Chapter 2 #3
The silky ease with which she guided the conversation away from herself assured Colyne she had done the same many times over. “It can wait.”
Without glancing back, she picked up the sewn leather and started toward the exit.
“Who are you?” At his quiet command she halted, neither did he miss how her body tensed. “I can believe you are a missionary, but there is something more that you are hiding.”
She faced him. Her fingers clutching the leather grew white.
“Your words. The graceful manner in which you move,” he said as he studied her, “have given you away. And your hands are soft and unblemished, those of a well-bred lady, nae of a commoner.”
Though slowly given, she nodded her assent. “I once traveled in those circles,” she replied, her words rich with distaste. “I do so no longer.”
“You are nae fond of nobility?” he asked, curious as to how she would react if she learned he was an earl. Would his status repel her? The thought disheartened him.
“Nobility?” she repeated, her words wielded with cold precision. “’Tis an insult on the word. Many who bear powerful titles are often a pathetic reflection of the noble personage they strive to personify. So caught up in their own worth, they see naught of the self-serving fools they have become.”
“Is that why you traveled to Scotland?”
With a sharp tug, she secured the sack. “Monsieur, what I chose to do or not do is my concern.”
“Indeed.” He chose his next words with care so as nae to raise her suspicions. “ ’Tis only that I find your appearance here—”
“I have explained my reason.”
At the rebuff in her voice, he refrained from further questions, but before they parted, he would have his answers. A stiff silence fell between them as he pondered a subtler approach. “I will be taking a second oatcake.”
Suspicion flashed on her face.
He offered her a roguish smile. “Because I am hungry.”
She arched a doubtful brow, but she walked over, reopened the sack, and removed another round.
“You need several more days of rest before you begin moving about.” Alesia nodded toward the armor near his thigh.
“Without bearing the weight of your mail,” she added with emphasis.
“If you are not careful, you will reopen the wound I have bound. I need not inform you of your outcome should your injury putrefy.” She stepped closer, and then tossed the oatcake onto his lap.
Colyne caught her hand before she could move away.
Her eyes narrowed with warning.
“I want to thank you.” But a part of him had wanted to touch her. And he’d guessed right. Her skin did remind him of silk.
Ire flashed in her eyes as she tugged to free herself from his hold.
He let go, but nae without regret. “And I am nae thirsty.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Alesia sat on the other side of the blackened remnants of their small fire, her expression wary. “As you are awake and without fever, on the morrow I shall leave.”
“You will go alone?”
She angled her head in a regal tilt. “Monsieur, I will do what I must.”
Instead of admiring her sheer determination, anger ignited at her foolishness. “With the unrest between England and Scotland, travel will be dangerous.”
“I am well aware of the challenges I face.” She lifted a curious brow. “Unless you have changed your mind and have decided to escort me to the coast.”
A sword’s wrath, ’twas nae a luxury he could offer. “ ’Tis impossible.”
The fragile hope in her eyes vanished. “I see.”
Nay, she didna! He was a hunted man. For all he knew, Renard’s men scoured the woods within a league of their position. Without wanting to, he had placed her life in jeopardy.
If caught, his life was forfeit.
But if they found Alesia with him, he doubted their actions would be those of honor. Grizzly visions of the men taking liberties with her ravaged his mind, of their thirst for their own base needs.
He wanted to help her, but for her safety they needed to part. As long as she remained with him, the risk to her life increased. “You do nae understand.”
Her face softened with concern. “Then make me.”
Tiredness washed over him. Colyne wished he could explain, but too much lay at stake to take such a risk. “Nay, ’tis better if you know naught.”
“But . . . why?”
The concern in her voice had him again damning the situation.
With a curse, Colyne stood. His legs trembled, as if mocking his weakness.
He couldna escort Alesia to the coast; she was a stranger, a woman whose presence here raised numerous questions.
Still, how could he allow her to travel unprotected?
Neither could he forget that she’d saved his life.
Bedamned this entire situation.
“Fine,” Colyne snapped. “I will take you eastward to a trusted friend. But nay farther. He will make arrangements for you to reach France.”
She paused as if mulling over his offer.
“I would nae hesitate if I were you,” he warned. “I might change my mind.”
“Then I accept your gracious offer,” she replied, her voice somber, but a wisp of laughter danced in her eyes.
A sword’s wrath, the lass toyed with him! And as much as he should be irritated, Colyne found appreciation at her daring, a tactic he’d employed himself moments before.
The hard, steady cadence of hooves echoed in the distance.
Colyne turned toward the entrance. Renard’s men!
Alesia’s face paled. “They have returned! We must keep quiet until they have passed.”
Returned? Guilt collided with suspicion. Why hadna she told him the men had searched the area while he was unconscious? Whatever the reason, thank God she had kept them hidden. He unsheathed his sword, biting back the pain in his wounded shoulder. “Move behind me.”
Frustration flashed in her eyes. She rushed over and tried to pull the blade from his grip.
“Ale—”
What do you think you are doing?” she demanded.
The rumble of hooves increased.
In disbelief, Colyne stared at her hand clasped above his own. “Release my weapon!”
She gave a hard tug. “You are too weak to be wielding a sword.”
“If we are discovered, you had best pray for my strength.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Colyne snarled, “the men want me dead.”