Forbidden Vow

by Cosby, Diana

  Head throbbing, Aiden wrapped his hands around the woven hemp, cursed with each effort as he pulled himself onto the deck.

  Fire blocked his path to the severed mooring.

  At the screams of men and the clash of swords, he glanced to the shore. Outlined within a haze of murky white, a violent battle came into view.

  Bedamned, he had to reach his men! Teeth clenched against the pain, Aiden slashed a nearby coil of rope, secured one end to the rail, tossed the rest over the side. He swung his leg over the polished wood, paused.

  The boat had broken loose and was drifting away.

  Wood groaned below, and a blast of heat slapped him.

  He turned.

  Flames surrounded him.

  Bedamned, once he reached the sea, he’d have to swim. With a tug to ensure the knot was secure, he began his descent.

  Halfway, the line dropped further.

  With a curse, Aiden glanced up.

  Fire danced along the top of the hemp. A twisted piece frayed. Smoke belched, and flames consumed the loosened line.

  The rope groaned.

  Snapped.

  Aiden fell.

  * * * *

  The faint roar of battle and the screams of pain echoed down the tunnel. Gwendolyn’s fingers on her dagger tightened.

  “Steady, lass,” a deep male voice said.

  She glanced toward Sir Vide. “I should be fighting alongside Aiden’s men to reclaim my home.”

  “Aiden wants you safe.”

  She scoffed. “Safe doing naught.” She glanced toward the exit. Sunlight streamed inside, assuring her hours had passed. Frustrated, she paced. She should have insisted she be allowed to fight.

  “Lady Gwendolyn?”

  Rónán’s distant call had her whirling. Heart pounding, she watched as the honorable knight came into view, realized that now, naught but the rumble of waves filled the air. Hope ignited. “Is the battle over?”

  Smears of blood on his mail, the knight halted before her. “Aye,” Rónán said, grim satisfaction on his face. “Latharn Castle is secure.”

  She steadied herself as relief threatened to buckle her knees. “Thank God.”

  “My lady.” Sir Vide gestured toward the blackened portion of the tunnel. “Does this passageway lead inside the stronghold?”

  “Aye, it comes out at the stables.”

  “I ask you to go inside the keep and remain there until we have cleared away the dead.” The Templar grimaced. “’Tis not a sight I, or any of the warriors, would wish you to see.”

  “I thank you, but good men have risked their lives to reclaim my home. I willna shame them by cringing in a corner whilst I hide from the realities of war.”

  Respect flickered in the knight’s gaze. “Aye, my lady.”

  Sand crunched beneath her slippers as she hurried past the knights to the seaward exit, needing to see Aiden. To thank him, she assured herself, but with her castle seized, his leaving weighed heavy upon her mind.

  At the entrance, Gwendolyn paused.

  An icy shiver swept her at the bodies of the English strewn over the shore, the spill of blood staining the outgoing swells and smearing the sweep of the beach she so loved.

  Rónán’s gentle hand touched her shoulder. “My lady, return to the castle through the tunnel.”

  She stepped free. “Nay.” Head held high, she walked toward where the men loyal to King Robert were standing on the beach, staring at the billowing smoke from the Englishmen’s cogs. Aiden and his men had sunk their fleet.

  Anxious to see him, she scoured the shore as she made her way toward Cailin. Where was Aiden?

  At her approach, Cailin turned.

  The grief in his eyes stole her breath, and time slowed to one breath. Heart pounding, refusing to acknowledge his silent revelation, she searched the men working around them, spotted those who had been chosen to row out and set the ships ablaze.

  Everyone except Aiden.

  Nay, he’d returned and had joined his men in the castle. Fisting her hands against the rush of fear, she faced Cailin. “Aiden?”

  Face ashen, the Templar gestured toward a nearby boat scarred with blackened wood. “We found the craft he took down the shore and brought it back.”

  The fragile control of her emotions broke. “W-where is he?”

  Cailin’s somber eyes held hers. “He didna return.”

  “Nay,” she said as her legs weakened and fear stole every shred of composure.

