Chapter Twenty
Halfway across the bailey, feet braced, sweat, soot, and blood streaked Thomas’s face. He rammed his blade against an attacking warrior, slashed his throat with a dagger, then shoved him back. He whirled to face the next assailant. With a curse, Thomas angled his weapon, and drove deep. The enemy crumpled, joining the bodies scattered around him.
A distance away, wood crunched as Comyn’s men, working in unison, slammed a massive log into the door of the keep.
“They are using a battering ram to gain entry!” Aiden MacConnell, his close friend and fellow Templar Knight, yelled.
A command rang out for another round, and Comyn’s knights again slammed into the honed wood.
Splinters flew.
Ragged shards hung above the gaping hole exposing the great room.
Thomas cursed. He must reach Alesone! “Rónán, Cailin, and Aiden, gather the others knight we trained en route. Tell them we are forming a shield wall.”
His men’s yells rang out. The slap of crafted iron and wood clattered amidst the scream of swords as the men overlapped their shields against the other.
“Forward!” Thomas ordered. With deadly efficiency, they shoved ahead.
A hand reached over the sturdy defense.
Thomas slashed his dirk across the attacker’s wrist. Blood spilled to the frozen ground, and he pushed the warrior back. Wind-whipped snow battered his face as the crack of blades vibrated against smithed iron.
Inch by inch he and his knights edged closer, the clash of swords in their wake diminishing as King Robert’s troops continued to surge into the baily and overwhelm the enemy.
“Halt,” Thomas called as they neared the steps. “Aiden and Cailin, when I give the order to lower the shields, use your bows to take out the men holding the battering ram.”
“Aye,” his knights replied.
Thomas nodded. “Now!”
The melee swam into view. Arrows hissed past.
Men’s screams rang out.
“Another volley,” Thomas yelled.
Arrows whooshed into the snow-laden sky.
Screams sounded, and the men holding the battering ram toppled, the thick log crashing atop their unmoving bodies.
Thomas cursed as at least twenty of Comyn’s knights bolted inside. “Follow me!” He shoved his sword into an attacker ahead of him, withdrew his blade, then jumped over the man’s falling body and bolted inside.
With a roar, three of Comyn’s men charged.
Thomas slashed the first man’s throat, drove his dagger into the next, and kicked the third man back before a slash ended his assault.
A scream rang out from down the corridor.
His blood iced. Alesone! “Follow me!” Damning each second lost, with each swing, each scrape of steel, Thomas carved his way through the chamber, the Templars fighting by his side.
Men’s yells filled the chamber in his wake.
Thomas whirled.
A fresh wave of knights poured into the chamber, all wearing Bruce’s colors.
Confident they’d seized Dair Castle and naught but a handful of resistance remained, he drove his blade into the aggressor who stood between him and the woman he loved.
“Release her!” Thomas’s father ordered from an open doorway.
Heart pounding, Thomas shoved the man aside, and ran down the corridor. Through the open doorway, he saw a knight jerk Alesone against him with a harsh pull.
“Dinna move,” Comyn’s man warned Thomas’s father, who stood paces away.
The duke’s face paled.
Eyes hard, the warrior pressed his blade against her throat. “Sheath your blade or die.”
Her eyes widened.
The grating of blades and screams of pain blended in a lethal backdrop as Thomas waved his men to halt.
Torchlight glinted across the duke’s sword as his gaze flickered on him, returned to the enemy.
At his father’s covert acknowledgment, Thomas narrowed his eyes on the intruder.
The noble scowled. “Let the lass go and you shall be allowed to live.”
“You dare much to threaten me, Your Grace,” the man scoffed, “when ’tis you who are now my prisoner.” With the knife still flush against her throat, the aggressor jerked her captured arms higher up her back.
Pain darkened Alesone’s eyes.
“Drop the blade, Your Grace!”
His sword half raised, the duke angled a step toward the back of the chamber, forcing the man to turn away from Thomas to keep the noble in his sight.
Thomas withdrew his bow, nocked an arrow.
Sadistic pleasure rode the warrior’s expression as the duke lowered his weapon, then he lowered the dagger. “Now I will—”
Without warning, Alesone dropped her full weight. Free of her captor’s hold, she withdrew her sgian dubh, twisted to her feet and slashed his throat.
Shock widening the warrior’s eyes, he stumbled back. Blood streamed through his fingers as he clenched his throat then collapsed.
On a rough breath, Thomas lowered his bow. “Remind me to never upset you.”
