Far from discouraged, she walked over. “Did you learn the various uses during your stay within the monastery?”
A frown edged his brow.
“Nicholai told me you studied here.”
“What else did he share?” Thomas asked, displeasure ripe in his voice.
“That you were smart, determined, and compassionate.”’
He grunted. “’Twould seem his memory fails him.”
“How so?”
Thomas shrugged. “’Twas a time long ago.”
Refusing to be put off so easily, Alesone sat in the nearby chair. “You are close.”
Green eyes met hers. “At one time.”
“Naught has changed. The bond of friendship between you and Nicholai is strong.”
His gaze flickered toward the hearth, softened. “Once, while we were in the woods collecting herbs, we found a robin with a broken wing. Nicholai insisted on bringing it to the monastery. He bound its wing and fed it each day. Once the bird healed, he set it free.”
“He is a unique and compassionate man,” she said, moved by the memory.
Thomas’s gaze grew hard. “He is a man dedicated to fixing things that are broken, but at times, even he fails.”
From the coolness of his words the topic had become personal. Why? What had occurred to make Thomas feel so undeserving? “I find it hard to believe Nicholai would spend time on anything, or anyone, that he found undeserving.”
“He is a man,” Thomas said, his voice empty. “He makes mistakes, as do we all.” God’s teeth, why was he rambling on? What was it about the lass that made him want to share? Was it because she was unlike any woman he’d met or that, because of her past, she was as broken as he was?
As if either reason bloody mattered? Comyn’s men were below while he lay helpless to safeguard the woman he’d sworn to protect.
He glared at the door.
Blast it, where was Nicholai?
A dull pounding throbbed in his temple. Once they’d fled the Bruce’s camp, he should have kept more alert, looked for signs of danger, taken a more strategic route. Now, because he hadna used every precaution, he’d placed Nicholai and those within the monastery into the middle of a dangerous political impasse.
The door scraped open. Nicholai scanned the hallway, then stepped inside. Face taut, he closed the entry, then glanced toward Alesone before meeting Thomas’s gaze.
At the upset on his friend’s face, Thomas understood. “Comyn’s men refuse to leave.”
On a sigh, Nicholai strode over. “I tried to convince them otherwise, but they are setting up an encampment at the edge of the woods.”
Thomas cursed his weakened state. “Besides outwaiting them, what options do we have?”
“There are secret tunnels that you and Mistress Alesone could use to escape.”
Alesone shook her head. “He isna strong enough. A fact he well knows, but willna admit.”
“Blast it!” Thomas growled, “we dinna have much choice.”
“There is another way,” the monk said. “Your father—”
“Nay!” Thomas interrupted.
His friend’s eyes narrowed. “’Tis prudent to reconsider.”
