An Oath Sworn (22 page)

His jaw tightened as he recalled her betrothed's caution to the king. “I find it interesting that your betrothed was so adamant in giving an Englishman's word credence, more so with King Philip's support of Scotland.”

“Mayhap,” Marie said, “his claim was more out of his dislike for you than his belief in your reasons for coming to France.”

Colyne grimaced, far from appeased. “Mayhap.”

Her eyes widened.
“Mon Dieu!”

He stilled. “What is it?”

What if,” she whispered, “Gaston helped in planning my abduction?”

Tension thrummed through him. “Why would he, with your hand already promised to him? There was naught for him to gain by becoming involved.”

She nodded. “My ramblings were those of a dreamer. If he had indeed conspired with Renard, my father would not hesitate to sever the betrothal.”

As absurd as the idea of her betrothed involved in a treasonous plot against his sovereign seemed, Colyne couldna dismiss the thought. “His involvement would explain how your abduction transpired without event.”

She grimaced. “It would, but it does not answer why Gaston would take such a risk. Even if he was involved, how could we find proof?”

“We?” Anger slammed him hard and quick. “I will nae allow you to endanger your life. If he conspired with Renard, I will find out.”

“How?” she demanded. “You have no reason to be near my betrothed. As his intended, my presence beside him is expected.”

“A sword's wrath! You will do naught to bring suspicion upon yourself.” The stubbornness in her eyes assured Colyne that she'd nae heed his warning. He shot her a cool look. “I have decided to accept your father's offer to remain here for a fortnight. If your betrothed was involved, I will find proof.”

A smile touched her mouth. “I can help—”

“You will do naught. I will have your promise!”

“Promise?” her betrothed demanded with a dangerous edge as he stepped into the stable.

Colyne whirled to face the duke, pushing Marie behind him as he grasped the hilt of his sword.

“ 'Twould be unwise to draw your weapon,” the duke drawled. “If I were to kill you, 'twould be in self-defense.”

At least he'd nae come upon them earlier when he'd kissed Marie. “ 'Tis unwise to eavesdrop.”

“More so for a man to engage in a clandestine meeting with my intended,” Gaston said with brittle coldness. “As you saved Marie's life, I shall grant you leave of this illicit assignation. But should I find you alone again with my betrothed, I will kill you.”

Colyne grunted. If he were challenged, the bastard would die.

The duke extended his hand. “Marie, come here.”

She stiffened behind Colyne.

Hating what he must do, he drew her forward. “We will speak later.”

“You will not!” The duke's nostrils flared. “Except for public meetings, she is not to meet with you. I forbid it.”

Marie's body shook with fury. “You will not dictate who I see.”

“This is not a topic I shall discuss in public,” Gaston stated with cold warning.

“Go,” Colyne said.

“For you,” she said under her breath as she passed him. With her head high, she walked to her betrothed.

Colyne damned the moment she placed her hand in the duke's, damned that decorum forced him to watch the woman he loved walk away with a man she despised. Neither could he risk losing his freedom. He had a fortnight to discover the truth. If Gaston had been involved in the plot to abduct Marie, he'd find out.

T
he fading aromas of roasted boar, peacocks, and swans sifted through the air as the servants removed the remainders of the celebratory dinner. Laughter rippled through the great hall from the throng of well-wishers gathered within as Marie sipped the last of her spiced wine and returned the goblet to the table, dreading the festivities leading up to her wedding.

Beneath half-lowered lashes, she glanced to where Colyne sat finishing his meal.

Deep blue eyes locked on hers. Desire blazed from their mesmerizing depths as his fingers tightened around his cup.

Shaken, she looked down and found her own hand had curled into a fist. How could she go through with this mockery of a marriage? But what other choice remained? Two days past, in private, she'd again sought out her father and demanded that he break the betrothal.

Once again, he'd denied her. Panicking at the thought of losing Colyne, she'd threatened to flee to Scotland. And with his eyes leveled on hers with cold intent, he'd made it clear that if she foolishly tried, not only would she be caught and returned but Lord Strathcliff would be hanged. His face dark with fury, he explained that after learning the Scot had taken her innocence, regardless of her going to him willingly, only the noble's having saved her life had swayed him to allow him to live. Then he'd stormed out.

“You are finished, my dear?” Gaston asked from her side.

Marie started and met his gaze, unsettled by his nearness and wanting to be alone. “I am tired.” The truth. The last few days, she'd felt lethargic, and at times her stomach had been a bit upset, no doubt due to her recent illness. Anxious to be away from his company, she nodded. “I shall be retiring now.”

This night, once everyone was abed, she would sneak to Colyne's chamber. For three days, with fear of her father's promised repercussions, she'd not spoken to him beyond a brief and distant daily greeting. Since Gaston had interrupted their meeting in the stable, the duke had escorted her from dawn 'til dusk.

