With a grimace, he unsheathed his sword and crept to the door. “Who is there?”
“The healer. I have returned to see your wife.”
Relief poured through him. Thank God. He secured his blade and started to open the door. “I was about to—”
The hewn wood was ripped from his grasp.
Swords raised, several armed guards bearing the king’s colors stormed inside. The nearest knight seized his wrist. Another caught his wounded shoulder. They slammed him against the wall.
Stars erupted in Colyne’s head.
“Lady Marie is over there,” the healer spat. “This Scot claimed to be her husband, but he is lying. She has helped me treat the sick for many years.”
The healer had worked with her? Colyne remembered Marie telling him that she lived near the coast and helped a healer who aided those who could nae afford proper care. With regret, he recalled how earlier he’d dismissed his unease at the woman’s mothering presence.
The elder glared at Colyne as if he were the devil’s spawn. “No doubt he is one of the rebels behind her abduction.”
“Wait,” Colyne gasped, “I can explain!”
“Explain what?” the man clenching his left shoulder growled. “How you kidnapped Lady Marie and are hiding her until your demands to King Philip are met, or how you have mistreated her until she is near death?”
A sword’s wrath, they had it all wrong! “I am Colyne MacKerran, Earl of Strathcliff, a messenger sent by Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, Guardian of the Realm of Scotland to deliver a writ to King Philip,” he explained, keeping his voice calm, refusing to give in to the fear clawing through him. “I found her in the Highlands and was escorting her home.”
The healer scowled. “Another lie.”
“Nay, I am telling the truth! She became seasick as we sailed to France. When we docked, she hadna fully recovered. By accident, she fell into the bay,” he explained, damning the fact that his voice trembled. “Terrified for her life, I carried her here and called for the healer.” Colyne scanned the guards’ faces. Each one glared at him as if they wished to slice open his gullet and feed him to the dogs. “The last thing that I, or my country, would wish is harm to befall her.”
With a curse, the guard he’d surmised as being in charge strode forward. “A well-crafted lie.” Cold satisfaction curved his mouth as he grabbed Colyne’s throat. “In the name of King Philip, you are under arrest for the abduction of Lady Marie.”
“Wait,” Colyne choked out as the room started to blur, “I have proof!”
The guard’s nostrils flared in disbelief.
Colyne struggled for his next breath. “’Ti—’tis hidden in my tunic.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Try to escape and I assure you ’twouldgive me the excuse to drive my blade into your heart.” He nodded to the men holding him. “Release him.”
The guards let go and stepped back.
Colyne gasped for air as he reached within the concealed pouch of his undershirt. He’d nae thought of the writ since they’d escaped from the ship. His fingers scraped across leather. Thank God ’twas still there!
His hand trembled as he removed the parchment from the sodden leather cover, displaying the unbroken seal. “As I have explained, I have nae abducted Lady Marie but am returning her to France. This document holds proof that the words I speak are true.”
The knights eyed him with disbelief.
Their leader raised a skeptical brow. “Open it.”
Colyne shook his head and lowered the rolled parchment. “ ’Tis for your king’s eyes alone.”
“Seize it,” the lead knight boomed.
Before Colyne could prevent them, two guards pinned his hands against the wall. He struggled to break free, but the lead knight stepped forward and snatched the writ from his hands.
“Now,” he drawled, his words like ice, “we shall see what truths you deliver.” He grunted, as he studied Robert Bruce’s seal. “’Tis fine craftsmanship”—his eyes flicked up—“whoever made it.”
A muscle worked in Colyne’s jaw. “I am telling the truth.”
The knight gave an indignant snort.
