An Oath Sworn

by Diana Cosby

  A sailor on deck dropped a rope ladder, which clattered against the side.

  “Go on,” Colyne urged Alesia. As she started up, he followed. A tremor rippled through him at the memory of how near she’d come to death. Thank God he’d heard her scream.

  “That was blasted close,” Logan said, his face flushed with excitement as he climbed on deck following Colyne. The captain studied Alesia with concern. “Are you well, my lady?”

  “Oui. My thanks.”

  From her pallor, Colyne had his doubts. “I shall tend to her in your cabin.”

  “I will join you once we have safely cleared the harbor,” Logan said.

  Colyne nodded, then guided Alesia to the captain’s cabin and closed the door. Alone, he hugged her, terrified at how close he’d come to losing her.

  Alesia clasped her arms around him, her frantic pulse a testimony that she still relived her nightmare.

  “I told you to stay with the bishop,” he rasped. “I had made plans to ensure you sailed to France without danger.”

  A swath of pink stained her cheeks and she stepped back. “I appreciate all that you did for me.”

  “Do you?”

  Hurt darkened her eyes, but she held his gaze. “I know you deserve answers. If you could accept without question my reasons for leaving the bishop’s protection are sound, I would be indebted to you.”

  Colyne narrowed his eyes as he stared at her, the pain from her words immense. If she had tried, she couldna have hurt him more. “We made love, Alesia. I do nae want you indebted to me as if I were someone you could walk away from.” He moved toward her, but to her credit, she held her ground. “On this I shall nae be swayed. Tell me why.”

  Her lower lip quivered, but she remained silent.

  “Is it so hard to explain?” he asked, disheartened to find that after everything she would still hesitate.

  “Oui.”

  Her panicked expression had him damning himself over and again. “A sword’s wrath. I am nae a merciless bastard set out to destroy your future.” He gentled his voice. “If you did nae matter to me, the asking would be easy.” He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Do you think I do nae see the regret in your eyes?”

  Her breath trembled out. “But if I tell you, you shall . . .”

  “What?”

  “Hate me.”

  Hate her? Merciful God. Never. He cared about her. More than was wise. And yet, by the self-condemnation in her eyes, she believed otherwise. In the silence, he watched her struggle for composure, noticing how she clung to her regal mien as a warrior would his blade.

  “ ’Tis a long story,” she finally said.

  The ship rocked comfortably beneath them as it cut across the windswept waters toward open water.

  He dropped his hands to his sides, stepped back. “I have time.”

  Alesia stared out to where a stray beam of sunlight spilled over the swells to splinter into a million pieces. “I did not travel to Scotland to deliver assistance or much-needed goods to Beauly Priory,” she said with solemn authority.

  The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. He’d anticipated this possibility. “Continue.”

  “My name . . . is not Alesia.” She skimmed her fingers over the aged wood of the opening, shot him a nervous glance. “Not the name I am known by, anyway.”

  His heart thudded against his chest. “What, then, would that name be?”

  She lifted her head with a regal tilt. “First, you must swear an oath of secrecy that you shall not tell anyone what I am about to reveal to you.”

  “Demands?” His anger increased. The dictate sounded too easily given, as if she were used to her requests being granted.

  “Please,” Alesia said with solemn regard. “I must have your oath.”

  Colyne laid his hand over his heart. “I give you my oath that what you tell me stays between us.”

  Relief flashed on her face. Then she took a deep breath and exhaled. “My full name is Marie Alesia Serouge, and my father is—”

  “King Philip,” Colyne finished, as with heart-stopping clarity the fragments of clues she had revealed since she’d saved him tumbled into place.

  Chapter 16

  Colyne took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the full ramifications as each clue since they’d met became clear.

  Finding her alone.

  The men hunting a woman.

  Her urgency to reach France.

