An Oath Sworn (21 page)

M
arie nodded to the physician as he left Colyne's chamber and then walked to the guard outside his door. “We are not to be disturbed.”

He gave a curt bow. “
Oui
, my lady.”

Still overwhelmed with the relief of Colyne's life having been spared, she stepped inside and closed the door.

Near a small table, the man who had rewritten her purpose in life stood with his back to her, pulling on a clean tunic.

Heat pooled inside her as she watched the ripple of muscles, the graceful power that was an integral part of him, a strength he wielded with fierce precision as quick as tenderness.

He shifted, and ugly bruises of yellow and black came into view, a potent reminder of how close he'd come to death. Of how even after all the challenges they'd faced, a future between them had not been ensured.

Coldness swept her as she remembered her betrothed's request for a private audience with her once they'd left the bailey.

Her father's concern that she needed to rest had delayed the inevitable confrontation. If Gaston learned of this visit with Colyne, given his upset at the favor she had shown Colyne, he would be furious. With an unsteady breath, she stepped deeper into the room.

At the soft scrape of her slipper, Colyne turned. Surprise crossed his handsome face, then desire. “Marie?”

Tears filled her eyes as she stepped into his warm embrace, the need to be with him as elemental as breathing.

“Oh, God.” He wrapped his arms around her and brushed his mouth on hers, soft, slow, as if savoring her taste, as he shook with desperation.

She melted into his demands, giving everything and needing more. Mayhap she could hope for a miracle, that her father would release her from her betrothal. Most of all, she wished Colyne would want her forever.

His eyes dark with passion, he broke the kiss and stared at her, as if absorbing her every nuance. “I—I never thought I would see you again,” he rasped, the toll of the past days shadowing his face. “There is so much I want to tell you.” He swallowed hard. “I did nae think . . .”

“You are safe.” Marie brushed her finger across a purple bruise on his jaw, and her guilt grew. “Look at your face, your body. I am so sorry. I—”

He caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips. “It does nae matter.”

Shaken, Marie withdrew her hand. “It does. How could I ever forget you, even for a moment?”

“You were ill.”

Mayhap, but to her it excused nothing. “Once my memory returned, I sent a guard to inform my father to halt the execution. Unsure if word would reach him in time,” she said, needing to share her greatest fear, “I had to try to reach you.”

“And you did.”

He stared at her, his expression so intense she found herself believing he could forgive her when she struggled to forgive herself. How could he when she'd deceived him throughout most of their journey, and had made love with him without disclosing she was promised to another?

“Marie.”

At the somberness of his tone, her breath caught. She was wrong, he'd forgiven her of nothing. He was going to tell her that once he'd spoken with her father, he was sailing back to Scotland. “What?” She held her breath.

“I love you.”

At the same moment he spoke, torn by grief at his leaving, she blurted out, “I know you must return to Scotland. And I understand your not forgiving me, but . . .” His declaration echoed in her mind and she paused, stared at him in disbelief. “Y—you love me?”

Tenderness creased his face as his eyes darkened with need. “Aye, very much.” Then his mouth captured hers in a long, hot kiss. As he drew back, he watched her, his eyes solemn.

Joy burst through her; she wanted him, needed him forever. “I love you so much. I was afraid that—”

“I need to explain. I knew I cared for you, deeply. As you lay ill and in a delirium at the inn, the thought of never seeing you again or making love with you 'twas unthinkable.” Colyne brushed a kiss tenderly across her mouth. “The guards arrived and arrested me before you became lucid enough for me to tell you. Know this,” he rasped. “I canna imagine my life without you, of nae sharing the smallest joy with you, or a day passing without seeing your smile.” He swallowed hard. “As they led me to the executioner, my greatest fear was that I would never again see you, that you would never know how I feel.”

At his heartfelt admission, tears blurred her eyes. When he started to speak, she shook her head. “I want to explain why I kept so much from you.”

“Marie, I understand—”

“Please listen.”

He nodded.

She released a long, unsteady breath. “Over the years I have learned that men wanted not me but a tie to my father. Throughout our journey, I hesitated to expose my true feelings because I was afraid to be hurt. After we made love I wanted to tell you, but you did not know who I was. Then I realized the gravity of my selfish actions. I was afraid for your life if my father or my betrothed learned of our intimacy.” Her lower lip quivered. “I will never regret our intimacy. But with you unaware of the possible repercussions, I was wrong to continue to allow your ignorance. For that I am sorry. At least neither my father nor my betrothed are aware of my indiscretions.”

“They know,” Colyne said quietly.

Guilt swept her, and she despised her actions even more. “
Mon Dieu
, how can you ever forgive me?”

“How can I nae? I love you,” he whispered. “Neither am I without guilt. We had nae said our vows before God within the sanctity of the church, yet I came to your bed.”

Warmth swept her cheeks. “I gave you little choice.”

His brow quirked with amusement. “I agree that your being an amazing and beautiful woman made my decision difficult. But,” he said, his voice growing somber, “aware you were an innocent, I knew as well the responsibilities of my decision.”

Mayhap, but considering all the facts, her actions far from absolved her of sin. “Now what?”

“Now,” Colyne said, taking her hand, “I will be asking the woman I love for her hand in marriage.”

Tightness squeezed her chest as she stepped back. Numb, aching, hating what she must say, she walked to the window, stared out. “As much as I wish it,” she whispered, “as much as thoughts of a life with you fulfill my every dream, regrettably, it is not possible.”

Colyne's quiet steps paused behind her.

A sob built in her throat.

He caught her shoulder and gently turned her. Eyes raw with torment scanned hers. “Why nae?”