If only she'd waited to choose a suitor. To be fair, had she not met Colyne, with Gaston's striking looks and polite manner, theirs would most likely have been a peaceful relationship.

The discord between her and Gaston arose from her show of favor to Colyne when she'd halted his execution. She'd embarrassed the duke. His coming upon her and Colyne in the stable had served to increase her betrothed's ire. To further complicate matters, her suspicions of his involvement with her kidnapping added to her angst.

With the passing days, Colyne had not learned anything that would tie Gaston to her abduction. Not that her covertly spying on the duke had delivered anything of consequence either.

Marie stood.

Immediately, her betrothed rose at her side. “Sire, if you will allow me, I shall escort Lady Marie to her chamber.”

With a frown, her father studied her. “Marie, you have been quiet throughout the meal and eaten little. Are you ill?”

She forced a smile to her lips. “
Non
, Father. Merely tired, and I have little appetite.”

“ 'Twill take time to fully recover from your ordeal. Although,” the king said, his eyes dark with meaning, “I wonder if your sleeplessness may have more to do with your upcoming vows.”

Unsettled, she remained quiet.

Gaston gently took her arm. “Come.”

She cast a yearning look at Colyne and, with regret, allowed the duke to lead her from the great hall.

A series of torches secured in ornate sconces illuminated their path as they climbed the worn steps. “I, too, am concerned at your silence this eve,” he said as they reached the top and began to walk down the corridor toward her chamber.

Ahead of the duke, Marie spoke over her shoulder. “As I informed my father, I am tired.”

“I see.”

Mayhap, but she heard his doubts. Marie stopped at her door.

He took her hand, skimmed his thumb across her skin. “You are a beautiful woman.”

Uneasy, she withdrew her hand. “I bid thee good night,” she said, fighting to keep the panic from her voice.

Gaston leaned forward.

He was going to kiss her. A finger's width apart, she turned away, and his mouth skimmed across her cheek.

On a heavy sigh, he caught her chin. “I know you believe you care for the Scot, but 'tis because he saved your life. With time, your feelings for the earl will fade.”

Marie didn't reply, aching at the thought of living without Colyne, the cold emptiness of her life ahead. She would never stop loving him.

At her continued silence, Gaston's gaze narrowed to dangerous slits, a crack in his well-polished veneer.

For the first time since they'd met, fear scraped through her that, if pushed, the duke would do her harm. “ 'Tis late and—”

“Listen well and heed my words,” he hissed. “ 'Tis me you shall wed. I will not tolerate any appearance of impropriety. Until he leaves, never again will you speak with the Scot.”

The pompous ass. She broke free. “How dare you talk to me with such disrespect? The king is my father and I shall—”

“Do naught.” He caught her jaw, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he jerked her toward him. “Do you believe I am ignorant of the child you carry?” he scoffed. “You should be thankful that I care little about your unfaithfulness. Marriage to you will gain me access to the throne.”

Stunned, she stared at him, his words melding into one thought. The child she carried? She wasn't . . . The lingering tiredness, her inability to eat much as of late, and her aversion to the smell of many foods, all of which she had attributed to her recent illness. With his accusation, the signs of her pregnancy were clear.

Her heart stumbled.

A child.

A life she and Colyne had created.

Emotion swept her at the thought of his babe in her arms, of blue eyes watching her with wonder as tiny fingers wrapped around her thumb with a smile. Colyne would be so excited to learn . . .

Regardless of the duke's warning, he must be told they were going to have a child. And what of her father? Once he learned the news, mayhap he would end the betrothal?

Joy swept her at thought of a life with Colyne, the start of their family, of the years ahead and sharing their love.

“Did you think I would not find out that the rebel's seed grows within you?”

Gaston's harsh words dragged her to the fore.

He stilled, realization dawning on his face. He released her with a cold laugh. “Strathcliff does not know, does he?”

“
Non
,” she whispered, her pulse racing as she rubbed her wrist where he'd held her. “My father—”

“Knows naught of the Scot's spawn. As your betrothed, and with the king unavailable due to pressing matters, the physician informed me.”

She swallowed hard. This explained how the duke had learned of her condition.

“I assured him that I would pass the news to your father. But I chose to spare King Philip further shame.”

Hurt tore through her. “He would love my child!”

“Another bastard?” Eyes narrowed, he leaned closer. “Do you not understand the disgrace your father has endured since your birth? Have you never asked yourself why he has kept you sequestered on the coast with but minimal protection? Or why you are rarely invited to visit?”

“You lie! His home is always open to me. He loves me!”

He drew himself to his full height with a cold laugh. “Does he? Is that what your desperate heart wishes to believe? Or your begging him to release you from our betrothal didn't reveal the obvious?”

Stunned, she stilled, the hurt immense. “He—he told you I pressed him to end our betrothal?”

“Indeed. He is anxious to have you out of his life.” Pity shadowed Gaston's face. “He doesn't want you and never did.”

