An Oath Sworn

by Diana Cosby

  Colyne scanned the turbulent sky. Until the storm broke, they couldna take their bearings and learn how far they’d been thrown off course.

  The captain grimaced toward where several of his men worked to keep the rudder tight and the ship facing into the wind. “Hold her fast!”

  “Aye, Captain,” one of the sailors shouted back.

  Colyne glanced toward Logan’s cabin. “I need to check on Alesia.” In deference to Marie, he’d kept her identity secret.

  “I will go with you.” Logan followed him. “I canna believe we saved those crates. When that last wave swept over the deck, I thought we had lost them.”

  “Or a piece of the ship if the cargo had ripped the rest of the way loose and slammed into the side.”

  The captain gave a grim nod. “Indeed.” He opened the door to his cabin, keeping a tight hold. They entered, and he quickly shut it against the lash of rain outside.

  As his vision slowly adjusted to the dim interior, Colyne crossed to Marie.

  At their approach, she groaned.

  Colyne met Logan’s worried gaze.

  “She is having a rough go of it,” his friend whispered.

  “Aye,” he agreed, frustrated he’d exhausted nae only his knowledge on seasickness remedies but every other sailors’ onboard. None of the herbs or potions had brought her more than a token of relief.

  He’d witnessed untried sailors on their first cruise caught in the dregs of this malady. Each person’s reaction was different. Some experienced a mild case of nausea while others grew so sick they couldna eat, drink, or stand. Any attempt to move agitated their already extreme condition. Upon the first port, the afflicted sailors disembarked, never to return to the sea.

  “Colyne?” she murmured.

  He knelt beside her and pressed a kiss on her brow. “I am here.” A fine sheen of sweat coated her skin. She’d told him of her queasy stomach on her forced sail to Scotland. He surmised the storm raging outside had weakened her already fragile resistance.

  Honey lashes flicked open. She stared at him with a groggy frown. “Y—you were gone.”

  “Aye, all hands were needed above.” He would give anything to relieve her of this misery. He hated the helplessness, unsure whether the storm would end this day or thrive for several more.

  Logan lifted her cup, frowned. “She is nae drinking enough water.”

  Holding back a curse, Colyne stroked her hair. “She will try to drink more.” They both were worried by her weakening condition. That his friend had come to check on her with the ship needing his guidance underscored the depth of his concern.

  Marie’s lids drooped, as if the act of keeping them open were a feat unto itself.

  The brutal crash of another wave reverberated against the hull.

  Logan grimaced as he glanced up. “I must return to the helm.” Ebony eyes met Colyne’s with intention. “Take care of the lass.”

  “I will.”

  After his friend left, Colyne helped her sit. The ship groaned against the battering swells as he held the cup of water to her lips. “Here.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot.”

  Her weak reply stoked his worry. “A sip. Please try.”

  Marie struggled to take a drink, but when she tried to swallow, she ended up coughing instead.

  With a silent curse, he set the water aside. He drew her against his chest, feeling her every tremble, how fragile she felt in his arms. Please, God, help her.

  As if mocking his helplessness, another wave buffeted the hull.

  Colyne cradled her as the ship plunged into the next trough, and he prayed for the storm to pass. Hand trembling, he lifted the cup to her mouth. “A bit more.”

  With dull acceptance, she choked down a swallow. “Enough.”

  “For now.” But he’d nae give up. He stroked her hair with slow, gentle sweeps, thankful when she succumbed to an exhausted sleep. But with each passing hour, as she grew more listless, fear clawed through him that even if the winds calmed, ’twould be too late.

  Seized by her unending struggle against nausea, Marie lost track of time. Days hazed together, each laden with the stench of salt, the stale odor of wood, and the scream of the wind as the storm howled its outrage.