A tear slid down her cheek in a cool path. With a sniff, she wiped it away. “You may be able to believe my father could be made to accept our indiscretion, but from Gaston's manner, I assure you that it is not possible.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “Do you love the duke?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “How can you ask that after everything I just said? You have met Gaston, have seen firsthand his fierce intention to keep what is his.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Is that what you are, a possession to be won?”

Marie bristled. “I am my own woman. But I also made a vow to my father, a man who raised me with love when many would never have recognized a bastard daughter. Never would I wish to hurt him.”

“Would you nae hurt him more by marrying a man you do nae love?”

Marie stilled. Throughout her life, grateful for her father's love, she'd always complied with his wishes. When she reached marriageable age, without feelings for anyone and with his expectation of her to wed, she'd entered into an arranged betrothal without hesitation. With Colyne's question, she wondered what her father's reaction would be if she asked to be released from her agreement to marry the duke.

Her stomach twisted. Never before had she defied her father's bidding, but she was no longer a child. She took his hand, lay it over her heart. “I love you and I want a life with you. I will speak with my father and request he break the betrothal.”

Eyes fierce, Colyne's gaze held hers. “I have nae found you only to let you go.”

He crushed his mouth over hers, but however much she loved him, doubts haunted her that her father would deny her request.

 

Clouds shrouded the moon, casting the bailey in a feeble light. With a heart heavy, Colyne continued toward the stables.

Bedamned this night.

Bedamned the king's decision.

Bedamned that he didna have another choice.

Soft steps fell behind him and he turned.

Caught in a flicker of torchlight, Marie's slender frame approached.

He stiffened. “Return to the keep.”

She halted, her stance fierce but her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I needed to see you.”

“After your father's decision this night to deny my request for your hand, 'tis unwise for any to find us alone. Go.”

At his brisk order, that determined look he so loved hardened her face.

“Marie,” he pleaded as inside a part of him died, “you must leave. Please.”

In a flicker of moonlight, her eyes reflected her turmoil, anger, and grief.

A sword's wrath! He wanted to kiss her, make love with her, and keep her forever. With the king's refusal to break the betrothal, such a chance had ceased to exist.

To stand here with her a hand's width away did naught but add to the enormity of their heartache. With ground-eating strides, Colyne entered the stables where he could be alone, to think, to somehow find a way to deal with the pain of losing Marie.

And wondered if he ever could.

How did one move past losing the woman who was the other half of his soul? A woman who made his life complete?

Wisps of distant torchlight fractured the dark confines as he moved deeper. The familiar smell of horses and hay offered a soothing balm, the blackness an escape.

The soft scuff of slippers fractured the silence in his wake.

Colyne braced himself against the emotions the sight of her would always evoke. He turned. “Marie, I—”

She ran to him. Before he could warn her away, her mouth pressed over his with passion.

He fought the urge to return the kiss. But at the raw desperation in her touch, he succumbed.

At her soft moans, Colyne skimmed his fingers down to pull her flush against him. His body burning, he backed her against the stall, took the kiss deeper. She shuddered beneath him.

A horse to their right snorted. Another toward the back of the stable shifted restlessly.

Shaken at how she could strip his control, Colyne pulled free, his breath unsteady, his body hard with unspent desire. What was he thinking? Anyone could come upon them. He shook his head. “Nay, 'tis wrong.”

“My father is mistaken not to end the betrothal,” she rushed out, passion clinging to her words.

“He is a king who loves his daughter but has his country's interests to consider as well. Your betrothed is a powerful man.”

“And a man I do not want,” she said. “After you left, I begged, pleaded with him, but he refused to change his mind.” She sniffed. “It is you I love, you I need.”

As if he didna feel the same. The warmth of her tears stained his neck and melded with his own. For long moments he held her, savoring the feel of her body against his, the way her breath caressed his skin, how she brought peace to his heart.

After a long while, her sobs quieted.

On a rough sigh, he kissed her brow, damning his decision. “On the morrow I shall go.”

She gasped. “Why? For your bravery, my father has invited you to remain a fortnight.”

“And if I stayed, what? Can you guarantee we would nae meet again where none can see us? That we would nae make love?” He released her, paced to a nearby stall then returned. “I swore to myself nae to touch you. Yet, here, where any could come upon us, we risk the greatest sin. For if I believed 'twas safe, I would make love with you. You are a temptation I canna resist.”

A gust of wind spiraled wisps of hay across the courtyard as the cry of a baby echoed somewhere in the night, mingling with the distant laughter of guards on the wall walk. Marie remained silent, but the flicker of torchlights in the bailey exposed the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I have confidence your father will find those responsible for your abduction,” Colyne said, needing to change the subject.

“I cannot lose you,” she whispered.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “ 'Tis nae a choice.”

Silence fell between them, cold, hard with the pain of truth.

She sniffed. “I hate this.”

“As do I.”

“If Renard is still in France,” she said with vengeance, “he will regret that he did not flee to England when he had the opportunity.”

“Aye,” Colyne replied, through sheer will bringing his emotions under control. “But his involvement far from explains how he was able to bypass your guards and abduct you.”

“A puzzle my father said he and Gaston have discussed at length.”

At her familiar use of her betrothed's name, Colyne flinched, again damned that he could nae sway the king to end the betrothal.

“'Twas daring of the English duke to request an audience with my father to plant false accusations against the Scottish rebels.”

“Aye, a brazen act that convinced King Philip of a lie.”

“And one that persuaded Gaston as well.” She paused. “Neither can I forget how Gaston reminded my father of the Duke of Renard's warning.”