Forbidden Knight

by Diana Cosby

  “I will write a missive to King Robert,” his father said.

  “Your Grace,” Sir John said, “’twould be an honor to carry your message to the Bruce.” At the duke’s scowl, the knight stepped forward. “I swear that I willna fail.”

  Since the injury had forced John to leave the Brotherhood, Thomas understood that if only for a moment, his friend needed to rejoin the elite warriors as he had years before. “Father, I trust John with my life.”

  “Wait outside, Sir John,” the duke said. “I will summon you soon.”

  “Aye, Your Grace.” The knight departed.

  “Donnchadh,” the duke said, “once you have alerted the men, bring the lead knights with you to the war chamber.”

  “Aye, Father.” Donnchadh departed.

  “Once I have explained the events to Alesone, I will join you.” Thomas stepped toward the door.

  “Thomas.”

  He glanced back.

  “We will keep Lady Alesone safe.”

  Pride filled him. For the first time since he’d left home he felt a part of the family. “Aye, Father, that we will.”

  Strategies utilized by the Templars ran through Thomas’s mind as he strode down the corridor. He weighed the pros and cons of each, narrowing down their best option. As he neared the end of the hall, the melodic tones of Alesone’s singing echoed from within her chamber.

  Damn her father to bloody Hades! His time fighting in the Holy Land had taught Thomas the evil that men do, boundless malevolence for the sake of power and greed. Except in this he swore Comyn would fail.

  A curse rolled from his lips. As long as he lived never would anyone harm her again. By God she deserved better, she deserved happiness, a life he wanted to give her.

  Thomas halted before her chamber, her soft voice at odds with the emotions raging through him. How he longed to wake up beside her each day, and at night to slide into her slick heat. May Comyn burn in Hades for forcing a delay with his destiny.

  His destiny?

  Thomas’s breath left him in a rush. He stilled, listened to her angel-sweet voice as the enormity of the realization stormed him.

  God’s teeth, he loved her!

  On a hard swallow, he pressed his brow against the cool wood. He remembered months before, assuring his friend, Stephan MacQuistan, that unlike him, never would he give a woman his heart. Stephan would find great humor if he could see Thomas now, except with the news he needed to impart to Alesone, ’twas naught amusing about the situation.

  All these years he’d believed he’d never find a woman he would love, and now that he’d found her, he would…

  Say naught.

  At least for now.

  Little was guaranteed in war. If he told her that he loved her, and she admitted the same, and then he died during battle, ’twould leave a lass of her depth devastated. If naught else he’d learned that in her feelings for others that she cared for, she gave all. ’Twould be the same with her heart.

  At the moment, an admission of his love ’twas naught but selfishness on his part. But the time would come. For now, the plans of this morning crumbled beneath grim responsibility.

  Thomas opened the door and stepped inside.

  Wrapped within the golden light she looked like one of the fey who’d slipped away from the Otherworld. Firelight shimmered across her moisture-dampened skin as she brushed her hair, each stroke sending ripples through her blond tresses.

  With a silent curse, he damned the upcoming discussion and closed the door.

  At the soft thud she turned. Lavender eyes softened.

  “Your hair is damp?” he said, fumbling at how to begin, news that would destroy the warmth in her eyes.

  “As I believed you wouldna be here until much later,” she said, a hint of nerves sliding through her voice, “I enjoyed the luxury of a bath.”

  A drop of water fell from her hair and rolled down her golden skin. Mesmerized, he watched its errant slide until the droplet disappeared beneath her tunic, and he too easily imagined the feel of her damp skin beneath his hands.

  Thomas cleared his throat. “We must talk.”

  At his somber tone, the smile in her eyes faded, and she lowered the brush. “What is wrong?”

  However much he cursed the telling, she needed the truth. “Your father is en route to Dair Castle.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alesone’s hand trembled as she set aside her brush, stood and faced Thomas. “The guards at Dair Castle spotted my father and his men?”

  “Nay.” He strode over. “A runner carrying a missive from the Bruce to Dair Castle was spotted by your father’s knights, and they gave chase. Though severely injured, King Robert’s man was able to escape. John MacLairish found him, brought him here to recover.”

  “Will he live?”

  “Aye.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered. “What did the writ say that was of such importance?”

  “That our king has grown ill with the auld sickness and delayed his attack and is making camp near Slioch.”

  “An affliction he has struggled with over the years.” Her stomach tightened. “And with the king ill and nae able to lead his forces, you believe my father will ride straight here en force.”

  “Aye,” he replied.

  The ramifications of Comyn’s arrival made her want to retch. Thomas’s home and the family he loved would be under attack, and more lives would be lost because of her. Damning the situation and refusing to allow more people to die, she angled her jaw. “I will leave.”

  Thomas frowned. “What?”

  “My father will attack Dair Castle,” she said, her mind a blur of worry, “and you are still unable to travel. But, I could take a horse and—”

  “Nay!”

  Heartsick, she laid her hand atop his. “Do you nae understand? ’Tis the only way to deflect my father’s assault. Once he discovers I am gone, he will leave.”