  Bits and pieces of the past several days fragmented through her mind; the captain’s concerned face, Colyne’s urging her to drink and, at times, to eat. As she’d lain on the bed shaking and exhausted, she’d wanted to do neither, but for Colyne she’d tried. And through it all, as much as possible, he’d remained steadfast by her side.

  “Are you awake?”

  At Colyne’s worried voice, she opened her eyes. A shaft of sunshine streaming through the window had her closing them. Then she realized the ship no longer was assaulted by the waves but rocked gently beneath her.

  Slowly, this time prepared for the bright light, she gazed up at him. Though tired, the smile on his face warmed her soul.

  He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “You have been asleep for a long time.”

  Marie frowned as she noted the sun’s angle. ’Twas beginning to set. “How many days have passed since we left port?”

  “Eight; we were thrown far off course.”

  Streaks of pink-orange rays cut through the blue sky, announcing the oncoming night. “They are all a blur.”

  “You have been very ill.”

  His fear for her roughened his voice, strains of exhaustion creased his face, and shadows haunted his eyes. A testimony to his own sacrifice. “You need sleep,” she said, moved that he’d jeopardized his own health by remaining awake to tend to her.

  “I needed you more.”

  Marie’s hand trembled as she reached out for him.

  Colyne entwined his fingers with hers and drew her to him, his kiss as soft as dew upon heather in the first morning light.

  Overwhelmed by this amazing man, she poured out her love for him in their kiss. How would she ever be able to face life without him, to wake up each day and not find him at her side?

  Colyne’s words haunted her. You can settle and be unhappy or live the life you choose. Could she ask her father to end her betrothal?

  As quick as the thought came the guilt. The daily demands of her father’s kingdom kept him sequestered in meetings to ensure the stability of the crown, along with his many other concerns. And with England and Scotland caught in a desperate clash, and King Edward making threatening noises toward France, her father had enough on his mind without complications from her.

  Colyne broke their kiss and traced the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. “Your health is much improved, but rest will make you even stronger.”

  She gave him a pleading smile at odds with her troubling thoughts about her future. “I want to feel the wind upon my face, and the cleansing warmth of the sun. And I need to get out of bed for a short while before I go mad. Please,” she added as a frown began to work across his mouth. “Afterward, I promise I shall rest.”

  He hesitated. “If you eat first. And then only for a short while.”

  Before he changed his mind, she pushed herself up in the bed. With zeal, she ate the porridge, then a chunk of bread. With a satisfied sigh, Marie swiped the cloth napkin across her lips, dropped it into the empty bowl, and smiled at him. Her head spun and her legs threatened to give way as he helped her stand, but she didn’t complain. Cloistered within the confines of this cabin, however temporary, she’d do anything to escape.

  Colyne steadied her as she wove slightly as she started forward. When they reached the deck, sunshine exploded around her in a flood of golden light, the shimmering bands of light spreading upon the swells in a brilliant wash.

  The unsettling thoughts of moments before fled. Marie basked in the warmth, inhaling the scent of sunshine and the sea, marveling at the aqua sky punctuated by streaks of the oncoming night. “It is as if Merlin has cast a spell,” she whispered, moved by nature’s masterpiece.

  Colyne arched a curious brow. “Merlin?”r />
  Warmth filled her as the memories rolled past. “When I was eight summers, after my father returned from one of his many travels, he gifted me with a book filled with stories about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. From then on, whenever he visited, he would read me one of the tales before he departed.”

  As Colyne guided her across the deck, she reveled in the warm press of his hand against her lower back.

  He halted, and she leaned against the rail and then smiled when he settled beside her, lacing his fingers with her own.

  “Your father must love you very much.”

  Her heart swelled as she remembered the precious times they’d spent together during her youth. “Oui. A love that is returned, I assure you.”

  Colyne stroked his thumb across her palm. “King Philip is nae widely known for his gentle nature.”

