Forbidden Knight

by Diana Cosby

  Caution darkened his gaze. “I have traveled the land on occasion.”

  Far more than a few infrequent trips. Few understood the dangerous cut of the mountains well enough to make such succinct plans without the aid of a map.

  A gust swept through the forest thick with the scent of winter. Branches shook and clumps of snow tumbled to the ground. Another burst of wind howled through the trees.

  Thomas glanced skyward, frowned. “A storm is moving in.”

  Angry clouds churned overhead, and she tugged her cape close. The last thing they needed was to become stranded in a blizzard. “We have ridden less than a day. Mayhap ’tis best if we turn back.”

  “Nay. After we left, the king and his forces departed. With the enemy nearby, ’tis too dangerous to retrace our steps. Come.” He kicked his destrier into an easy canter.

  After one last glance behind her, with a resigned sigh, Alesone followed.

  Against the whip of wind, bare branches rattled overhead as she crested the next knoll.

  Suddenly, an arrow whipped past.

  Thomas glanced over his shoulder, cursed. “Ride hard!”

  Panic swept her as she caught sight of several men charging in her direction. Alesone leaned low and urged her horse into a gallop.

  Another arrow hissed by.

  Her horse stumbled. “Thomas!”

  The fierce knight glanced over. With a curse he hauled her before him as her mount started to fall. “Hang on!” He dug his heels into his steed. Muscles bunched as his destrier jumped a fallen tree, landed with a smooth glide and raced through the forest.

  Shouts of their attackers filled the air.

  She glanced back, gasped. “There are at least fifteen men!”

  Thomas shifted in the saddle. “Blast it!”

  Alesone turned, caught the streak of pain on his face before he turned back. “Are you hurt?”

  “Hold tight!” Thomas whirled his steed, raced toward a thick stand of fir. Brush slapped their bodies as they pushed through the thick-bristled limbs. Moments later the dense fir gave way.

  “Bedamned!” Thomas cursed.

  “What is—” Paces ahead the ground fell away. “There’s a cliff!”

  “Aye.” His arm tightened around her. “Hold on!”

  Muscles bunched beneath her.

  A scream tore from her mouth as his steed jumped.

  Air, cold and laced with snow, assaulted her as his warhorse half-slid, half-stumbled down the steep incline. By sheer miracle they reached the bottom without his mount collapsing against the slick surface.

  Hooves scraped against ice and rocks as the horse steadied himself. “Good lad.” Thomas reined him toward the stand of trees, and then urged him into a gallop.

  Miles flew by, the fearlessness of the knight’s every decision leaving Alesone stunned. Regardless the danger, the impossibility of the landscape they faced, he never hesitated; choosing numerous paths she never would have considered.

  At the top of the next knoll, he drew his mount to a halt, his breathing hard. “’Tis growing too dark to keep up this pace.”

  Relief swept her. For a crazy moment, she’d believed he would continue riding hard throughout the night. “With the waning light ’twill be difficult for them to track us.”

  “Aye, and with luck, the continuing snowfall will cover our tracks.” He paused. “How do you fare?”

  Exhausted and her body aching, she was ready to collapse. “I am fine.”

  He grunted. “Cold and tired, nay doubt.”

  She turned, caught the paleness of his face, the fatigue he tried to hide. “As are you.”

  “We must keep moving,” he said.

  “Once they canna find our tracks, they should turn back.”

  “During normal circumstance, aye, but as you are essential to your father’s plans, his knights willna stop.”

  She swallowed hard. The truth. “How much longer will we travel before we rest?”

  “There is a monastery a half day’s ride from here. We should arrive shortly after nightfall. If anyone is about, the darkness will shield our arrival.”

  “A monastery? You said we were riding south a few hours before turning toward the sea.”

  “I have”—he muttered a soft curse, shifted—“decided otherwise.”

  Surprised by the strain in voice, she glanced back.

  His face taut, Sir Thomas kicked his mount into a gallop, forcing her to turn around and hang on. “I thought we were taking it easy.”

