An Oath Sworn (14 page)

It couldna be her.

He'd left her safe in the cathedral hours before.

“Hurry up,” Logan called to him.

“A blasted moment.” Dread filled Colyne. Alesia was anxious to reach her homeland, but was she desperate enough to follow him and put her life at risk?

Worry had him striding down the dock. He forced his way through the sea of sailors toward where the English duke's knights congregated around a cloaked figure.

The ranks of the knights broke.

One of the men hauled their prisoner hard against his chest.

His captive flailed her arms in an attempt to break free. The hood fell back.

Alesia's pale, terrified face came into view.

T
errified, Marie twisted in an attempt to escape her captor. She must reach the ship!

The knight tightened his grip. “Be still!”

She dug her nails into the man's face. Angry trails of blood streaked down his cheek.

“Curse you!” He wrenched her hand behind her back.

Pain shot up her arm. Marie sucked in air to scream and he clapped his hand over her mouth.

The duke's men moved closer, their bodies shielding her from the view of the men on the dock.

She strained to see past the knights to where she'd caught sight of Colyne moments before. Naught. Her heart sank. He'd boarded the ship.

“Take her down the alley,” a burly knight ordered the man holding her.

She fought against her captor, but he hauled her into the narrow street. Mortared stone blocked her view of the pier. Non!
She must reach Colyne!
Marie bit her captor's hand.

He swore and released her.

“Help!”

The blustering workers, the screeching of seagulls, and the clatter of goods being hauled across wood drowned out her scream.

“No one is going to help you,” the man snarled as he clamped his hand over her mouth once more.

Again, Marie tried to sink her teeth into his flesh.

With a snarl, he wrapped his fingers around her throat, squeezed. “You will be regretting that, King Philip's bastard daughter or not!”

She gasped. A veil of gray coated her vision.
Colyne, help me!
Groggy from lack of air, she slumped against the man. He eased his grip and she began to cough.

“Try to escape again and next time I will not be so gentle.” He tugged a piece of cloth from his garb, secured the gag over her mouth. Another knight stepped forward and wrapped a blanket around her, casting her into blackness.

The bitter cloth dug into her mouth, and Marie struggled to work the gag free. She couldn't untie it.

By the grace of Mary, what was she going to do? Colyne didn't know that she had followed him to the docks. Bishop Wishart believed her asleep and wouldn't notice her disappearance for hours. After reading her brief explanation as to why she'd left and believing her safe with Colyne, even if the bishop sent a runner to ensure she'd reached the ship, he'd not find her now.

“Go,” a man's deep voice ordered. Leather boots slapped against the wet stone as the knight holding her walked.

“Colyne!” she called against the twisted cloth. Marie listened for any sign of possible rescue. Except for the sounds of men in the distance and the grumbles of the knights trudging by her side, work on the docks continued without interruption.

Refusing to give up, she wriggled her hands in the hope of loosening her bonds. After several fruitless attempts, the skin on her wrists burning, she stilled.

Why hadn't she remained hidden in the alley a few seconds longer? With the ship's departure imminent, Colyne would have been forced to take her with him.

She'd seen the English duke's men, but wearing the cloak of a commoner and having been ignored by the few people she'd seen en route to the docks, she hadn't anticipated trouble. If a sailor carrying a large sack hadn't stumbled into her and sent her sprawling, the knights never would have seen her.

What would the English duke's men do with her now? After her previous escape, they wouldn't relax their guard again.

Or would they remove any risk of her slipping free and kill her?

Marie tried to remain calm, but a sob built in her throat. She hadn't told Colyne that she loved him. Now, she would never have the chance.

And what of her father? Had the English duke reached him? Filled him with lies? Had he begun severing financial ties to the rebels? Without France's much-needed support, how much time would pass before Scotland fell to English hands? Months? A year? Unless a miracle occurred, without France's financial backing, it was only a matter of time before King Edward seized Scotland.

Angry shouts erupted in the distance

Had someone witnessed her abduction? No. By keeping a safe distance and following Colyne in the shadows, she'd ensured that.

“To arms!” a man called out, this time closer.

