Chapter Six
Alesone turned away from Brother Nicholai and managed to bank the rush of terror, barely. Grisel had lost her life to her father’s ruthless men, and by His Grace, Thomas’s life was spared. All for what? To be found? For her father’s nefarious plans with King Philip to succeed?
Nay!
The Brother cleared his throat. “Ales—”
She whirled, prayed she was wrong, but needed to confirm her worst fear. “Comyn’s men are here for me, are they nae?”
The monk nodded. “They believe you are inside, but canna be sure. As long as you remain within the monastery, you are beneath our protection.”
The amount of gold her father had offered for her capture could sway men to ignore the sanctity provided to those within these walls. However dangerous it was to leave, she couldna remain.
Where could she go? She was unfamiliar with the local terrain. With Thomas wounded and unable to travel and Comyn’s men desperate to find her, traveling alone ’twould be foolhardy. “How did they find me?”
“Comyn’s knight claimed they followed your tracks—”
“Impossible. Thomas and I evaded them during a storm. Any sign of our passing was covered by the falling snow.” A shiver trickled through her. Was she wrong? As they’d forged through the Highlands, she and Thomas sharing a mount, had their combined weight left gouges in the snow, deep impressions even the storm hadna filled? The weather-mutilated trail would explain the delay until their arrival.
Still, it didna clarify how they’d…On an unsteady breath she stilled, prayed she was wrong. “Brother Nicholai, we didna ride to the monastery, but to Sir John’s.”
Grave eyes held hers. “Indeed. Comyn’s men said they followed the cart’s tracks from the crofter’s hut to here.”
“Nay doubt the knights questioned him.” She breathed, “Neither would he have told them anything, whatever their methods of asking.” Oh God, with her father’s desperation to find her, his men’s techniques to gain information could have quickly turned to torture. Her throat tightened. “We must ensure John is…”
“Alive,” the monk replied, anger edging his voice. “We will soon learn. I have sent a man to ride to his home.”
“My thanks,” she whispered, and damned her father over and again.
“If you will excuse me, Comyn’s men are awaiting my arrival.”
She frowned. “Why you?”
“They requested to speak to a senior monk in regards to the matter. ’Twas my request to place you and Thomas under the monastery’s protection, so I will entertain their questions.”
She nodded. “Brother Nicholai,” she said, despising what she must share, but as their champion, he must understand the enormity of the situation. “As long as Comyn’s knights believe I may be here, they willna leave.”
“Mayhap,” he said, satisfaction shimmering in his eyes, “but they are unsure. A doubt I will exploit.”
Though confident of the brother’s abilities, after hearing of her father’s twisted dealings over the years, doubts plagued her. “What if you canna convince them?”
“I have faith He will offer a way. Await me in Thomas’s chamber. Once I am through speaking with Comyn’s men, I will share what transpired.” The monk made the sign of the cross and departed.
Alesone hurried up the turret. At the entry to Thomas’s chamber, she paused, fought to steady herself. In his condition, the last thing he needed was for her to rush in as if they were under attack. Her father’s men held suspicions that she was inside, naught more. She knocked.
“Enter,” Thomas called.
She drew in a steadying breath, stepped inside, and then closed the door.
Sweat clung to his face, which was battered with bruises. Was his fever returning? Heart pounding, she crossed the room and pressed her hand on his brow, then sighed with relief. “’Tis cool.”
He grimaced. “I should be pleased by that.”
“You should, ’Twas a miracle that you didna die.”
“Is that what you think, my living is a miracle?”
Somber eyes held hers. Shaken at how important he was becoming to her, Alesone stumbled for a reply.
Confusion washed through her as she stared at the handsome warrior who’d risked his life to protect her. A man of his caliber, with green eyes a woman could drown in, he could have any lass he wished. His interest wouldna linger on a bastard whose own father didna want her, except as goods to barter.
Alesone shoved aside her foolish thoughts. However much she wished otherwise, her years ahead were best used to help others. With her family history, to invite a man into her life would, in the end, offer her naught but heartache.
“What I think is that you should rest,” she said.
He grimaced. “I have tried, but I canna sleep.”
Which explained the circles beneath his eyes. She retrieved a woven pouch from the basket, measured out a small amount of the herb. “You should have sent for me.”
“You needed to sleep.”