  “Non,” she agreed, closing her hand over his. “My father’s position demands a staunch ruler. Beneath his terse countenance, he is a kind and gentle man.” She leaned against Colyne’s chest, soothed by the steady pulse of his heart. She could stand here forever as the sea slid past with a magical whisper. “When did the storm end?”

  “Late last night. With the gentle roll of waves, you would never believe that hours ago the water raged with a brownie’s wrath.”

  “A brownie?” She arched her brow. “Another of your Scottish fairies?”

  “Aye,” he said, but Colyne’s smile didn’t erase the lines of fatigue on his face.

  As much as she wanted to remain outside, he was all but asleep on his feet. She yawned to give credence to her words. “I am tired and ready to return to bed.”

  “Nae worrying about me, are you?” he said with uncanny insight.

  “She is up, then?” The captain’s deep voice boomed as he strode toward them, his long black hair secured in a leather strip, his swagger that of a man used to riding out rough weather, and his ebony eyes bright with devilment. As he neared, his sharp gaze settled on her, as if assessing her condition.

  “For the moment,” Colyne replied.

  Logan halted before them. “I will have one of the men bring you some stew, my lady.”

  “Thank you.” After the food she’d eaten, she was unsure whether she could swallow more, but she would try. Before they reached port, she needed to regain her full strength. “When will we arrive in France?”

  “The stowaway wishes to debark in France?” He winked. “Colyne told me of your determination to return home.”

  She froze. What else had been shared?

  “Alesia is a determined woman,” Colyne said, his use of her second name calming her to a degree.

  “Oui, I am anxious to return,” she said with a forced calm. “My father will be worried about me.”

  Logan gave her a charming smile. “We should arrive in port with the morning tide. Once we have docked, I shall make any arrangements either of you need.”

  Colyne nodded and then gave Marie a pointed stare. “We will be traveling together.”

  “If I had such a beautiful woman at my side, I would nae let her stray far from me either,” the captain teased. Logan studied her for another moment. “You look tired. Go below and rest, my lady. I will ensure your food arrives soon.”

  “My thanks.”

  “Never let it be said I have treated a lass with coarse manners.” The captain gave a formal bow and then headed toward the aft of the ship, where one of the crew members labored around a pot hung on a tripod of steel. Below it, set upon a thick, smoothed patch of sand, a fire burned.

  Marie turned to Colyne. “He is right. I am ready to lie down.”

  “Still worried about me?”

  She scowled, frustrated he’d seen through her intention. “Over the past few days, you should have slept instead of remaining awake at my side. And do not deny it. Except when you helped secure the crates, every time I awoke, you were holding my hand.”

  He quirked an amused brow. “Was I?”

  “Do not be so difficult.”

  With a chuckle, Colyne helped her return to the cabin. By the time he’d tucked her into bed, a crewman appeared in the entryway.

  “I have brought food for you both,” the sailor said.

  Colyne walked over and accepted the bowls. “It smells like a fine stew.”

  “The cook added a bit of onions and sage, and the fish is fresh. I caught it me self.” Beaming with pride, he left.

  Colyne settled beside her, filled the spoon, and lifted it to her mouth. “Here.”

  She shook her head. “I am still full from the earlier meal. Go ahead.”

  “You need to eat more to regain your strength,” he urged, worry weighing his words.

  “I will eat once you are finished.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “I shall not eat unless you share this meal with me.”

  She gave a long sigh. “You are stubborn.”

  A smile touched his mouth. “Determined. After we are finished, if you are still hungry I will bring you more.”

  Marie took the offered bite, along with a wedge of bread. She chewed slowly and then swallowed as Colyne ate the next scoop before refilling the spoon.

  He lifted the broth to her mouth and his hand stilled.

  She met his gaze and her breath caught, the desire within making her aware her own pulse had begun to race. Marie accepted the food. “ ’Tis your turn,” she breathed, her need for him almost stealing her breath.

