Renard’s men! Colyne motioned for her to be silent.
Eyes wide with fear, she nodded.
With honed stealth, he slipped from the bed, crept to the window, and peered out.
“What do you see?” Alesia whispered.
He turned, finding irony in the fact that he would still want her in light of the imminent danger. “Our pursuers are outside.”
She grabbed her garments. “We must slip away before they search the inn.”
“Aye,” he replied as he dragged on his garb and then hurried to don his mail.
Marie tugged on her chemise, the muted voices of the men outside the window leaving her shaken. But that was far from her only concern. How had Colyne’s friend known that no French missionaries had traveled to Scotland? Who exactly was this man?
With them having to flee the inn, she’d evaded answering, but Colyne wouldn’t rest until he had received a satisfactory reply. Somehow she must avoid the issue until they parted. His ignorance of her royal tie was the only way to keep him safe.
He peered out the window and then turned. “Are you ready?”
“Oui.”She donned her cape. Her heart squeezed as she took in the chamber one last time. At least they’d had a few hours of intimacy. Once he’d sailed to France and delivered the writ, he would never find her.
After securing his sword, Colyne pulled on his cloak. Tenderness touched his face. “All will be resolved.”
It wouldn’t. It never could.
In silence, he cracked open the door, peeked out. “Nay one is outside at the moment. We can leave.” Taking her hand, he led her from the inn.
As they traveled, she took in the growing night. A murky haze shielding the moon, casting the city in a bloody hue. Dread curled tight within her. Was it a premonition? Did it forebode Colyne’s death?
Or hers?
He slowed as they reached the end of the alley, scoured the busy corner. In the shrouded light, the hard angles of his face were carved into a frown. “Are you well?”
An ache began to pound in the back of her head. “I am fine. We need to hurry.” Enough danger lay around them without her hindering their pace.
“We are almost there and then you can rest.”
The concern in his voice touched her. Though angry with her, even though she’d hurt him, he still found compassion. And, regrettably, she would cause him further upset.
He moved ahead of her with catlike grace, his steps sure, his body tensed, prepared to react.
The warrior.
“What is wrong?” he whispered, studying her with unnerving intensity.
“Naught.” But there was. Colyne had never told her who he’d met with earlier. His friend was clearly a knowledgeable man who apparently knew the comings or goings of missionaries and could destroy her story.
“We canna linger.” He started forward.
She followed, her mind spinning through the possibilities. Was Colyne so determined to find out her secrets that he might inadvertently ruin any chance she had of returning to France?
Panicking, she slowed. She couldn’t risk facing whoever they were going to meet. Marie glanced around at streets that offered anything but safety. Neither could she risk leaving Colyne’s protection.
Mon Dieu, what was she going to do?
Chapter 13
Marie kept pace with Colyne as he wove through the darkened streets. At the next corner he drew to a halt, peered down the alley. After a moment, he faced her, his brows drawn in a worried frown. He waved her to follow and started forward.
