Chapter 12
Late afternoon bells tolled, sending nerve-shattering bongs through the waning spring day. The strong tang of the sea and the stench of the city invaded the confines of the chamber. Marie’s stomach churned.
She wrung her hands and again looked at the door. “Where are you, Colyne?” Hours had passed since he’d left. Had he reached his destination? Had his pursuers seized him? Or had they killed him, and his body now lay on the street?
Stop it!
There could be many explanations for his delay. She searched her soul for reassurance, found naught but ominous reasons.
On a sigh, she turned toward the bed, and images of Colyne flooded her. The way he’d loved her, how he had ignited feelings she’d never imagined. With memories of him making her body tingle, the dankness of the chamber seemed less threatening. Marie released a calming breath. He would return.
And then what?
His fierce possessiveness as he’d loved her staked its own claim.
Mon Dieu. How could she have been foolish enough to believe that news of her betrothal would deter such a strong-willed Scot? He was an earl, a man used to wielding power.
Footsteps echoed outside.
Withdrawing her dagger, Marie flattened herself against the cool wood adjacent to the barred door.
The pad of firm steps halted.
Please let it be Colyne.
Pulse racing, she strained to hear the murmurs of other men, grumbles to alert her if they were English. Seconds dragged, each one stretching her nerves tighter.
“Alesia?”
At Colyne’s whisper, she sagged back.
The door thunked against the wooden bar as he tried to enter. “Alesia?” he whispered, this time louder.
Relief sweeping through her, she sheathed her dagger, tugged the barrier free, and flung open the door.
Colyne stepped inside.
She ran into his arms and poured herself into a kiss, erasing the hours of uncertainty.
The door shut against his body’s weight as Colyne turned with her and pressed her against the wood, his mouth taking hers as desperately.
A long moment later he drew back, his eyes dark with desire. “Had I known of your hearty welcome, I would have spent time away before.”
Heat stroked her face at his playful taunt, but when she made to turn away, he caught her chin. “You must think me foolish.”
“Alesia, I was but teasing.”
She floundered for a second. “I missed you.”
Laughter simmered in his eyes. “Is that what you would be calling launching yourself in my arms and sweeping my breath away?”
He was enjoying himself, she mused, feeling even more foolish. As her pulse slowed, she studied him. An earl. How had she missed his aristocratic mien when his every act, the very chivalry of his decisions, stated the obvious?
But she knew. Since her youth she’d seen too many within the gentry who used their powerful positions for their own benefit. And with each selfish act she’d witnessed, her views on nobility had grown jaded.
Marie tried to pull free, but he held her snug in his arms.
“I have missed you as well,” Colyne said, his mouth covering her own with ferocious heat.
Lost in the tumble of sensations, she wasn’t sure at what moment he carried her to the bed. He quickly relieved her of her gown and himself of his mail and the remainder of his garb. With his mouth skimming over her flesh, nothing else mattered.
“I want you,” he murmured as he caressed her breasts as his tongue teased hers, driving her blissfully insane.
She tried to maintain her grasp on sanity, but as he continued to kiss her, touch her, he shattered her hold on that as well.
Until it was only him.
Only her.
As if the dangers beyond their chamber didn’t exist.
Her cries entwined with his husky murmurs. She arched as he sank deep within her over and again. And with his every stroke, she ascended higher. Until her world exploded with a rain of purple mist and swirls of lavender.
Then she was floating, drifting back to find herself in Colyne’s arms, his mouth claiming her every cry, his body’s trembling matching her own.
The rightness of the moment made her yearn for all she could never have.
Shifting in his arms, she settled against his chest. How did one’s heart ache and swell in the same instant?
But hers did, painfully so. She truly loved Colyne, and the acknowledgment made the pain of leaving him all the more unbearable. “Colyne?”
At Alesia’s sated whisper, a breath of male satisfaction slid through him. “Aye?”
“Why were you so late in returning?”
He lay his head against the curve of her neck and allowed himself this moment of peace. But as he listened to her slowing heartbeat, he couldna dispel the disquiet Robert’s ignorance of her or her party’s journey to Beauly Priory had caused. “I took another route back.”
She caressed his cheek. “Why?”
“I was recognized by the men searching for me.”
“What?” She tried to sit up, but he drew her back for a soothing kiss.
“Nay worry,” he said against her mouth. “I know the streets and hid in an alley until they’d passed.”
Worry flickered in her eyes. “I was hoping you were wrong when you suspected the men following you had made it to Glasgow.”
He nodded. “As much as I wish we could make love again, we need to travel to safer quarters this night.”
“Is that why you dragged me to bed upon your return?” she teased.
“Dragged you, did I?” He nuzzled lower and kissed his way to her breast. “As I remember, ’twas you who launched herself into my arms.” And kissed him with such intensity, logic had hazed his mind.
