by Diana Cosby
Colyne struggled against the fact that he would never again hear the wee one’s laughter. Or watch her eyes widen with childish delight as he told her tales of the fairies who would whisk away even the stoutest man if he held their fancy.
“Whenever I would visit their home,” he continued, “I would hear of her latest antics. Once when I rode up ’twas to find the lass lodged within a rowan tree and refusing to come down. When I asked why, she claimed to have stolen a tart. In her most serious tone, Katherine made me swear her location to secrecy.”
Alesia sniffed. “What happened?”
“ ’Twould seem the lass had stolen nae one but the entire lot. Before long, her stomach began to ache and she ended up calling for me to help her down.” A sad warmth embraced his heart as the poignant memory replayed in his mind. “I remember her vowing to her da to never be stealing so many tarts again. But, when he was nae looking, she winked at me, and I could tell her mind already had strayed in that direction.”
Alesia looked up at him, her tear-filled eyes hazed with sorrow. “A very special girl.”
His hand stilled. “She was.” He lifted a lock of Alesia’s honey-colored hair and secured it behind her ear. “I always wished one day, when I was blessed with a child, that she would have the same spirit.” Emotion swelled in his throat as he shook his head. “I canna believe she is gone.”
“At times there is no reasoning for the why of it,” she said with a rough whisper. “Sadly, life’s cruelty touches us all.”
The chirp of crickets spilled through the night as she lifted her head and surveyed the land, slowly consumed by darkness. She turned.
The solemn appeal of her expression he expected but nae the glimmer of hope.
“You will always have her.” Alesia pressed her palm over his heart. “Here.”
Colyne laced his fingers through her own, humbled by her strength, amazed at her belief in goodness when her own journey had delivered her into her own personal nightmare.
“After a while the pain will give way to the warmth of memories, to times when laughter will fill your life.” She paused, her gaze intense. “Life is too short to dwell upon what we cannot change.”
“What challenges have you endured to gift you with such wisdom, my lady?” he asked, unsure how to deal with the feelings she stirred within him.
“Naught more than you yourself have faced.”
Her reply perplexed him. As a noble as well as a knight, he’d witnessed more than his share of death and the tragedies wrought of war. With each brutality, his mind had dulled in frustrated acceptance that however much he tried, he could save but so many.
Alesia was obviously a woman of rank. Imagining her protected within castle walls, he doubted her ability to understand the tragedies of war. Or the wisdom garnered. Yet her sage words, and the lingering sadness in her eyes, were traits he’d witnessed only in people who’d suffered greatly.
Another contradiction.
He wanted to press her to reveal her secret. Except he refused to risk her withdrawal. “You are weary,” Colyne said, reluctant to release her but aware he must.
“As if you are rested?” she said in quiet challenge.
What a lass. She’d argue with a saint. He couldna help but admire her spirit. “Go.” He released her hand. “Try to sleep. I will be standing guard.”
“You have not answered my question.”
A fleeting smile grazed his mouth. “Have I mentioned you are stubborn?”
Her lower lip trembled, reminding him all too clearly of her fragile state.
“Could you sleep this night?”
At her solemn words, the lightness of the moment faded. “Nay.”
“Neither can I.” She gestured toward the bed of leaves. “If I lay there, I will only stare at the sky and think of everything. Could I stay beside you this night? I . . .”
Need you, his mind finished. She didna say the words, but in the moonlight, her eyes whispered the request.
“Please?” she whispered.
Tenderness curled through him. If for only a few hours, being with her would help him as well as he battled the painful memories of this day. He gestured toward an area of smooth rock. “Bring your blanket over there. You can sit with me.”
Thankful he’d granted her request, Marie retrieved the tattered wool throw. When she returned, Colyne had settled into a sitting position that allowed him a clear view of their surroundings.
At her approach, he motioned for her to sit before him.
She spread the blanket on the stone and then sat. As she settled against the solid warmth of his chest, the steady beat of his heart pulsed against her.
Drawing a deep breath, she stared into the sky. A trace of clouds edged the western horizon, and the moon, outlined by a ring of silver, hung over the treetops. “When I gaze into the heavens and see such beauty, it makes me wonder how anyone can revel in hatred.”
“Too often people focus only on their own gain, nae on what is right.”
The soft rumble of his voice was a balm to her bruised nerves. She nodded, thinking of the strife Scotland faced. “As King Edward?” He stiffened against her, and she knew she’d hit upon a concern uppermost in his mind.
“He believes his harsh actions are warranted,” Colyne said, anger pouring through his words.
“Though I disagree with his method, he is overlord of Scotland.”
“Earned through treachery,” he spat. “After Margaret, the Maid of Norway’s death, King Edward stated his good intent was in helping Scotland choose a king during their time of unrest. But, as many Scots suspected, his offer was naught but a guise in his efforts to claim Scotland.”
Marie hesitated. She couldn’t reveal her royal connection, but she needed to warn Colyne that King Edward would stop at nothing to seize a country he already considered his. “He is a determined man,” she said carefully, “and will not halt his aggressions until all of Scotland has thrown down its weapons and sworn fealty to him.”