  Face grim, he drew her close. “The time for your escaping has passed. Nor does Comyn ride only for you. With my father having formally announced his fealty for the Bruce, your father’s intent is twofold.”

  Tears blurred her eyes, and she stared at the stained-glass windows unsure what to say, ashamed to be tied to such a horrid man.

  Strong hands caught her shoulders.

  She stiffened. “I despise him.”

  “With good cause, but dinna blame yourself. Any acts of malice are because of your father’s greed.”

  “Regardless, it changes naught.”

  “It doesna,” he said, his voice grim. “We will hold Dair Castle. Comyn will achieve naught but frustration.”

  Alesone turned, needing to see the confidence in his eyes, the strength that was so much a part of him. “How can you be sure?” she asked, wanting to believe him, wishing a time would come when Comyn’s influence over her life would end.

  “My father sent a writ to the Bruce requesting a contingent,” Thomas said, “and my entreaty for my men, who are Knights Templar and traveling with the king.”

  “But you said Robert the Bruce is making camp at Slioch?”

  “He is, but considering the circumstance, I am confident he will send reinforcements. Though his forces are a two day march away, my men and many of his knights are traveling on horseback. A chance exists that they could arrive before Comyn.”

  Hope ignited in her soul. “And if they dinna?”

  “Then we will hold off your father’s forces until they do.”

  He made it sound so simple, when ’twas anything but. “How?”

  “I believe once Comyn’s initial assault fails, believing the king ignorant of his plan, he will order his men to form a blockade.” Satisfaction glinted in his eyes. “While they await our surrender, ’twill give my men and the Bruce’s troops time to reach us.”

  Alesone prayed he was right. “What can I do to help?”

  “Food stores, water, and whatever els
e is needed to run the castle must be stockpiled.”

  “’Twill be my honor to help prepare.” She paused, humbled by this man. “I thank you.”

  His thumb skimmed the curve of her cheek. “Dinna be thanking me so quickly,” he said, his voice tender. “My motives for your safety are driven by more than duty.”

  Heat ignited inside. “Are they?”

  “Aye.” Thomas drew her against him, pressed his mouth against hers in a slow easy glide that left her breathless. “I find that when I am with you, I can concentrate on naught but the way you feel.”

  Her body ached to finish what they’d begun earlier, except he hadna arrived to seduce her, but to warn her of her father’s impending attack. A confrontation that could cost many people lives, including the man she loved.

  He raised his head, and his eyes darkened with concern. “Alesone—”

  “Make love with me,” she rasped, terrified for his life, desperate for each moment she could share with him.

  In the firelight he pressed his brow against hers. “I want you with my every breath, but my father awaits me with his men in the war chamber. I needed to warn you of the situation.”

  “I want to help with the planning.”

  He nodded. “With your skill as an archer along with knowledge of your father, your presence will be welcome.”

  Many men would have dismissed a woman’s presence within a council preparing for war, but Thomas was unlike any man she’d ever met. If she wasna sure that she loved him before, his decision to include her as an equal would have severed any doubt. “I thank you.”

  “We should leave, but first.” He caught her mouth in a fierce kiss, all tenderness and seduction of earlier lost.

  On a moan she savored his fierceness, demanded more.

  Without warning, Thomas whisked her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped. “I thought we were going to—” Hands as tender as restless skimmed along her body, and she arched against his touch while his mouth worshiped the curve of her neck, and then dipped lower. She fought for control as his fingers edged lower, touching, stroking until she fell apart. He caught her cry of release with his kiss, until floating downward, her mind a haze of bliss, she lay back.

  Thomas drew her against him as tremors rippled through her body.

  “I thought,” she gasped as she fought to calm the rush of emotion. “we had to leave?”

  A satisfied smile settled on his mouth. “We do, but I wanted to ensure you thought about me, about what I am going to do to every inch of you before the night is through.”

  * * *

  The duke guided the discussion at the war meeting of the best way to protect the castle.

  Alesone was surprised and appreciative when the duke asked her several questions, and proud of how Thomas, his brother, and his father worked in unison to solidify plans.

  However rough the start, ’twould seem Thomas had truly returned home. For that she was thankful. Nor would she linger on thoughts of wanting him. Their time together would soon end.

  An ache built in her heart as the discussion of war echoed around her. Never had she believed she’d find a man that she could love, a man who respected her and wanted her as well.

  Except he was a noble, and a man whose existence for many years was cultivated around war.

  And she was the bastard daughter of his enemy.

  Regardless of her desire for his love, mayhap after all of the horror’s he’d witnessed as an elite fighter, for his own protection he’d buried his emotions too deep to ever be able to acknowledge love.

  From her experience in treating soldiers, she understood the hardship wrought by years of combat. Some men withdrew so deep inside they were naught but an empty shell, nae living, but surviving, waking up to try to make it through another day haunted by their memories.

  That Thomas still found hope made him extraordinary. If he never told her that he loved her, ’twas a small price to pay for knowing a man of his caliber. Though many would damn her for going to his bed without the sacrament of marriage, she found little shame in her decision.

  Thomas wanted her, and she loved him.

