Forbidden Alliance

by Diana Cosby

  * * * *

  “Here.” Elspet’s hand shook from exhaustion as she handed him a steaming mug of stew.

  “I thank you.” He took a swallow, then another. “’Tis good, but you really should find your bed.”

  “I will, but being here is…” Painful memories stormed her. Her appetite gone, she set aside her food.

  He touched her shoulder. “Elspet—”

  A tremor rippled through her. “’Tis difficult being here. The last time I was with my stepfather. His smile… Regardless if I wasna his true daughter, he was always proud of me, and I…” She shook her head. “Never mind, ’tis naught but foolish ramblings.”

  “’Tis anything but.” Cailin lifted her chin, and eyes dark with grief met his. “You had his love, time with him over the years, memories that you will forever hold in your heart. Never forget that.”

  The tenderness of his words touched her soul, threatened to break her fragile control. “I willna.”

  He released her, and as if a spell broken, the melding of voices of those around them filled the night, the errant burst of laughter, the somber conversations. Sparks popped from the fire, entwined with the smoke, and drifted into the star-filled sky. Moments later, the tiny flares of red slowly faded to black.

  She finished her second cup of ale, pushed to her feet, wove.

  A frown lining his brow, Cailin stood and caught her elbow. “I will escort you to our tent.”

  With the soft haze of drink clouding her mind, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak, too aware of him, of the feelings he stirred inside. They added another layer of confusion onto those of a night filled with bittersweet memories. And yet… his touch had the power to make her forget, something she so dearly wished to do at that moment.

  Elspet forced a smile at an elder she passed, trembled as she fought to smother memories of Cailin’s kiss.

  “You are cold,” he said.

  Far from it. This man made her feel off balance and ache for him. Nor could she forget the kiss he’d claimed, even if he’d declared that it had meant naught.

  Cailin gestured to the tent near a large birch. “This is where Taog said we can sleep.”

  She stilled. Wanting him, the last thing she needed was to spend more time alone with him. “We?”

  Chapter 10

  Pulse racing, too aware of him, Elspet narrowed her gaze at Cailin. Though proud of his acceptance by Taog’s men, she was besieged by a host of other emotions that left her feeling vulnerable. “I can sleep in one of the women’s tents, as I did during my visits with my stepfather.” And with her mind skewed by ale, a safe choice.

  “If the earl’s men attack, I want you nearby, where I can protect you.”

  Tingles raced up her spine. Within the fall of snow, Elspet scanned the mix of pine, birch, and oak surrounding the camp, where beyond naught but darkness smothered the forest. “Lord Dalkirk would be foolish to try to attack such a large armed band.”

  Cailin grunted. “If my uncle knew we were here, he would take the risk, more so as his men could surround the camp beneath the cover of night, then at dawn attack.”

  She wanted to deny his claim, but after her mother and stepfather’s murders, she’d witnessed firsthand the lengths to which the noble would go to achieve his objectives. Goals that now included capturing and likely killing them both. “You think the earl and his men are near the camp?”

  “I am unsure, but I warned Taog of the possibility.”

  Elspet again scanned the woods, each shadow prodding her to pause in search of a hidden threat. On a shaky breath, she faced Cailin. “Now what?”

  “We try to sleep.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “After warning me of a possible attack, I am supposed to sleep?”

  “Until my uncle is imprisoned, there is nowhere safe. Here is as good a place as any, more so as the Romani have guards set up around the perimeter of this encampment. Come.”

  In silence, they moved past several people who nodded to her; she waved her reply. A part of her was thankful Cailin would remain close, not that she’d admit such, more so with fatigue and ale blurring her thoughts.

  Her emotions were too raw. She would have preferred to be alone, although given their danger, a foolhardy thought.

  After passing another fire, he halted before a tent and lifted the flap, exposing a layer of pine boughs spread out over the ground, a stack of blankets and furs to the right.

  Her legs unsteady, she entered.

  Cailin stepped in behind her.

  In wavers of golden firelight streaming into the tent, she focused her fatigue and drink-blurred thoughts on making a pallet rather than on the fact that they would be sleeping in the same tent. With a shiver at the cold, she slipped beneath the covers, thankful for the soft boughs upon the hard ground, and savored the building warmth. When she could wait no longer, she glanced over.

  Half-cloaked in shadows but a hand’s length away, he was adjusting a fur over a blanket. She caught the tired lines creasing his face, and the images of a lad too young to deal with such deception made her heart ache. However difficult for her, Cailin struggled against his own challenges: an uncle who’d betrayed him, a man who’d murdered his parents and then had paid a miscreant to ensure he was killed. Against such odds, ’twas a miracle he’d lived.

  Lived? No, he’d done far more than that. He’d overcome challenges that would have devastated most and had grown into a formidable warrior to admire. A man who, however much she tried to ignore what he made her feel for him, left her remembering how he’d held her, and the potency of his kiss.

  She gave herself a mental shake and instead voiced a question she’d been wanting to ask. “After you escaped from your uncle’s hired killer, how did you survive?”

  “Go to sleep.”