“Stop them!” a deeper voice called but yards away.

Hope ignited. Someone had noticed!

The knight holding her turned. Without warning, he shoved her away.

Blinded, Marie stumbled back. Steel hissed against leather at her side. A hand grabbed her. Before she could struggle, her blanket was torn away.

Colyne stood before her, his chest heaving, panic in his eyes. “Dinna move!”

The glint of his knife flashed past her face and the gag fell away. Blissful air raced into her lungs.

“Stay behind me!”

She obliged. Her hope of fleeing faded as she assessed the number of English knights around them. How could they escape?

Shouts filled the air as workers wielding daggers stormed the English duke's men.

The Kincaid's whistle pierced the din.

The ship couldn't leave without her and Colyne!

Three knights charged Colyne.

He sank his blade into the nearest aggressor, turned, and with several well-aimed thrusts, dispensed of the other two. “When I tell you to, run down the alley!”

The alley? Marie glanced toward the end of the pier where several sailors were untying the mooring lines in preparation to sail. They needed to head toward the ship. If they didn't board, they would be left behind.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Colyne wielding a defensive blow. Sweat streaked his face and his arms trembled with exhaustion. Angling his sword, he caught his next opponent's thrust. Colyne twisted his hilt, shoved the man back, and then glanced toward her. “Go!”

“Not without you!” She searched for something she could use as a weapon, grabbed a sword lying beside a fallen knight.

One of the English duke's knights spied her. Charged.

Her pulse racing, she raised the sword to block his blow, braced herself for the impact.

Before their blades met, her aggressor's fierce expression twisted to shock. His weapon clattered to the wet stone and he lay unmoving, a dagger buried in his back.

A stranger with long black hair stepped from the mayhem. Ebony eyes glittered with anticipation as he retrieved his dagger from the fallen man.

“Logan,” Colyne called.

“Aye,” the stranger replied as he sheathed his blade.

“ 'Tis safer if I take her through the alley to the ship. I will meet you at the other side of the pier.”

The stranger nodded.

With a hard thrust, Colyne drove his sword into another attacker and then withdrew his blade. He grabbed Marie's hand. “Run!”

The slap of their steps echoed around them as they sprinted toward freedom.

“Why did you leave the cathedral?” Colyne demanded.

“I told you,” she said between breaths, “I must return to France.”

He shot her a hard look. “Once we reach the Kincaid, you will explain what was so bloody important that you would risk your life—all our lives—for it. Is that clear?”

Marie kept running, resigning herself to her fate. Once onboard, she would tell him the truth.

Embraced by the decaying streets, with the clang of swords their backdrop, the love they'd made seemed but a dream, his tenderness more so.

The ship's whistle pierced the air, announcing the vessel's imminent departure.

They weren't going to make it. Marie slowed, but he tugged her forward.

“We have to return to the docks. Otherwise we will be too late!” Colyne pointed toward a dilapidated building a short distance ahead. “We can cut through there. Then we will circle back.”

They neared the hovel and found the door ajar.

He slipped inside, with her close behind, and then jerked the door shut. Darkness enveloped them, ripe with the scent of stale bread and ale. He navigated through the broken beams and rubble with sure steps, then led her into the next alley.

In the distance, the dark-haired stranger Colyne had called Logan stood at the edge of the dock. He waved them forward and then slipped over the edge.

The rub of wood groaned against the pier. Ropes splashed in the water.

Heart pounding, she shook her head. “The ship has left the pier!”

Colyne sheathed his sword. “Go!”

She pushed her tired body to keep pace. At the edge of the weathered dock, a small boat nudged the wooden post below. Relief swept her when she saw Colyne's friend sitting inside, hands ready at the oars.

The stranger glanced toward the other side of the pier, where a melee of men and swords continued. “Hurry!”

Colyne jumped into the craft, turned, and braced his feet against the hull. He reached for her. “Come.”

She didn't hesitate, thankful when his powerful arms wrapped around her waist.

The small boat listed as Colyne shoved them from the pier. “Row!”