Sickened, a sense of betrayal washed over her as her childhood memories collapsed in her mind. As a young girl when she'd shown an interest in herbs and healing, her father had arranged for her to live in the seaside village. In addition to allowing her to follow her passion for healing, it had given her freedom from suitors who'd sought her hand to gain a royal tie.

Marie understood her father's explanation that the responsibilities of the crown allowed her infrequent visits. When the opportunity arose for her to stay at one of his castles, hadn't he always visited with her at the start of each day, reading stories of magic and faraway lands?

A chill swept through her. What of her father's recent threat toward Colyne? Was Gaston right? “My father loves me,” she said, but doubts filled her words.

He closed his eyes, shoved out a harsh breath. When he opened them, his gaze softened. “I am sorry I was overly harsh. 'Twas wrong of me to have shared some of your father's admissions to me with such candor. Forgive me.”

Some of her father's admissions?
Mon Dieu!
What else had he told the duke? Her heart aching, she stepped back; all she wanted was to be alone.

A weary smile touched his mouth, fell away. “I have allowed jealousy to guide my tongue. But I see by the hurt in your eyes that you know my words are true.” With a grimace, he gestured toward the turret. “Go, then. Speak with the king. Ask him if my claim is a lie.”

No, it couldn't be true. Shaking, Marie knew she should move, should seek out her father and learn the truth. And yet her feet refused to move.

“Though you do not love me,” Gaston said with unexpected tenderness, “I believe ours can be a comfortable marriage. I expect naught but your duties as my wife. Once an heir is born, if you choose, you will have your privacy. But I shall expect you at my side when an occasion requires such.”

An heir, his child, when Colyne's grew inside her. A babe she wanted desperately.

“My only stipulation is that the Scot remain ignorant of the child,” the duke said. “ 'Twould bode ill for his life if he dared again confront the king or me.”

Fear rippled through her, and Marie lay a protective hand over her stomach where her babe rested. If Colyne learned of her pregnancy, he would do whatever it took to claim her as his wife.

“Think of what I told you,” the duke said quietly. “On the morrow I will have your word that you will comply.” He walked away.

Overwhelmed, she watched him go with a confident stride. Once he disappeared into the turret, she wrenched open her door and stumbled inside.

Her maid rushed toward her. “You are ill?”

“Non.”
She held up her hand to forestall the woman's approach. “Please, I need to be alone.”

Felyse scowled. “I told your father it was too soon for you to be about, but he insisted it was your duty to spend time with your betrothed.” She made a tsking sound. “If you ask me, the king is anxious for you to wed.”

The woman's words chilled Marie further.

“Do not listen to me; worry is making me ramble.” She gave her a comforting smile. “Let me help you to bed and then I will be on my way.”

She remained silent. After her maid left, Marie curled into a tight ball but couldn't sleep. Gaston's harsh words repeated in her mind. Did her father love her, or had all he'd claimed been a lie? She hated the doubts, the misgivings that undermined her father's support, which she'd never questioned before.

And Colyne—he would be thrilled at the news. She easily envisioned him holding their son or daughter, the pride, the love in his eyes as he told their babe stories of the fey. But he would never know they'd created a child.

With a frustrated sigh, she shoved her bed covering aside and rose. There was no way she was going to sleep this night. Unsure of anything, she moved to the window and stared into the night.

A thin film of clouds shielded the stars overhead.

As she started to turn, a movement on the wall drew her attention. Narrowing her gaze, she tried to make out the murky figure. Failed. Someone was hiding in the shadows near an arrow loop.

Why?

An assassination attempt against her father?

Her pulse raced as she studied the covert stranger. Whatever his intention, she must inform the guards of his presence.

As she started to move back, she caught sight of another man hurrying down the wall walk.

Moonlight spilled from a break in the clouds, illuminating the lone figure.

Gaston.

She frowned, surprised by his presence, believing he'd returned to his chamber. Or, as troubled as she by the news he'd imparted, mayhap he couldn't sleep as well?

Marie steadied her emotions and glanced toward the man hidden in the shadows. As her betrothed approached, the stranger stepped from his hiding place.

He was going to attack Gaston. She started to call out a warning, but as the duke spotted the man, he waved him back into the shadows.

Both men slipped into the shield of darkness.

Unease rippled through her. A planned meeting. Why? Was Gaston's rendezvous somehow connected with her abduction? Shame filled her at the thought, one driven by fear. If indeed her betrothed was right, she'd lived a lie, her father's words of love naught but sympathetic offerings from a man who'd tried to appease an unwanted child. Tears welled in her eyes. Her foundation of love was but a story, conjured up like one of the tales of King Arthur.

King Arthur!

So caught up in her doubts, stunned by the realization of her pregnancy and devastated at losing Colyne, rational thought had fled.

Her heart pounding, Marie bolted to the hearth. Angled on a ledge sat the volume of King Arthur tales, its edges worn from use. She picked up the leather-bound volume.