An Oath Sworn

by Diana Cosby

  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.”

 
His jaw tightened as he recalled her betrothed’s caution to the king. “I find it interesting that your betrothed was so adamant in giving an Englishman’s word credence, more so with King Philip’s support of Scotland.”

  “Mayhap,” Marie said, “his claim was more out of his dislike for you than his belief in your reasons for coming to France.”

  Colyne grimaced, far from appeased. “Mayhap.”

  Her eyes widened. “Mon Dieu!”

  He stilled. “What is it?”

  What if,” she whispered, “Gaston helped in planning my abduction?”

  Tension thrummed through him. “Why would he, with your hand already promised to him? There was naught for him to gain by becoming involved.”

  She nodded. “My ramblings were those of a dreamer. If he had indeed conspired with Renard, my father would not hesitate to sever the betrothal.”

  As absurd as the idea of her betrothed involved in a treasonous plot against his sovereign seemed, Colyne couldna dismiss the thought. “His involvement would explain how your abduction transpired without event.”

  She grimaced. “It would, but it does not answer why Gaston would take such a risk. Even if he was involved, how could we find proof?”

  “We?” Anger slammed him hard and quick. “I will nae allow you to endanger your life. If he conspired with Renard, I will find out.”

  “How?” she demanded. “You have no reason to be near my betrothed. As his intended, my presence beside him is expected.”

  “A sword’s wrath! You will do naught to bring suspicion upon yourself.” The stubbornness in her eyes assured Colyne that she’d nae heed his warning. He shot her a cool look. “I have decided to accept your father’s offer to remain here for a fortnight. If your betrothed was involved, I will find proof.”

  A smile touched her mouth. “I can help—”

  “You will do naught. I will have your promise!”

  “Promise?” her betrothed demanded with a dangerous edge as he stepped into the stable.

  Colyne whirled to face the duke, pushing Marie behind him as he grasped the hilt of his sword.

  “ ’Twould be unwise to draw your weapon,” the duke drawled. “If I were to kill you, ’twould be in self-defense.”

  At least he’d nae come upon them earlier when he’d kissed Marie. “ ’Tis unwise to eavesdrop.”

  “More so for a man to engage in a clandestine meeting with my intended,” Gaston said with brittle coldness. “As you saved Marie’s life, I shall grant you leave of this illicit assignation. But should I find you alone again with my betrothed, I will kill you.”

  Colyne grunted. If he were challenged, the bastard would die.

  The duke extended his hand. “Marie, come here.”

  She stiffened behind Colyne.

  Hating what he must do, he drew her forward. “We will speak later.”

  “You will not!” The duke’s nostrils flared. “Except for public meetings, she is not to meet with you. I forbid it.”

  Marie’s body shook with fury. “You will not dictate who I see.”

  “This is not a topic I shall discuss in public,” Gaston stated with cold warning.

  “Go,” Colyne said.

  “For you,” she said under her breath as she passed him. With her head high, she walked to her betrothed.

  Colyne damned the moment she placed her hand in the duke’s, damned that decorum forced him to watch the woman he loved walk away with a man she despised. Neither could he risk losing his freedom. He had a fortnight to discover the truth. If Gaston had been involved in the plot to abduct Marie, he’d find out.

  Chapter 21

  The fading aromas of roasted boar, peacocks, and swans sifted through the air as the servants removed the remainders of the celebratory dinner. Laughter rippled through the great hall from the throng of well-wishers gathered within as Marie sipped the last of her spiced wine and returned the goblet to the table, dreading the festivities leading up to her wedding.

  Beneath half-lowered lashes, she glanced to where Colyne sat finishing his meal.

  Deep blue eyes locked on hers. Desire blazed from their mesmerizing depths as his fingers tightened around his cup.

  Shaken, she looked down and found her own hand had curled into a fist. How could she go through with this mockery of a marriage? But what other choice remained? Two days past, in private, she’d again sought out her father and demanded that he break the betrothal.

  Once again, he’d denied her. Panicking at the thought of losing Colyne, she’d threatened to flee to Scotland. And with his eyes leveled on hers with cold intent, he’d made it clear that if she foolishly tried, not only would she be caught and returned but Lord Strathcliff would be hanged. His face dark with fury, he explained that after learning the Scot had taken her innocence, regardless of her going to him willingly, only the noble’s having saved her life had swayed him to allow him to live. Then he’d stormed out.

  “You are finished, my dear?” Gaston asked from her side.

