Читать книгу Forbidden Knight - Diana Cosby - Страница 8

Chapter Two

With a muttered curse, Thomas pulled the reckless woman past the camp’s outlying tents, her blistering scowl trying his patience.

“Release me!” she hissed.

Thomas shot the lass a warning glare. “Mistress Alesone.” He kept his voice level as he strode toward the king’s tent. “One doesna shoot arrows at a warrior and then make demands.”

Alesone tugged hard to break free from his hold.

Enough. He halted, jerked a thin hemp rope from his pack, and secured her wrists.

She gasped. “W-what are you doing?”

“I believe,” he said, his voice dry, “’tis obvious.”

Lavender eyes narrowed. “I told you I wouldna try to escape.”

“A promise broken by your action moments ago.”

“This is ridiculous! One woman surrounded by several knights. I hardly think I present any threat.”

He scoffed. “Your skill with the bow, along with the wide array of arms you had concealed upon your person, tends to undermine that argument.”

“Your men seized all of my weapons,” she said. “And I do not appreciate being brought before the king restrained like a common criminal.”

“Continue to argue and you will find yourself tossed over my shoulder with a gag in your mouth.”

“An action you would sorely regret.”

Thomas resumed walking. “The only thing I regret is that I didna tie you from the start. As for your being freed, once the king has confirmed that you are indeed his healer, you will be released.”

Defiance flashed in her eyes. “A moment I shall relish.”

Thomas forced a smile. However much she irritated him, the lass was a fighter. She clung to her declaration with the tenacity of a beggar fighting over crumbs.

When they’d entered the encampment, he’d expected her to panic, petition for her release, and admit her claim of being the king’s healer a lie spoken out of desperation. Given Scotland’s turmoil, reasoning he’d understand.

With the Highlanders’ loyalty torn between King Robert and Comyn, the king wouldna be amused by the woman’s false claim; less so once he learned of her impressive ability with a bow. The precision of her shots, her confidence, and her daring bespoke highly specific training. Well he knew the time and dedication necessary to gain such skill.

Regardless of her insistence, she was more than just a lass trained in the healing arts. Whoever had sent her believed that with her beauty, none would perceive her as a threat. If nae for her warning shot, he might have made that error himself. It was a blunder he’d make sure she would come to regret.

As they passed several knights training with their blades, her steps slowed. “We are drawing notice.”

A hint of nerves tinged her voice, pleasing Thomas. Confident of an impending confession, he glanced over. “Nay doubt roused by your being a stranger.”

She leveled her gaze on him. “They know who I am.”

“Yet nay one comes to your rescue?” Thomas nodded at several knights he’d recently met at Avalon Castle before turning back to her. “A fact I find odd.”

Red crept up her face. “In truth, I arrived but days ago. I have met only a handful of those in accompaniment with the king.”

“Indeed?” he said with mock surprise. “Earlier you led me to believe otherwise.”

“As if with your treating me as a threat to the king’s life you would have believed anything I said?”

Bedamned, her spirit would impress the stoutest man. However, with the danger about, there was naught laudable about her presence or untruths. Somber, he resumed his stride, tugging her along.

“Enough! I came with you to camp with minor resistance. Release me now, and I willna tell our king of your reprehensible behavior.”

A slow pounding built in Thomas’s head. “Mistress Alesone, you are nae in a position to state conditions.”

She set her jaw. “We shall see how smug you are once we meet with the king.”

They would. Robert Bruce wouldna allow a woman to join him while on campaign. Except for Lady Katherine Calbraith: a woman so desperate for vengeance that less than two weeks ago she’d made demands of the king. That twisted tale had hurled Thomas’s friend and fellow Templar, Stephan MacQuistan, into a forced marriage where in the end, Stephan and Katherine had both found love.

After years of personal torment, Stephan had found happiness, which pleased Thomas.

He glanced at the woman. Regardless of her beauty, intelligence, or the way she made a man ponder more than a lingering glance, he didna seek a lass. Nor did he trust her. She was a fine example of how well treachery could be disguised.