Alesone whirled, her fingers still clenching her blade. Eyes wide with disbelief softened, and she sheathed her dagger. “Thomas!”
He stepped forward, and he crushed her against him. Love for her swamped him, and he pressed his face against her hair. “Thank God you are okay.”
“I w-wasna sure if you had made it out,” she whispered, “or if you would return in time.”
His chest aching, he brushed a lock of hair from her dirt smeared face. “Naught would stop me from reaching you.” Movement at the entry had him glancing toward his men. However much he wished to remain, the stronghold must be secured. “The castle’s status?”
“Bruce’s knights have squelched the last of the resistance,” Aiden replied.
With a nod, Thomas faced his father. “Are you hurt?”
The duke scoffed. “Naught that willna heal. Did you see your broth—”
“Halt,” a Knight Templar at the door warned as he raised his blade.
“Thomas, tell your knight to bloody move,” Donnchadh roared from outside, “or by God I will move him!”
A smile touched Thomas’s mouth at his brother’s threat to his warrior. The Templar could disarm Donnchadh before he realized his intent. “Make way, Cailin, ’tis my brother.”
His face smeared with blood and sweat and worry, Donnchadh strode inside. He glanced from Alesone to his father, then his body relaxed. “Thank God you are both alive.” He met Thomas’s gaze. “What of Comyn?”
“When he saw his forces were routed,” he replied with disgust, “he and a sizable contingent fled on horseback. I have sent men to follow them and, if nae capture them, ensure they have left.”
His brother nodded. “Excellent.”
“And the Bruce?” his father asked?
“He remained in camp,” Thomas replied. “Though weak, he has begun to recover and is making plans for an upcoming attack. Information I will share once all is secure.”
His father glanced at Donnchadh, Alesone, and then back to Thomas. “We can rebuild the castle. That you are all safe is what matters.”
Donnchadh scowled at the dead men. “I thank you, Father, for keeping her safe.”
Pride shone in the duke’s gaze. “The lass defended herself.”
Warmth filled Alesone at the pride in the duke’s voice as he explained to his son how she’d killed the assailant.
“I commend you, Mistress Alesone,” Donnchadh said. “You are an extraordinary woman.”
Humbled by his compliment, heat stole up her cheeks. “I did naught but what was necessary.”
“Necessary,” the duke scoffed. “The lass is a fierce warrior.”
“She is,” Thomas agreed.
“A fact that I can attest to,” said a new voice echoing from the entryway. Alesone’s gaze cut to the tall, well-muscled knight with green eyes and raven-black hair. He smiled at her and arched a brow. “’Tis intriguing to know your skills extend beyond that of the bow.”
Heat stole up her face as the warrior referenced their first meeting near Bruce’s camp weeks before.
Additional knights filled the hallway behind him.
“Alesone,” Thomas said, as the trio entered the room, “you remember Sir Aiden MacConnell, Sir Cailin MacHugh, and Sir Rónán O'Connor.”
“Aye, a pleasure to see each of you again.” Alesone doubted any woman would forget meeting such intimidating men.
His father nodded. “I need to take account of the castle.”
Donnchadh stepped beside him. “I will accompany you.”
“My men—” Admiration shone in Thomas’s eyes. “Alesone and I will go with you as well.”
Pleased to be recognized as his equal, she cleaned and stowed her blade, then followed the group as they began to take stock of the damage.
Hours later, a soft knock sounded at the door.
Through the thick haze of sleep Alesone lifted her lids. She glanced toward the window, frowned at the blackness coating the sky. After her bath, exhausted, she’d fallen asleep. How long had she slept?
“Alesone,” Thomas whispered. “Open the door.”
Worried someone might hear him, she slid from the bed, rushed over, and jerked open the entry.
Like an indomitable force, Thomas stood framed within torchlight from nearby sconces.
Her hand clenched on the hewn wood, and she braced herself for the worst. “Has my father returned?”
Tenderness touched his face. “Nay. My men sent word a short while ago that the enemy has left.”
She sagged against the frame. “Thank God.”
He took her hand. “Come with me.”
Shaking off the last of the haze, she tugged her hand free, noted his hair was still damp from a recent bath. “I canna go out dressed in my chemise.”
Eyes hot with desire skimmed over her thinly clad body, and he drew her against him. “Aye—” He backed her up against the wooden entry until his body pressed flush against hers, then caught her mouth in a heated kiss until her every thought frayed. “—you should stay in your chamber, with me. Alone. Except”—he scraped his teeth along her throat, lingered—“what I must tell you is of the utmost importance.” On a groan he stepped back. “Don something warm. I will explain once we reach our destination.”
