Forbidden Alliance

by Diana Cosby

  A muscle worked in Cailin’s jaw as he thought of the feckless Christian leader. “His Grace wasna selected as pope due to his staunch beliefs or righteous manner, but because he is a man King Philip can manipulate to do his bidding.”

  She gasped. “France’s king would dare threaten the pope? H–how is such a treasonous action possible?”

  “Because King Philip is a powerful man, one who will take whatever lethal steps are necessary to achieve his goal.”

  In the glow of firelight sifting into their tent, Elspet’s face paled, and she made the sign of the cross. “God have mercy on those tragically betrayed.” Her body trembled, and he laced his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb against the soft curve of her palm.

  Her skin was warm, not hardened with calluses as he would have expected given the trials she had survived as of late. He knew that she, more than most, would understand what he had gone through, which was why he had shared his strife. In truth, it felt good to reveal his past.

  An owl hooted in the distance.

  Eyes dark with grief met his. “Why did any of the fleet sail north to Scotland?”

  A grim smile touched his mouth, faded. “Unknown to most of the Brotherhood, years before, a covert plan had been made with the Bruce to protect the Order’s secrets if ever a dire circumstance arose. When Jacques de Molay learned of King Philip’s foul plot, he set the plan into action.”

  “Wait. What does King Robert have to do with the Knights Templar?”

  “Had you asked that question two years ago, I would have been confounded by it. But I, as all those who escaped before the arrests began, were informed that Scotland’s sovereign was in secret a Knight Templar. As for our sailing to Scotland, King Robert’s religious exclusion, along with the Scottish clergy’s refusal to acknowledge his excommunication, allowed the Bruce to offer the Brotherhood into his realm with impunity.”

  She shook her head. “’Tis incredible. Thank God the excommunication allowed you, as many other Templars, the ability to escape, but my heart aches for those betrayed.”

  “As mine. Over a year has passed since the arrests began, yet I struggle with the loss of so many of my friends, the butchery, and King Philip’s betrayal.” Grief swamped him as he glanced into the night. A few men still sat around the fires, and he spotted several guards posted where the light reached the forest. Throat raw with emotion, he met her gaze. “By now I was to have returned to the Middle East on crusade, fighting back those who would harm Christians seeking to travel to the Holy Land. Instead, I sit in Scotland with many within the Brotherhood dead, and the bastard king still ruling France.”

  The shift of clothing sounded, and a hand touched his shoulder.

  He stiffened. “I seek nay pity.”

  “I give you naught but comfort and understanding.”.

  He wanted to push her away, tell her she far from understood the loss, the hurt, but days before, she’d suffered her own living hell.

  Elspet lay her head upon his shoulder. “I thank you for trusting me. Never could I have imagined the horrors you have endured.”

  “Nor I.” Sparks burst from a fire and entwined in smoke, drifted into the night. “After my uncle’s deceit, when I joined the Templars, I believed I had found my purpose. Though challenging, ’twas a way of life I loved. The men were like brothers, a family I had never imagined I would have again.”

  The night bitter with cold, he shifted back and spread out his blanket to include her, moved by how she lay against him with such trust and, without expecting to, finding comfort in her presence.

  Another light gust tumbled past.

  “Though I regret the horror you have been subjected to, the loss, I am thankful for your return.” Elspet lifted her gaze to his, and in the dim wash of light, he saw the sincerity, the tenderness, and the desire that had his blood racing.

  Needing to touch her, he stroked her cheek, his emotions torn. “Though I had believed my heritage was forever lost, a part of me is thankful I can right a wrong. The other is ashamed that I think such when so many of the Brotherhood have died.”

  “There is naught to be ashamed of. Like me, the life you loved was usurped, seized for the sake of power by a man who cared little for those who died, only for his greedy, self-serving goals.”

  Her strength and understanding beckoned to him, lured him to feel more for her than he’d ever intended. “Mayhap, but I doubt I will ever get past the loss.”