However dangerous, life served wielding his blade for the king and the country held great appeal. Though he’d enjoyed Katherine’s wit and daring while he’d stayed at Avalon Castle, neither did he envy Stephan’s being sentenced to a wife.

Irritated his thoughts had strayed beyond those of duty, he stopped before the guard, more than ready to relinquish his unwanted prisoner. “Inform the king that Sir Thomas and his men have arrived from Avalon Castle.”

“Aye.” The fabric making up the entry scraped against the tent as the man disappeared inside.

Thomas glanced over impressed by her steely glare, halfway between outraged queen and one of the fae. “’Tis a surprise you didna plead your case to the guard.”

She stared straight ahead with cool disregard. “My words are reserved for our king.”

“The lass seems adamant,” Aiden stated, his voice edged with concern.

“Or desperate.” Thomas dismissed a trickle of unease. “It matters little. In a moment we will have the truth.”

The canvas flap opened, and the guard stepped back. “The king will see you.”

“I thank you.” Thomas hauled her inside. The rich tang of smoke filled the air as he halted several paces before the king. He bowed, the soft thud of his men’s boots in his wake. “Your Grace.”

The formal greetings to the Bruce sounded behind him.

A frown furrowed the king’s brow as his gaze shifted to the woman. “Why is she with you?”

“Sire,” Thomas replied, “en route, my men and I captured this assassin near camp.”

The king’s surprised expression shifted to fury. “Assassin?”

“Aye, Sire.” Thomas slanted her a cool look. “She stated her name is Mistress Alesone, and dared claim that she is your healer.”

His men dumped the well-made bow, arrows, and quiver, and lethal knives onto the ground before the king.

“Weaponry we relived her of,” Thomas said.

He shot to his feet. Face taut, the Bruce stormed over. “Where did you find her?”

“A league from your camp, Your Grace,” Thomas replied, astonished that with the king towering over her, Alesone didna flinch.

At her defiance, the king’s face reddened.

Neither could Thomas blame the sovereign for his anger. There comes a time when even the finest warrior has the wisdom to show deference.

“What say you, lass, for your daring?” the king growled.

Her mouth tightened.

God’s blade, she didna have a whit of sense. Or, more chilling, was she this hardhearted? A good judge of character, Thomas could believe her highly trained from her confidence and skill, but naught about her comportment during the journey had suggested the cold, ruthless woman before him.

Unsure if he was more disgusted with himself for missing the depth of her callousness or ashamed he’d been drawn to her spirit, Thomas glared at her. Under most circumstances, he would feel sorry for the woman receiving the king’s wrath. In this case, she deserved whatever punishment the Bruce served.

The sovereign’s fierce expression fell upon her wrists, and the anger on his face faded to surprise. “You tied her?”

Confused, Thomas nodded. Had he known the depth of her treachery, he would have run a blade through her and left her for the wolves. “Foolishly, the woman tried to kill me. Much to her regret, she failed. Once caught, Sire, she ignored my warning to nae try to escape and left me little choice.”

“Which tells me,” King Robert said, his each word weighted, “that she is either foolhardy or very brave.” A twinkle flickered in the sovereign’s eyes. “Mistress Alesone, is what Sir Thomas states true?”

Stunned by the king’s teasing, Thomas stared at the monarch in disbelief. Did he nae understand the gravity of the situation? “Your Grace—”

The Bruce held up his hand. “She will answer me.”

The brazen expression on her face melted to a smile. “Sire,” she replied with complete innocence, “I sent but a warning shot.”

As if accepting her words as truth, the king withdrew his dagger, pressed the blade against the rope at her wrists, slashed.

God’s teeth! Thomas caught her freed hands. “Sire, she isna to be trusted.”

Without warning, Alesone laughed.

The Bruce joined in, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Sir Thomas, forgive me. With the demands on campaign, little time exists to have a bit of fun.”

Thomas struggled with the king’s assertion.

“Furthermore,” Robert Bruce continued, “having met you several weeks ago at Avalon Castle and knowing of your penchant for a jest, even if you were the subject of the teasing, I knew you would find amusement in the situation once you learned the truth.” Beaming, he nodded to the woman. “She is indeed my healer, whom I trust with my life.”

