Ignoring the throb of pain, he glanced over and read the unsettled nerves in her eyes. How could she nae be on edge? Comyn’s men awaited them outside, and by the size of their escort, they faced a considerable force.
Again Thomas cursed his father’s intervention, the fact that because of him, he’d placed his family and Alesone’s life in jeopardy. Blast it, how could a simple task to escort the lass to Avalon end up in such a shamble?
The driver called out.
The cart jerked forward, the sting of the cold air sharp against his face.
Hooves echoed upon snow-crusted ground as they passed beneath the gatehouse, the scent of pine tumbled with the bite of the oncoming winter.
Sunlight smothered the shadows as they exited, the bright smear of the sun’s rays sparkling upon the flakes of white like a fading wish.
Halfway across the open field, the thrum of hooves grew as a small group of Comyn’s knights cantered to meet them.
His father raised his hand. “Hold!”
A knight at the front of the opposing force waved his men to stop, but continued forward. Paces before the duke, he halted his mount, then gave a respectful nod. “Your Grace, I must see all who exit the monastery.”
“I have come to get my son,” his father stated. “Move aside.”
“Per orders of Lord Comyn, Your Grace, I am to—” The knight’s eyes landed on Thomas, narrowed further as they shifted to Alesone. The knight cleared his throat. “Your Grace, in the cart are the man and woman we seek. I will—”
“Do naught,” his father warned with insolent fury. “Move away or die.”
Steel whispered against leather as the knights around them withdrew their swords.
“With you and your men greatly outnumbered,” the duke continued, his words ice, “I believe your choice is simple.”
The man’s face paled. “I beg of you to reconsider, Your Grace. Lord Comyn—”
“Archers, ready your bows,” the duke called.
The slide of nocked arrows hissed like serpents of death.
Fury flickering in the knight’s eyes, he reined his mount back. “We will leave, Your Grace, but Lord Comyn will hear of your betrayal.” He wheeled his mount. Hooves clattered upon the frozen ground as he cantered toward his men.
“God’s teeth,” Thomas spat. “You have made an enemy this day.”
The duke grunted. “Nor will it be my last.” He dug his heels into his steed.
The driver called out. The cart jerked forward, and the thrum of hooves clattered around them thick with foreboding.
Dread rolled through Thomas like blackened sludge. Comyn would come with a large force, of that Thomas had little doubt, except this time he sought more than he and Alesone, but his father, a prominent noble now branded a traitor.
Alesone glanced over. “Dinna be upset. Your father loves you very much.”
“All he has done is made a very dangerous enemy.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what of his reclaiming his son?”
“’Tis sacrificing too much!”
“Sacrifice?” she scoffed. “Tell me, if you had a son whose life was in jeopardy, wouldna you do whatever necessary to protect him?”
Head pounding, he rubbed his brow. “’Tis nae that simple. By openly bringing us to Dair Castle, the duke provokes Comyn, who has the English king’s ear, along with that of the king of France. A contingent will be sent. With the stakes so high, I wouldna be surprised if your father led the charge himself.”
Any color washed from her face. “Oh God!” she whispered. “Regardless of how this began, the motive is because of me.”
Bedamned Hades and back! “None of this is your fault. Neither will Comyn achieve his goal.” To his last breath, never would Alesone be forced into a marriage to a cruel bastard who would break her strong will, and destroy this fierce, caring woman.
