She caressed his cheek. “Why?”
“I was recognized by the men searching for me.”
“What?” She tried to sit up, but he drew her back for a soothing kiss.
“Nay worry,” he said against her mouth. “I know the streets and hid in an alley until they’d passed.”
Worry flickered in her eyes. “I was hoping you were wrong when you suspected the men following you had made it to Glasgow.”
He nodded. “As much as I wish we could make love again, we need to travel to safer quarters this night.”
“Is that why you dragged me to bed upon your return?” she teased.
“Dragged you, did I?” He nuzzled lower and kissed his way to her breast. “As I remember, ’twas you who launched herself into my arms.” And kissed him with such intensity, logic had hazed his mind.
Now, with his body sated, his doubts concerning her reason for being in the Highlands resurfaced. A sword’s wrath! He hated this not knowing. When he’d first arrived, he should have asked her about Robert’s ignorance of any French missionaries visiting Scotland. His questions would be answered and his doubts gone.
Or would they?
She had withheld the fact of her betrothal. Even if she confessed her true reason for traveling to England, could he trust that she was telling him everything?
Torn, he drew her to his side. He wished these secrets between them didna exist, but until he’d delivered the writ and could tell her the reason for his own mission, wasna he just as guilty of withholding information?
At his silence, Alesia lifted her head, and the desire in her eyes flickered out.
A sword’s wrath! He should never have allowed them to make love again until he learned the truth.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
Though encased in control, he heard the fragility of a woman who’d suffered too many of life’s blows, a woman who could erect emotional barriers with lethal effectiveness and shut out everyone.
Including him.
Colyne despised tainting their last moments of intimacy, but for his own peace of mind, he needed an explanation. “While I spoke to my friend of our need for safe lodging and passage to France, he informed me that he had heard naught about French missionaries in Scotland.”
“A friend?” she whispered, her voice growing cold.
Nay, she wasna going to avoid his question this time. “Why did you come here?”
She tried to roll away, but he stopped her.
Her gaze grew guarded. “You believe I lied to you?”
“Did you?”
“Why ask me when it is obvious you believe I have?”
Damn her evasion. “Trust me with the truth.”
“Trust.” Though she breathed the word, he heard the catch in hervoice, proof she struggled against whatever boundaries prevented her from telling him. “Oui, I trust you. More than is wise.”
“Are you a missionary?”
Honey lashes lowered. “I have told you all I can.”
“Have you?” The regret in her eyes left his heart aching, but the surge of guilt haunting her face spurred his anger. Colyne caught her wrists when she would have moved away. “Why—”
“They are nearby,” a man’s deep voice called from outside.