His body tensed. “He can try.”
“I know.” The slaughter they’d witnessed today was but a taste of the butchery to come if the English king was allowed to release his full wrath upon Scotland.
“With France’s backing,” Colyne continued, “we have nae only the means but another force for King Edward to face.”
By the grace of Mary, he had no idea of how precarious Scotland’s ties were at this moment with France. If Renard had reached her father and convinced him that the Scottish rebels were behind her abduction, her father may have already severed the much-needed support for Scotland’s bid for freedom. “You are cold?”
She frowned. “What?”
“You are shivering.” Colyne wrapped the woven wool over her shoulders, then slid his arm around her waist and drew her closer. “Better?”
Until she spoke with her father, naught could make the situation better. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
He pointed east. “Over there.”
A flicker of white raced through the sky and then faded into the night.
His warm breath sifted across her cheek. “They say when a star falls, ’tis a gift bestowed from the fairies.”
Emotions tightened her throat and she nodded, unable to speak.
Silence stretched between them, his concern all but spoken in the whispers of the night.
She nestled against his muscled chest and laid her cheek against the hollow of his throat. “I shall try to rest.”
“Aye, you do that.”
Weary, Marie struggled to sleep. But only after hours of tormented thoughts about what would happen if she failed to reach her father, and with Colyne still holding her safe in his arms, did she finally fall into an exhausted slumber.
A battering of cool wind against his face woke Colyne. He grimaced. Somewhere during the dawn, he’d drifted off. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he took in the angry clouds rolling overhead. The gentle wind of last night now railed across the landscape with a
harsh slap.
A storm was moving in.
Alesia shifted in his arms. Her thick mane of honey-colored hair framed her face and her lips were turned upward in a soft pout.
A yearning curled tight inside. What would it be like if he kissed her?
Thunder rolled in the heavens.
He grimaced as he scanned the darkening sky. It appeared a higher authority than he would remind him of the folly of such a thought.
Concern edged through him at the dark circles visible beneath her eyes. However much he hated to wake her, they needed to put as many miles between them and their pursuers as possible. And, from the look of the black clouds, find shelter before the storm broke.
“Alesia?”
Her lips twitched into an endearing frown.
“Alesia,” he whispered again.
She continued to sleep.
“Ah, lass. What am I going to do with you?” he whispered, charmed and a wee bit envious that she’d fallen into such a deep slumber. Many a battle ago, he’d nurtured the ability to awaken at the lightest sound.
The first drop of rain splattered against his brow. Then another.
Colyne squinted toward the threatening sky and then gave her a gentle shake. “Time to be up with you.”
Moss-green eyes fluttered open and stared up at him in sleepy confusion.
A pure shot of lust pumped through his blood.
Another splatter of rain hit his hand.
On a muttered curse, Colyne gently set her away from himself and stood, his body sluggish from lack of sleep. “We need to find shelter before it begins to pour.”
“What?” she asked, her voice groggy. She started to stand and stumbled.
He caught her shoulders. Warm rain had started to fall, soaking her garb and outlining Alesia’s full breasts. He gritted his teeth. He had to think of something else. The miles they must travel this day. The misery of trudging in this damp and treacherous weather. The men who chased them.
Nay matter how hard he tried, his every thought came back to wanting her. “Wake up now, lass.”
A tired smile curved her mouth. “I am awake.” As if a trick of the fairies, desire wove through her gaze in a devastating slide.
He swallowed hard, his hands trembling from the effort to keep his distance. If she kept looking at him that way . . . God help him, he wasna a saint. “Can you stand alone?” She nodded, but he didna let her go.
Alesia watched him, her full lips tempting, threatening to destroy his will.
Nay, he wasna going to kiss her. He would be a fool to consider such. Hadna he spent the last several minutes reasoning the harm in doing exactly that?
“Colyne?”
The raw yearning within her words ripped through his good intention like a well-honed blade. With a curse, he cupped her face.
Alesia’s eyes darkened with understanding—a split second before Colyne claimed her mouth.
Chapter 6
Heat. It washed through Marie, overwhelmed her until all she could do was cling. Though she’d been kissed before, never had it been this potent, this intense, or this exquisite. Colyne’s mouth moved over hers with deft sureness, giving, taking, luring her to respond until her blood flowed wild. Though their bodies were snug, she wanted more.
With his eyes locked on hers, he began to touch her, caress her as if he knew her every secret place, and her body burned until she thought she would ignite. On a rough breath, his fingers skimmed along the curve of her neck and then began to loosen the ties of her gown.
A shiver of anticipation slid through her.
This moment.
This day.
This man . . . everything was perfect.
As he inched the delicate fabric past her shoulders, night-dampened air whispered across her exposed breast and mingled with the heat of Colyne’s touch. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he caught her nipple between his lips.
Sensation shattered her every thought.
“Elizabet.”
Marie froze.
Elizabet?