On shaky legs, she tossed on a warm gown and cape, wanting to remain, to take him to her bed, and fulfill her every fantasy.
At the end of the corridor, Thomas started up the turret.
She frowned. “Why are we going to the wall walk?”
In the sheen of torchlight, a tender smile curved his mouth. “You will see.”
Nerves flickered through her as she climbed the next step. “Naught is amiss?”
“Dair Castle is secure, or,” he said with frustration, “heavily guarded until the damage to the curtain walls is repaired.”
Confused by their nocturnal outing, she slowed. “This canna wait until morning? We could go to my chamber and—”
He drew in an unsteady breath. “Ah, lass, dinna tempt me.” He opened the door. Moonbeams cut through the darkness, streamed through the openings in the battlements like whispers of hope. As he halted before a squared tower of hewn stone, Thomas drew her to his side. “What do you see?”
Alesone tugged her cape tighter, then scoured the moonlit land beyond the crenel. “A loch and bens.”
He gave a frustrated sigh. “Is that all?”
Confused, she searched the stars filling the cloudless sky. “’Tis night.”
He turned and cradled her within his embrace. “Ask me what I see?”
The soft seduction in his voice shot tremors of heat through her. “What,” she whispered, “do you see?”
Thomas pressed a kiss upon her lips. “I see shimmers of stars against the midnight sky like a promise.” He nipped the soft flesh of her throat. “The harsh cut of the Highlands against the night as if a banner of loyalty, and”—he skimmed his hands along her curves—“the loch dusted with snow as if tossed with wishes cast.”
As his fingers caressed her, she melted inside. Never had a man spoken to her with such care or took the time to show her how much she mattered. Neither had she expected to find someone like Thomas. But she had, and Alesone damned the fact that he was planning to leave.
She swallowed hard, wishing this night was but the first of the rest of their lives together, although she knew that given their country’s strife, and with her father his enemy, never could it be.
Thomas straightened, then lifted her face to his.
Beneath the shimmer of moonlight, she caught the seriousness of his gaze.
Panic flooded her. He was leaving. ’Twas nae seduction, he was struggling to say good-bye. “You canna go!”
His brows lowered in confusion. “Go?”
Lost to her grief, she caught his shoulders, wanting to shake him, to convince him to remain. “You are leaving on the morrow with your men, are you nae?” she rushed out as tears burned her throat. “Blast it, just tell me!”
With care he cupped her hands and shook his head. “I am trying to woo you,” he said with a half-smile. “Obviously I failed. Miserably.”
Hope ignited and she stared at him, prayed she’d heard correctly. “You are nae leaving?” she whispered.
“Nay.”
“And you are trying to woo me?” she repeated, trying to wrap her mind around his claim.
His smile widened. “Aye.”
“Oh.”
He pressed a kiss on her knuckle. “I will try this one more time.”
A gust of wind shuddered within the air. Flutters of snow spiraled within the moonlight as if magic cast. “Never did I believe I would meet a woman who intrigues me, who makes me laugh, or one who would steal my heart. Then,” he said with reverence, “I met you.” Thomas entwined his fingers within hers and knelt. Alesone Elyne MacNiven, I canna live without you. I love you with all of my heart, and want you in my life forever.” Beneath the shimmer of stars, he lifted a band engraved with delicate gold scrollwork embracing an emerald. “Marry me. I want to raise our children and grow old together, and spend a thousand sunrises with you in my arms.”
Happiness exploded inside, and her breath left her in a rush. “You…love me?” ‘Reality tore through her euphoria, and chills ripped through her heart.
His hand tightened on hers. “Alesone?”
A gust laden with snow slapped against her face, the pinpricks minimal against the ache building in her chest. She struggled to breath against her dreams being torn apart. “I love you, want you forever, but my father is a threat.”
“Nor will that change. ’Tis you that matters, us, our life ahead.” Within the sheen of moonlight, his gaze held hers. “Marry me, Alesone, I canna live without you.”
Heart aching she hesitated. Mayhap ’twas wrong to love a man so much, or selfish to accept what he offered, but she couldna lose him now. Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. “Aye!”
On a shout, Thomas swept her into his arms, crushed his mouth against hers in a fierce kiss and whirled her as snow danced upon the soft breeze. The kiss deepened, and she took, gave until her entire body trembled with wanting him.
On a rough breath, he lifted his head, his eyes hot with desire. “I want you.”
Her entire body trembled. “I want you as well. Make love to me Thomas, I love you and canna wait any longer.”
