by Diana Cosby
“Cared for her?”
“Aye.”
His father laid his callused hand on Thomas’s shoulder, the weight bringing comfort. “I am honored that you would trust me with such a confidence. If you are asking my opinion, ’tis simple. Any man would be proud to have Mistress Alesone in his life.”
“I agree,” Thomas said, “but ’tis a choice I canna ponder. I must rejoin our king when he confronts Comyn, nor can I assure her I will return.”
“I understand your concern, one each man who fights for Robert the Bruce shares. Sadly, many Scots will die before our country is united.” He paused. “I remember how your mother would fret when I prepared for battle. Is the lass distraught because she is afraid for you?”
Thomas shrugged. “I didna allow the discussion to go that far.”
Shrewd eyes studied him. “I thought Alesone was important to you?”
“She is.”
“You are an earl, you can—”
“She doesna know.” Frustrated, he leaned back.
“Why?”
The quiet warning had Thomas stiffening. “Because my title isna significant in what exists between her and I.”
“But you care about her?”
“Aye,” he said through clenched teeth.
“And you prove that by shielding secrets from the lass?”
“My nobility never came up.”
“A fact,” the duke stated, “I am confident that you ensured.”
“Nor is how much I care for her relevant. Once I deliver her to Avalon Castle, I will never see her again.”
His father grunted. “If you leave her without admitting what you feel for her, ’twill be a decision you will regret for the rest of your life.”
Blast it! “You dinna know how I feel!” Thomas rubbed his forehead. “I apologize, you dinna deserve my anger.”
“True. But what you deserve is to find a woman who loves you, one whom you love in return.”
“She couldna love me. We have known each other but a short while.”
“You care for her. Do you believe you could feel more?”
He shrugged. “It matters little,” he said, his voice somber. “For the reasons I stated, naught can exist between us.”
“Thomas, we are only given one life. None of us know if we will die on the morrow, within a fortnight, or years from now. Dinna throw away happiness you might never find again.” He paused. “Your mother and I didna have the luxury of knowing if we would have tomorrow. Neither do you.”
So caught up in thoughts of duty, the Templars, and his service to the king, he hadna considered such.
“If you feel strongly for the lass,” the duke said, “I wouldna wait too long to tell her. Those living beneath Comyn’s control may have avoided Alesone due to fearing her father’s anger. Removed from his tyranny, and once she has escaped marrying King Philip’s noble, a beautiful woman like her willna want for suitors.”
He frowned. With him healing in his chamber and her in the great room while she broke her fast, nay doubt many men had studied her with more than a passing interest. “I thank you for your advice.”
His father nodded. “Earlier you said your brother was looking for you.”
Donnchadh’s stern acceptance came to mind. “We spoke. You will be pleased to learn that we have made amends…of sorts.”
“Good.” The duke released a long sigh. “I will be sad to see you go.”
“For now it canna be any other way, but I promise when the opportunity arises, I will return.”
Happiness crinkled his aged eyes, and he stood. “Take care, my son.”
The soft tap of steps echoed upon the floor. A creek, then sunlight streamed inside the holy chamber. Moments later his father closed the door behind him, severed the wash of light.
Alone, Thomas stared at the cross upon the wall, anguish twisting inside his heart. A part of him wanted to go to Alesone and admit his feelings for her, the other hesitated against the dangers ahead.
Naught was guaranteed, but after all she had endured, neither was it fair to admit how much she was coming to mean to him when he didna love her.
At thoughts of her in another man’s arms, he shoved to his feet, started toward the door. Aye, he would talk with her, but until he knew the depth of what he felt for her, he would say naught. Still, as long as she remained under his guard, neither would anyone court her.
Chapter Fifteen
The scent of herbs melded with the tinge of smoke from the hearth as Alesone adjusted the lad’s elbow. She glanced at the healer, struggled to focus on her task, nae linger on Thomas’s hurtful claim that if she became pregnant with his child, he’d have to marry her. The oaf. Regardless of what he made her feel, he could rot in Hades if he believed she’d ever bind her life with his.
“Is this the angle you wanted?” Alesone asked, fighting for calm.
The elder woman nodded. “Keep your grip firm while I secure the binding.” Aged eyes shifted to the boy. “Dinna move.” With expertise she wrapped his arm, then looped a swatch of cloth secured to the bandage around his shoulder. “’Twill keep you from moving your arm about. Next time when your father warns you to nae run behind the horses you will listen.”
Eyes filled with tears begging to come out met Alesone’s, then darted toward the healer. The wee lad sniffed back a sob. “I willna.”
The old woman stepped back. “Along with you, then. And dinna run.”
“Aye.” With another sheepish glance, the boy sped from the chamber.
As the door closed behind him, her anger at Thomas melting beneath the lad’s fortitude, Alesone smiled at Forveleth. “’Twas courageous of the lad to shield his tears.”
“He has had much practice. ’Tis the tenth time this year I have treated him for what his father has forbid him to do. Nor do I believe ’tis the last I will see of him.” A twinkle shimmered in the elder’s eyes. “He reminds me of Lord Thomas in his youth.”
“Nay doubt he was quite handful,” Alesone said.