  “Nor I,” she agreed.

  Cailin drew her closer. She was proof that there was still good in the world, and hope. ’Twas incredible that, in this mayhem, he’d found a woman like her. More so, considering without his wanting her to, she’d become important to him, a feeling beyond that of keeping her safe. Her confession earlier had forced him to acknowledge the truth, that he wanted her near him, and far away from men who could be his rivals, like Taog.

  A foolish thought.

  One day he would want an heir, but in the future. After he’d reclaimed Tiran Castle, he would rejoin King Robert in his fight to claim Scotland.

  As she watched him, her lips parted and his body trembled, aching to touch her. He tried to fight the pull, but as her soft scent of woman and night filled his every breath, reasons to keep his distance fell away. On a groan, Cailin claimed her mouth. He savored her taste, her soft moan, never wanting this moment to end.

  Emotions storming him, wanting her more than was right, he broke away, cradled her against his chest.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispered.

  That I care for you too much, he silently replied, her shaky voice exposing that she, too, had been affected, which helped naught.

  He looked out at the encampment, struggling to tamp down the need surging through him. “That at dawn, after I speak with Taog MacCarron and work out several details, we must meet again with the master-at-arms.” A safe reply. “We both need to sleep. ’Tis but a few hours until dawn.”

  “We should.”

  But he didn’t move.

  “Cailin, I think—”

  He crushed his mouth to hers, damning his actions, aware that he could offer her little, but for this moment, however wrong, he needed her.

  Chapter 11

  Elspet sank into Cailin’s kiss, the gentle seduction, the taste of man and heat. A soft moan rumbled in his throat as his tongue teased her; she pressed her body against his, demanded more.

  Desire built as he pulled her into his lap, his hands teasing, caressing, until she was wild with his every touch, could feel the answering reverberations thrumming through his frame.

  Never had a man made her want, made her body burn so that logic crumbled beneath need. With him, the barriers fell away and ’twas like drifting on a desire-laden wind where for an instant she felt whole, as if each step of her life had led to this one incredible moment.

  His body tensed and he jerked back, shattered the spell she’d fallen under.

  Breaths coming fast, he pressed his brow to hers. “I should not have touched you.”

  Her pulse unsteady, she met his gaze, thrilled at the taut expression on his face, the wildness he fought to control. “I wanted you to kiss me again.”

  Despite the need etched in his features, he cupped her chin, his touch so tender, her heart ached. Hope ignited that he wanted her for more than this moment, but for…

  Her spirits plummeted even as her body burned. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze. What was she thinking? Passion flaring between them or not, he was a noble, a Knight Templar, a man revered by many, while she had naught but a stepbrother who at this moment she was unsure she could trust.

  Elspet started to pull away.

  His hold grew firm. “What is wrong?”

  Wanting him with her every breath, she shook her head. “You are right, ’tis late and we need to rest.”

  His int
ense gaze studied her.

  A hard knot formed in her throat for all he made her feel, want, despite their different stations in life. A dangerous thought. One that would lead to naught but heartbreak.

  Heartbreak?

  No, she cared for him, felt gratitude that he’d agreed to help her free her stepbrother regardless of the lies she’d told him when they’d first met.

  Awash in inner turmoil, carefully, she moved away.

  “You are upset.”

  “I am. Not because of the kiss.” Even now, its potent effects wove through her body. “That I liked, more than I should.”

  “As I.” Regret darkened his gaze. “But once Tiran Castle is seized, I will be gone.”

  He’d alluded to his departure from Dalkirk before, but this blunt statement was like a lance through her body. “Why? ’Tis your legacy. Your presence will be needed to address the many wrongs committed by your uncle, and to set things right.”

  “Which I will attend to. Once matters are settled, I will leave the stronghold’s care to those I trust. However much I wish to stay, I have sworn to return to fight with King Robert until all of Scotland is beneath his rule.” He paused. “While I am away, as I promised earlier, you will have a place within my castle.”