The king’s explanation roared through Thomas’s mind, but it eroded down to two words. A jest? The entire time she’d stated naught but the truth? However stunned to be caught off guard, he wouldna apologize. With the dangerous state of the Highlands, the weapons she carried, her skill as an archer, and Comyn’s ruthless determination to kill the Bruce and claim the crown, his conclusions had been logical.

Laughter danced in her eyes. “You can release me.”

Thomas let go as if he touched a hot coal.

“And Sir Thomas, had I meant to kill you,” she said, “my arrows would have lodged in your heart.”

With the accuracy of her shots, the truth. Far from pleased with the situation, neither did he miss the smiles of his men. Why wouldna they find amusement in his being the object of a bit of fun? As the king had pointed out, his enjoyment of antics were well known, along with his ability to take as good as he gave.

Under normal circumstance, he’d laugh at the ruse. Except something about this woman left him on edge. With the limited time he and his men would remain in camp, nor would he ponder thoughts of her further. “Regardless the confusion, Sire, she is safe.”

“For that I thank you.” The last wisps of humor in King Robert’s eyes faded as he faced her. “You willna again take such risks.”

“Sire, I needed but a few herbs to restock my supplies, and I am more than able to—”

“Enough!” The king’s jaw tightened. “With Comyn’s forces in search of us, whatever your weaponry skills, ’tis too dangerous to be outside the encampment alone. You willna do such again. I forbid it!”

Her face paled. “Aye, Your Grace.”

Submissive? That Thomas doubted. The hint of frustration in her eyes betrayed her calm, her words offered to defuse the king’s ire. Neither was she a fool. However much the lass chafed at the restrictions, she’d obey.

“Mistress Alesone,” the Bruce continued as he returned to his chair, “if you need to leave camp in the future, ’twill be under proper guard.”

God’s teeth, after her foolish risk, how could their sovereign allow her to remain with their force? Thomas cleared his throat. “Sire, within a fortnight we head into battle. A situation far from fostering a safe haven for a willful lass.”

“I explained the dangers to her upon our initial meeting.” The Bruce frowned. “She wouldna be swayed.”

Why had the sovereign allowed her a blasted choice? After today’s fiasco, he could order her to leave, under escort if necessary, or confine her within one of his recently seized castles. To Thomas, the latter held great appeal. “I beseech you to reconsider, Your Grace. For her safety.”

Alesone scoffed, “I am far from helpless, and as I explained to our king, neither am I afraid of war.”

Furious she’d ignore the risk, or believe herself immune to the danger, Thomas’s well-cultivated reply shattered. “Only a fool has no fear.”

Her lavender eyes flared with annoyance, inciting him further.

The senseless chit. “You think you understand, but a bard’s stories of combat told around the hearth hardly paint the truth. In the haze of battle,” Thomas said with cold precision, “the air is wrought with screams of death, the earth stained with blood, and mercy nonexistent.” His ire mounting, he stepped closer, determined to sever her belief that she would be unaffected. “Brave men lay mutilated, each breath filled with agony, pleading for an end to their suffering. You are so caught up in your own struggle to live as you wield your blade, you ignore them.” He fisted his hands at his sides as the horrific images stained his mind. “Only if you dinna fall victim to an attacker’s sword, and once the fighting is over, can you grant those mortally wounded their lethal wish.”

Despair flickered on her face, but her eyes remained defiant.

Blast her for pushing him to this point, that she’d dare. “Your words are noble, but—” Thomas noticed the king’s interest in their tense interaction. Stunned by his outburst, he bit back the storm of words yearning to burst free. Few could unleash his emotions to such an extreme.

Men, he trusted.

Never a woman.

As their sovereign continued to study him, Thomas silently cursed, too aware of Robert Bruce’s affinity for women who defied the norms of society, proven by his dealings with Lady Katherine months before. Regardless of his own belief that this lass should be carted off and left in one of his holdings for her own safety, ’twould seem her boldness had earned the king’s favor.

“Mistress Alesone,” the king said, “Sir Thomas raises valid concerns about the dangers we face. If you have changed your mind and wish to leave, I will ensure you are escorted to a safe holding.”

