An Oath Sworn (18 page)

“I know. You shall be warm soon.” And with her watching him with such belief, he'd do whatever it took to make his claim true.

Through the shield of leaves, standing on the pier, holding the rope to the small craft, Logan, accompanied by several English knights, came into view.

Colyne sighed with relief. Their mishap had been a blessing in disguise. At least his friend had recovered his boat, and ‘twould end any suspicions the knights might have had of their presence aboard the Kincaid.

Now he must find Marie dry clothing and shelter. Turning, he ducked under a low limb. He kept beneath the overhanging branches as he made his way along the bank. After stealing a blanket and clothes for her from a line behind a battered hut, Colyne hid within an abandoned shelter and helped her change. “Marie?”

She frowned at him in confusion.

Panic welled in his gut. She scrutinized him as if a stranger. “Marie?”

Silence.

A sword's wrath, her exhaustion combined with the coldness of the water from their swim was making her lose consciousness.

He said a silent prayer as he wrapped her in the blanket and cradled her against his chest. He had to find shelter, a healer, and warm her fast. Colyne pressed a kiss to her brow. “I am going to take care of you. I promise.”

Concern for her deteriorating condition pressed him to take risks; he entered the village he'd wanted to skirt around. He darted through alleys he would have otherwise avoided. At times he caught the interested stares of the people living in this dangerous part of town. Colyne shot them warning glares to keep their distance and moved on.

He wove through several streets, thankful he'd visited this area on a few occasions. At least he knew his way around, along with which parts of the village the duke's men would most likely ignore.

As he rounded a corner, a decrepit inn came into view. By its fallen state, he doubted they boarded many patrons. Exactly the type of place he was searching for. The fewer people who saw them the better.

Marie moaned.

“We are almost there.” He hugged her to him and hurried inside. Wood creaked and then settled with a thunk as Colyne shoved the door shut. The scent of tallow candles stung the air as his vision adjusted to the dim, narrow chamber. A small hewn table sat to the right, the accompanying chairs designed for durability nae beauty, but overall, the inn was cleaner than he'd expected.

“What would you be wanting?” a woman's rough voice demanded.

He glanced toward the middle-aged woman whose black hair was twisted into a haphazard braid. “A room,” he replied, nae making any gestures she would deem threatening.

“My husband has yet to remove the sign; we no longer accept guests.”

Even better. Anyone searching for them would never look here. “My wife is ill and needs to rest. Please, any room will do. I have money to—”

Colyne retrieved two coins and held them up for her inspection.

She sniffed. “I have a small chamber, but it has naught but a bed and a hearth. You can stay there for the night.”

Thankful, he retrieved five more coins, more than sufficient payment for a stay at the finest inn in Glasgow. “Three days?” Time, he prayed, that would allow Marie to recover.

A frown creased her brow as the woman studied him. After a moment, she nodded.

Thank God.
Desperate at Marie's weakening condition, he'd already decided, willing or nae, the innkeeper would allow them to remain. Her cooperation made everything simpler. He laid the money in her palm.

Like a woman seasoned in dealing with less than savory characters, she quickly stowed the coins within the thick folds of her faded dress.

“Follow me.” After a quick glance at Marie, she headed toward a back chamber. At the entry, she opened a door.

The musty scent of an unaired room assaulted Colyne as he carried Marie inside. What he'd give to take her to a chamber befitting her station; a bed with the finest linens, a hearth ablaze with a roaring fire, and a fresh pot of her bed tea. At least the bed appeared clean.

More important, they were safe.

Now to address his next problem. “My wife needs a healer. Someone discreet,” he added with a knowing glance.

Worry flickered in her eyes as she studied Marie.

“I shall pay whatever fees are necessary.”

“I will fetch her.” Her dress rustled as she departed.

As the door closed, he dismissed the notion that woman might have recognized Marie. Her wariness came from dealing with unscrupulous patrons. On this side of town, nay doubt she dealt too often with a seedy lot. Colyne walked over to the bed and turned back the coverlet.

Marie moaned against his neck.

Worry rode him as he lay her upon the thinly covered straw mattress and pulled up the blanket. He pressed a kiss on her brow. “A healer is on the way.” As much as he wished to strip her of her clothes and add his body heat to hers, he couldna until after the healer left.

Marie coughed.

At her continued trembling, Colyne built a fire and then lay by her side and drew her against him. “Easy now, lass.” He combed away the wet hair clinging to her face. And with her every shiver, her every rough cough, his fear at her declining condition grew. Terrified, he closed his eyes.

And prayed.

 

The healer's brow sagged into a haggard frown as she examined Marie. “How long has she been this weak?”

Colyne ignored the sharpness of her tone, thankful for her competence and the fact that she genuinely seemed to care. “Since this morning.”

He didna explain Marie's bout with seasickness. Though he doubted the information would interest the healer, he wasna taking any chances of word reaching Renard's knights of a man and a woman arriving by ship and staying at this inn.

As if able to read his mind, the healer's eyes narrowed on him. “Has she been sick?”

Her cool stare fueled his unease. They were too far from the royal palace where someone would recognize the king's bastard daughter. Their recent flight from the Kincaid prodded his suspicions.

“Her clothes are ill fitting,” the woman pressed at his silence.

“Aye, a few days past, but she had begun to recover. Then, this morning, while delivering goods to the docks, a fight broke out. My wife accidentally fell into the water.” A reasonable explanation for the smell of the sea on her garments, as well as their sodden state.

The healer grimaced. “See that she is kept warm and drinks plenty of water. I will leave herbs that should keep her from developing a fever and help her sleep.”

Marie appeared so fragile. “Will she live?” Colyne asked, unable to keep worry from trickling into his voice.