Now, with his body sated, his doubts concerning her reason for being in the Highlands resurfaced.
A sword’s wrath! He hated this not knowing.
When he’d first arrived, he should have asked her about Robert’s ignorance of any French missionaries visiting Scotland.
His questions would be answered and his doubts gone.
Or would they?
She had withheld the fact of her betrothal. Even if she confessed her true reason for traveling to England, could he trust that she was telling him everything?
Torn, he drew her to his side. He wished these secrets between them didna exist, but until he’d delivered the writ and could tell her the reason for his own mission, wasna he just as guilty of withholding information?
At his silence, Alesia lifted her head, and the desire in her eyes flickered out.
A sword’s wrath! He should never have allowed them to make love again until he learned the truth.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
Though encased in control, he heard the fragility of a woman who’d suffered too many of life’s blows, a woman who could erect emotional barriers with lethal effectiveness and shut out everyone.
Including him.
Colyne despised tainting their last moments of intimacy, but for his own peace of mind, he needed an explanation. “While I spoke to my friend of our need for safe lodging and passage to France, he informed me that he had heard naught about French missionaries in Scotland.”
“A friend?” she whispered, her voice growing cold.
Nay, she wasna going to avoid his question this time. “Why did you come here?”
She tried to roll away, but he stopped her.
Her gaze grew guarded. “You believe I lied to you?”
“Did you?”
“Why ask me when it is obvious you believe I have?”
Damn her evasion. “Trust me with the truth.”
“Trust.” Though she breathed the word, he heard the catch in her voice, proof she struggled against whatever boundaries prevented her from telling him. “Oui, I trust you. More than is wise.”
“Are you a missionary?”
Honey lashes lowered. “I have told you all I can.”
“Have you?” The regret in her eyes left his heart aching, but the surge of guilt haunting her face spurred his anger. Colyne caught her wrists when she would have moved away. “Why—”
“They are nearby,” a man’s deep voice called from outside.
Renard’s men! Colyne motioned for her to be silent.
Eyes wide with fear, she nodded.
With honed stealth, he slipped from the bed, crept to the window, and peered out.
“What do you see?” Alesia whispered.
He turned, finding irony in the fact that he would still want her in light of the imminent danger. “Our pursuers are outside.”
She grabbed her garments. “We must slip away before they search the inn.”
“Aye,” he replied as he dragged on his garb and then hurried to don his mail.
Marie tugged on her chemise, the muted voices of the men outside the window leaving her shaken. But that was far from her only concern. How had Colyne’s friend known that no French missionaries had traveled to Scotland? Who exactly was this man?
With them having to flee the inn, she’d evaded answering, but Colyne wouldn’t rest until he had received a satisfactory reply. Somehow she must avoid the issue until they parted. His ignorance of her royal tie was the only way to keep him safe.
He peered out the window and then turned. “Are you ready?”
“Oui.” She donned her cape. Her heart squeezed as she took in the chamber one last time. At least they’d had a few hours of intimacy. Once he’d sailed to France and delivered the writ, he would never find her.
After securing his sword, Colyne pulled on his cloak. Tenderness touched his face. “All will be resolved.”
It wouldn’t. It never could.
In silence, he cracked open the door, peeked out. “Nay one is outside at the moment. We can leave.” Taking her hand, he led her from the inn.
As they traveled, she took in the growing night. A murky haze shielding the moon, casting the city in a bloody hue. Dread curled tight within her. Was it a premonition? Did it forebode Colyne’s death?
Or hers?
He slowed as they reached the end of the alley, scoured the busy corner. In the shrouded light, the hard angles of his face were carved into a frown. “Are you well?”
An ache began to pound in the back of her head. “I am fine. We need to hurry.” Enough danger lay around them without her hindering their pace.
“We are almost there and then you can rest.”
The concern in his voice touched her. Though angry with her, even though she’d hurt him, he still found compassion. And, regrettably, she would cause him further upset.
He moved ahead of her with catlike grace, his steps sure, his body tensed, prepared to react.
The warrior.
“What is wrong?” he whispered, studying her with unnerving intensity.
“Naught.” But there was. Colyne had never told her who he’d met with earlier. His friend was clearly a knowledgeable man who apparently knew the comings or goings of missionaries and could destroy her story.
“We canna linger.” He started forward.
She followed, her mind spinning through the possibilities. Was Colyne so determined to find out her secrets that he might inadvertently ruin any chance she had of returning to France?
Panicking, she slowed. She couldn’t risk facing whoever they were going to meet. Marie glanced around at streets that offered anything but safety. Neither could she risk leaving Colyne’s protection.
Mon Dieu, what was she going to do?