  Marie started and met his gaze, unsettled by his nearness and wanting to be alone. “I am tired.” The truth. The last few days, she’d felt lethargic, and at times her stomach had been a bit upset, no doubt due to her recent illness. Anxious to be away from his company, she nodded. “I shall be retiring now.”

  This night, once everyone was abed, she would sneak to Colyne’s chamber. For three days, with fear of her father’s promised repercussions, she’d not spoken to him beyond a brief and distant daily greeting. Since Gaston had interrupted their meeting in the stable, the duke had escorted her from dawn ’til dusk.

  If only she’d waited to choose a suitor. To be fair, had she not met Colyne, with Gaston’s striking looks and polite manner, theirs would most likely have been a peaceful relationship.

  The discord between her and Gaston arose from her show of favor to Colyne when she’d halted his execution. She’d embarrassed the duke. His coming upon her and Colyne in the stable had served to increase her betrothed’s ire. To further complicate matters, her suspicions of his involvement with her kidnapping added to her angst.

  With the passing days, Colyne had not learned anything that would tie Gaston to her abduction. Not that her covertly spying on the duke had delivered anything of consequence either.

  Marie stood.

  Immediately, her betrothed rose at her side. “Sire, if you will allow me, I shall escort Lady Marie to her chamber.”

  With a frown, her father studied her. “Marie, you have been quiet throughout the meal and eaten little. Are you ill?”

  She forced a smile to her lips. “Non, Father. Merely tired, and I have little appetite.”

  “ ’Twill take time to fully recover from your ordeal. Although,” the king said, his eyes dark with meaning, “I wonder if your sleeplessness may have more to do with your upcoming vows.”

  Unsettled, she remained quiet.

  Gaston gently took her arm. “Come.”

  She cast a yearning look at Colyne and, with regret, allowed the duke to lead her from the great hall.

  A series of torches secured in ornate sconces illuminated their path as they climbed the worn steps. “I, too, am concerned at your silence this eve,” he said as they reached the top and began to walk down the corridor toward her chamber.

  Ahead of the duke, Marie spoke over her shoulder. “As I informed my father, I am tired.”

  “I see.”

  Mayhap, but she heard his doubts. Marie stopped at her door.

  He took her hand, skimmed his thumb across her skin. “You are a beautiful woman.”

  Uneasy, she withdrew her hand. “I bid thee good night,” she said, fighting to keep the panic from her voice.

  Gaston leaned forward.

  He was going to kiss her. A finger’s width apart, she turned away, and his mouth skimmed across her cheek.

  On a heavy sigh, he caught her chin. “I know you believe you care for the Scot, but ’tis because he saved your life. With time, your feelings for the
earl will fade.”

  Marie didn’t reply, aching at the thought of living without Colyne, the cold emptiness of her life ahead. She would never stop loving him.

  At her continued silence, Gaston’s gaze narrowed to dangerous slits, a crack in his well-polished veneer.

  For the first time since they’d met, fear scraped through her that, if pushed, the duke would do her harm. “ ’Tis late and—”

  “Listen well and heed my words,” he hissed. “ ’Tis me you shall wed. I will not tolerate any appearance of impropriety. Until he leaves, never again will you speak with the Scot.”

  The pompous ass. She broke free. “How dare you talk to me with such disrespect? The king is my father and I shall—”

  “Do naught.” He caught her jaw, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he jerked her toward him. “Do you believe I am ignorant of the child you carry?” he scoffed. “You should be thankful that I care little about your unfaithfulness. Marriage to you will gain me access to the throne.”

  Stunned, she stared at him, his words melding into one thought. The child she carried? She wasn’t . . . The lingering tiredness, her inability to eat much as of late, and her aversion to the smell of many foods, all of which she had attributed to her recent illness. With his accusation, the signs of her pregnancy were clear.

  Her heart stumbled.

  A child.

  A life she and Colyne had created.

  Emotion swept her at the thought of his babe in her arms, of blue eyes watching her with wonder as tiny fingers wrapped around her thumb with a smile. Colyne would be so excited to learn . . .

  Colyne.

  Regardless of the duke’s warning, he must be told they were going to have a child. And what of her father? Once he learned the news, mayhap he would end the betrothal?

  Joy swept her at thought of a life with Colyne, the start of their family, of the years ahead and sharing their love.

  “Did you think I would not find out that the rebel’s seed grows within you?”

  Gaston’s harsh words dragged her to the fore.

  He stilled, realization dawning on his face. He released her with a cold laugh. “Strathcliff does not know, does he?”