  In but a day, two at most, her father’s men would attack Dair Castle. A battle in which many would die. Each day held nay guarantees, so she would take this moment and regardless what happened, regret naught.

  The duke stood, and the warriors filling the room grew silent. Pride glistened in his eyes. “When Lord Comyn arrives, he will rue the day he dared attack Dair Castle!”

  Cheers roared. The scrapes of chairs echoed as men stood and began departing.

  Alesone watched as Thomas remained to speak with his father and brother, thankful for his strengthened bond with those he loved. ’Twould bring her peace knowing that for the rest of his life he would have family to turn to.

  He glanced over. Warmth flickered in his eyes.

  Anticipation slid through her as he walked over. Well she knew the warrior and the lover as well. He was a man any woman would want.

  Thomas halted a pace away. “Donnchadh and I are meeting with the knights in the courtyard to review tactics and make detailed preparations for the castle’s defense.”

  She nodded. “I will go help Forveleth prepare herbs.”

  “This day hasna gone as I had planned,” Thomas said softly with heat in his eyes, “but nor is it over.”

  At his sultry promise, her breath left her in a rush, and as he walked away, her mind spun with heated thoughts of the hours ahead.

  * * *

  The afternoon crawled past. Alesone wiped her brow, noted the sun sinking in the west.

  “Hold the bundle tight while I secure the tie,” Forveleth said.

  Embarrassed to have been daydreaming, Alesone tightened her grip. “We should have plenty of herbs for whatever treatment is required.”

  “Indeed.” The healer set aside the sack. “Come, we have one more injured man to care for this night.”

  Alesone scooped up the basket and followed. “I thought we had treated everyone?”

  “’Tis the king’s man Sir John carried in. I tended to him when he first arrived. With his injuries, he will be in great pain. I want to give him some chamomile to help him sleep.”

  The scent of roasting venison filled the air as they headed down the crossed the great room.

  The healer headed outside.

  “Where is he?” Alesone asked, surprised as they started across the bailey.

  “He wished to remain in the guard’s quarters.”

  “’Tis odd that he made such a request. Most warriors look forward to staying in the keep.”

  Forveleth shrugged. “The knight seems a humble sort.”

  A horse whinnied in the stables, another snorted. Alesone tugged her cape tighter against a chill. “I am ready for the warmth of spring.”

  She grimaced. “Aye, my old bones grow weary of the cold.”

  “If you wish, I can care for him,” Alesone offered. “We have been preparing herbs and treating people all day, and I see the fatigue in your eyes.”

  Nay, lass. I couldna let you—”

  “You have been so kind to me.” Alesone halted. “’Twould be an honor to help.”

  The healer paused.

  “Please,” she urged at Forveleth’s hesitation. “’Tis nay a sin to sit before the hearth when the tasks are being done. And ’twould be my pleasure.”

  A tired smile touched the healer’s mouth. “I thank you.” She pointed toward a sturdy structure that rose to connect with the wall walk. “The injured knight is inside. His wounds need to be cleaned and repacked with herbs. Oh, and his name is Sir Iames.”

  A trickle of unease swept Alesone. She knew a man with that name who was a scoundrel of the lowest sort, a dangerous warrior who over the years she had avoided. She dismissed the disquiet. The name was a common one.

  “I will be saying a
n Our Father at the chapel in thanks.” The elder winked. “I wouldna want to commit a sin of laziness.” She headed toward the church.

  A gust of wind had Alesone glancing up. Clouds rolling in smothered the meager warmth. Neither would she tarry. With the sun beginning to set, soon Thomas would arrive at her chamber.

  Shivers of warmth danced across her skin as she thought of the hours ahead. Though he’d touched her, left her body trembling with release, this night would be the first time they would join in the most intimate of ways.

  A part of her wanted to tell him that she loved him, but another part was unsure.

  She laughed. Look at her mulling like a dim-witted lass, but for this moment she enjoyed her bit of foolishness. For this night and until they reached Avalon Castle, he would be hers.

  “Watch yourself, lass,” a man exiting the guardhouse warned.

  Startled, she stepped around the post paces before her. Heat swept her cheeks. Served her right for losing herself in a daydream. “I thank you.”

  The man nodded. “Did you need something?”

  “I am here to tend to Sir Iames.”

  “He is on the cot near the back wall.” The warrior stepped aside, and she entered.

  The lingering scent of men and leather and smoke filled the large room as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim interior. Illuminated by two torches in wall sconces along with the flicker of flames in the hearth, numerous beds lay against the far wall in a staggered fashion.

  Alesone lifted her basket and made her way toward the injured man covered with a heavy blanket. As she approached, she noticed he was shivering. God in heaven, after his brave deed, please dinna let him have come down with a fever.

  At his side, she set down the basket. “I am Alesone, and I will be tending to you.”

  “A…” The knight coughed. “An older woman was here earlier,” he grumbled.

  She began sorting through the herbs for the chamomile. “’Twas Forveleth; she is the healer at Dair Castle.” She lifted the blanket and began unwinding a bandage. “I will be cleaning your wounds and—”