Knight Protector (Knight Chronicles)

by Rue Allyn

  She paused at the edge of the piney copse, looking for one of several needleless pines. The one with a branch extending to the left then, making a nearly ninety degree upward bend. Without the other bare branches around it, the tree looked like a guard raising a hand to halt intruders. That bent branch would guide her within the copse and eventually to the tree that had a hole in its trunk approximately an arm’s length above her head.

  Colin rode up and stopped beside her.

  She could feel his heat through the cold night, and she shivered. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “I only came here once, and that was at dusk. Everything looks different and strange in the dark.”

  He shook his head. “I should have brought a torch with us.”

  Though touching him was the last thing she wanted to do, she placed a hand on his arm and drew his attention.

  “Nae, even surrounded by forest and this far from the stronghold, a flame might be seen on such a night when there is no other light.”

  “You’ve a point. What can I do to help you find where you hid the badge?”

  She tilted her head at his agreeable offer. What happened to the man who sneered at or belittled her every suggestion earlier? Or was the change simply because she wasna objecting to his plan?

  “The first time I came here, Brice had given me directions. I was to enter the wood when I reached that large rock by the shore.”

  “We did that, right enough.”

  Colin’s reassurance warmed her briefly and gave her confidence. “Then I was to ride straight until I reached the pines and found a dead tree that looked somewhat like a sentinel with a bent arm.” She held her hand aloft, her elbow bent to be certain he understood.

  “I’d nae call that stretch from the rock straight.” His lips lifted. “We wove between the trees in a rather crooked line to avoid having the branches knock us from our mounts every moment or so.”

  She frowned. “Aye, and since I could no see the way well enough, I may have put us off course.”

  “We could ride the border between the pines and oaks.”

  She wished that were all that was needed but knew better. Her hope of succeeding lay on her mind as chill and dark as the night. “If we did and failed to find a place I recognize better, I might not be able to find this spot when we return. Besides, riding in search of a tree I may or may not recall correctly will take time we dinna have. No, if you insist we continue, I think proceeding from here is our best chance.”

  She was nae certain at all, but what else could she do? ’Twas too late for regrets; she was here now. She’d been a fool to yield to Colin’s pressure to do this tonight.

  “Well enough. How do we locate the right tree?”

  “Once I reached the sentinel tree, Brice’s instructions were to advance past five trees on my left then turn right and proceed beyond four trees on my right. Then left again past two trees and right past one. The hiding place is a hollow within the next tree on the right. I’ll know if it is the correct hollow. I had to find a rock to stand on in order to reach high enough to drop the badge within the hole, and I left the rock behind.”

  “Then lead the way, and I will keep count of trees with you.”

  The night was too still, but then nae creature with an ant’s wisdom would venture out in this cold.

  They set off again and at every turn confirmed with each other that the number of trees passed was correct and which turn should be made next. Finally they arrived at a huge pine with its branches starting well over a tall man’s height.

  Sorcha circled the big pine on foot while Colin tethered the horses. She’d made a complete circuit when she re-joined him.

  “I canna find the rock I left should I need to come back, nor can I see any opening at the height I recall from when I hid the badge.”

  “Then most likely we dinna have the right tree.”

  “Or my memory has failed, and I misremembered the directions or some other detail, or I veered too far from the correct path while dodging branches on our way up the slope.” Her whisper shrilled. She hated the indecision forced on her by circumstance.

  “Or” —he placed a hand on her shoulder—“’tis simply too dark to see well enough to find the hollow, since it is over your head.”

  Her tension eased a mite.

  “You could look for it,” she suggested.

  “Aye, I could, but would I recognize it if I saw it?” He cast a glance skyward. “We are almost out of time, the sky is lightening the tiniest bit, and I see fewer stars.”

  “’Twould be difficult to see any stars with all these trees blocking the sky, but I will take your word about dawn’s approach. What shall we do?”

  She searched his face and saw a frustration to equal her own.