  “We are.”

  Too tired to argue, Alesone sagged against his muscled chest and let the miles rush past.

  Hours later, with the moon edging into the cloud-muted sky, ahead of them lay a large copse of rocks smeared with the fall of snow.

  Thomas guided his horse to the center, then drew to a halt.

  Another burst of icy wind tore at her cape, slapping loose strands of hair against her face. She shivered against the chill. “Why are you stopping? With the moon bright, ’tis too easy to see us here.”

  “’Tis. Nor will we remain.” With stiff movements, he dismounted. “I will be but a moment, dinna move.” Wisps of moonlight slipped through the breaks in the clouds, illuminating the falling snow with an eerie shimmer.

  Unease wove through her as Thomas collected and stacked twigs and brush. A fire, was he insane? “We canna.”

  He shot her a cool look, and then withdrew his dagger and flint. After several strikes, smoke, then flames, crept through the tangle of wood. Moments later, sparks swirled into the sky.

  After tossing several larger limbs on top, his movements stiff, the knight returned.

  Confused, Alesone frowned. “I thought we were nae going to make camp?”

  “’Tis a decoy.” Face taut, Thomas swung up behind her and took the reins. “If anyone is nearby, they will see the flames. Your father’s knights are battle seasoned. Believing we are resting in the dense firs they willna rush in, but encircle the encampment to prevent our escape before they attack.”

  “Which buys us time to put more distance between us,” she said, impressed by his shrewdness. “You have set up similar decoys before?”

  “Aye.”

  Though swirls of snow, she caught the flicker of light. “What if the wind blows out the fire?”

  “Shielded by the rocks, and with the tinder at the base, the flames should continue to build. If the fire dies, our pursuers will find ashes.”

  The confidence in his voice eased her nerves a bit. “You have fought in many battles?”

  “I am a knight,” he said, his voice cool.

  “That accounts for your proficiency with a blade, but nae your tactical expertise.”

  A frustrated exhale sounded behind her. “Do you always interrogate the people you meet?”

  Though tired, she smiled. “Only the interesting ones.”

  Ice crunched beneath the horse’s hooves as his destrier picked his way through the litter of rock and snow down the incline.

  At her protector’s silence, she glanced back.

  In the cloud smeared moonlight his gaze held hers.

  At the intensity, a shiver swept through her. From their less than cordial start, she’d doubted they’d ever come to a point where she’d look at him as other than a man to avoid. Yet something about Thomas drew her.

  Drew her?

  An understatement. In truth, from the way his eyes held hers, his direct manner, and how he moved with predatory stealth, left tingles of awareness sliding through her body. He was unlike any man she’d ever met.

  Thrown off balance by the feelings he evoked, she shifted to a safer topic. “I want to apologize.”

  “You have done naught to apologize for.”

  “I have. Although you were praised by our king, I doubted you.”

  “Lass,” he said, fatigue weighing heavy in his voice, “your belief in me is irrelevant. Once you are safely delivered, n
ever will we see each other again.”

  She stiffened, hurt that he could dismiss her with such ease when thoughts of him lingered on her mind. Why? ’Twas nae as if she wanted him to stay. Still, a foolish part of her needed to know. “And when you ride off will you forget me?” she teased.

  He grunted. “Anyone who drives an arrow a finger’s width from my heart I remember.”

  She smiled at the reminder. “That is all?” Why was she pressing him? Regardless of how he made her feel, their time together would soon be over, and he’d ride away. In the end, he’d be naught but a vague memory. In truth, this warrior she would remember. A woman didna forget a man like him.

  “I would think a woman of your beauty,” Thomas said, interrupting her musings, “wouldna need to rummage for compliments.”

  “You think I am beautiful?” Warmth swept her cheeks as she stared at him. “Never mind.”

  He chuckled. “If your private banter with the Bruce is anything like what we are sharing, I understand why he finds you intriguing.”

  At the mention of their sovereign, memories of Grisel swept over her along with her reason for fleeing southward. The lightheartedness faded. “’Tis loyalty that binds us,” she said, smothering the heartache. “How did you come to know the king?”

