Chapter 7 #2
Why couldn’t she have met him before agreeing to the betrothal with the duke? But she had, and ’twas a promise to her father she could not break. She released a sigh into the misted silence and drew the writ against her chest. “Please come back to me, Colyne.”
The monotonous batter of rain continued. She traced her finger along the sewn edge of the bound leather.
A writ.
Her father often sent messages of import through similar means.
Was this the secret Colyne kept hidden from her?
If so, why hadn’t she discovered the document when she’d removed his mail and garb to tend to him back at the cave?
She frowned. He must have hidden it within the thick folds of his undershirt, and with her nerves on edge she’d missed it.
Curiosity bade her to untie the damp straps and discover the contents, or at least view the sender’s seal.
Honor stilled her hand. Whatever message lay secured within belonged to another.
She’d promised Colyne she would deliver the writ into safe hands if he didn’t return.
If his brave act cost him his life, then so help her, she would follow through on her vow.
The wind-whipped rain increased. Lightning flashed overhead. Thunder shuddered with another ferocious blast.
Squeals of frightened horses rent the air. Moments later, the knights’ mounts galloped past.
Shouts rose above the fury of the storm. Blurs of angry men appeared on the hilltop, running after their steeds. Then, they too, disappeared into the forest.
Time passed with an ominous hand.
Marie edged to the entry of her small haven, her face inches from the lash of rain. With a shiver against the damp air, she searched the steep hills, scanning past the rain-soaked trees, their limbs and leaves caught in a macabre dance.
Every distant shout of the outraged knights left her further unsettled. Had they spotted Colyne among the horses?
Was he caught?
Or dead?
She hugged herself and prayed.
Rumbles of thunder shattered around her. The rain fell faster.
Still, Colyne didn’t return.
She refused to give up hope. He was alive. But each passing second added doubts to his fate.
At the slap of leather against stone outside the entrance, Marie withdrew her dagger.
“ ’Tis Colyne,” he said, his breath coming fast as he slipped inside, his clothing soaking wet, his face haggard.
With a cry of relief, she sheathed her weapon and threw herself into his arms. He hauled her against him and moved deeper into their cramped shelter. Then he was kissing her as if she were his entire world, his mouth hungrily stealing her every moan.
Colyne broke the kiss and held her tight, the rapid rise and fall of his chest a potent reminder of the risk he’d taken. “We must leave,” he said, his smoldering gaze assuring her that his words were at odds with his wishes.
“I know.” She took a calming breath. “I was so scared. When you did not come back, I . . .” She paused. “You are here now. That is all that matters.”
“I didna mean to be gone so long. To avoid being seen, I was forced to hang on to the side of a saddle and ride out with one of the panicked horses. I doubled back as soon as I could.”
Her fingers trembled as she held out the writ, her emotions too volatile for her to speak further.
“My thanks,” he said, his tone grave. He stowed the dispatch in what she now knew was a hidden pouch within his undershirt. “We must leave before they return.”
Mud oozed beneath her slippers as Marie followed Colyne into the tempest, her thoughts as tumbled as the storm-tossed leaves whipping past.
The image of her betrothed flooded her mind. Gaston de Croix, a duke, a man with enormous wealth and power. Duty demanded she follow a path already made, except now the idea of marriage to another man left her empty.
And what of Colyne’s whispering Elizabet’s name?
Colyne was a man who loved passionately, Marie reasoned. He wanted her. But could his desire for her compare with his feelings for the woman he’d loved in the past?
She reined in her musings. Decorum must guide her decisions, not emotions. She would put all thoughts of Colyne out of her mind.
Besides, he believed she was a missionary. How would he react if he learned that she was King Philip’s bastard daughter? Would he be angry? Or would greed sway his thoughts instead? She hated these doubts but had learned the price of trusting with her heart.
The weight of her responsibilities sat heavy on her mind. However wrong, she cared for Colyne. He had risked his life to protect her. And when faced with possible death, he had entrusted her with the writ.
If thrown into danger, would she have dared tell him the truth of her heritage and why she must return to France? She stole a glance at the cavalier knight who traveled at her side.
“Alesia, the cliff is collapsing to your right!”
Lost to her troubling thoughts, Colyne’s shout gave her a second’s warning. Marie tried to turn away, but the ground beneath her began to split.
Then gave way to emptiness.