With a frown, she met her friend’s gaze. “With his wounds, if I leave him he will die.”
“And the tracks of the English knights we must follow?” her senior warrior asked again, his voice impatient.
Throughout her life she had been confident in her decisions, a trait the fey guards appreciated, but for the first time, she felt unsure. Neither could she forget Sionn’s mention of the Otherworld law forbidding her to aid Lord Grey. ’Twas her choice, one filled with ramifications once her father learned of her actions—if she decided to remain and offer the earl aid.
On an unsteady breath she exhaled. “Atair, take Kuircc, Magnus, Ranulf, and Drax to the stone circle and spread out. If you find any trace of the English knights’ passing, return to me.”
Atair nodded, his mouth grim. “And when we return, if we have found a trail, you will leave with us?”
She stiffened. “Your question is unseemly.”
“Aye,” Atair agreed, “as is your request to remain and aid a huma—”
“Enough,” she said with a covert gesture toward Lord Grey. They knew not this human, nor could trust him enough to speak freely of any mention in regards to the Otherworld.
With a frown, Atair motioned the four men to follow him. Their steps soft upon the earth, they hurried toward the towers of timeworn stone.
Sionn nodded. “I will be nearby.” He moved several steps away.
“En-English knights?” Lord Grey asked, his confusion evident.
Catarine focused on the injured man. “Do nay talk or move about,” she said, settling at his side. “I need to tend to your wounds.”
“No time,” he gasped, his face strained as he tried to sit up. “M-must save my king.”
Irritated, she held his shoulders to prevent him from moving further. “If you attempt to follow your king now, you will die.”
Die, mayhap, Trálin mused, but if he did not try to follow whoever had abducted King Alexander III and his queen, the royal couple’s life could be in danger.
Still, if whoever had stormed Lock Leven Castle this night sought to claim the crown, why had they not killed the king and queen in their bed? Naught made sense, but by God he would learn the truth, and free them.
He shifted and pain slammed in his head. Trálin fought for consciousness. Bedamned, he must leave.
“Lord Grey?” the soft, lyrical voice called.
Through the murky haze of agony, Trálin focused on the woman who held him down. As if a spell cast, beneath the sheen of the fragile morning sunlight, he stared, transfixed by her beauty. The intensity of her gaze drew him, made him yearn to hold her against him and trust her with his secrets.
Shaken to consider what she made him feel, he dismissed the unwanted thoughts, owing them to his injuries. “I—I must discover where the men who took the king and queen are headed.”
“Stirling Castle,” she replied. “Now lay back and let me tend you.”
Suspicion crawled through him. “How do you know where they are going?”
She hesitated. “I overheard the knights as they led King Alexander and Queen Margaret away.”
“Overheard them? What else did they say?”
“Lord Grey,” she said, her frustration clear. “If you lay back and allow me to care for you, you can ask all of the questions you wish.”
“Will you answer them?” he asked, finding himself intrigued by this woman who looked as if a fairy, but held herself with the confident grace of a warrior. Neither did he miss her unusual garb. Her gown, a sturdy yet silky material, adorned with a belt holding several gemstones of striking quality. He hesitated. Who was she? From her garb, a person of wealth, or the daughter of a powerful noble. Regardless, with his vow to protect the king, she was a stranger whom he could not trust. At her silence, he eyed her hard. “You said if I allowed you to tend me, I may ask all of the questions I wish, but will you answer them?”
A smile touched her mouth. Fled. “Mayhap.”
“Fine then.” Gritting his teeth, he lay back, the cool, damp earth a welcoming balm.
“Now, do nae move.” With efficient movements, she removed his mail and exposed his wounds. “I will be back in a trice.” She started to rise.
“Lady Catarine.”
The beautiful woman hesitated, her look wary.
“I heard one of the men address you as such. ’Tis your name, is it not?”
“Aye.” Any warmth in her eyes faded. Her expression cautious, she stepped back.