Though in pain, his concern was for her. Humbled and unsure how to reply, she double-checked the dosage. Except for Grisel and Burunild MacCheine, her mother’s personal maid who had visited on occasion until Alesone was seven, few had worried how she fared. She mixed the herb with water. Nor could she forget the reality of the situation. His injury had delayed their parting. Once they reached Avalon Castle, he would be gone from her life forever.
“Alesone, something has upset you.” He brow furrowed. “At times ’tis best if we share our troubles. Though we have spent less than a fortnight together, I have been known to be a good listener.”
Her hand trembled as she handed him the cup, frustrated that even overtired, he missed little. She dinna need the bond between them to strengthen. ’Twould be hard enough now to watch him leave. “Drink everything.”
With slow swallows, Thomas drained the contents. A soft clank sounded as he set the empty goblet on the bedside table. With a sigh he lay back. “I thank you. The chamomile will make me drowsy, but a touch of valerian might have been a better choice.”
Impressed he knew his herbs, she stowed the unused portion inside the basket. She’d considered valerian, but had decided to wait. With her father’s men downstairs and Nicholai’s impending return with news, if for some reason the situation eroded, she needed Thomas alert.
“There is something I need to explain. Before I begin, know that Brother Nicholai is handling the issue.”
With a grimace he sat up.
“What are you doing? You are too weak to be moving about.”
His jaw tightened. “Tell me.”
She said a silent prayer. “Comyn’s men are below.”
“What!” Thomas braced his arm against the bed and swung his feet over the side.
Alesone barred his way. “They are unsure if we are here.”
Eyes dark with frustration held hers. “How did they find us?”
“They followed tracks left by the cart we used to bring you here.”
Panic flared in his eyes. “John—”
“Nicholai sent a man to check on him.” Her voice wavered at the last. “I pray he is…” She shook her head. “Once Nicholai knows more, he will let us know. Lie down, please. Moving about will tear your wound apart.”
His eyes blazed, but he didna stand.
She considered it a small victory. Understanding his upset, her own nerves on edge, Alesone walked to the hearth and rubbed her hands before the flames.
“Alesone.”
The quiet resolve of his voice had her turning.
“I will see you safely to Avalon Castle, that I swear.”
“I know.” When a man like him gave his word, he achieved his goal. A quiet yearning built inside. How would it feel if Thomas wanted her? Warmth slid through her.
Answering heat shimmered in his gaze.
Flustered, she looked away, but a soft burn lingered.
“Lass?”
Off guard, unsure what to say, she decided ’twas prudent to change the topic. She glanced over. “You are familiar with the healing arts?”
A shadow flickered in his eyes. “’Tis wise for a man who lives by the blade to learn cures that may one day save his life or that of his men.”
Mayhap, but she sensed another reason lay behind his claim. She clung to the thought, needed the distraction to fill the void until Nicholai returned. “’Tis rare to meet a knight who has more than a minor interest in herbs.”
Silence.
Far from discouraged, she walked over. “Did you learn the various uses during your stay within the monastery?”
A frown edged his brow.
“Nicholai told me you studied here.”
“What else did he share?” Thomas asked, displeasure ripe in his voice.
“That you were smart, determined, and compassionate.”’
He grunted. “’Twould seem his memory fails him.”
“How so?”
Thomas shrugged. “’Twas a time long ago.”
Refusing to be put off so easily, Alesone sat in the nearby chair. “You are close.”
Green eyes met hers. “At one time.”
“Naught has changed. The bond of friendship between you and Nicholai is strong.”
His gaze flickered toward the hearth, softened. “Once, while we were in the woods collecting herbs, we found a robin with a broken wing. Nicholai insisted on bringing it to the monastery. He bound its wing and fed it each day. Once the bird healed, he set it free.”
“He is a unique and compassionate man,” she said, moved by the memory.
Thomas’s gaze grew hard. “He is a man dedicated to fixing things that are broken, but at times, even he fails.”
From the coolness of his words the topic had become personal. Why? What had occurred to make Thomas feel so undeserving? “I find it hard to believe Nicholai would spend time on anything, or anyone, that he found undeserving.”
“He is a man,” Thomas said, his voice empty. “He makes mistakes, as do we all.” God’s teeth, why was he rambling on? What was it about the lass that made him want to share? Was it because she was unlike any woman he’d met or that, because of her past, she was as broken as he was?
As if either reason bloody mattered? Comyn’s men were below while he lay helpless to safeguard the woman he’d sworn to protect.
He glared at the door.
Blast it, where was Nicholai?