“Indeed. Once he became stuck in the latrine shaft trying to frighten Donnchadh. It took three men to pull the fearless lad out.” She chuckled. “I assure you, none were pleased with the task.”
Curious to learn more about his past, Alesone sat in a nearby chair. “And Thomas?”
“His father ordered him straight to bathe, except even after two days and several extra scrubbings, you could still smell the foul stench whenever he walked by.” A smile touched her mouth as she shook her head. “I had little sympathy, ’twas culled by his own doing. But did he learn? Nay. And a fortnight later, trouble and Thomas were back together.”
Alesone imagined him in the thick of the mayhem, traits nay doubt his children would inherit. With the clarity Thomas had stated his future didna include her, a child she would never see. ’Twas for the best. However much she yearned for Thomas, she didna fit into his life. For a foolish moment she’d allowed herself to believe a chance existed, nay longer.
Emptiness filled her at thoughts of a future alone. Neither would she dishonor all Grisel had taught her. She was strong, knew how to protect herself, and was skilled as a healer.
“So Thomas was a handful,” Alesone forced out, struggling to keep the melancholy from her voice.
“Nay more than his brothers or sister,” the healer replied. “Often times, two or more of them were in trouble at the same time for banding together to pull a prank.”
The emptiness of her childhood rattled in her chest. Though Grisel had raised her with love, and her mother’s personal maid had visited on numerous occasions, she’d yearned for siblings.
“What of you? Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Nay.”
Tenderness touched her face. “Your parents were blessed to have a daughter such as you. Your mother—”
“Died after I was born.”
Sadness welled within the healer’s eyes. “I am so sorry. An
d your father?”
“He never wanted me.” She shrugged. “’Twas a long time ago.”
Aged eyes studied her for a long moment. “But you still hurt.”
Surprised by Forveleth’s insight, Alesone gave a shaky nod. “How could you know?”
“Watching you with the lad, along with the way you have helped me tend to others,” she replied, “’tis easy to see that you have a tender heart.”
Alesone stifled the surprising build of tears and laid her hand on the healer’s arm. In their short time working together they’d become friends. Except for Grisel, she’d never shared her thoughts with another woman. Until now. “I thank you for your kind words. I…” Heat stole up her cheeks, and she sat back. “I was raised by Grisel. She was a healer and taught me about herbs, and how to care for people.”
“And a fine job she did.”
She released a rough breath, the ache of the loss too fresh. “Weeks ago she was killed.”
“You are still grieving,” she said softly.
A tear slid down Alesone’s cheek, and she gave a shaky nod. “I think of her every day.”
“Of course you do.” The healer sifted a mix of herbs into a cup, filled it with steaming water. “Drink this. ’Tis valerian root tea.”
Familiar with the elixir’s soothing properties that aided many to sleep, Alesone took a sip, savored the warmth, the tingles easing her mind. “I thank you.”
“Tell me about her,” the elder said, “if you choose.”
Though she hadna intended to say more, with the question asked and a friendship between them forged, Alesone found herself sharing stories of her years with Grisel. “And though nae her child,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, “She raised me as her own. I loved Grisel so much and will never forget her.”
The healer took a sip of her own tea. “You were fortunate to have her in your life.”
“I was.”
“What will you do now?” the elder asked.
“I…” The coldness of her life ahead, one without Thomas or a place to call home stormed her mind, and she stumbled for a reply. “Once the chaos in my life settles, wherever I end up, I will continue my work as a healer.”
“Wherever you end up?” She frowned. “Have you nay where to go?”
“Nay, but I shall be fine.”
“Of that I have nay doubt.” Forveleth paused, and her face warmed. “I dinna know what troubles you, but when ’tis over, you are welcome in my home. And with your having tended to Thomas, nay doubt the duke would welcome you in Dair Castle.”
Humbled by the healer’s offer, Alesone shook her head. “I couldna—”
With a hearty laugh, she patted her hand. “You can, and in the future, I expect to see you on my doorstep.”
Emotions welled inside. “Y-you are too generous. I dinna know what to say.”
Her smile widened. “Say aye.”
“I shall consider your offer,” Alesone replied.
“I am taking that as an aye,” the elder said as she drew her into a fierce hug. She sat back. “I look forward to having you here.” Forveleth winked. “Nor have I missed how Lord Thomas watches you with favor in his eyes.”
“’Tis nae favor,” Alesone said, needing the reminder to quell her unwanted yearnings, “To him I am naught but a duty.”
Mirth danced in the elder’s eyes. “Far from it. I have seen him watching you.” She smiled. “Look at me rambling. Then, again, I admit that Lord Thomas was my favorite.”
Confused, Alesone frowned. “’Tis the third time you called him Lord Thomas, why?”
“Because he is the Earl of Kincaid.”
An earl? “I see.” But she didna. How could he have concealed such an important fact from her? Then she understood. His nobility explained everything, damnably so.
You canna be more than a duty. Whatever is between us ends here.
Because of her blood tie to his enemy.
Tears burned in her eyes, but she forced them back, angry she’d allowed herself to nurture a foolish flicker of hope.
The chime of the church bell echoed from outside.
