After the past days of fighting for their lives, had he nae earned a degree of her trust? With the possibility of his sailing on the morrow, he should leave the subject untouched. However much wisdom guided him to remain silent, considering how important she was becoming to him, Colyne found it imperative to know. “Alesia?”

A tired smile tugged at her mouth.
“Oui?”

“Why are there men after you?”

The tender warmth of her expression chilled. “Do not.”

She started to turn away, but he caught her shoulder, annoyed by her immediate withdrawal. “After all we have gone through, everything we have confided in each other, what could you possibly nae be able to tell me?”

She yanked free, her stance regal. “And can you share the reason why 'tis crucial that you deliver the writ?”

With Scotland's freedom at risk, 'twas nae a choice he could make. “Nay, but my reasons are bound by honor.”

“Are they?” Her eyes blazed with anger. “I have your word that the message you carry is of great importance, yet you refuse to tell me its contents or your destination.”

“As I explained, if we were ever caught, your ignorance of my goal could save your life.”

“I understand duty, monsieur,” she said, her words crisp. “The weight of its responsibilities, the hard decisions it can bring.”

Monsieur! Blast this entire situation. And what right did he have to demand anything from her when he couldna reveal the reason he traveled to France? With Alesia already wary, he should have allowed their conversation to move onto safer ground.

But she intrigued him—and frustrated him—like no lass had done.

Ever.

Including Elizabet.

A muscle worked in his jaw. Fine, she wanted him nae to ask, he wouldn't. He had his own life and she had hers. Colyne walked beneath a tall pine and then into the warmth of the sun. Was part of her secret that she was married?

The light spring breeze sifted through the blades of grass as the rays of the sun warmed his face. Inside, his bones had chilled to ice. He halted. “Do you love someone else?”

Regret etched her face as she stopped before him. “
Non
,” she breathed, “I swear it.”

Thank God. Though his mission prevented him from remaining with her, he couldna bear thinking of her being in love with another.

Her eyes searched his with soft desperation. “If we only have a short while left, let the time be filled with good memories.”

Sadness swamped him at her grief-stricken words, and then he paused. Their separation was one of choice. Excitement pouring through him, he caught her shoulders and gave her a hard kiss. “Once I have delivered the writ, I will come back for you.”

The happiness in her eyes faded to caution. “With so much danger ahead, 'twould be unwise to make any future plans.”

“I want to see you again,” Colyne said, perplexed by her reply. After his heartbreak over Elizabet, Alesia had made him feel more than he'd ever believed possible. And with their growing friendship, as well as the heat of their kisses, he found it difficult to believe her feelings for him didna go deeper as well.

Mayhap her hesitation came from nae wanting to involve him further in her troubles. A needless worry. “Lass, when this is over, I will find you.”

 

At Colyne's passionate declaration, Marie stepped back.
Mon Dieu
, however much she wished it, once they parted, she could never see him again. Heart aching, she swallowed hard. She must tell him of her betrothal to Gaston de Croix. And when Colyne learned of her impending marriage, would he glare at her in disgust? Curse her deception?

Or hate her?

Tears burned her eyes at the latter. She'd made a mess of this.

On the morrow they would part and she would never see him again. Shattered by the thought, she struggled for composure. Though she'd known him but days, somehow, he'd come to matter.

Matter? A pitiful word considering the emotions he made her feel. With Colyne, she felt whole, complete. The bond they'd forged would be with her forever. To add to the torment, never before had a man made her want his touch.

Colyne had.

Desperately.

Through lowered lids she studied him, memories of him half-naked leaving her body tingling with awareness. Too easily she could envision him taking her to his bed.

From the intensity of his kisses, he must desire her. If he asked, could she give herself to him, aware she was promised to another? More, was she wrong to make love with a man who wanted her for the woman she was, not for the royal tie she could bring him?

Thoughts of the upcoming marriage brought naught but visions of a cold, empty life, one void of a man who truly cared for her. Saddened, she fell into step beside him as Colyne started walking.

They had this one night. If they made love, she would savor the rightness of it. Any consequences would be hers to bear. And on the morrow she would tell him of her betrothal.

“Tonight we shall stay at an inn where I doubt anyone chasing us would search,” he said. “Tomorrow I will make arrangements for your stay until you sail.”

Marie nodded, half-listening, and walked in silence. She would have this night on which to build memories to cherish for a lifetime. After she'd told him of her promise to wed the duke, she prayed that one day Colyne would find forgiveness toward her for her deception.

 

By the time Colyne led Alesia to the outskirts of Glasgow, darkness had claimed the sky. In the shadows of the forest, he helped her don a servant's robe he'd procured from a crofter's hut they'd passed.

“We will nae attract attention dressed in this garb.” He drew another robe over his own head, wishing they were already inside the safety of the inn. After securing the tie, he led her toward the city. “Keep near my side.”

Fear flickered on her face, but she took his hand. “I will.”

They moved deeper into Glasgow. Horses drawing rickety wagons stumbled over the rut-battered streets. Men dressed in the same nondescript servants' garb quietly passed.

“ 'Tis not as I expected,” Alesia said, a tremor in her voice.

“What?”

She nodded toward the decaying buildings, the squalor as far as the eye could see. “I had expected to find well-kept homes or businesses.”

“In a better part of the city, aye, you would.”

Unease swept her. “A better part?”

Colyne led her through the ill-tended streets cluttered with debris. “After weighing the risks, I decided traveling through this shabby part of town would be for the best. In the company of a noblewoman, the men searching for us would believe I would choose a safer route.”

“I see.”

Colyne gently squeezed her hand. “I will keep you safe.”

“I know.”

Humbled by her belief in him, he continued on. At the next corner, he stole a glance behind them. “This way.” Confident they were nae being followed, he guided her into a darkened alley.

The stench hit first. A putrid mix of decaying food, stale mead, and a hint of something morbid. He didna pause to decipher the latter. He'd slipped through this part of the city too many times to linger. Desperation governed those who lived in this squalid area, thieves who killed without hesitation for something as simple as a loaf of bread.

A curse, then the sound of the slam of fists exploded nearby.

Alesia's fingers tightened on his.

“Keep moving.” He increased their pace. After maneuvering through the dismal streets, a weathered stone building pleading neglect came into view. He led her into the shadow near the front door. “Wait here.”

Her breaths came in short, rapid bursts as she scanned the darkened alleys around them. “But—”

“Go along with whatever I say.”

She caught his sleeve. “What are you going to do?”

“If all goes well, secure us a room.”

A scattering of people shuffled past, their varying degrees of inebriation evident by their boisterous tones. None appeared to notice them. Satisfied they'd drawn nay attention, Colyne walked up and knocked on the door.

Footsteps sounded on the other side, and then the heavy panel swung open with a rusty squeak. The aroma of cooking meat filled the air as yellowed candlelight illuminated a plump man sporting a scar stretching from his ear to his throat.

Iohne reminded Colyne of a cross between a brigand and the homeless roaming the streets. But he'd dealt with the innkeeper before. The Scot believed him to be the servant of an English lord who had sent Colyne to buy stolen goods from reavers, a cover that had served him well in the past and would do so now. “I shall be needing a room,” he said, speaking the King's English, as this man would expect.

Iohne scowled. “I have none to offer ye.”

Familiar with his ploy, Colyne held out several coins.

The man spied the flash of silver and greed lit his face. He wiped his arm across his mouth, slick with grease. “I might be having a room, but it will cost ye an extra pence.”

Colyne nodded toward Alesia. “My wife is with child,” he said with exasperation to add another layer of believability. “I have naught but another pence.”