  Aye, he’d entertained the thought of her being the king’s bastard daughter, and had dismissed the thought as quickly. A sword’s wrath, why had he nae considered it further? He gave a frustrated sigh. As if it mattered now.

  Her true identity explained her desperate act of following him to the docks, but it didna justify how she could have given him her innocence.

  The writ he carried was but a document. Once delivered, it could be forgotten. “Why did you nae tell me who you were before?”

  “When we first met, you were injured and a stranger and I dared not give you my trust. As we traveled and I found myself beginning to care for you . . .” She shook her head. “I was at a crossroads as to what I should do.”

  She reached for him, but he stepped back. He couldna let her touch him now and haze his logic with another surge of emotion. He needed time to think, to understand how Alesia could withhold from him something of such import.

  Alesia?

  Nae, Marie, King Philip’s bastard daughter.

  Colyne narrowed his gaze at the lass he’d never truly known, a woman who made him forget Elizabet, and a woman about whom he’d planned on speaking with her father to break her betrothal. Bedamned the entire situation! With a rough sigh, he nodded. “Continue.”

  Regret shadowed her eyes. “I was overwhelmed by everything you made me feel. Everything you made me want. I was unsure if my emotions were clouding my decisions. Neither could I do anything to jeopardize reaching my father.”

  As he remained silent, distress shadowed her face.

  “Do you not think I wanted to tell you who I was? I hated my indecision. I despised holding back something so important to a man for whom I deeply cared. Every time I considered telling you the truth, I would think, what if I am wrong and he is loyal to England? With Scotland’s freedom at stake, I could not take such a chance. Even,” she said with a soul-searching look, “at the risk of losing you.”

  Colyne fisted his hands until his knuckles grew bloodless. “I took your innocence.”

  “Non,” she countered softly. “That I offered you. You knew naught of my betrothed or my royal heritage. Had you known either, you would have left me untouched.” She hesitated. “I wanted you, Colyne. More than anything. Caught up in my desires, too late I realized the consequences of our making love. At first I believed that my state of innocence mattered not in my marriage bed. Now I realize how foolish was that thought. It terrifies me to think of the reactions of my father and my betrothed if they learn the truth. Without intending to, I have endangered your life. You must understand, I was trying to protect you.”

  “By telling me lies?” he demanded, far from appeased.

  “It was the only way I could think of to keep you safe. Once we parted, I would disappear. Even if you tried to find me, knowing the name Alesia, unaware of my royal tie and where I lived in France, you would never have found me.”

  A truth Colyne damned.

  Tears glistened in her eyes and she wiped them away. “I expected you to become frustrated in your search for me and, in the end, grow to hate me. After the intimacy we shared, how could you not?” Her lower lip trembled. “But at least I would know you were safe.”

  Sincerity draped her words, a gut-wrenching honesty that had Colyne wanting to draw her into his arms. An action that would solve naught.

  Moss-green eyes pleaded with his. “Though I do not expect you to forgive me, please try to understand why I did not tell you the truth.”

  Sadly, her reasons for withholding her royal tie made sense, which helped lit
tle.

  “I am sorry.”

  As was he. “How did you escape from your abductors?” Colyne asked, as he struggled at how best to proceed.

  Her brow wrinkled in surprise. “You heard about my abduction?”

  “Aye. When the Duke of Renard’s actions reached Robert Bruce, he called an emergency meeting in the Highlands, the area in which our spies believed you to be hidden.”

  “So you are aware of the reason as well?”

  “Indeed.” The twisted humor of the situation was nae lost on him. Here he’d traveled at a devil’s pace to inform King Philip of the true culprit behind Marie’s abduction when with his every step she’d traveled at his side. He shot her a wry smile. “You are the reason I am en route to France.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  Colyne withdrew the leather-covered document he’d secreted from the Highlands. “ ’Tis an explanation from Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, Guardian of the Realm of Scotland to King Philip, explaining the Duke of Renard’s abduction and his reason—to use you to enrage your father to the point of severing ties with Scotland.”

