’Twould seem she would have little reprieve from the daunting knight.
“When you are done,” he continued, “return.”
“Aye, Your Grace.” She turned to Thomas and his men. “Follow me.”
Several steps away from their sovereign’s tent, Sir Thomas glanced over. “You are fortunate to have the king’s protection.”
“He is a generous man,” she replied, refusing to be baited by the suspicion coating his words.
“Generous, aye, to those he trusts.Rarelywith strangers.”
“Our king explained the reason.”
“He explained naught except you have a mutual friend. I find myself curious to learn more.”
Alesone nodded to several men as they walked past. “Sir Thomas, I would think a knight would have better things to do than conjure misgivings, however subtly woven, about a woman he has never met.”
“Know this,” he said in a cold voice. “If I learn that you have deceived our sovereign in any manner, I will deal with you personally.”
Alesone tamped down her frustration and glanced at his warriors, noted each watched her with unfeigned interest. With her emotions in turmoil, the loss of Grisel too fresh, the last thing she wished was to argue. “As you, I am loyal to the Bruce. If necessary, I will give my life to protect him.”
Thomas studied her for a long moment and then nodded.
Thankful to arrive at their tent, she halted. “Extra blankets to make your pallets are inside. I will ensure food is sent to you posthaste.”
“I thank you,” Thomas said.
Exhaustion washed over her as she watched the lean, muscled knight, his sandy hair framing intense green eyes that left her unnerved. After being chased several days prior, why wouldna she feel threatened by a man who stared at her as if he could see straight into her soul?
For an unexplainable reason, she found making him understand her and gaining his trust, if only a degree, important. “Throughout my life I have been forced to deal with unforgiving, arrogant men. If you are looking for treachery from me, you willna find it. If you seek a reason to deem me disloyal, you shall fail.”
She started toward King Robert’s tent, half expecting the intimidating warrior to confront her. When the men’s voices of the encampment filled the air, she eased out a relieved breath.
Alesone didna turn, refused to tempt fate, understanding that he watched her and pondered her words. A man like him did naught without reason.
And with his suspicions, God forbid he learned the truth about her father.
Chapter Three
“Sir Thomas?”
The unfamiliar male voice had Thomas reaching for his dagger, then he remembered that he and his men slept in the king’s camp. Loosening his grip, he sat. Moonlight spilling through the tent’s opening outlined one of the Bruce’s guards. “Speak.”
“The king requests your presence. He says ’tis urgent.”
What in Hades had occurred? Thomas shoved to his feet.
Aiden, his faithful friend and fellow Templar, moved from his bed as the others began to rise. “I will go with you.”
“Nay,” the runner stated. “His Grace requested Sir Thomas come alone.”
Troubled by the possibilities raised by the summons at this late hour, Thomas tugged on his cape then faced his men. “I will brief you upon my return.” Preparing for the worst, he stepped into the night.
A gust tossed snowflakes falling within the waxing moon’s silvery glow into a shimmering whirl. A wolf’s howl echoed in the distance, a lonesome sound against the silence filling the camp.
That the Bruce’s warriors still slept ruled out concerns of an imminent attack. Still, with his sovereign’s command to speak to him at this late hour, he suspected the reason involved the Brotherhood. God’s teeth, what twisted mayhem had King Philip wrought now? Thomas damned France’s ruler, and prayed he was mistaken.
At his approach, the king’s guard moved back.