She plunged to realty with a sickening lurch.
Colyne’s eyes widened at the realization of what he’d said, the fire within shattering to panicked disbelief. “Oh, God. I am sorry.”
She shoved away from him as her cheeks burned with mortification and jerked up her gown. The entire time he’d been kissing her, touching her, he’d been thinking of another!
He reached toward her. “Alesia, I—”
“Stay away from me!” Her words trembled, filled with the shame of what she’d allowed. Memories of how the Earl of Archerbeck, a man she’d loved in her past, and a man who had used her for his own gain, had tainted her senses like bile in her throat. An ache built inside. She knew better than to trust a man, a lesson Archerbeck had taught her all too well.
“How dare you!” Shaking with disbelief at her own weakness, Marie took another step back. How could she have allowed a stranger past her barriers? Have responded to him with complete abandon?
Or wanted him even now?
A ruddy hue swept across his cheeks. He shook his head. “You do nae understand.”
“You are wrong,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster. “I understand completely.”
He caught her shoulders as she turned to run.
Marie glared at him, unsure if anger or humiliation guided her actions. Or both. “Release me!”
As he stared at her, his eyes darkened with sorrow, and she remembered him mumbling Elizabet’s name during his fever. “You love her?” At his silence, she wrenched free. She was a fool to punish herself this way, but she needed to hear him admit the truth.
He watched her a moment longer, the regret in his eyes matching her own.
“Colyne,” she urged.
A muscle worked in his jaw, and then his expression grew unreadable. “’Tis nae a subject I will be wanting to discuss.”
The quiet calm of his voice stoked her ire. How could he retreat with such stoic efficiency while her emotions still roiled? “I did not ask for your kiss.”
“You did nae,” he rasped.
“After what has passed between us, do you not think I deserve an explanation?”
Apology burned in his deep blue eyes. He swallowed hard. “Elizabet is someone I once cared about. She chose another.”
Cared about? From the heartache in his words, he loved Elizabet still. “Why did you kiss me?”
“When I awoke with you in my arms . . . God help me, I wanted you.”
“Non,” she charged, angry he’d used her in place of another woman. “You wanted Elizabet. Deny it.”
Anger clouded his face. As quick, defeat. “You are wrong, ’twas you who drew me.”
Marie opened her mouth to disagree and then refrained. As if her own actions were proper? She was promised to Gaston de Croix, Duke of Vocette. A marriage that would take place before summer’s end. Yet she had returned Colyne’s kisses, shivered at his touch, as if she had the right to give her favors to another man.
Her guilt grew.
How could she condemn Colyne for saying the name of a woman he obviously loved? He had his own life, one that didn’t include her.
Rain pattered against her skin.
Marie brushed several wet strands of hair from her face as she composed herself, drawing on the diplomacy she’d honed over the years. She needed to focus on reaching her father and telling him the truth of her abduction, not yearn for a man in love with another.
“We must find shelter,” she said, thankful for the calmness of her voice.
“Nae, we must continue on.”
She frowned. “We?”
“I will be taking you to the coast. There I shall speak with a friend who will offer you protection and arrange passage for you to France.”
He didn’t add more; she didn’t need him to. His solemn tone said everything. Once she was in safe hands, they’d part ways forever.
Hours later, Colyne studied the turbulent
skies. Since they’d started out that morning, it had continued to rain, at times so hard they were forced to seek temporary shelter beneath trees or rocks.
Guilt knifed him as he glanced toward Alesia, walking at his side. How could he have spoken Elizabet’s name? In the few kisses he and Elizabet had shared, never had she inspired a fragment of the feelings Alesia evoked.
The full impact of his musings left him stunned. For the first time since Elizabet had wed, the woman he’d loved since his youth hadna been on his mind. Nay, she’d been there, buried beneath conscious thought, where memories of her lingered and would continue to haunt him. Exhaustion had allowed Elizabet’s name to escape from the recesses of his mind.
Nae desire.
The reasoning should have left him satisfied, but if he loved Elizabet, how could he be so drawn to this elusive enchantress? Or were his longings those of a man desperate to find relief from the pain of losing the woman he loved?
His steps faltered. Mayhap with the secret Alesia kept, he found her safe in that he could never trust her enough to fall in love with her?
Colyne glanced toward her. Though she masked her hurt with a noble front, he saw the confusion she fought to disguise.
The pain he had caused.
Damn him, he’d taken liberties where he’d had nay right. From this moment on, he’d nae touch her again, would keep his focus on delivering the writ to King Philip—where it should have remained from the start.
To make amends for hurting her, he would escort her to Glasgow and procure arrangements for her continued travel, and then secure his own passage to France.
Thunder echoed through the darkened skies. The warm rain of this morning had grown cool. Now, it pounded the earth, creating a layer of mist swirling inches above the ground in a blur of white.
He silently cursed the weather as they walked, their steps muted by the damp earth. They were both soaked to the bone. Though clumps of rock jutted out from shallow cliffs around them, he’d yet to find shelter large enough to offer adequate protection.