Chapter 15 #2
The dark-haired stranger gave a victorious laugh. “I have nae tasted a brawl like that since Cádiz a year past.”
Colyne broke the kiss and scowled at the man.
Undaunted, the stranger’s smile widened. “You have hidden out in the Highlands too long.” His brows rose with male appreciation as he studied Marie. “This is the fair Alesia, I take it?”
Colyne muttered a curse, which earned another laugh from the intimidating stranger.
“My lady,” the black-haired man said with an easy calm, as if behind them the wharf wasn’t tangled in a battle of flesh and steel.
Who was he? He’d helped them, so obviously a friend of Colyne’s.
“Lady Alesia,” Colyne offered, his expression far from amused, “may I present to you my friend, Thomas Kirketon, Earl of Logan, captain of the Kincaid.”
“The captain?” Heat burned her cheeks.
The notorious-looking man winked at her. “Did you believe all of Colyne’s friends to be as boring as he?”
Colyne grunted his dismissal.
Muscles bunched as the earl dragged the oars through the water. “The lad does nae understand the thrill found in battle. The satisfaction wrought from relieving English ships of their gold. Or arms.”
She hesitated. “You are a brigand?”
Mirth twinkled in his eyes. “To some, perhaps.”
Unsure what to make of this intimidating yet intriguing man, Marie slanted a look toward Colyne. Under his fierce stare, concerns about the captain and his disreputable endeavors faded.
As they neared the Kincaid, a sailor tossed down a rope.
“Stay here.” With the grace of one long accustomed to moving in the confines of a boat, Colyne stepped to the bow. He picked up the floating line and pulled them closer as Logan stowed the oars inside the small craft.
With a muffled thud, they bumped against the ship’s hull. Marie glanced back, relieved that the angle of the ship blocked them from the view of any onshore.
A sailor on deck dropped a rope ladder, which clattered against the side.
“Go on,” Colyne urged Alesia. As she started up, he followed. A tremor rippled through him at the memory of how near she’d come to death. Thank God he’d heard her scream.
“That was blasted close,” Logan said, his face flushed with excitement as he climbed on deck following Colyne. The captain studied Alesia with concern. “Are you well, my lady?”
“Oui. My thanks.”
From her pallor, Colyne had his doubts. “I shall tend to her in your cabin.”
“I will join you once we have safely cleared the harbor,” Logan said.
Colyne nodded, then guided Alesia to the captain’s cabin and closed the door. Alone, he hugged her, terrified at how close he’d come to losing her.
Alesia clasped her arms around him, her frantic pulse a testimony that she still relived her nightmare.
“I told you to stay with the bishop,” he rasped. “I had made plans to ensure you sailed to France without danger.”
A swath of pink stained her cheeks and she stepped back. “I appreciate all that you did for me.”
“Do you?”
Hurt darkened her eyes, but she held his gaze. “I know you deserve answers. If you could accept without question my reasons for leaving the bishop’s protection are sound, I would be indebted to you.”
Colyne narrowed his eyes as he stared at her, the pain from her words immense.
If she had tried, she couldna have hurt him more.
“We made love, Alesia. I do nae want you indebted to me as if I were someone you could walk away from.” He moved toward her, but to her credit, she held her ground.
“On this I shall nae be swayed. Tell me why.”
Her lower lip quivered, but she remained silent.
“Is it so hard to explain?” he asked, disheartened to find that after everything she would still hesitate.
“Oui.”
Her panicked expression had him damning himself over and again.
“A sword’s wrath. I am nae a merciless bastard set out to destroy your future.
” He gentled his voice. “If you did nae matter to me, the asking would be easy.” He stroked his thumb across her cheek.
“Do you think I do nae see the regret in your eyes?”
Her breath trembled out. “But if I tell you, you shall . . .”
“What?”
“Hate me.”
Hate her? Merciful God. Never. He cared about her. More than was wise. And yet, by the self-condemnation in her eyes, she believed otherwise. In the silence, he watched her struggle for composure, noticing how she clung to her regal mien as a warrior would his blade.
“ ’Tis a long story,” she finally said.
The ship rocked comfortably beneath them as it cut across the windswept waters toward open water.
He dropped his hands to his sides, stepped back. “I have time.”
Alesia stared out to where a stray beam of sunlight spilled over the swells to splinter into a million pieces. “I did not travel to Scotland to deliver assistance or much-needed goods to Beauly Priory,” she said with solemn authority.
The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. He’d anticipated this possibility. “Continue.”
“My name . . . is not Alesia.” She skimmed her fingers over the aged wood of the opening, shot him a nervous glance. “Not the name I am known by, anyway.”
His heart thudded against his chest. “What, then, would that name be?”
She lifted her head with a regal tilt. “First, you must swear an oath of secrecy that you shall not tell anyone what I am about to reveal to you.”
“Demands?” His anger increased. The dictate sounded too easily given, as if she were used to her requests being granted.
“Please,” Alesia said with solemn regard. “I must have your oath.”
Colyne laid his hand over his heart. “I give you my oath that what you tell me stays between us.”
Relief flashed on her face. Then she took a deep breath and exhaled. “My full name is Marie Alesia Serouge, and my father is—”
“King Philip,” Colyne finished, as with heart-stopping clarity the fragments of clues she had revealed since she’d saved him tumbled into place.