“You were hurt.”
The sincerity of her words surprised him. “Most would have left a wounded man to die. Especially a stranger.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I explained my reason.”
A reason that invited more questions.
“You need to rest, monsieur. If you move about, you will reopen your wound. Please. The arrow went deep. Your shoulder will take time to heal.”
He stiffened.Time he didna have.
An angry mark across her cheek caught his attention. Colyne skimmed his finger atop the darkening skin, curious as she jerked back. “You have a bruise.”
Her lashes lowered to shield her eyes, but nae before he saw the fear. “ ’Tis naught.”
“You have been hit,” he stated, incensed that any would dare touch this gentle woman who had offered aid to a stranger?
“ I . . . fell.”
Fell his arse. By her evasiveness, neither would she admit the truth. Colyne studied her, and his gut assured him that something was amiss. Long ago he’d learned to heed his instincts. Until they parted, he would keep her under close watch.
The woman started to rise.
He caught her arm. “Your name?”
“Unhand me!”
At the dictatorial slap of her words, he obeyed and she stood. What the devil? He shoved to his feet, wove, and steadied himself.She’d spoken to him as a woman used to giving orders and having them followed.
Was she in league with Renard? Colyne’s suspicions grew tenfold. Had she turned against her king and joined England’s fight to claim Scotland as its own? If so, why hadna she broken the writ’s seal, read the contents, and then carried it to the English duke while Colyne lay unconscious?
He shoved to his feet and stepped closer, dwarfing her in his shadow. “Who are you?” At her hesitation, he shot her a fierce scowl. “You will answer me!”
“I—I am a missionary,” Marie blurted out.Mon Dieu. Though the knight’s frown declared his confusion, judging from the intelligence in his eyes, he wasn’t a fool. But a servant of God was the first logical explanation that had come to mind.
“A missionary?” the Scot repeated, his brogue rich with doubt.
“Oui.”Please believe me!
“A French missionary in the Scottish Highlands?” He shot a skeptical glance toward the cave’s opening, then back to her. “Alone?”
She fought for calm. What more could she say to convince him? Though he looked like a god, with his eyes the deep blue of the ocean and his cheeks hinting of dimples, the warrior’s sharp gaze assured her that he was not a man to trifle with.
“I am waiting,” he stated, his tone dry.
“It is difficult for me.”An understatement.
His expression darkened. “I am nae going anywhere.”
Neither, it appeared, was she. At least not until he’d received an explanation that left him satisfied. Once she’d appeased him, she would allow him another day to recover. Then, that night while he slept, she’d slip away. Though with the men scouring the area to find her, travel would be difficult.
Through lowered lashes, she regarded the fierce knight, a man with the power to intimidate and the strength to back his claims. His finely crafted mail, which she’d set against the rocky wall of the cave, bespoke wealth. Surely he carried the funds necessary to arrange for her passage to France.
Marie hesitated.
Was this man too dangerous to risk not only her life with but thesafety of Scotland as well? Perhaps ’twould be better if she traveled alone.
But as a Scot, he would know the terrain and, if necessary, places to hide. In addition, his presence would add another layer of safety. The knights searching for her sought a woman alone. Regardless, she must keep the truth of her royal lineage hidden. Though a Scot, he could still be an enemy of her country.