  “A common friend.”

  Alesone frowned. “You have a penchant for vague replies.”

  “And you have a penchant for prying into people’s lives.”

  She leaned back against his muscled chest. “’Tis nae prying, only curiosity.”

  “Are you this inquisitive with everyone you meet?”

  “Nay,” she said, intrigued by the fact that something about this man threw her off balance. She’d believed him a simple knight when they’d first met, but by the king’s faith in him, and judging by his split-second decisions, cunning, and determination, he was much more. Neither was he cold or hard. Intense was a better choice, driven to serve those who’d earned his loyalty, and ferocious to those he protected. “’Tis that you are unlike anyone I have ever met before.”

  A rock clattered beneath his mount’s hooves and the horse shifted. Thomas swayed in the saddle, righted himself, and then guided his mount between two oaks. “I am unsure if that is a compliment…or nae.”

  She chuckled. “Now who is seeking flattery?”

  “I seek naught more than to serve my king. Never forget that.” The coolness of his tone matched the rush of air that howled past.

  Grief settled in her heart. Nay, she wouldna forget, a fact he would ensure. How had she thought him neither cold nor hard; he was both and more. The day when they parted couldna come soon enough.

  He guided his steed down the shallow incline. “Here.” He held out a piece of bread.

  “My thanks.” Alesone ate, noting the snow on the ground reflected enough light to travel.

  “Once you finish, try to sleep. I will wake you upon our arrival.”

  She wanted to argue ’twas unfair that she rested while he remained awake, more so when but moments before she’d silently called him cold and hard. With fatigue weighing heavy on her mind and the comfort of his presence, along with the steady sway of the horse’s easy gait, she drifted into blackness.

  * * *

  A horse’s snort broke through her sleep. With a frown, Alesone opened her eyes and stared into the darkness, the slow, steady steps of the horse assuring her they continued to travel, except somewhere along the way Thomas had slowed their pace to almost a crawl.

  Thankful for the warmth of his body against hers, with a yawn she glanced up. Shimmers of purple light warmed the eastern sky, and explained why her muscles ached. They’d traveled throughout the night.

  Odd, he’d said that they would’ve arrived at their destination by now. “’Tis almost dawn.”

  Silence.

  “Thomas?”

  “A-aye,” he stammered, “we will be halting soon.”

  At his rough voice, guilt swept her. After the long hours they’d ridden, he was tired.

  He guided his mount into a thick swath of fir and drew to a halt. His entire body trembled. “We w-will rest here.”

  Confused, she turned. The first rays of light exposed the paleness of his face. “Sir Thomas?”

  With the reins fisted in his hand, he dismounted then stumbled forward.

  “Sir Thomas, wh—”

  “Dismount!”

  Panic twisting in her gut, Alesone slipped to the ground.

  Face ashen, the knight wavered on his feet, stumbled, and then caught himself on a nearby tree.

  Her gaze riveted on the blood smeared across his left shoulder. “You are injured!” Furious that he’d hid the fact, that she’d missed signs of his weakening condition, she stormed over. “Let me look at the wound.”

  The knight’s pain-filled gaze cut to her. “It can…” He gasped. “It can wait until we arrive at our destination.”

  “Is that why you are bracing yourself against the tree and struggling for each breath?”

  Silence.

  Disgusted, Alesone jerked the reins from his hand, then secured the horse to a branch.

  Agony streaked his face as Thomas stepped toward his mount.

  She blocked him.

  Teeth clenched, he glared at her. “W-What are you doing?”

  Alesone pointed at the log behind him. “Sit down.”

  Green eyes narrowed.

  “Now.”

  The pig-headed dolt. Add stubborn to his list of his irritating traits. Careful to avoid his wound, she caught his shoulders and all but shoved him onto the fallen log. “Why didna you tell me you were injured when we halted before?” she demanded as she carefully removed his cape.

  “T-too dangerous.”

