The duke nodded, turned toward Thomas’s friend. “How long did the rider say he had traveled after he was wounded?”
“A day, Your Grace,” John replied. “He believes he is at least two days ahead of the contingent, mayhap more.”
The noble muttered a curse. “Which leaves us little time.”
“But enough.” Terror shot through him at the thought of losing Alesone, but he refused to give up hope. “We can hold them off until the Bruce’s forces arrives.” They had nay other choice.
“I will write a missive to King Robert,” his father said.
“Your Grace,” Sir John said, “’twould be an honor to carry your message to the Bruce.” At the duke’s scowl, the knight stepped forward. “I swear that I willna fail.”
Since the injury had forced John to leave the Brotherhood, Thomas understood that if only for a moment, his friend needed to rejoin the elite warriors as he had years before. “Father, I trust John with my life.”
“Wait outside, Sir John,” the duke said. “I will summon you soon.”
“Aye, Your Grace.” The knight departed.
“Donnchadh,” the duke said, “once you have alerted the men, bring the lead knights with you to the war chamber.”
“Aye, Father.” Donnchadh departed.
“Once I have explained the events to Alesone, I will join you.” Thomas stepped toward the door.
“Thomas.”
He glanced back.
“We will keep Lady Alesone safe.”
Pride filled him. For the first time since he’d left home he felt a part of the family. “Aye, Father, that we will.”
Strategies utilized by the Templars ran through Thomas’s mind as he strode down the corridor. He weighed the pros and cons of each, narrowing down their best option. As he neared the end of the hall, the melodic tones of Alesone’s singing echoed from within her chamber.
Damn her father to bloody Hades! His time fighting in the Holy Land had taught Thomas the evil that men do, boundless malevolence for the sake of power and greed. Except in this he swore Comyn would fail.
A curse rolled from his lips. As long as he lived never would anyone harm her again. By God she deserved better, she deserved happiness, a life he wanted to give her.
Thomas halted before her chamber, her soft voice at odds with the emotions raging through him. How he longed to wake up beside her each day, and at night to slide into her slick heat. May Comyn burn in Hades for forcing a delay with his destiny.
His destiny?
Thomas’s breath left him in a rush. He stilled, listened to her angel-sweet voice as the enormity of the realization stormed him.
God’s teeth, he loved her!
On a hard swallow, he pressed his brow against the cool wood. He remembered months before, assuring his friend, Stephan MacQuistan, that unlike him, never would he give a woman his heart. Stephan would find great humor if he could see Thomas now, except with the news he needed to impart to Alesone, ’twas naught amusing about the situation.
All these years he’d believed he’d never find a woman he would love, and now that he’d found her, he would…
Say naught.
At least for now.
Little was guaranteed in war. If he told her that he loved her, and she admitted the same, and then he died during battle, ’twould leave a lass of her depth devastated. If naught else he’d learned that in her feelings for others that she cared for, she gave all. ’Twould be the same with her heart.
At the moment, an admission of his love ’twas naught but selfishness on his part. But the time would come. For now, the plans of this morning crumbled beneath grim responsibility.
Thomas opened the door and stepped inside.