“’Tis a name befitting your beauty, a name a man savors as it rolls across his tongue.”
She raised a doubtful brow. “Methinks you have had much practice in wooing a woman. Save your strength, as you are far from what I seek in a man.”
Her cool dismissal left him intrigued. Regardless of what she believed, never had he spoken to a woman in such regard. “Do you n-nae feel it?”
She shot a nervous look toward a lean warrior standing nearby with blond hair. At his comment, the warrior’s eyes narrowed.
The beautiful woman met Trálin’s gaze, hers wary. “I feel naught.”
She lied. Of that he had no doubt. And what of her quick dismissal? She seemed dubious of his compliment. Why? As if with his king and queen abducted he had time to ponder such?
“I will be but a moment,” she said. “I am fetching some water to cleanse your wounds.”
Curious, Trálin watched for her reaction. “I practice naught but the truth.”
“Do you?”
Her skeptical reply intrigued him further, and he watched her, wished for the full light of day to catch every nuance. “Aye.”
She studied him a long moment, then left. A short while later she returned with a bowl crudely made from woven grass. She knelt beside him, tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her garb, and gently began to rinse his wounds.
The scent of the grass and the soft shimmer of lilac filled his every breath. “What clan are you from?”
She flushed the injury with water, then pressed a damp cloth over his wound.
At the whip of pain he hissed. “Was that my answer?”
A slender brow arched. “Mayhap.”
’Twould seem the lass was a mite more stubborn than most. Then, as the daughter of a noble, he shouldn’t be surprised. Exhausted, Trálin laid his head back. “The men with you, who are they?”
Gentle fingers cleansed the exterior of another wound. “My guard.”
Though quiet, he heard authority in her words. “You are nobility.”
At his statement Catarine stilled. “Aye.”
With his having traveled with the king since his youth, and now as King Alexander’s personal guard, how had he missed seeing this stunning woman before? “Who is your father?”
She hesitated, then cleared her throat. “You would nae know him.”
Blackness threatened. Trálin MacGruder kept consciousness. Barely. “Lady Catarine, as a Scottish noble in high standing, I have met all nobility in Scotland and most in England and France as well as several other countries. No doubt during my travels, at the very least, I have heard of your father.”
Her full lips tightened.
“Is it such a mystery?” he asked, curious at what incited her reserve. By her burr she was Scottish, and by her words, learned.
Her mouth tightened. “How did you come to serve the Scottish king?”
Scottish king? Why would she refer to King Alexander III as the Scottish king and nae our king? God’s teeth, mayhap her loyalties lay to another sovereign?
With the abduction of his king and queen this day, dare he answer her? More worrisome, he was the only person left from the king’s personal guard that had seen King Alexander III and his queen abducted from Loch Leven Castle. And what of her hesitation before when he’d begun to ask questions of the king? Something was amiss here, and he bloody would find out.
“Lady Catarine,” he said, his words cautious, “you stated you overheard the men who abducted King Alexander say they we
re taking him to Stirling Castle.”
She stilled. “Aye.”
“What else did you hear?”
“That . . .” She looked away.
By God he would know. “Tell me!”
Anger darkened her gaze as she whirled and faced him. “That if King Alexander doesna comply with their lord’s request, he will die.”
A retired Navy Chief, AGC(AW), DIANA COSBY is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, appeared at Lady Jane’s Salon in New York City, in Woman’s Day, on Texoma Living Magazine, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happily Ever After,” and on MSN.com.
After retiring from the Navy, Diana dove into her passion—writing romance novels. With thirty-four moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. In August 2012, she released her story “Highland Vampire” in the anthology Born to Bite, with stories by Hannah Howell and Erica Ridley. At the moment, she is working on the sixth book in the award-winning MacGruder Brothers series. Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and to meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.
Please visit her at www.dianacosby.com.
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First electronic edition: August 2013
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3170-5
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-247-4
ISBN-10: 1-60183-247-8
Diana Cosby Page 27