  “Naught can be done tonight. We must return another time.”

  “So this entire risky adventure has been in vain?” she exclaimed quietly.

  “Aye. I should have listened to you.”

  Astonished, her head jerked backward. Few men she knew, including her brother, would admit to being wrong, and even fewer would concede that a woman should be listened to. What kind of man was Colin Marr now who could admit to being both wrong and a spy? Who claimed he had no feelings for her yet taunted her when she denied him her bed? Well, the last she actually understood. Men in general didna need to have feelings for the women they bedded.

  “Sorcha?”

  Recalled to her surroundings, she shook her head. “What is it?”

  “We should be going.”

  She nodded and moved with him to the horses. “Help me mount.”

  “Aye.”

  Pine boughs rustled nearby as she placed her hands on his shoulders. He clasped her waist and lifted, but instead of placing her onto her mount, he dropped to the ground and rolled with her to the bottom of the tree where the steeds were tethered.

  “Wha . . .?”

  His hand covered her mouth.

  “Ssh,” he breathed into her ear. “Something or someone is out there.”

  Fear needled her skin. Her teeth longed to chatter, but she kept them tightly clenched and silent. A squirrel or night bird was as capable of rustling sounds. How could he know a person caused the noise? And if he was right, how could he be so calm?

  The rustling came again and again. Stopping and starting at regular intervals. Colin was right. She wished he had been wrong and huddled within her cloak beneath his heavy body.

  She peered into the dimness beyond Colin’s shoulder and saw a deeper darkness pass between her and the trees.

  ’Twas too big an object to be a wolf or boar. It might be a bear, albeit an oddly shaped one. But wild bears had not been seen in the highlands in many generations. Besides, any animal this close would have scented them regardless of the lack of wind and attacked or fled. The only other possibility was the one she’d already acknowledged—a human being. Man or woman, no details were visible enough to show which. She held her breath. Whoever the stranger might be, a slight shift in direction would have him or her stumbling atop the spot where she and Colin lay. Thank Mary Queen of Heaven for keeping their horses quiet.

  Time seemed to crawl, but eventually the person moved off and out of the copse. However, Colin still pressed Sorcha into the ground. Uncomfortable, she wriggled beneath him. His heavy, muscled body molded to hers. His spice, leather, and musk scent wrapped around her as surely as his sheltering arms. Arms that imprisoned as much as shielded. What if the stranger returned and caught them? She couldna move and would have nae chance to escape. Colin would be forced to fight. If he were killed, she would likely be murdered as well for she’d nae thought to bring a weapon for defense. What was it like to feel a sword pierce your belly, a blade slit your throat? Her heart raced, and fear made her cling to Colin’s solid form.

  “Ah muirnean, dinna fear. The danger is gone,” he breathed in her ear. Then his lips were on hers urging her to open for him.

  For an instant she surged into
the kiss then she boxed his ears.

  Holding his injured ear, he rolled aside. “What did you do that for?”

  She stood. “I told you I’d nae be your leman,” she hissed. “Yet you take advantage at the first opportunity. Keep your lecherous hands to yourself.” I’ll nae yield to you nae matter how frightened I might be.

  She strode to her horse, waiting with false bravado for him to lift her into the saddle. “Will you get up, you lunatic? If we dinna hurry, we’ll be too late to slip into the stronghold unseen.”

  “Aye, muirnean.” His voice held a sheepish note.

  He came up beside her and lifted her into the saddle then mounted and paced beside her whenever their path allowed.

  They rode in silence. She was certain only a human would make the regular noises that caused Colin to shelter her body with his. Who was the stranger, and what was he or she doing in the piney copse at the same dark hour as she and Colin? Jumping to the conclusion that the stranger’s purpose was the same as theirs was compelling and troublesome, for it almost confirmed Colin’s claim of spies. Which brought her thoughts back to Colin.