  “We have scoured the shore,” the knight rasped, “nor has anyone seen him.”

  She gasped for air,once then again. No, he couldna be dead! Grief swamped her, and she tried to breathe, but the world became a mist around her. Her body swayed, and hands caught her as she fell.

  Chapter 18

  Heart aching, Gwendolyn stood on the shore. Through blurry eyes she took in the damaged ships, their splintered and charred boards littering the beach from the attack three days past. Sadness gripped her soul at the vivid display of the horrors of war.

  Aye, they’d recaptured Latharn Castle. But the price had been too high.

  Fresh tears burned her eyes as she scoured the swells for any sign of life, any movement, any flicker of hope that Aiden lived.

  “Lass,” Cailin said, his voice raw with fatigue and grief, “three days have passed. You have searched day and night with little sleep.”

  She fisted her hands. “As have you all.”

  “You are tired and all but weaving on your feet. Return to the castle. If only for a while, try to rest.”

  Anger flared within the heartache. “I refuse to give up. Aiden is still alive.”

  “I pray ’tis so, but we have searched the beach for miles, rowed through the wood-filled swells and found nay sign.”

  “I would know if he was dead!” Gwendolyn refused to meet Cailin’s gaze, to see the pity in his eyes, and the regret. She ignored the doubts threatening to smother her, clung to her heart’s belief.

  An incoming wave surged up the beach, its tip curling, then spilling on the sand with a deep rumble. The foamy edge carried endless fragments of blackened wood, numerous broken crates, and other items from the ships yet to be recovered. Wreckage scraped within the surf as the wave receded as another swell rolled ashore.

  In the distance, Gwendolyn caught sight of a swath of forest green cloth with Celtic designs woven at the edge.

  Recognition slammed through her. “God, nay!” Gwendolyn bolted.

  “Lass?”

  Water splashed as she ran through the incoming wave. Waist high, the current pulled at her legs.

  She trudged deeper.

  On a sob, she jerked the tattered swatch from the tangled heap of floating debris. Her hand fisted around the soggy cloth and her eyes filled with tears. She gulped a deep breath, then another.

  Cailin came to her side. “What in the…” His face paled. “God’s blade,” he rasped, “’tis a piece of Aiden’s tunic.”

  Coldness sliced through her. Like a fool, she had convinced herself she wanted a life alone, that she could walk away from all Aiden made her feel.

  Yet as she stared down at the delicate weave of gold crafted into a Celtic cross, her heart splintered into a thousand pieces. Without wanting to, she had fallen in love with him.

  A sob burst free, then another, as she clutched the cloth to her chest. Her shoulders quaked beneath her grief, beneath the weight of so many words left unsaid.

  Cailin drew her against his chest. “Let yourself go, lass. You have held your heartache in too long.”

  At his tender entreaty, she caved beneath a hurt so raw her knees threatened to give way. “I never told him that I loved him.”

  “Aye, lass...he knew.”

  “You are so very wrong. H-he only knew of my anger.”

  Sil
ence thickened as one moment rolled into two, and still the knight held her. Even as she cried out her denial and cursed the battle that had twisted her world into despair, Aiden’s friend lent her strength, held her up, his wise whispered words guiding her back to the much-need footing of sanity.

  Piece by piece, she gathered her composure, and on a rough exhale, she stepped away.

  Tears rolling down her cheeks, she stared at the incoming wave, sparkling beneath the morning sun as if mocking her anguish. “Nay, Cailin,” she whispered, “I refuse to believe he is gone. He is strong. A leader of men. A warrior unlike any other I have ever known.” She turned and peered into the large knight’s caring eyes. “He is still out there,” she said, her voice cracking beneath a surge of hope. “And if it takes ’til my last drawn breath, I will find him.”

  “Lass—”

  Cailin caught her arm.