A dull pounding throbbed in his temple. Once they’d fled the Bruce’s camp, he should have kept more alert, looked for signs of danger, taken a more strategic route. Now, because he hadna used every precaution, he’d placed Nicholai and those within the monastery into the middle of a dangerous political impasse.
The door scraped open. Nicholai scanned the hallway, then stepped inside. Face taut, he closed the entry, then glanced toward Alesone before meeting Thomas’s gaze.
At the upset on his friend’s face, Thomas understood. “Comyn’s men refuse to leave.”
On a sigh, Nicholai strode over. “I tried to convince them otherwise, but they are setting up an encampment at the edge of the woods.”
Thomas cursed his weakened state. “Besides outwaiting them, what options do we have?”
“There are secret tunnels that you and Mistress Alesone could use to escape.”
Alesone shook her head. “He isna strong enough. A fact he well knows, but willna admit.”
“Blast it!” Thomas growled, “we dinna have much choice.”
“There is another way,” the monk said. “Your father—”
“Nay!” Thomas interrupted.
His friend’s eyes narrowed. “’Tis prudent to reconsider.”
Thomas straightened his shoulders. “My decision hasna changed.”
Eyes narrowed, Alesone glanced from one to the other. “What decision?”
God’s teeth!
A quick rap sounded at the door.
Temper simmering, Thomas glanced over.
“Enter,” Nicholai called.
A young monk stepped inside, his face flushed. He nodded to Thomas then Alesone before turning to Nicholai. “The Duke of Westwyck has arrived and requests to speak with you.”
A sharp, driving pain ripped through Thomas’s shoulder as he shoved to his feet. “You sent for my father!”
Alesone fingers dug into his arm. “Sit down, please.”
“My thanks,” Nicholai said with soft words to the younger man. “Tell him I will be down momentarily.”
“Aye.” With a wary glance at Thomas, the monk rushed out, closed the door.
“Why did you tell him that I was here?” Thomas demanded, damning the pounding in his head.
“’Tis time you saw your father,” Nicholai replied without apology. “If nae for you, for him.”
Thomas silently swore. The last thing he wanted was for her to learn about the mire of his past. “Alesone, I wish to speak with Nicholai alone.”
His friend shook his head. “She stays.”
Fury edged through Thomas. Over the last few days the lass had endured more than any woman should. She didna need to be forced to remain or become tangled within his convoluted personal life. “I dinna want—”
“Alesone stays,” Nicholai interrupted. “The king assigned you to be her guard. As long as you are together, ’tis imperative that she is familiar with the situation.” His nostrils flared. “To toss the lass into the fray without understanding the issue is to leave her unarmed.”
“There is naught to understand. Mistress Alesone will never meet my father or any others within my family.” With his father’s loyalty to Comyn, a risk he refused to take.
“The Duke of Westwyck is here. I willna ask him to leave without his first speaking with you. Blast it! Your father has suffered since you left, hurt that broke his heart. As I said before, the time has come to repair the bonds with your family,” Nicholai continued. “As for any topics of concern, they can be easily be avoided.”
“Blast it—” Thomas wrapped his hand around the wooden bedpost as he started to collapse.
Alesone caught his side. “Here, let me help you lie down.”
For a moment he fought her, a shot of pain rewarding his effort. As his dizziness increased, he complied.
“However much you dinna like it,” Nicholai said, “at the moment you have little choice.”
Pained by the truth Thomas grimaced.
“I will be back shortly. Mistress Alesone, ensure that he doesna get up.”
She nodded.
With a warning look, the monk departed.
Flames in the hearth crackled into the silence as Thomas met her troubled gaze. “I never meant to involve you in any of this.”
“I know, but I believe your friend’s decision is wise.”
“You dinna know the situation.” He cursed the ire in his voice, anger nae meant for her.
“I know you have family who wants you,” she said, her words heartfelt, “something I would give anything to have.”
Abandoned as a child, though raised by a woman who loved her, her own blood had shunned her. He understood her yearning to have a family, except she wasna aware of the reason that had torn his apart, a wound that couldna be repaired.
“You are blessed to have a friend who cares enough for you to intercede.”
“Cursed is more like it. Nicholai knows how I feel about my family. He had no right to interfere.” Thomas laid his hand over hers, needing to touch her. “Alesone, my frustration isna at you.”
“I know,” she replied, but he caught the soft waver. “I—”
The door scraped open, and Nicholai stepped inside, followed by Thomas’s father.