  ’Twas a subject she’d much rather avoid. She had to come to terms with his ability to incite passion in her, for she didna want to want him. Ten years ago, events had made purging him from her life easy. Now, if she wanted any inner calm, she must do the deed herself. That task was made more difficult by the circumstances, which would keep him in her life for the foreseeable future. For her own sanity, she must be certain he was gone from her heart.

  • • •

  With dawn a gray hint on the horizon, they left the loch headed for the woodcutter’s cottage. Had he made nae just one mistake but several?

  What had possessed him to try to kiss her, especially in such a dangerous situation? When that unexpected stranger appeared, Colin’s only thought was to protect her. Her safety was his responsibility. His impatience to find the badge and lure out a traitor could have gotten both of them killed. Perhaps relief had hit so hard when they’d gone undiscovered, he’d kissed her for the sheer joy of being alive. ’Twas a blessing, he supposed, that she’d boxed his ears, for it had brought him to his senses. It had also made him realize that ignoring Sorcha’s objections about this adventure had been a serious error of judgment. She was an intelligent woman, and he was learning the hard way what that meant.

  Sorcha reined to a halt in front of the hut and cast a glance at the lightening sky. “I will leave you here. I’ll be safe enough returning to the stronghold alone, especially if I dinna dawdle.”

  “Aye.” Still troubled by his thoughts, Colin dismounted. “If I am nae there before you, wait for me in our chamber.” He turned to enter the cottage.

  “Colin.”

  “What?”

  “Be careful.”

  He grinned. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?”

  She flashed him an impatient glare. “I’m saying you’re an idiot. ’Tis that which worries me, for even if I go undiscovered, what do I say when my husband, so recently close to death, is found in complete good health, wandering outside the stronghold?”

  “I will claim God and your love produced a miracle.”

  “Pah.” She rolled her eyes. “And none would believe you.”

  “They might if they saw you as I did beneath that tree tonight.”

  She opened her mouth then closed it and, turning her back, rode on without him.

  Colin set his teeth. The male animal within him wanted to howl his frustrated lust to the sky. The intelligent man knew better. Sorcha may have resisted tonight, but he knew her. She was a passionate woman and restraining herself must be difficult. St. Andrew’s Cross, ’twas hard enough for him. How long could they continue working and living together before desire broke free and consumed them both? Whenever that happened, as it surely would, could they live with the consequences?

  He cared for his horse in the lean-to behind the hut. Once accepted at Strathnaver, one of his men would get the gelding into the stables. The stronghold had so many horses now, one more would cause little notice. Those horses were a problem, for most—nae all—truly belonged to Sorcha’s brother, Baron Raeb MacKai. How the old earl had gotten hold of the MacKai breeding herd, Colin couldna know. He dinna doubt his father had done something underhanded to gain the MacKai fortune on the hoof. Whatever he’d done, Colin would make every effort to set it right.

  With his horse sleepily munching on some oats, Colin let himself inside the hut. The hearth cast a man’s shadow on the far wall. Colin drew his blade, and the shadow did too.

  “Who goes there?” challenged a familiar voice.

  Colin sheathed his weapon. “’Tis Colin Marr.”

  Sir Ranulf MacFearann stepped out of the shadows and sheathed his blade as well. “Lady Sorcha is very lovely. Brice was a lucky man.”

  The last thing Colin wanted was to discuss Sorcha with anyone, but Ranulf needed a warning that he could carry to the rest of the men. “Not so lucky, since he’s dead. As will be anyone else who thinks to gain Sorcha’s notice.”

  “Oh ho, so you are smitten?” The big man smiled.

  “Nae, but I am pretending to be her husband, and any attention from another man—whether she welcomes it or no—will place her in danger from the people of Clan Marr. They are less than happy with a MacKai as their countess. I will nae risk her safety more than absolutely necessary to find the traitors and letters from France.”

  Ranulf nodded, pulled a couple of mugs from a shelf, filled them from a small cask of ale, handed one to Colin, and sat. He indicated the opposite chair. “Sit a while, my lord, we’ve things to discuss. How goes that search for traitors?”

