The monk nodded. “They believe you are inside, but canna be sure. As long as you remain within the monastery, you are beneath our protection.”
The amount of gold her father had offered for her capture could sway men to ignore the sanctity provided to those within these walls. However dangerous it was to leave, she couldna remain.
Where could she go? She was unfamiliar with the local terrain. With Thomas wounded and unable to travel and Comyn’s men desperate to find her, traveling alone ’twould be foolhardy. “How did they find me?”
“Comyn’s knight claimed they followed your tracks—”
“Impossible. Thomas and I evaded them during a storm. Any sign of our passing was covered by the falling snow.” A shiver trickled through her. Was she wrong? As they’d forged through the Highlands, she and Thomas sharing a mount, had their combined weight left gouges in the snow, deep impressions even the storm hadna filled? The weather-mutilated trail would explain the delay until their arrival.
Still, it didna clarify how they’d…On an unsteady breath she stilled, prayed she was wrong. “Brother Nicholai, we didna ride to the monastery, but to Sir John’s.”
Grave eyes held hers. “Indeed. Comyn’s men said they followed the cart’s tracks from the crofter’s hut to here.”
“Nay doubt the knights questioned him.” She breathed, “Neither would he have told them anything, whatever their methods of asking.” Oh God, with her father’s desperation to find her, his men’s techniques to gain information could have quickly turned to torture. Her throat tightened. “We must ensure John is…”
“Alive,” the monk replied, anger edging his voice. “We will soon learn. I have sent a man to ride to his home.”
“My thanks,” she whispered, and damned her father over and again.
“If you will excuse me, Comyn’s men are awaiting my arrival.”
She frowned. “Why you?”
“They requested to speak to a senior monk in regards to the matter. ’Twas my request to place you and Thomas under the monastery’s protection, so I will entertain their questions.”
She nodded. “Brother Nicholai,” she said, despising what she must share, but as their champion, he must understand the enormity of the situation. “As long as Comyn’s knights believe I may be here, they willna leave.”
“Mayhap,” he said, satisfaction shimmering in his eyes, “but they are unsure. A doubt I will exploit.”
Though confident of the brother’s abilities, after hearing of her father’s twisted dealings over the years, doubts plagued her. “What if you canna convince them?”
“I have faith He will offer a way. Await me in Thomas’s chamber. Once I am through speaking with Comyn’s men, I will share what transpired.” The monk made the sign of the cross and departed.
Alesone hurried up the turret. At the entry to Thomas’s chamber, she paused, fought to steady herself. In his condition, the last thing he needed was for her to rush in as if they were under attack. Her father’s men held suspicions that she was inside, naught more. She knocked.
“Enter,” Thomas called.
She drew in a steadying breath, stepped inside, and then closed the door.
Sweat clung to his face, which was battered with bruises. Was his fever returning? Heart pounding, she crossed the room and pressed her hand on his brow, then sighed with relief. “’Tis cool.”
He grimaced. “I should be pleased by that.”
“You should, ’Twas a miracle that you didna die.”
“Is that what you think, my living is a miracle?”
Somber eyes held hers. Shaken at how important he was becoming to her, Alesone stumbled for a reply.
Confusion washed through her as she stared at the handsome warrior who’d risked his life to protect her. A man of his caliber, with green eyes a woman could drown in, he could have any lass he wished. His interest wouldna linger on a bastard whose own father didna want her, except as goods to barter.
Alesone shoved aside her foolish thoughts. However much she wished otherwise, her years ahead were best used to help others. With her family history, to invite a man into her life would, in the end, offer her naught but heartache.
“What I think is that you should rest,” she said.
He grimaced. “I have tried, but I canna sleep.”
Which explained the circles beneath his eyes. She retrieved a woven pouch from the basket, measured out a small amount of the herb. “You should have sent for me.”