  The damp piece of Aiden’s tunic clenched in her hand, she pulled free. “I am riding south. Nay doubt, like he did in his youth, Aiden was able to float on a piece of the damaged ship.” She suppressed the swell of tears. “The current has taken him farther down the shore than we believed. He must be there.” She narrowed her eyes. “You can accompany me, but I warn you, you willna stop me.” She sloshed through the surf toward where her mount waited.

  The men on the beach working to clear the rubble glanced up as she stormed past. Their looks of pity only strengthened her resolve. They may believe their brave leader was dead, but until she saw proof, she would keep searching.

  As she swung onto her mount, the soft clop of hooves upon sand sounded behind her. She glanced up.

  Mouth grim, Cailin drew alongside, gave a curt nod. “Let us go.”

  Aye, let them find the man she loved.

  * * * *

  Hands clamped around the broken slats of wood he clung to, Aiden forced his eyes open. Sunlight shimmered off the choppy surface, at odds with the wind-fed swells he’d battled at sea.

  The distance cliffs grew closer.

  Joy surged through him and he began kicking harder. God’s sword, how far had he traveled? After watching the sunrise for the past three days, as he had floated in the open ocean, his every attempt against the strong current ending in utter failure, there was no telling. Over the last few hours, with the wind shift, he had begun to make progress toward shore.

  He glanced at the strip of his tattered tunic, which sealed a large gash in his arm, thankful he had stopped bleeding. Yet with sun-blistered skin and dizziness, and desperate for water, if he did not reach shore soon… he stifled a shudder. No, he would make it, if only to find Gwendolyn.

  What a fool to think he could walk away and never see her again. ’Twas thoughts of her beautiful face, her spirit, and her giving nature that had kept him alive. He must find her and tell her the truth.

  His broken raft lifted above the incoming swell. He kicked with the wave. He moved ahead but an arm’s length. Bedamned, at this rate ’twould be another day before he made it ashore.

  Dragging his body higher on the blackened slats, Aiden scanned the storm-littered coast in search of movement. As if after three days his men would continue their search for him. During the first two days, sea swells had robbed him of seeing land, and the moonless nights had drenched him in darkness.

  Regardless, he had mapped the stars overhead, knew he drifted southward. But how far? Another shudder wracked his body. With his strength depleting, he must make land soon. Like a beacon of hope, Gwendolyn’s smile shimmered bright in his mind.

  By God, he’d reach her!

  Muscles screaming, Aiden shoved himself into the water, clung to the edge of the tattered board. Using his good arm and ignoring the pain, he kicked in unison; with each stroke he paddled toward the strip of sand below the cliffs.

  His vision dimmed. He gritted his teeth, swam harder.

  A light breeze built, tossing waves against him as he edged forward.

  Arms aching, as he reached out he realized the current had caught him. Euphoria fell away as he drifted toward where the rocks along the coast cut into the incoming surf.

  Heart pounding, he rose with the next swell, kicking hard.

  His fragmented craft edged closer.

  Fighting exhaustion, Aiden doubled his efforts. Inch by precious inch, he neared the coast away from the dangerous rocks.

  At last his boot scraped against the sandy bottom. Aiden collapsed against the charred frame while the incoming wave shoved him higher up the beach. When the surf slid back, he rolled free from the battered wood, then braced his legs against the withdrawing rush.

  The next wave rushed ashore. Aiden shoved to his feet, staggered up the slope. Another surge of white water littered with sand slammed against him and threw him off balance. He thrust his boots into the sand and trembled beneath the powerful rush.

  As the churning water ebbed around him, he stumbled onshore, then collapsed to his knees.

  Throat raw, dragging in gulps of air, Aiden searched the dips in the land, breaks in the rock for any water left from a recent storm.

  Waves rumbled behind him, and the foam-edged surf slid halfway up his body.

  Gwendolyn with her whispered words, her laughter, and her beautiful curves. She reached out for him, beckoning him forward, encouraging him to endure and stay focused.

  Muscles screaming, he crawled toward her as she stood beside seaweed entangled with sun-dried grass. But she moved back toward the shady overhang of trees. He followed, wincing against the sun-warmed sand, and the sharp, hot stabs of rock upon his knees and fingers.

