Pride filled Thomas. “You have, neither do I question your ability. ’Tis what any man would ensure for the woman who has become important to his life.”
The irritation in her eyes faded to tenderness. “Oh,” she whispered.
Donnchadh cleared his throat. “I will see you before you leave, Thomas.”
He nodded.
The crunch of snow beneath the earl’s boots faded as he departed.
Emotion storming Thomas, he met Alesone’s worried gaze. “I must gather a few necessities. Walk with me.” Inside the stables, snow whirled in the whip of wind as he secured asgian dubhat his ankle, and another dagger at his hip. “I will borrow a horse from the monastery. From there, ’twill take two days at most to reach the Bruce’s camp, unless I meet his contingent he sent en route.”
“You believe John is still alive?”
He clung to the hope in her voice. “Sir John and I fought together in the Holy Land. I know him, his instincts, and the creative methods he has utilized in the past against overwhelming odds.” He swallowed hard, and prayed he was right. “If he saw Comyn’s men, he would have evaded them and then delivered the writ to King Robert. I wanted to say as much to my father except…”
“You are unsure?”
Heaviness weighed on him. “We canna risk my being wrong.”
“Here.” She placed a pouch of herbs in his hand. “’Tis ground white willow bark to help with any pain. I know you have recovered, but I will feel better knowing you have it with you.”
“I thank you. The travel willna do more than cause a few aches and pains.” As long as he was able to slip away without being seen, he refused to add. He glanced down the stalls for a sign of his father.
Naught.
Thankful, he led her inside where they kept gear for the horses, and pushed the door until ’twas almost closed. His body humming with need, he drew Alesone into his arms. “I willna be gone long.”
“Swear it. Nay,” she said, her face pale. “I know you canna, I am being foolish.”
“Shhhh.” At the desperation in her voice, he stroked his fingers across her cheek. “I will return to you. Trust me.”
“I-I do, ’tis with my father and the size of his force that troubles me.”
“I—”
The firm echo of boots had him looking into the main stable.
His father appeared at the end of the corridor.
However much he wanted to believe he would return, with the number of seasoned warriors surrounding the castle, the odds were slim at best.
Neither could he forget the siege engines the enemy was constructing. How long before they finished? A day? Two? Once their weapons were ready, however they’d prepared, his father and his knights could keep Dair Castle safe for only so long. God help them if Comyn successfully destroyed a portion of the curtain wall before he returned.
His father drew near.
On a mumbled curse, wishing for more time, Thomas claimed Alesone’s mouth in a rough kiss. Her body softened against his, and she gave, demanded, and his hands trembled from wanting her. Needing more, on an unsteady breath, he broke away.
“I love you,” she rasped.
“And I—”
“Thomas?” the duke called.
The words twisted in his throat, ached to come out. “I must go.” With a hard kiss, he strode toward his father, damning every step that took him farther away from the woman he loved.
* * *
A day later, wisps of dawn smeared the sky as the duke yelled above the chaos, “They are attacking again!”