The woman studied him a long moment. “I am not sure.”

Fear balled in his chest, a keening so deep it tore through his heart. “I canna lose her. Please, if there is anything else you can do to help her . . .” He knew he sounded desperate, but he didna care.

“God and time will decide her fate.”

“Stay,” he all but demanded.

Tired lines marred the healer's weathered brow. “I have done all I can and have others who need my attention.”

Colyne wanted to argue, order her to remain. In the end, he came to a compromise. “Can you return on the morrow?”

“I will. If a fever begins, I am to be sent for immediately. Ask the innkeeper; she will fetch me.” She eyed him with a shrewd look. “You will be staying with her?”

“Aye.”

“You are a Scot?” she asked with conversational ease as she reached over to the basket of herbs she'd brought and removed several pouches.

Wary, he hesitated. Within her gaze, he read bored interest. “We are here on business.”

“Your reasons are your own,” she said with a shrug. She measured a small amount of herbs and set them on a small platter. After loosening the pouch of another sack, she took a pinch of a white powder and sprinkled it atop the crushed leaves. With care, she mixed them. “Hold her head up while I give her these.”

He complied as she fed her patient the concoction, and then encouraged her to drink some water.

In her groggy state, Marie struggled to swallow, but finally, she finished the last of the herbs.

The healer stepped back. “Now she needs to rest.”

“She will.” He started to reach inside his clothing for coin to pay the healer.

She shook her head. “We will settle anything owed on my return. For now, take care of her. 'Tis what is important.” In silence she packed her supplies away with neat precision and then started out. At the door she turned, her wizened gaze leveled on him. “She is not to be moved.”

At her emphasis on the last, another shard of unease trickled up his neck. “Aye.”

After the healer departed, Colyne secured the door, his disquiet about the healer lingering. Why? Her aged eyes had scoured Marie with experience, she'd asked prudent questions, and she was knowledgeable in her craft, proven by how she had selected the necessary herbs without hesitation. In fact, during her brief visit the healer had acted more like a doting mother than a stranger.

He stilled.

Had she recognized Marie? Would she send word to King Philip? Shaken, he looked down.

Marie's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her breaths even; she slept.

Colyne dismissed his worries. With fatigue weighing heavily on his mind, having eluded Renard's men for days on end in addition to his fear for her life, he searched for deception at every turn. Now, when he found a woman who cared about those she tended, he branded her a threat. The tension in his body eased and the room wavered before him.

More than ready to catch a bit of rest, Colyne stripped off his wet clothes and crossed to the bed. He climbed in beside Marie, removed her sodden garb as well, and then drew her against him.

Her every shiver speared him like a lance. “I am here,” he whispered. The fire he'd started earlier heated the room with a meager efficiency, but it didna offer the warmth she needed.

He cursed the fact that circumstance had forced him to choose such a dismal hovel and he couldna trust anyone here to send word to King Philip of Marie's safety. She needed the best care possible. Instead, she lay freezing beside him.

Nestled against his chest, she murmured incoherently and continued to shiver.

The hours passed, each one stoking his fear.
Please, God, make her well.
She meant everything to him.

And more.

Shaken by the depth of his feelings for her, Colyne stared at Marie as if seeing her for the first time. His heart trembled.

He wanted her.

Needed her.

On a hard swallow, he awaited the surge of fear, the rush of panic at thoughts of permanence.

Instead, he found renewed strength and a need so deep any thought of walking away from Marie left him devastated. . . . He loved her!

An anguished moan fell from her lips.

“There, lass.” Colyne willed her to overcome the misery she suffered as he embraced his newfound feelings, overwhelmed, overjoyed, and anxious to share his realization. “I love you, Marie.”

At his soul-drenched whisper, she frowned.

As if in her state he'd expected her to reply? But he'd told her, would continue to tell her how much he loved her until she could understand.

Memories rolled through him of when she'd admitted how she cared for him deeply. With the way she'd given of herself when they'd made love, how she'd touched him, caressed him with infinite care, he refused to believe she didna feel more.

She shivered in his arms.

“I love you, Marie.” He stroked his fingers through her hair. From the flames in the hearth illuminating the chamber, he noted a light sheen of sweat had begun to cover her forehead. He pressed his fingers against her brow. A sword's wrath! She'd begun to run a fever.

He must send for the healer. And if she couldna be found, he'd find a horse and ride with Marie this night to her father. Bedamned the risk; he'd do whatever he must to ensure Marie lived.

Colyne gently slid a gown over her head and then tucked her beneath the covers. “I shall be but a trice.” He kissed her cheek. As he pulled on the last of his garb, a soft knock sounded on the door.

With a grimace, he unsheathed his sword and crept to the door. “Who is there?”

“The healer. I have returned to see your wife.”

Relief poured through him. Thank God. He secured his blade and started to open the door. “I was about to—”

The hewn wood was ripped from his grasp.

Swords raised, several armed guards bearing the king's colors stormed inside. The nearest knight seized his wrist. Another caught his wounded shoulder. They slammed him against the wall.

Stars erupted in Colyne's head.

“Lady Marie is over there,” the healer spat. “This Scot claimed to be her husband, but he is lying. She has helped me treat the sick for many years.”

The healer had worked with her? Colyne remembered Marie telling him that she lived near the coast and helped a healer who aided those who could nae afford proper care. With regret, he recalled how earlier he'd dismissed his unease at the woman's mothering presence.

The elder glared at Colyne as if he were the devil's spawn. “No doubt he is one of the rebels behind her abduction.”

“Wait,” Colyne gasped, “I can explain!”

“Explain what?” the man clenching his left shoulder growled. “How you kidnapped Lady Marie and are hiding her until your demands to King Philip are met, or how you have mistreated her until she is near death?”