She nodded, but Colyne didna miss the pain in her eyes that thoughts of his mortality brought her, and his anger melted further. “If naught else, from your selflessness during our first days together, I learned you were a woman whose word I could trust. As to your true identity, I should have believed my initial instincts.”
“How so?”
“There were many clues,” he said, “some subtle, others nae. To begin with, you are French.”
“But I had given you a reason for my presence.”
“Aye. Then there is your regal mien, which you wear like a cloak when you are upset.”
Her lips narrowed at his comment.
“ ’Tis nae a trait you can change,” Colyne said, “but something as essential to you as your next breath, as inherent as your strength andyour caring for those in need.” Her deepening frown assured him that she was debating whether his words were those to accept or discard.
“If you had suspicions, why did you never ask if I was King Philip’s daughter?”
“Between your reason for being in Scotland and the likelihood of a king’s daughter escaping the English duke’s men, and the odds of my meeting you alone in the Highlands, I dismissed the possibility. Speaking of which, how is it that you escaped?”
“After we entered a castle in the Highlands that Renard had seized, his knights left me in a chamber with but one guard.” Humor touched her face. “Like you, they believed me the spoiled and defenseless bastard daughter of a French king.”
Colyne gave her an assenting nod. “True, I underestimated a king’s bastard daughter, but nae Alesia.”
At his confession, her eyes misted. “Non,” she agreed. “You never underestimated Alesia. And for that I thank you.”
Another piece of the puzzle of this complex woman settled into place. Over the years, bearing the brand of the king’s daughter, bastard or nae, how many had thought of her as a helpless lass who doted on her own selfishness?
Hadna he been as guilty?
Her words of the self-serving gentry were offered through firsthand knowledge. In her royal position, she would have witnessed and experienced a sickening dose of coddling. With her strong and independent nature, such treatment would have made her withdraw from that circle further.
That he finally knew the truth pleased him, but what reason would he give her father to allow Marie to end her loveless betrothal? It wasna as if he sought to offer for Marie’s hand. Though thoughts of her as a part of his life brought a sense of peace, he didna love her.
Or did he?
Torn by the emotions storming through him, Colyne paced the deck, numb to the rush of waves breached by the honed wood of the bow. He cared for Marie deeply. She made him laugh, he enjoyed her quick wit, and with her in his arms he felt complete. But did that equal love?
Unsure, he stared at a fragmented strand of seaweed drifting on the water’s surface. As it floated past, she moved to his side.
She lay her fingers on his arm. “However wrong, I shall cherish the memories of our making love.”
Colyne stiffened, wanting her desperately. Yet he kept his gaze riveted on the sea. “Desire, however strong, is nae reason enough to give me the most precious gift a woman can offer.”
“All my life men have sought my attention in hope of the royal connection marriage to me would bring. For once I wanted to experience the joys given by a man who sincerely cared for me, and one I cherished as well. That . . . you gave me.”
He faced her, aching and wanting her with the same breath. “Now what? Or is there a choice?”
She dropped her hand.“Non.”
A shout from outside the cabin reminded Colyne that they sailed to France. He needed distance. If he was wise, he’d go, consider all they’d discussed. Saddened at the thought of leaving her, he drew Marie into his embrace. After everything, how could she feel so right in his arms?
She rested her head against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck.
Colyne pressed a kiss upon her brow.
“I wish it could have been different,” she whispered.
As did he. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. A battle he could fight. Attackers he could fend off. With Marie pledged to another man and her vow sanctioned by a king, Colyne could do naught.
A thought slid through his mind and he stilled. “Marie, your father is in the position of making betrothals. By the same royal authority, he can break them.”