On a groan, he strode toward the turret.
* * *
In his chamber, shimmers of golden candlelight caressed Alesone’s skin as Thomas loosened the final tie, pulled. Whisper soft, her gown puddled to the floor, and she stood naked before him.
His body pulsed with yearning, demanded he take, but with their vows of love given this night, this time, their first time would be naught but magic. “I love you, Alesone.”
Hands trembling, she undid his garb until he stood as naked as she, then her eyes dark with emotion met his. “I love you, Thomas.”
He swallowed hard, humbled by this woman who would soon be his wife. He wished the words were exchanged, that she held his name, but ’twould be a vow soon done.
Another burst of anticipation slid through him, smothered every thought except her. Her taste, the feel of her skin against his, the slick warmth that awaited his touch. His pulse racing, he claimed her mouth.
On a moan, she took, demanded.
His body on fire, he cupped her face and plundered, then skimmed his mouth against the curve of her jaw, along the silken column of her throat, her scent driving him wild. Thomas moved lower, caressed the fullness of her breast as he suckled on the hardened tip.
She gasped. “Thomas I—”
“Say you want me,” he whispered.
“I-I want you.”
Flickers of flame caressed her body as he knelt, held her gaze as he kissed her sweet essence, her slick heat driving him mad.
Her mouth parted, and her head lolled back softly as his name spilled from her lips.
Thomas slid his tongue deep, savoring her gasps, her cries as he drove her higher. Her body began to quake.
With a growl, he swept her in his arms. Relishing how she trembled against him, he laid her upon the bed and pressed his body flush against hers. “I need you.”
Eyes shimmering with satisfaction and nerves lifted to his. “I need you as well.” With slow, sultry movements, her mouth teased his, and he took, gave as he fought the urge to slide deep into her heat.
Alesone edged lower, and Thomas caught her hand. “What are you doing?”
“As I please,” she said on a husky whisper. Her mouth teased him as her hands skimmed lower, and he groaned as she cupped his hard length, sliding closer to what he’d only dreamed.
The tip of her tongue teased him, and his body threatened to explode. He caught her shoulders, struggled beneath pleasurable assault. “A-Alesone,” he gasped. “Dinna do—”
Moist lips slid over his shaft and suckled; his mind hazed.
His blood pounding hot, he buried his hands in her hair, clenched, savored her tongue’s slow, wonderfully torturous journey. Through sheer will, he lifted her head.
“You dinna care for that?” she teased, her lips gleaming in the firelight. “I overheard women talking in hushed tones to one another,” she all but purred in a smoky voice that drove him wild, “’tis what a man enjoys, they said.”
Enjoyed, wanted, desired. “Aye,” he forced out, amazed he managed to shove out a word. He cleared his throat. “But I am too close to losing control.”
“Nor did you allow me to make conditions when you took me a moment ago.” A satisfied smile touched her mouth. “Nae that I am complaining.”
She had a point. “Still—”
Alesone’s tongue again ran over his hard length.
He shuddered.
“I have found you a fair man. I canna believe you would deny me what you yourself have done.”
“’Tisna the same.”
“I think ’tis.” She drew him into her mouth, and his entire body tightened as her mouth tasted, teased until his every shred of control threatened to break. But he held, struggled to honor her request nae to deny her as she touched him.
Sweat beaded his brow as she lingered, her hands working with gentle strokes as her tongue offered sweet torture. Bloody hell, ’twas only so much a man could take.
Alesone’s eyes widened with surprise as he flipped her beneath him, pressed his tip against her moistness. “I thought ’twas my turn.”
“You will have many opportunities in the future,” he said between clenched teeth. “Now, I canna wait any longer.” He claimed her mouth, the spicy taste of their lovemaking warm on her tongue, and he savored, teasing her until her body grew restless against his. Damning the inevitable, Thomas lifted his head. “’Twill hurt, for that I am sorry.”
Her expression grew tender. “I am a healer. I well understand.”
“I know but…”
“Love me, Thomas. You are all that I want, all that I will ever need.” Before he could move, she arched against him, until his length pressed against her thin barrier.
Need stormed him, threatened to unravel his hard won control. She began to rock against him, and his last fragile hold shattered. He plunged deep.
Alesone cried out.
He drew her against him. “Never did I wish to hurt you.”
“’Tis nature, and the pain has all but faded,” she whispered, a smile in her voice. “You feel wonderful.”
Aching at the rightness of this moment, he caught her mouth in a tender kiss, teased her until she moved restlessly against his, and then he began move in slow, steady strokes. When Alesone’s body tightened around him, he drove deep and took her over the edge, and followed.