  Cool shadows engulfed his body as the wind rattled branches overhead, but he could no longer find her. Frantic, he searched, but his body began to tremble.

  Unable to fight the inrushing surge of darkness, on a groan, he collapsed, succumbed to the whirl of blackness.

  * * * *

  After rounding the curving shore, Gwendolyn drew her mount to a halt. The cloth from Aiden’s tunic firm in her hand, she searched the coast.

  Naught.

  Cailin’s horse at her side snorted. “’Tis growing late, lass. We must turn back before it grows too dark.”

  She glanced skyward, stunned to find the sun on the horizon, and streaks of purples and oranges filling the sky. “Nay. We have at least another hour before nightfall. As long as I can see, I am searching.” Gwendolyn kicked her mount into a canter.

  At the next bend, she heard Cailin curse before he shot in front of her and caught her steed’s halter, stopping her advance.

  “What are you doing?” she snapped. “Move aside!”

  He gestured to the cliffs. “’Tis the English!”

  She glanced up, saw a group of knights riding east. Thank God they hadn’t seen them.

  “Come!” The Templar led her deep into the shadows. “We must stay here until we are sure they have gone.”

  “I thought the duke’s men were captured or dead?”

  Cailin grimaced. “As did I.”

  “Where do you think they are heading?”

  “To Lord Comyn.”

  Her cheeks burned at the mere thought of the bastards. “After their duplicity, do they believe he would help them?”

  “They are taking a risk,” Cailin said, “but after they didna find you during the search, mayhap they think you are dead and Comyn is ignorant of their nefarious intent.”

  “Mary’s will. And with my not having warned Comyn, he will believe their lie.” A new fear shot through her. “Do you think Comyn will try to reclaim the castle?”

  Cailin shook his head. “Nay. The English will warn him about the battle, more that their force is all but depleted.”

  On a hard swallow, Gwendolyn glanced toward the sky. Clouds had gathered, smothering the sun. She followed the feeble rays of light that spilled across the ocean to where water lay stranded in smo
oth crevices of rock. The fading hues glinted in the depression. Proof of another day lost, another day Aiden hadna returned.

  She hugged the tattered cloth against her chest, and tears welled. He felt so close to her. “Lass, we must return.”

  Cailin’s voice, rough with understanding, reminded her that ’twas not only her who was filled with dread at thoughts that Aiden had died, but all the others who called him friend.

  She gave a shaky nod.

  The knight reined his mount forward.

  With her heart breaking, she scanned the coast one last time.

  Empty waves rolled ashore as if to mock her.

  She stared at the ragged cloth, at the brutal reminder of Aiden’s fate. Her throat thick with emotion, she lifted her reins.

  Stilled.

  In the distance, caught in the fading wisps of light, a lone figure staggered up the beach.

  Her heart wrenched. She gasped. Had she dreamed him into being?

  Cailin whirled his mount to her side. “What is wrong?”

  Hand trembling, she pointed down the shore. “’Tis…Aiden!”

  The warrior caught her mount’s reins as she started forward. The horse snorted, and he held tight. “Whoever it is, he is too far away to be sure. It could be the enemy. Stay here.”

  “Nay.” She tugged her horse sideways, ripping the leathers from his hold. “’Tis him!” Gwendolyn kicked her mount into a gallop.

  “Lass! Come back!”

  Cailin’s words faded beneath the salty breeze as she urged her steed faster.

  On his next step, the lone figure staggered, then sprawled to the sand.

  He was hurt! A pace away, Gwendolyn drew her mount to a halt, jumped to the ground. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she knelt beside his still form.

  Cailin dismounted, moved to the opposite side. He caught Aiden’s shoulder. Together they turned him over.

  Aiden groaned.

  A wave rumbled ashore behind them as she caressed his face. “Aiden.”

  On a soft moan, his lids lifted. A frown worked across his brow, then his eyes closed.

  “’Tis Gwendolyn,” she urged, tears spilling down her cheeks, “wake up.”