  “Back when we were almost caught by the stream,” she said, her voice falling to a whisper, “you entrusted the writ to me when you . . .”

  “Believed I was going to die.”

  She nodded, but Colyne didna miss the pain in her eyes that thoughts of his mortality brought her, and his anger melted further. “If naught else, from your selflessness during our first days together, I learned you were a woman whose word I could trust. As to your true identity, I should have believed my initial instincts.”

  “How so?”

  “There were many clues,” he said, “some subtle, others nae. To begin with, you are French.”

  “But I had given you a reason for my presence.”

  “Aye. Then there is your regal mien, which you wear like a cloak when you are upset.”

  Her lips narrowed at his comment.

  “ ’Tis nae a trait you can change,” Colyne said, “but something as essential to you as your next breath, as inherent as your strength and your caring for those in need.” Her deepening frown assured him that she was debating whether his words were those to accept or discard.

  “If you had suspicions, why did you never ask if I was King Philip’s daughter?”

  “Between your reason for being in Scotland and the likelihood of a king’s daughter escaping the English duke’s men, and the odds of my meeting you alone in the Highlands, I dismissed the possibility. Speaking of which, how is it that you escaped?”

  “After we entered a castle in the Highlands that Renard had seized, his knights left me in a chamber with but one guard.” Humor touched her face. “Like you, they believed me the spoiled and defenseless bastard daughter of a French king.”

  Colyne gave her an assenting nod. “True, I underestimated a king’s bastard daughter, but nae Alesia.”

  At his confession, her eyes misted. “Non,” she agreed. “You never underestimated Alesia. And for that I thank you.”

  Another piece of the puzzle of this complex woman settled into place. Over the years, bearing the brand of the king’s daughter, bastard or nae, how many had thought of her as a helpless lass who doted on her own selfishness?

  Hadna he been as guilty?

  Her words of the self-serving gentry were offered through firsthand knowledge. In her royal position, she would have witnessed and experienced a sickening dose of coddling. With her strong and independent nature, such treatment would have made her withdraw from that circle further.

  That he finally knew the truth pleased him, but what reason would he give her father to allow Marie to end her loveless betrothal? It wasna as if he sought to offer for Marie’s hand. Though thoughts of her as a part of his life brought a sense of peace, he didna love her.

  Or did he?

  Torn by the emotions storming through him, Colyne paced the deck, numb to the rush of waves breached by the honed wood of the bow. He cared for Marie deeply. She made him laugh, he enjoyed her quick wit, and with her in his arms he felt complete. But did that equal love?

  Unsure, he stared at a fragmented strand of seaweed drifting on the water’s surface. As it floated past, she moved to his side.

  She lay her fingers on his arm. “However wrong, I shall cherish the memories of our making love.”

  Colyne stiffened, wanting her desperately. Yet he kept his gaze riveted on the sea. “Desire, however strong, is nae reason enough to give me the most precious gift a woman can offer.”

  “All my life men have sought my attention in hope of the royal connection marriage to me would bring. For once I wanted to experience the joys given by a man who sincerely cared for me, and one I cherished as well. That . . . you gave me.”

  He faced her, aching and wanting her with the same breath. “Now what? Or is there a choice?”

  She dropped her hand. “Non.”

  A shout from outside the cabin reminded Colyne that they sailed to France. He needed distance. If he was wise, he’d go, consider all they’d discussed. Saddened at the thought of leaving her, he drew Marie into his embrace. After everything, how could she feel so right in his arms?

  She rested her head against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck.

  Colyne pressed a kiss upon her brow.

  “I wish it could have been different,” she whispered.

  As did he. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. A battle he could fight. Attackers he could fend off. With Marie pledged to another man and her vow sanctioned by a king, Colyne could do naught.

  A thought slid through his mind and he stilled. “Marie, your father is in the position of making betrothals. By the same royal authority, he can break them.”