Water slid from the bow against the stranger's efficient strokes, each cutting deep into the sea to heave the sturdy craft forward.

Colyne helped Marie sit on the slatted wooden floor. With a relieved sigh, he dropped beside her.

She prepared for Colyne's wrath, evident by the deep lines on his brow. Instead, he embraced her, held her with such fierce compassion tears burned her eyes. Shaken at how close they'd come to dying, she sank against his chest, his strength a welcome balm against the day's uncertainties.

“When I saw the knights dragging you into the alley, I thought . . .” Colyne's lips trembled as he pressed a kiss against her brow. “You are safe now, 'tis all that matters.”

“You were boarding the ship when the knights caught me,” she said. “I did not think anyone saw me.”

“I heard you scream.” He cupped her face, his worried gaze adding another layer to her guilt. “Bishop Wishart would have made arrangements for your passage.”

“I know, but I could not wait.”

“A sword's wrath, you were almost killed!”

She nodded, still working to calm herself after her near capture.

“Oh, God.” He pulled her to him and kissed her.

She tasted his fear, his vehemence to protect her. Marie returned his kiss and wished everything were different. That she could tell Colyne she loved him. That they could have forever.

The dark-haired stranger gave a victorious laugh. “I have nae tasted a brawl like that since Cádiz a year past.”

Colyne broke the kiss and scowled at the man.

Undaunted, the stranger's smile widened. “You have hidden out in the Highlands too long.” His brows rose with male appreciation as he studied Marie. “This is the fair Alesia, I take it?”

Colyne muttered a curse, which earned another laugh from the intimidating stranger.

“My lady,” the black-haired man said with an easy calm, as if behind them the wharf wasn't tangled in a battle of flesh and steel.

Who was he? He'd helped them, so obviously a friend of Colyne's.

“Lady Alesia,” Colyne offered, his expression far from amused, “may I present to you my friend, Thomas Kirketon, Earl of Logan, captain of the Kincaid.”

“The captain?” Heat burned her cheeks.

The notorious-looking man winked at her. “Did you believe all of Colyne's friends to be as boring as he?”

Colyne grunted his dismissal.

Muscles bunched as the earl dragged the oars through the water. “The lad does nae understand the thrill found in battle. The satisfaction wrought from relieving English ships of their gold. Or arms.”

She hesitated. “You are a brigand?”

Mirth twinkled in his eyes. “To some, perhaps.”

Unsure what to make of this intimidating yet intriguing man, Marie slanted a look toward Colyne. Under his fierce stare, concerns about the captain and his disreputable endeavors faded.

As they neared the Kincaid, a sailor tossed down a rope.

“Stay here.” With the grace of one long accustomed to moving in the confines of a boat, Colyne stepped to the bow. He picked up the floating line and pulled them closer as Logan stowed the oars inside the small craft.

With a muffled thud, they bumped against the ship's hull. Marie glanced back, relieved that the angle of the ship blocked them from the view of any onshore.

 

A sailor on deck dropped a rope ladder, which clattered against the side.

“Go on,” Colyne urged Alesia. As she started up, he followed. A tremor rippled through him at the memory of how near she'd come to death. Thank God he'd heard her scream.

“That was blasted close,” Logan said, his face flushed with excitement as he climbed on deck following Colyne. The captain studied Alesia with concern. “Are you well, my lady?”

“
Oui
. My thanks.”

From her pallor, Colyne had his doubts. “I shall tend to her in your cabin.”

“I will join you once we have safely cleared the harbor,” Logan said.

Colyne nodded, then guided Alesia to the captain's cabin and closed the door. Alone, he hugged her, terrified at how close he'd come to losing her.

Alesia clasped her arms around him, her frantic pulse a testimony that she still relived her nightmare.

“I told you to stay with the bishop,” he rasped. “I had made plans to ensure you sailed to France without danger.”

A swath of pink stained her cheeks and she stepped back. “I appreciate all that you did for me.”

“Do you?”

Hurt darkened her eyes, but she held his gaze. “I know you deserve answers. If you could accept without question my reasons for leaving the bishop's protection are sound, I would be indebted to you.”