With the Highlanders’ loyalty torn between King Robert and Comyn, the king wouldna be amused by the woman’s false claim; less so once he learned of her impressive ability with a bow. The precision of her shots, her confidence, and her daring bespoke highly specific training. Well he knew the time and dedication necessary to gain such skill.
Regardless of her insistence, she was more than just a lass trained in the healing arts. Whoever had sent her believed that with her beauty, none would perceive her as a threat. If nae for her warning shot, he might have made that error himself. It was a blunder he’d make sure she would come to regret.
As they passed several knights training with their blades, her steps slowed. “We are drawing notice.”
A hint of nerves tinged her voice, pleasing Thomas. Confident of an impending confession, he glanced over. “Nay doubt roused by your being a stranger.”
She leveled her gaze on him. “They know who I am.”
“Yet nay one comes to your rescue?” Thomas nodded at several knights he’d recently met at Avalon Castle before turning back to her. “A fact I find odd.”
Red crept up her face. “In truth, I arrived but days ago. I have met only a handful of those in accompaniment with the king.”
“Indeed?” he said with mock surprise. “Earlier you led me to believe otherwise.”
“As if with your treating me as a threat to the king’s life you would have believed anything I said?”
Bedamned, her spirit would impress the stoutest man. However, with the danger about, there was naught laudable about her presence or untruths. Somber, he resumed his stride, tugging her along.
“Enough! I came with you to camp with minor resistance. Release me now, and I willna tell our king of your reprehensible behavior.”
A slow pounding built in Thomas’s head. “Mistress Alesone, you are nae in a position to state conditions.”
She set her jaw. “We shall see how smug you are once we meet with the king.”
They would. Robert Bruce wouldna allow a woman to join him while on campaign. Except for Lady Katherine Calbraith: a woman so desperate for vengeance that less than two weeks ago she’d made demands of the king. That twisted tale had hurled Thomas’s friend and fellow Templar, Stephan MacQuistan, into a forced marriage where in the end, Stephan and Katherine had both found love.
After years of personal torment, Stephan had found happiness, which pleased Thomas.
He glanced at the woman. Regardless of her beauty, intelligence, or the way she made a man ponder more than a lingering glance, he didna seek a lass. Nor did he trust her. She was a fine example of how well treachery could be disguised.
However dangerous, life served wielding his blade for the king and the country held great appeal. Though he’d enjoyed Katherine’s wit and daring while he’d stayed at Avalon Castle, neither did he envy Stephan’s being sentenced to a wife.
Irritated his thoughts had strayed beyond those of duty, he stopped before the guard, more than ready to relinquish his unwanted prisoner. “Inform the king that Sir Thomas and his men have arrived from Avalon Castle.”
“Aye.” The fabric making up the entry scraped against the tent as the man disappeared inside.
Thomas glanced over impressed by her steely glare, halfway between outraged queen and one of the fae. “’Tis a surprise you didna plead your case to the guard.”
She stared straight ahead with cool disregard. “My words are reserved for our king.”
“The lass seems adamant,” Aiden stated, his voice edged with concern.
“Or desperate.” Thomas dismissed a trickle of unease. “It matters little. In a moment we will have the truth.”
The canvas flap opened, and the guard stepped back. “The king will see you.”
“I thank you.” Thomas hauled her inside. The rich tang of smoke filled the air as he halted several paces before the king. He bowed, the soft thud of his men’s boots in his wake. “Your Grace.”
The formal greetings to the Bruce sounded behind him.
A frown furrowed the king’s brow as his gaze shifted to the woman. “Why is she with you?”
“Sire,” Thomas replied, “en route, my men and I captured this assassin near camp.”
The king’s surprised expression shifted to fury. “Assassin?”
“Aye, Sire.” Thomas slanted her a cool look. “She stated her name is Mistress Alesone, and dared claim that she is your healer.”