  But not with him. His intention was clear, and given her status in society, not unexpected. “I thank you,” she said, her words sounding hollow to her own ears. “’Tis generous of you.”

  He frowned. “You do not want to stay.”

  And see him return and eventually wed? A shudder rippled through her at the devastating thought. “I am grateful for your generous offer, but I am considering other options as well, including joining the Romani.”

  She’d said it with forced levity, but he stared at her for a long moment, his face unreadable in the golden shimmers from the fires near their tent. “What is Taog to you?” he demanded suddenly.

  “A friend,” Elspet replied, confused by his question. “Why?”

  “He seems possessive of you.”

  Was he jealous? Laughable. A handsome, powerful man like Cailin would have little challenge in finding a woman of his own stature. A fact she must never forget. “A close friend.”

  His mouth tightened, and he gave a curt nod. “Go to sleep.”

  Perplexed, she slipped between the covers, and with her thoughts and emotions at odds, she lay awake, unable to sleep, for a long while.

  * * * *

  Smoke from the freshly stoked fires outside the tent twisted in the wind as Cailin knelt beside Elspet. His gaze lingered upon her pale skin framed by her deep, chestnut-brown hair, and how her lashes lay like curved moons upon her cheeks.

  A flake of snow swirled inside and landed upon her lips. Lips he’d tasted. Cailin silently cursed. Lulled by the emotions of sharing his past, her understanding, he’d lowered his guard. He tried to smother the memories of the softness of her skin against his, the deep yearning pulsing through his body, failed.

  Blast it! He gave her a gentle nudge. “Lass, ’tis time to go.”

  Sleep-laden lids lifted and emerald-green eyes like water-drenched moss met his. In the haze of slumber, tenderness warmed her gaze, and he was tempted to skim his knuckles across her chin in a soft caress.

  Boots crunched on snow as Taog approached. “Is she awake?”

  Grimacing, Cailin withdrew his hand. “Aye.” The interruption was for the best. He needed to be moving, not remain secluded within the tent and allow his thoughts to linger in dangerous territory.

  She gasped as she looked toward the Romani leader. “Why are you here so early?”

  “Early?” A smile tugged his mouth. “’Tis long past sunrise.”

  Lines furrowed her brow as she pushed to a sitting position and glanced outside. “I thought we were to depart before dawn.”

  “That is what I intended, but there were several things I needed to discuss with Taog before we left. Nor do I mind the few hours’ delay. With the hard travel these past few days and your injury, the extra rest served you well.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she shoved aside the covers. “Nay more than it did you.”

  Cailin lifted a brow as she jerked on her cape. He’d riled her. Nor could that be helped. He’d made solid progress in the few hours he’d spoken with the band’s leader in private. Time in which they’d decided on a place to leave messages for each other, and an occasion he’d used to take a better measure of Taog.

  His initial impression proved true. He was a formidable warrior, a fair leader, and a man who cared for those beneath his guard. Though Cailin appreciated the Romani leader’s concern about Elspet’s welfare, his offer to keep her in the camp and beneath his guard until Cailin seized Tiran Castle was out of the question.

  Not that he wanted her by his side, Cailin assured himself. He needed her knowledge of the land and the people as they traveled. Besides, she was safer with him. If that argument was weak, he refused to analyze it further.

  * * * *

  Falling snow lashed against Cailin’s face as he broke through the dense fir skirting the edge of the field. The sun, high in the sky, illuminated the pristine land, the sparkles of light reflecting off the snow-laden land like fairy dust tossed.

  Fairy dust indeed. Bemused, he shook his head at the thought. Years had passed since his mother had told him stories of the fey, of how they sprinkled the fields with magic dust seen only on clear, sun-filled winter days. He must be tired indeed to be likening snow to the magical powder.

  He glanced to Elspet, riding at his side, took in her stiff posture. “How do you fare?”