  Far from swayed by his stern warning, she rolled to her side, bringing herself closer to him. “You are accomplished with a blade, a proficiency I have rarely seen.”

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “Skills I learned protecting others during their journey.”

  At his vague reply, her curiosity grew. “Where have you traveled?”

  “Many places.”

  “Such as?”

  “’Tis unimportant.”

  She tugged the blanket around her and sat up, staring at him in the semidarkness. “Why are you only now returning to Dalkirk?”

  With the cover pulled up to his shoulders, Cailin turned, leaving his back to her. “Go to sleep.”

  Oddly hurt, she lay back, glanced outside, and watched a spark from a nearby fire swirl away into the night. Many still sat around the fires, sharing the events of the day, tales that made some laugh. Sadness swelled inside at memories of her previous visits to Taog’s camp, of how she’d enjoyed the stories, and of her stepfather’s laughter.

  Elspet drew up the covers and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.

  The murmur of prayer had her peering toward Cailin through half-closed lashes. As in the cave, he was whispering the Our Father and, once finished, he again started the Paternoster.

  After several repetitions, he made the sign of the cross, then pulled his covers higher. A brief while later, his soft, even breaths assured her that he’d fallen asleep.

  A frown crossed her brow. She’d met many knights in her life but never one so devout. Had his uncle’s attempt to have him murdered incited his deep spirituality? It made sense, a foundation built on faith that would have guided him through the years since.

  Still, it felt as if she was missing something important. She sighed. As if she would discover whatever mystery surrounded Cailin this night, when her mind was skewed by emotions and drink?

  The distant voices of those seated around the flames reached her, and a haze slowly enshrouded her mind. Ready for this day to end, she released a slow sigh, closed her eyes,
and welcomed the numbing haze of sleep.

  * * * *

  “Sir Hugh, get back!” a deep voice muttered.

  In a groggy haze, Elspet sat up and grabbed her dagger at her side. Vision blurred with sleep, she peered out of the tent and scanned the camp for signs of intruders.

  Several fires burned cheerfully in the dark, groups of men gathered around each, but their numbers were fewer, proof that hours had passed since she’d fallen asleep. What had woken her? In the wavering light spilling into their tent from a nearby fire, she glanced toward Cailin, the question dying on her lips.

  Face taut, he turned to his side on his pallet, his eyes closed and the furs covering him tossed aside. “I said go!”

  Her body relaxed, and she sheathed her dagger. Thank God ’twas not an attack. Yet whatever troubled him was enough to disturb his thoughts even in sleep. He twisted as if fighting invisible warriors.

  “Cailin,” she softly called.

  He mumbled something unintelligible.

  Wanting to avoid alerting those outside, she wrapped a blanket around herself, then crawled next to him and carefully drew up his covers.

  As her fingers brushed his chest, his hand snapped out, caught hers.

  She jerked back; Cailin held tight.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed.

  “Trying,” she said, unable to help but notice the stubble lining his jaw, frustrated he hadn’t replied a moment ago, but stirred at the slightest touch, “to pull up your blanket. You were having a nightmare and threw off your covers.”

  On a sigh, he released her, sat up.

  She rubbed her wrist.

  Giving himself a visible shake, he ran a hand over his face. “Return to your bed.”

  Moved by the raw anguish of his words, she remained. “You spoke aloud. Who is Sir Hugh?”

  Silence.

  “You were warning him to get back. Why?”

  “Many years have passed.”

  Dark grief tangled in his voice, and she shifted closer, wanting to understand, offer the comfort he’d given her. He stiffened but didn’t shrug her off. “But his death still haunts you,” she said softly.

  “It does.”

  “What happened?”

  In the subtle waver of distant firelight, the grief in his eyes was that of a man who’d seen too much death. “He was killed taking an arrow meant for me.”

  Her chest squeezed. Unsure what to say, understanding too well the heartache of losing someone you cared for, she lay her hand upon his arm. “I am sorry.”

  “’Twas years ago.”

  Mayhap, but from his torment, the memory was still raw in his mind. “You were close?”

  “He was like a brother to me.”

  She ached to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, but with the stiff way he sat, he wouldn’t welcome her touch right now. “Where were you?”

  “In the Holy Land.”

  On a crusade? “Last night, you said that you had honed your skills protecting those on a journey. That was where you meant, was it not?”

  “Aye.”

  Stories of a massive castle built high upon a plateau overlooking the desert came to mind, along with tales of horselike animals with humps that men rode and could travel for days. “I have never met anyone who has traveled in the Holy Land, only heard tales of those who braved the brutal land and dangerous travel for their faith.”

  Gaze intense, he watched her for a long moment, but when he spoke his voice seemed far away. “For many, ’tis worth the risk.”

  “Is that why you were there?”

  “One of the reasons.”

  Excitement raced through her, as if she’d finally unlocked a piece of the mystery of his past. “Last night, after I lay down, before you slept, you whispered the Our Father several times, just as you did when we stayed in the cave.”

  In the glow of firelight, his face hardened. “You were eavesdropping?”

