The crowd grew silent.
“’Tis come to my attention that the Earl of Strathcliff has been wrongly accused,” the king announced. “The Scot did not abduct Lady Marie but saved her life.” He nodded toward Colyne with gratitude. “For his bravery, he will be honored.”
Surprise, then nods of understanding, rippled through the crowd.
King Philip faced Colyne. “After you have rested and have been cared for by my physician, we will discuss Renard’s treachery in detail.” He gestured to a nearby guard. “Ensure that the earl is placed in one of our finest chambers and brought food and a hot bath. Notify my physician to tend to him immediately.”
“Oui, Your Majesty.” The guard bowed and hurried away.
“I add my humble gratitude as well for saving Marie’s life,” her betrothed offered.
Colyne nodded, but he didna miss the frigidness of the duke’s tone, nor did he doubt that the man’s fury, if pressed, could turn lethal.
Chapter 20
Marie nodded to the physician as he left Colyne’s chamber and then walked to the guard outside his door. “We are not to be disturbed.”
He gave a curt bow. “Oui, my lady.”
Still overwhelmed with the relief of Colyne’s life having been spared, she stepped inside and closed the door.
Near a small table, the man who had rewritten her purpose in life stood with his back to her, pulling on a clean tunic.
Heat pooled inside her as she watched the ripple of muscles, the graceful power that was an integral part of him, a strength he wielded with fierce precision as quick as tenderness.
He shifted, and ugly bruises of yellow and black came into view, a potent reminder of how close he’d come to death. Of how even after all the challenges they’d faced, a future between them had not been ensured.
Coldness swept her as she remembered her betrothed’s request for a private audience with her once they’d left the bailey.
Her father’s concern that she needed to rest had delayed the inevitable confrontation. If Gaston learned of this visit with Colyne, given his upset at the favor she had shown Colyne, he would be furious. With an unsteady breath, she stepped deeper into the room.
At the soft scrape of her slipper, Colyne turned. Surprise crossed his handsome face, then desire. “Marie?”
Tears filled her eyes as she stepped into his warm embrace, the need to be with him as elemental as breathing.
“Oh, God.” He wrapped his arms around her and brushed his mouth on hers, soft, slow, as if savoring her taste, as he shook with desperation.
She melted into his demands, giving everything and needing more. Mayhap she could hope for a miracle, that her father would release her from her betrothal. Most of all, she wished Colyne would want her forever.
His eyes dark with passion, he broke the kiss and stared at her, as if absorbing her every nuance. “I—I never thought I would see you again,” he rasped, the toll of the past days shadowing his face. “There is so much I want to tell you.” He swallowed hard. “I did nae think . . .”
“You are safe.” Marie brushed her finger across a purple bruise on his jaw, and her guilt grew. “Look at your face, your body. I am so sorry. I—”
He caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips. “It does nae matter.”
Shaken, Marie withdrew her hand. “It does. How could I ever forget you, even for a moment?”
“You were ill.”
Mayhap, but to her it excused nothing. “Once my memory returned, I sent a guard to inform my father to halt the execution. Unsure if word would reach him in time,” she said, needing to share her greatest fear, “I had to try to reach you.”
“And you did.”
He stared at her, his expression so intense she found herself believing he could forgive her when she struggled to forgive herself. How could he when she’d deceived him throughout most of their journey, and had made love with him without disclosing she was promised to another?
“Marie.”
At the somberness of his tone, her breath caught. She was wrong, he’d forgiven her of nothing. He was going to tell her that once he’d spoken with her father, he was sailing back to Scotland. “What?” She held her breath.