  “I’ve only a little time before darkness fades and makes entering the stronghold unnoticed impossible. As for our search, we failed to find the badge tonight and will have to try again during daylight. In the dark, Sorcha could not distinguish which tree was the right one. Until we have that badge, leave Davey here to watch the comings and goings from the piney copse and report them to me through you or one of the others.”

  Ranulf drank then nodded. “It might be well to have one of us outside the stronghold walls. Davey is a good choice because he is still small enough to hide easily and fleet enough of foot to outrun any pursuers. He’s also the least likely to get hired at the stronghold.”

  “I agree. Now tell me what you do here. I ordered all of you to disperse once Sorcha and I left and Brice’s body had been buried.”

  “Your brother has been taken care of. Davey is making certain the grave will nae be found by anyone besides us. The others are heading separately for the town and the far end of the loch, where they will behave as knights errant are expected to behave.”

  “And you?”

  Ranulf worried a thumbnail between his teeth.

  “I came back to be certain all trace of our visit had been removed. ’Twould nae do for some Marr clansman or servant to come and find signs that strangers had been here.”

  “They probably wouldna notice. Nearly everyone at Strathnaver uses this hut as a retreat in bad weather or for a discreet meeting between lovers.”

  “Is that why you wanted us away before you got back?”

  “Had I swiving in mind, do you nae think the woman would be with me?” Colin growled. They were friends, compatriots—they had never bothered to keep secret their encounters with women. Yet he was unaccountably irritated at Ranulf’s curiosity where Sorcha was concerned. But Sorcha is nae an ordinary woman. Clan Marr and I may owe her a debt.

  “True,” Ranulf mumbled into his mug. Then he lifted his head to show a sly grin. “’Tis nae as if we have no shared before, either.”

  Colin felt his neck heat and grew even more irritated. He’d been proud of those encounters and the prowess they proved. Why feel shame now when they were long past?

  “I’ve no time to chatter over ancient history.” He stood, drained his mug, and thumped it back onto the table. “I’ll see you in a fe
w days.”

  “Aye”—Ranulf stood as well— “and gladly.”

  • • •

  A bright pearly pink shone on the horizon as Colin neared the stronghold. Keeping to the shadows was difficult because all the deep shade lay on the wrong side of his path. Having watched the clearing before the curtain wall door for long moments and seen no sign of anyone—the absence of a roving sentry was disturbing—Colin left his last bit of shelter headed for the door roughly twenty strides distant. Seven steps from his goal a horse and rider cantered into the clearing.

  Colin turned his head toward the rider and froze. The chamberlain? What was the man doing riding out this early in the morning?

  The chamberlain pulled his horse to a halt. “My Lord Marr?”

  Colin did the only thing he could think to do. He burped loudly, took a wobbly step toward the chamberlain, and then crumpled to the ground. He’d never expected to be glad of his brother’s renown as a drunk. He could only pray that the small odor of ale on his breath would be enough to convince the chamberlain.

  “My lord!” Hoofbeats hurried toward Colin.

  St. Andrew, dinna let the man call for aid.

  The shadow of the horse blocked the weak dawn light. A corner of the chamberlain’s cloak swept over Colin’s face as the older man knelt.

  “What ails you, my lord? Shall I send for help?” The chamberlain’s hands searched Colin’s body for broken bones. When the man’s hand felt the raised scar of Colin’s upper left arm, the chamberlain frowned and paused for the space of a single breath.

  Alarm rushed through Colin. That scar was the only evidence he knew that could distinguish him from Brice—the man who’d given him the scar in the first place. He’d nae notion what the chamberlain might know about Brice’s scars or lack thereof, but Colin couldna risk exposure.

  Weakly, as a drunk might, he beat the searching hands away, rolled onto his back, and belched once more. A cloud of ale-scented air rose satisfactorily from his mouth.