“I am but a messenger,” the man rushed out, his voice trembling with fear.
“Be gone,” Gaston snarled.
“Aye, Your Grace.”
Mary’s will! If they looked in this direction, they’d see her! Marieturned toward the tower, but her slipper caught against the stone. Her pulse racing, she steadied herself.
“Did you hear something?” the stranger asked.
Moonlight flickered to expose the harsh lines of Gaston’s face. Fury, then macabre satisfaction settled in his eyes, leaving her chilled to the bone. “Marie. ’Tis a pity you have followed me.”
Chapter 22
Shaking with a mixture of rage and fear, Marie stepped back from her betrothed, keeping his accomplice in sight. “You helped plan this,” she said with contempt. “And what else are you involved in?”
The duke lunged.
Marie tried to run, but he caught her.
With a jerk, he hauled her against his body. “You should have gone to sleep as I insisted,” he hissed. “Now, when they find you sprawled on the ground below, ’twill be with regret that I inform your father that your delirium returned.” His expression mocked sadness.
She shook with fury. “When my father learns of your deceit, ’tis your life that will be—”
Gaston clamped his hand over her mouth, muffling her scream. “You worthless bitch! No one will be able to hear you until it is too late.” He gave an indignant grunt. “Now you know too much. Had you listened to me, you, along with the Scottish bastard’s child, would have lived.”
Colyne halted as he inched forward, the duke’s news slamming through his mind.
She was carrying his child?
At Marie’s gasp, Colyne tamped down the elation and edged forward. He had to save her!
In the slashes of errant moonlight, terror widened Marie’s eyes as her betrothed wrestled her toward the edge.
The bastard! Colyne charged Gaston.
“Your Grace,” the stranger shouted, “behind you!”
The duke turned, giving Colyne much-needed time. Teeth clenched, he caught Gaston’s neck, wrenching him backward.
Marie broke free.
“Run!” Colyne shouted as he plowed his fist into the duke’s jaw.
Instead, Marie gasped. “Behind you!”
Colyne whirled.
Dagger in hand, the stranger charged.
With a quick twist, he evaded the man’s attack. Before the assailant could slow, Colyne caught his forearm, jerked him forward.
The stranger dropped to his knees, his hands scraping at the stone. Momentum slid him forward, and a cry ripped from his lungs as he tumbled off the wall walk. Seconds later, his body thudded against the earth.
Gasping for breath, Colyne rounded on the duke.
Deep lines savaged his face as the noble, his sword raised, charged.
Fury toward this man who had dared to threaten Marie’s life backed Colyne’s swing. Metal scraped metal as he deflected the aggressor’s blade.