She shook her head. “Sire, I want to remain.”

With a sigh, he nodded. “As you wish.”

Outrage burned in Thomas’s gut. ’Twas her choice, her life. Her presence here wouldna affect him. Once they’d defeated Comyn he would move on, and this exasperating woman would be forgotten.

The king lifted a goblet on a side table and took a sip. “Sir Thomas, I didna expect your arrival so soon.”

“We took a shorter route along the cliffs, Your Grace, and were able to slip past the enemy.” He shot Alesone a hard look, wanting her to understand her antics had neither won him over nor earned his praise. “I admit my surprise to learn you have a woman healer.” The king must have sent for her, ’twould explain his protectiveness and their familiarity to the point where they could jest. “’Tis always welcome to have those alongside us whom we know.”

Tenderness touched the king’s expression. “’Tis, but until her arrival a few days before, we had never met. We have a mutual friend, one who saved my life.”

A debt paid, a logical explanation for why the Bruce had taken in a stranger versed in the art of healing. Clearly in the short time, a close bond had formed between them. Nae that he approved of the king’s offering his trust to her so quickly. With Scotland at war, spies lurked everywhere.

Time would reveal which cloak she wore.

Sir Thomas nodded his acquiescence to the king, but Alesone caught the doubt in his eyes, misgivings she’d expected. Loyal to the Bruce, the knight would ensure his sovereign was safe. A stranger gaining a position close to the king would invite his suspicion.

She appreciated the fierce warrior’s concern for their king, but with the knight’s tenacity, Alesone dreaded their upcoming confrontation.

There would be one.

From the short time she’d known Sir Thomas she’d discovered he was a man who did naught by halves. Until he and his knights departed, ’twas best to keep her distance.

“You and your men will be tired after your journey,” Robert Bruce said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. “We depart at first light. Once we have made camp on the morrow, we will begin discussions of the upcoming attack. Mistress Alesone, take the knights to the tent by the rowan tree.”

’Twould seem she would have little reprieve from the daunting knight.

“When you are done,” he continued, “return.”

“Aye, Your Grace.” She turned to Thomas and his men. “Follow me.”

Several steps away from their sovereign’s tent, Sir Thomas glanced over. “You are fortunate to have the king’s protection.”

“He is a generous man,” she replied, refusing to be baited by the suspicion coating his words.

“Generous, aye, to those he trusts. Rarely with strangers.”

“Our king explained the reason.”

“He explained naught except you have a mutual friend. I find myself curious to learn more.”

Alesone nodded to several men as they walked past. “Sir Thomas, I would think a knight would have better things to do than conjure misgivings, however subtly woven, about a woman he has never met.”

“Know this,” he said in a cold voice. “If I learn that you have deceived our sovereign in any manner, I will deal with you personally.”

Alesone tamped down her frustration and glanced at his warriors, noted each watched her with unfeigned interest. With her emotions in turmoil, the loss of Grisel too fresh, the last thing she wished was to argue. “As you, I am loyal to the Bruce. If necessary, I will give my life to protect him.”

Thomas studied her for a long moment and then nodded.

Thankful to arrive at their tent, she halted. “Extra blankets to make your pallets are inside. I will ensure food is sent to you posthaste.”

“I thank you,” Thomas said.

Exhaustion washed over her as she watched the lean, muscled knight, his sandy hair framing intense green eyes that left her unnerved. After being chased several days prior, why wouldna she feel threatened by a man who stared at her as if he could see straight into her soul?

For an unexplainable reason, she found making him understand her and gaining his trust, if only a degree, important. “Throughout my life I have been forced to deal with unforgiving, arrogant men. If you are looking for treachery from me, you willna find it. If you seek a reason to deem me disloyal, you shall fail.”

She started toward King Robert’s tent, half expecting the intimidating warrior to confront her. When the men’s voices of the encampment filled the air, she eased out a relieved breath.

Alesone didna turn, refused to tempt fate, understanding that he watched her and pondered her words. A man like him did naught without reason.

And with his suspicions, God forbid he learned the truth about her father.