“Look at the cuts, the bruises,” she sobbed as she tore the bonds from his wrists.
Trembling, Colyne wrapped her in his arms. “ ’Tis fine, you are here now.”
“Non! Look at what you have been forced to endure, because,” she said on a sob, “I temporarily lost my memory. Forgive me.”
“Marie,” he rasped, her scent filling his every breath, her bravery his soul. “’Tis nae your fault.” Oh, God, there was so much he needed to tell her, so much they needed to discuss.
“Marie!”
At King Philip’s furious call, she pulled back, concern darkening her eyes. “We shall explain together.”
Colyne had seen that stubborn expression before. ’Twas the same throughout their journey when she’d made a decision and would nae back down.
Few women would have dared to escape after being abducted, or journeyed across Scotland to preserve a country nae her own. He swallowed hard. How could he ever have contemplated living his life without her? Or have hesitated in giving her his love?
She caught his arm, her fingers digging into his muscles. Together they stood and faced her father.
King Philip dismounted. His face red, he strode toward them, the duke in his wake.
A thousand eyes focused on them, the expectancy thick enough to carve with a sword.
As he reached the top of the platform, the king’s gaze was riveted to Marie’s hand clasped on Colyne. Outrage mottled his face.
Gaston’s eyes narrowed as he took in Marie’s protective stance.
Colyne braced himself. Though he’d journeyed to France in service to his king, he’d nae only compromised King Philip’s bastard daughter but another man’s betrothed. “Sire.” He struggled to bow at King Philip’s approach, almost losing his balance. He straightened and then nodded at the duke. “Your Grace.”
“Silence,” King Philip commanded. Concern and love waged their own war in his expression as he scowled at his daughter. “Marie, I demand an explanation.”
Pride shone in her eyes. “Colyne MacKerran, Earl of Strathcliff, has been wrongly accused,” she said, her voice strong. “He did not abduct me, but risked his life to return me to France.”
Stunned murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Her father’s skeptical gaze shifted to Colyne.
Hope ignited that with Marie at his side, the king would listen. “The Duke of Renard was behind her abduction,” Colyne rasped, his voice unsteady. “I carried a writ explaining the English noble’s ploy.”
“I have seen no writ,” King Philip stated.
“After an accident,” Colyne continued, “the writ became soaked and the ink smeared. The arresting guards believed I lied because the document was unreadable and tossed the missive from Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, Guardian of the Realm of Scotland into the flames.”
Shrewd eyes turned to his daughter. “Explain how you came to meet and trust this Scot.”
“I escaped the Duke of Renard’s knights,” Marie replied, pride in her voice. “En route to a port in Scotland, I found Lord Strathcliff wounded and tended him.”
“She saved my life,” Colyne said, his words somber. “Once I had healed, I escorted her to France.”
Tears in her eyes, Marie nodded. “If not for the earl, I would never have safely returned. I owe him my life.”
The king studied her for a long moment and then whispered to Marie’s betrothed.
Irritation flashed on the duke’s face.
King Philip strode to Colyne. “I owe you my deepest appreciation for saving Marie’s life.” He held out his hand. “And an apology.”
Emotion filling him, Colyne clasped the king’s hand. “Had I stood in your stead, Sire, I would have had doubts as well.” With the threat of his imminent death over, Colyne wondered what her father’s reaction would be when, later this day, he offered compensation to end Marie’s betrothal and then sought her hand?
King Philip raised his hand before his subjects.