  Wisps of hair fluttered against her face, she stared straight ahead. “I am fine. We should reach the secret tunnel leading to the castle soon.”

  Hours ago, he’d chosen to ignore her cool manner, one she’d worn like a cloak since they’d departed camp.

  Was she thinking of Taog? Not that he gave a bloody damn if she cared for the Romani leader. ’Twas for the best her interest lay elsewhere. He had vows to keep, not plans for a woman in his life, more so a stubborn lass who, regardless that she’d sworn him fealty, twisted him inside and out.

  A rumble sounded in the distance.

  With a grimace, he scanned their surroundings as he drew his mount to a halt.

  Elspet pulled up at his side, studied the rough landscape, shot him a nervous glance. “’Tis riders.”

  The thrum grew louder.

  “Let us go.” Damning the odds that they’d run into his uncle’s men, he kicked his mount into a canter. Cailin kept near the firs, where pine needles lay bare and would leave few tracks, wishing he had time to erase any sign of their passing.

  As they navigated past a staggered array of large boulders, he caught sight of another group of riders approaching from the west.

  “Follow me!” Without a safe option to move into the woods without being seen, he reined hard, guided his destrier between two large stones, wove until they were deep between the huge rocks, then dismounted. “Wait here.”

  Face pale, she met his gaze. “Where are you going?”

  “To erase our tracks.”

  “’Tis too risky.”

  “There is nay other choice. If they catch us here without a way to escape, we are dead.” His horse snorted as if sensing Cailin’s tension. “If I shout for you to go, ride hard to Taog’s camp.”

  Red swept up her cheeks and she withdrew her bow, tapped a quiver secured on her mount. “I willna leave you.”

  Exasperation and fury shot through him that she’d dare argue. If anything happened to her… Cailin kicked his steed over and caught her mount’s reins. “You will do what I say!”

  Her jaw tightened, a stubborn look he’d grown well familiar with.

  “Swear it now!” he snapped.

  Green eyes narrowed. “I swear it, but I dinna like it.�
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  * * * *

  Elspet’s heart pounded as Cailin withdrew his sword, then kicked his horse toward the exit. With each step away, her chest squeezed tight.

  What if he died and never came back?

  Terror roared through her as he started around a boulder. “Cailin.”

  He turned.

  I love you! Stunned by the words tangled in her throat, she fought for calm. “Damn you, come back to me.”

  For a moment, something flashed in his eyes, a dark desire that ignited hope that he cared for her more than she’d believed. He gave a curt nod, kicked his destrier forward.

  After nocking an arrow in her bow, she glanced skyward, where the sun’s brilliant rays flooded the sky. “Please God, keep him safe.”

  Long moments passed, and with each one, her fear built. Why had she agreed to stay behind? She skimmed her finger over the feathered flight. She wasn’t a helpless woman. The blasted, thick, pea-brained idiot. When he returned, she’d…

  The soft clop of hooves had her drawing the arrow back.

  * * * *

  Cailin guided his steed around the rocks toward where Elspet waited, cursing himself for placing her in danger. He should have shortened his talk with Taog, woken her and departed at dawn as originally planned; then they would have arrived at the tunnel hours ago.

  As he rounded the last boulder, he saw her relax her hold on the arrow, then lower her bow. Her shoulders sagged.

  “You didna have a chance to erase our tracks,” she said.

  “Nay. By the time I reached the entry, they were too close. If I had tried, I would have been seen. Thankfully, they rode past a good distance away without incident. From where I hid I couldna I tell in which direction they went after they rode out of view.”

  “Could you hear them speak as they passed?”

  “Only bits. They have broken into several groups in hopes of picking up our tracks.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Which, nay doubt, however careful we are, they will find. We need to be long gone before then.”

  She stowed her bow and arrow, then guided her mount beside his. “We canna ride to the secret entry with the earl’s men about; ’tis too dangerous.”