  Sadness shimmered in her eyes. “I have given my word to my father. I cannot break my vow.”

  A sword’s wrath! “So you would marry a man you do nae love to please your father?”

  Red crept up her cheeks. “You do not understand. Over the years my father was always supportive of me when, as a bastard daughter, he easily could have overlooked my existence. There is so much I am thankful to him for, and I will not shame him by requesting to break a vow after all he has done.” She paused, her gaze searching his. “I have comfort in knowing he would never match me with a man who would be cruel.”

  “So you choose to live a life of servitude?”

  Hurt darkened her eyes. “Regardless of how I might wish to be with you, my vow has been given. ’Tis too late.”

  “Nae!” He held up his hand when she made to speak. “You have a choice. You can settle and be unhappy or live the life you choose. Think about your choices. ’Tis all I ask. ”

  Marie remained silent.

  However much he despised the thought of her marrying a man she didn’t love, how could he intervene if he wasna ready to ask for her hand? Frustrated, Colyne paced the room. As he turned toward her, a new and troubling thought came to mind. “With the king’s guard protecting you, how was anyone able to abduct you?”

  Worried eyes met his. “ ’Tis a question I have asked myself many times since I was taken. My conclusions were few and unsettling.”

  “What happened?”

  “A young girl came to my home in the middle of the night. She begged for my aid, explaining that her mother was in pain and that her baby was coming. When I explained she needed to seek the healer, she said she had tried and was told she was away helping another.” Marie shook her head, her eyes foggy with memories. “I accompanied the child to her home under the escort of my guards. When I entered, several men grabbed me.”

  “And your guards?”

  Her gaze grew troubled. “I am unsure.”

  “What do you mean, you are unsure?”

  “I heard no sounds of a struggle outside.”

  With a sickening twist he understood. “You believe the knights assigned to you were Renard’s men and the girl’s story was designed to lure you to where they waited?”


  “Oui,” she replied, anger sliding through her voice. “Which means someone within my father’s trusted circle is a traitor.”

  Two days later, the ship groaned as storm-fed waves tossed the vessel higher before plunging it into the oncoming trough.

  Water crashed over the bow with violent force. The solid mast severed the blackened sea rushing past. On the next swell, the craft was again hurled up.

  Colyne braced his knees and clung to the line as another surge of seawater rushed past. “The rope is secure on this end,” he shouted to a man tying a knot on the opposite side of a crate.

  The man gave a final tug on the knot. “Secure here as well.”

  Another wave crashed over the bow. Water flooded the deck.

  In an effort to keep from being swept overboard, sailors gripped the sides of the hull and braced their feet.

  After the swell washed overboard, Colyne used the line and worked his way toward the stern.

  “Is the cargo secured?” Logan braced himself as the ship angled downward and plunged.

  Another huge wave swamped the deck and then poured over the side to join the churning water below. On a shudder, the ship again angled up.

  “Aye,” Colyne replied, but even preoccupied by ensuring everything was tied down, he couldna help worrying about Marie. Since the onset of the storm two days past, she’d become seasick. With each passing hour, she’d grown worse until now she couldna leave her bed.

  He damned every second he spent away from her. The day before, she’d been unable to keep down what little she’d attempted to eat. With her body continuing to purge itself, she couldna tolerate much more.

  Once the crates were anchored, Logan shouted for less essential men to get themselves out of harm’s way, and then made his way to Colyne. “The sea is in a foul mood,” he said with a nod at the towering swell rolling toward them.

  “Aye,” he agreed. “After two days I had expected we would have sailed out of the storm or at least left the worst of it behind.”

  Logan tightened his grip on the rope as the ship hurtled down the next trough. “There is nay telling with a spring storm. They can rush in all wind and fury and leave you within an hour. Or”—he scowled at the swirl of angry clouds—“it can stall and last for several days. We have wound up with a stubborn one.”