  She glared at him, noting the sweat on his brown. “Only a fool would ignore an injury of this severity.”

  “The arrow went through,” he rasped. “There was naught to remove.”

  “And you have been bleeding ever since.” If he wasna in so much pain, she’d shake him. With a jerk, she tore strips from her chemise. Once she’d cleaned the wound, she pressed a fresh wad of cloth against the gash and then secured the bandage.

  His body began to sag.

  She caught him.

  Barely.

  On a groan, his eyes closed.

  Bedamned, he was going to pass out! Without shelter, if they remained here they’d freeze. A fact he had to know, a sacrifice he was willing to make to bring her to safety.

  Unsure if she was more humbled or furious, Alesone glared at him. “How much farther to the monastery?”

  “C-close.”

  Thank God. She moved behind him, slid her arms under his. “Push to your feet.”

  Mouth set, he started to rise. His legs trembled, and he collapsed.

  Smothering her panic, she caught him. “You must help me get you on the horse.”

  Eyes blurred with pain, he shook his head. “L-leave me.” He braced his hands against the fallen log. “Continue riding south. You will reach a monastery. Ask for…ask for Brother Nicholai MacDaniell.”

  “Who is he?”

  “A friend.” He struggled to keep his eyes open. “Tell him…” He started to collapse.

  Muscles rebelling, she propped her body against his. If he fell to the ground, Alesone doubted she’d be able to haul him back up.

  Heart pounding, she scanned the unfamiliar forest. If she left him here, how could she ever find her way back, or give his friend directions? With the amount of blood Thomas had lost, she couldna risk a delay.

  Aye, she’d ride to the monastery, but by God he was coming with her.

  Cold gulps of air burned her lungs as she hauled him to his horse’s side. Bedamned, how was she to get him up?

  He started to lean to the left, and she pushed him upright.

  She glanced at the fallen log he’d sat on moments before, then moved him, along with his destrier,
to the stand at the edge of the trunk. “Thomas, you must help me get you on the horse.”

  A groggy murmur stumbled from his mouth.

  “Climb on the fallen tree.”

  His head gave a shaky nod.

  She caught his hand and laid it over the saddle. Through sheer will, she aided him onto the log. “Mount, damn you!”

  His body began to teeter.

  She shoved.

  Thomas slumped into the saddle.

  Tears of relief filled her eyes. She swung up behind him and held him tight. With a prayer, Alesone kicked his steed toward the south. If she didna find the monastery soon, he would die.

  Chapter Four

  Holding Thomas before her as he lay slumped in the saddle, Alesone guided his mount down the steep incline. The sharp tang of pine filled her each breath as she scoured the curtain of snow, making out naught but several trees nearby. With her sense of direction lost in the swirl of flakes, had she traveled in the wrong direction?

  Where was the blasted monastery?

  The horse edged around a clump of fir, and Thomas’s limp frame rocked against her.

  On edge, she pressed her fingers against his neck.

  A low, steady pulse thrummed.

  ’Twas weak, but he still lived. Cursing the miserable weather, she narrowed her eyes against the fall of white, struggling to make out any sign of culled stone.

  As the destrier crested the rise, she caught the faint scent of smoke.

  “Whoa.” Through the whip of flakes, Alesone strained to catch a shimmer of light, the outline of a building, anything to guide her.

  Naught.

  A gust howled past.

  Icy shards buffeted them, and she tucked her cape tighter around Thomas. With the amount of blood he’d lost, if they didna find shelter soon he would…

  Nay! After Grisel, she couldna lose Thomas as well. However extraordinary their first meeting, the warrior’s actions were given to protect his king.

  Like magic, the clouds overhead thinned. Within the sun’s rays, the snow tossed about with mayhem moments before spiraled earthward like fairy dust.

  The tang of smoke again slipped past.

  On a relieved exhale, Alesone urged the horse down the steep terrain. They broke through a stand of fir, and the smell grew stronger. She dug her heels into the animal’s flanks, the thud of hooves upon snow a potent reminder of the knight’s life slipping away.