Alesone forced a smile to her lips. “I didna realize ’twas so late. I thank you again. If you will excuse me.”
“I appreciate your help this afternoon.” The healer patted Alesone’s hand. “Go on now.”
On shaky legs, Alesone stood. As she headed toward the entry, the door opened and Thomas entered.
Through sheer will, she forced her breathing to remain even, at odds against the pounding of her heart. “If you will excuse me, I was just leaving.”
Frustrated eyes shifted to the healer and then to her. “I wish to speak with you.”
Why? Hadna he said enough? At least she hadna given herself to him, then her shame would have been complete.
“I canna, I have an important errand to tend to.”
He opened the door wider and motioned her forward. “I will accompany you.”
She glanced back, noted the interest in the healer’s face. Angling her chin, she strode into the corridor, then hurried off. The soft thud of the door closing, and his footfalls, echoed in her wake.
“Alesone.”
At the frustration in his voice, she picked up her pace. She half ran down the turret, through the great hall, and into the windswept baily. Snow, flung within the whip of wind, prickled against her exposed skin. Ignoring the bite of cold, she rushed across the frozen ground.
“Alesone, wait.”
“Go away!” She hurried into the stable, then darted toward the far exit.
Thomas caught her wrist as she ran past the fourth stall.
Alesone rounded on him. “Release me! I have a life ahead of me, one that doesna include you.”
Regret shadowed his eyes. “I shouldna have said what I did this morning. I was upset.”
Upset? A pale emotion compared to how pain had lanced her heart.
Hay crunched beneath his boots as he stepped closer. “We need to talk.”
She grabbed a nearby rake, positioned it before her as if a sword. “Need to?” She narrowed her gaze. “Lord to serf.”
A frown lined his brow. “What are you—”
“I know you are the Earl of Kincaid,” she accused. “A fact nae important enough to share with someone who is naught but a duty.”
He gave a rough exhale. “I need to explain.”
“Why? Do you think I am impressed by your title or care?” she attacked, struggling against the hurt. “I was doing just fine before you barged into my life. I assure you, Lord Thomas, when I watch you depart Avalon Castle ’twill be the happiest day of my life.”
“Blast it, Alesone! Listen to me!”
“I have listened, much to my regret. To think that I almost…” Heat stormed her cheeks. Damn him! She slapped the wooden handle against his arm when he reached for her again.
He yelped. “Ale—”
“Go away!” She gulped in much-needed air as she scrambled for control. “Until we depart Dair Castle, I expect you to keep your distance.” She tossed the rake and aside stormed toward the exit.
God’s teeth, he’d made a mess of the entire situation. He bolted after her and caught her hand.
Shards of afternoon sunlight illuminated the stable as she fought to break free. “Let me go!”
Aching inside, Thomas drew her against him, wrapped his arms around her when she tried to pull away.
“I despise you,” she hissed, her claim shattering beneath a broken whisper.
“Anger I deserve,” he said, wanting to ease her hurt, and damning the cold words he’d tossed at her hours before. “I was wrong to treat you so. And as for my title, I didna lie to you.”
She arched a skeptical brow.
“As a child I was bestowed the title Earl of Kincaid. When I left the monastery, I sent a missive to my father renouncing my rank and returning the ownership of Conchar Castle.”
“Because…” Few knew of his joining the Brotherhood, nor was it a topic he wished to discuss, except she deserved the truth. “What I am about to tell you, you must swear nae to tell anyone.”
Silence.
“Alesone, I will have your vow.”
“I swear it, but know this,” she stated with ice, “I will listen to you, but I doubt whatever you tell me will sway my mind.”
A compromise of sorts. How had he forgotten the warrior he’d first met weeks before? Humbled by this fierce woman who moved him as nay other, Thomas released her hand.
She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest.
He glanced around. Neither would he talk where anyone could walk in and hear them. “Follow me.” At her hesitation he nodded. “What I tell you must be said in private.”
Alesone gave a curt nod, then followed him to the tack room. The rich scent of leather permeated the air as she stepped inside.
He closed the door.
With an appreciative eye she looked around, noted the gear for the horses hanging on pegs in an orderly manner along the wall. Her gaze wary, she faced him.
“What I have told you about my past is the truth, but… there is more.”
Alesone remained silent.
She wouldna make this easy for him, nor had he expected her to. “As I explained, after Léod’s death I entered the monastery. Brother Nicholai, whom you met, was my tutor.”
“The reason you and he are close.”
He nodded. “He is a very intelligent and observant person. Within but a fortnight, he had discovered my reason for wanting to join the monastery.”
“As penance for your brother’s death?”
“Aye,” he replied.
Her stance relaxed a degree more. “And why you left?”
“’Tis, but I departed following his sage guidance.” He paused, weighing how much detail he should give her. “I became a Knight Templar.”
Surprise widened her eyes.
“And,” he continued beneath her assessing gaze, “Brother Nicholai was right. Fighting for God’s cause did fulfill me. I canna say that I found peace. Through the demands of my service, of those we aided, I did find a sense of purpose,” he said, his voice rough. “I loved being part of the Brotherhood, and miss it still.”