  “So it is.” Colyne leaned forward and claimed her mouth, his warm taste nourishing. As quickly, he drew back. “I am sorry. You are too weak to—”

  “I need you,” she whispered as she learned toward him, but he caught her shoulders, his hold gentle but unyielding.

  “There are other reasons why we should nae,” he said.

  “I know I am wrong to ask you, more so to never want what we have to end.” She stroked the strong curve of his jaw. “Make love with me, Colyne. Let us have this one last time together.”

  “You are still weak.”

  “Please.”

  “I—” On a groan he claimed her mouth with a gentle kiss, and she surrendered completely. The light clatter of the bowl echoed from some faraway place, but she didn’t care. As the Kincaid continued to sail over the pristine waters of the North Sea, he pulled her to him, his kisses becoming more desperate, and all she knew was that at this moment, she’d never felt more alive.

  A sharp knock sounded on the door. “Colyne,” Logan called from outside the cabin.

  Marie’s blush tempted Colyne to ignore his friend. Instead, he pulled on his garb as she hurried to dress. He’d nae meant to make love to her, especially with her just recovering from her bout of seasickness, but throughout the night when she’d turned to him with a tender touch and quiet whispers, he’d succumbed to what he doubted any man could deny.

  If he was damned for taking her, so be it. But before he’d given in to his yearnings, he’d made a decision. Once he’d finished delivering the writ from Robert Bruce, he would beseech her father to release her from her betrothal. If he agreed, he would court Marie. He wasna sure, but at this moment, with her in his every thought, wanting her as he never had any other woman, he couldna let her go.

  “Aye,” Colyne called to his friend once they were both dressed.

  Logan strode into the cabin, his face taut. “We have a problem.”

  The hull of the Kincaid rubbed against the wooden pier, announcing that they’d arrived in port. The shouts of the crew securing the ship echoed from outside.

  Colyne tucked the writ to King Philip into the hidden fold of his undershirt. “What is wrong?” He leaned over and grabbed his cloak as Marie picked up hers.

  “Renard’s men are here.”

  Marie gasped.

  With a curse, Colyne strode to a hidden vantage point and scanned the decks.

  In the mix of sailors, cargo, and merchants bartering on the dock, moved the English duke’s knights.

  “A sword’s wra
th, I canna believe they are here!”

  “Aye,” Logan agreed. “My guess is that they were sent to each port in hopes of intercepting you.”

  Panic shimmered in Marie’s eyes. “What are we going to do?”

  “We shall find a way to slip past them,” Colyne stated.

  Her lower lip trembled. “Can we set sail and anchor farther down the shore?”

  The captain shook his head. “We have already moored. To depart without unloading any cargo would raise suspicion.”

  “We will have to disembark here,” Colyne said.

  “How?” Marie asked.

  “We shall hide you both inside our cargo,” Logan explained. “When we unload the ship, I will have my men set the crate you’re hidden in at the end of the wharf, behind several other supplies. Once the knights have departed, my men will take you to wherever you need to go.”

  “A fine plan,” Colyne agreed. Danger would exist, but without the threat of the English duke’s guard, ’twould be lessened substantially.

  A sailor slid to a halt at the entry. “Captain.”

  Logan whirled toward his man. “Aye?”

  “Several knights are on the gangway demanding to search the ship.”

  “They can kiss the devil,” the captain growled.

  “’Twas my exact thought as well,” the sailor agreed with a dry look, “but they are sporting King Philip’s seal.”

  “Which gives them explicit authority to make a thorough check of every vessel arriving,” the captain spat, “including the right to break open and inspect any sealed cargo.”

  A sword’s wrath! They couldna take the risk of hiding inside a crate and being discovered. “The duke must have spoken with King Philip.” Underscoring the reason they needed to reach King Philip without delay. Colyne prayed time remained to undo whatever treachery the English noble might have spawned.

  “Aye,” the captain agreed. “You can be assured if Renard’s men find you, they have orders nae to be handing you over to King Philip.”