  She shook her head. “Several hand-widths apart, even though you whispered, ’twas difficult not to hear.”

  He rubbed his hand over his face, then exhaled. “Go back to sleep.”

  At the sadness in his voice, she touched his arm. “You listened to me in the cave, an offer that I return.”

  “Elspe—”

  “Though we didna start out on the best of terms—” To say the least, she’d deceived him and stolen his sword. “I would like to be your friend, one you can turn to.”

  “Why?”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, realizing that without her intending it, he’d become important to her.

  Very important.

  And it wasn’t just a physical connection. Her mind and heart were as lured as her body. Astounded, she stared at him. How was this possible in such short a time?

  She withdrew her hand, floundered to find an explanation that would satisfy him and bide her time to sort through what she was feeling. “Do you ask why because I am not of noble blood?”

  He muttered a soft curse. “I dinna judge a person by their status. Nor,” he said, his voice softening, “do I make friends with ease.”

  “After all we have been through, with my fealty given to King Robert, to you, and the risks I have taken, I would think you know by now that I am a woman to trust.”

  “You are. There is naught simple about my past.”

  “What you tell me, I swear I will never share.” She hesitated briefly, then blurted out, “I may be foolish to admit this, but you have become important to me in ways beyond the fealty I have sworn you.”

  His face hardened in the wisps of distant firelight. “’Tis a mistake.”

  “And mine to make.”

  “I seek naught more than to reclaim my heritage.”

  “I know.”

  As if coming to a decision, he scanned the encampment, then faced her. “What I am about to tell you, you can never share.”

  Elspet nodded. “I swear it.”

  “I am a Knight Templar.”

  “A Templar?” Shock roared through her at the revelation, and she scrambled to discern the ramifications even as she sat back on her heels. “But they were charged with heresy and arrested over a year past.”

  “Hearsay,” he spat. “A lie, as with each charge lodged against us by King Philip.”

  “Why would France’s king utter such horrific falsehoods?” she asked, still floundering beneath the disclosure. She had expected a confession, not this startling revelation. Yet she believed Cailin; he was too honorable to lie. They’d both experienced the brutal backlash of betrayal and had survived.

  “For the same reason too many wars have been waged,” he spat. “Greed. The king wanted the Templar wealth.”

  “Merciful saints. So many brave men were arrested and killed.”

  “They were,” he said, his voice ice, “and revenge for our Brothers who were betrayed burns within each Templar who survived.”

  A gust sent snow blustering past their tent as Elspet listened while he explained how, during the riots in France the previous year, the Templars had sheltered King Philip. After the king debased France’s currency to a fraction of its worth, solely to increase his revenue, outrage ignited among his people.

  “He was ill advised to believe his subjects would docilely submit their coin,” she said.

  “Nay, he anticipated their anger, but not the intensity, or that they would pack the streets in rebellion.”

  Disgust rolled through her at the sovereign’s selfish decision. “King Philip was a fool to dare such an extreme measure.”

  “Not a fool; frantic to replenish his coffers.” He slowly exhaled. “A desperate financial state the Knights Templar were unaware of. Even had we known, we had offered him protection over the years, along with the support of our strategic force. None within t
he Brotherhood would have believed he would betray us, more so when if he had but asked, we could have lent him more money.”

  She frowned. “More?”

  “Aye, Templars have loaned coin to many nobles over the years to ensure their interests were protected, including King Philip. Our trusting the sovereign was a crucial error, one paid for with the blood of many of my Brothers.”

  Her heart echoed the loathing on his face for France’s king, a vile ruler who’d slaughtered devout men guilty of naught but blind faith.

  “As King Philip hid in our Paris temple during the uprising,” Cailin continued, his voice raw with contempt, “he saw the treasures within the sanctuary and realized if the Brotherhood was removed, ’twould eliminate the huge debt he owed us.”

  Sickened, she fisted her hands, wishing she could wrap them around the sovereign’s despicable neck. “Even if it meant destroying the Templars, knights who had been loyal to him throughout?”

  Face grim, he nodded.

  “But the riots ceased?”

  “Aye, because after he’d concocted his plan to claim the Templar fortune, King Philip rescinded the devaluation, and peace again settled over the realm. He departed the Paris temple. After a brief time, he issued the charges against the Knights Templar from unidentified claims, which led to the arrests. Unidentified.” His lip curled in disgust. “I, as do the remainder of the Brotherhood, have little doubt the falsehoods were crafted by France’s king.”

  Her hand trembled as she lay it over his. “I am so sorry. ’Tis tragic what those within the Brotherhood have endured.” She hesitated, frowned. “But you are here now. How?”

  “Prior to the arrests, the Grand Master was warned of King Philip’s nefarious intent. Many of the valuables within the Paris temple were transferred to a Templar fleet located in the port of La Rochelle. Most ships headed to Portugal, but five sailed to Scotland.” Grim satisfaction glittered in his gaze. “King Philip may have found bits of gold left behind at the Paris temple, but he will never find the sacred treasures the Brotherhood have guarded over the years.”

  She shook her head. “I would think after the king’s despicable actions, Pope Clement V would intervene.”