Happier than he’d ever believed possible, Thomas drew Alesone against him. “I love you.”
Lavender eyes held his, the warmth within leaving him humbled. “I love you as well.”
Hours later, in the flickering firelight, Thomas slid a damp tendril of hair from Alesone’s cheek as she watched him, her face glowing after making love. Never had she looked more beautiful. He pressed a kiss upon her brow. “Wait here.”
She frowned as he sat. “What are you doing?”
Thomas set another log onto the fire before moving to his chest. Anticipation filled him as he withdrew a pouch and walked over.
Naked, she sat.
Lauding his ability to nae take her again, he walked over and handed her the velvet sack embroidered with the king’s seal.
She arched a brow, opened the luxurious bag, and withdrew the item bound in silk. With care, she loosened the ties.
Cradled within the luxurious bed lay a ruby ring embraced by a gold filigree carving of a lion.
Surprise widened her eyes, and then she frowned. “’Tis the ring King Robert gave Grisel.”
“Aye. The Bruce wanted you to have this. He said if ever you needed his aid, you are to bring this to him.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I-I canna believe he would remember me or offer such.”
“You are an incredible woman, one a man doesna forget.” Thomas lifted the crafted circle, secured it on the chain around her neck, and then laid her back. “One who I am proud will be my wife.”
Heat swept Alesone’s eyes as she sat on the dais next to Thomas while they broke their fast. The hours they’d made love throughout the night left her yearning for when she could touch him again.
“You arena hungry?” the duke asked.
Embarrassed to be caught lost in thought about her night’s forbidden sensual excursion, heat swept her cheeks. “Excuse me?”
The duke frowned. “You havena touched your porridge.”
She forced herself eat, but caught Thomas’s sated smile as he devoured his last few bites. Smug with himself he was, but memories of how he’d trembled as she’d loved him assured her that once they were alone, his satisfaction would crumble to ecstasy beneath her touch, a time she looked forward to.
The keep door opened, and Sir Nicholai entered, looking harried.
Alesone’s stomach dropped. God help us, what had happened?
Thomas, the duke, and his brother stood, and she followed suit as the Brother rushed forward.
“What is wrong?” Thomas asked as his friend halted paces away.
“Your Grace,” Nicholai said, and then faced Thomas. “I bear news of great import. I must speak with you and”—his gaze shifted to her—“Mistress Alesone in private.”
Thomas slid his arm around her in a protective manner. “We will go into the solar.” Nerves jangling, Alesone followed the men inside. Sunlight filled the room as she stepped inside, and a fire blazed in the hearth, but neither eased the chill deep inside.
The monk shut the door.
“Tell me,” she stated.
The brother nodded. “’Tis Burunild MacCheine.”
Confused, she frowned. “My mother’s personal maid?”
“Aye, she is dying and has been trying to find you.”
Alesone glanced at Thomas, then met Nicholai’s gaze. “Why would she look for me? I havena seen her since I was seven.”
The Brother’s mouth tightened. “’Tis her place to explain.”
“Where is she?” Alesone asked.
“Waiting for you at the monastery.”
She nodded. “Then let us go.”
* * *
Hours later tears burned Alesone’s eyes as she stared at the elder who’d been her mother’s personal maid, a woman who’d dared visit her at Grisel’s and had brought treats to make her smile. To see her now, her face sunken with illness, and fighting for every breath broke Alesone’s heart.
“Sit, child,” the elder wheezed.
Thomas held her hand as she sat; Brother Nicholai remained discreetly by the door.
Grief darkened the woman’s gaze as aged fingers lay atop Alesone’s. “I am deeply shamed that I never told you, but I was—” She began to cough, and waved Alesone away when she made to help. “I must finish.” She dragged in a fragile breath. “I was afraid. If you could find it in y-your heart, I beg your forgiveness.”
The slide of unease rolled through her. “I forgive you.”
“I pray you will feel the same when I am finished” Bony fingers tightened on Alesone’s hand. “He made me swear never to tell you,” she whispered, “threatened to kill me and my family if I did.” The elder tsked. “A coward I was. I didna do what was right, a sin I carried all these years. With my husband dead, and my sons died in battle, and my own life f-fading, there is naught left for me to lose.”
Bile rose in Alesone’s throat. “Who threatened you?”
A tear slid down her wrinkled cheek. “Lord Comyn.”
That made little sense. “Why would my father threaten you?”
“Because,” she said on a fragile breath, “he isna your father.”