Forbidden Knight Read online

  A branch cracked beneath his boot.

  He cursed, tugged the reins, and pushed on, ready to reach Scotland’s king, to wield his blade once again for right.

  Fragments of sunlight slipped through the clouds, illuminated the few stubborn leaves clinging to their branches overhead. For a moment, the ice-laden shells danced within the current, the fragile brown shimmers warming to amber. The gust abated, and the leaves hung limp like forgotten promises.

  Watching a bloody leaf. With the enemy about, a fine way to get oneself killed.

  Thomas tugged his mount forward. As he rounded the next tree, the clouds thickened. Gloom settled upon the forest. With a wary eye, he scanned the ridge above. Once he reached the top, he could—

  An arrow hissed past, a finger’s width before his heart.

  The shaft lodged in a tree to his left.

  God’s teeth! Thomas clasped the hilt of his sword.

  “Withdraw your blade and die!” a lass’s voice warned.

  Furious, he glared at the slip of a woman emerging from the tree line a short distance away. With her skill, neither had she wanted him dead.

  A bird’s cry sounded from behind him.

  Relief slid through Thomas. His men had heard her, understood trouble was about. Now to keep the lass talking until his warriors seized her. Then, by God, he would have answers. “I am nae a threat.”

  “Remove your hand from your weapon, state your name and your loyalty.”

  Bloody damn. Unsure if her fealty was to Comyn or the Bruce, a wrong answer could hold a fatal consequence. “Sir Thomas MacKelloch.”

  “Release your sword and state your loyalty!”

  A hand flashed to his far right, alerting him that his knights had surrounded her and were closing in. “Lass, I am but passing through.”

  Another arrow whipped past, sliced the first straight down the center.

  He stared at the severed shaft in disbelief. An expert archer, he was proud of his ability and could match her skill, a level of proficiency held by few. Who was this lass? More important, why was she so close to King Robert’s encampment? God’s teeth, if her intention was to kill the Bruce, with her accuracy she would need but one attempt.

  With quiet steps, his knights crept behind her.

  “I would be asking for your loyalty as well,” Thomas said.

  With a panther’s grace, the slender archer drew back her bowstring.

  His knights lunged.

  The woman screamed as Rónán caught her hands and jerked them behind her back. “Release me,” she demanded, her legs kicking out with dangerous accuracy.

  Rónán held tight.

  Aiden retrieved her bow while Cailin made a quick search.

  Cailin removed several weapons hidden within her garb, then held up the dagger she’d hidden in her boot. “A sgian dubh.” He scowled. “The lass is well armed.”

  Furious at placing himself and potentially his men in danger, Thomas stormed over.

  Blond hair tugged free from her braid and whipped against her comely face.

  “Who are you?” Thomas demanded.

  Bewitching moss-green eyes narrowed.

  Though impressed by her daring, he wouldna have his question go unanswered. “Your name.”

  The woman twisted to free her arm; Rónán held firm.

  “Alesone MacNiven.”

  “Why did you threaten me?”

  “I only sought your name and loyalty, ’twas far from a threat.”

  Thomas grunted. “You have an intriguing way of asking. Whom are you loyal to?”

  Fear edged her eyes.

  A dose of nerves would serve him well. “Tell me, by God, or I will haul you before King Robert and expose your plans to assassinate him.”

  At his words, her face paled. “Never would I harm Scotland’s king.”

  “You are loyal to the Bruce?”

  She nodded. “I am his personal healer and under his protection.”

  An untruth. He’d received a detailed account on those of importance who traveled with the king. Never was a woman mentioned, certainly not one who was a healer. “Indeed?” Thomas said, his voice ripe with suspicion. “With Scotland at war, I find it odd for the Bruce to allow a lass under his protection to leave camp without a proper guard.”

  “He doesna know I left,” she said, her tone unapologetic. “I needed a few herbs. I was returning when I heard you tramping up the knoll.”

  Tramping? Bedamned the woman’s daring! “’Twould seem a fortuitous day,” he drawled. “My men and I are en route to meet with the king. ’Twill be interesting to hear our sovereign’s response to your claim.” Thomas glanced at his friend. “Cailin, how many weapons does she carry?”

  “Counting the bow and arrows, eight.”

  Thomas arched a brow. “Well-armed for a healer gathering herbs.”

  “’Tis dangerous away from the encampment,” she stated, temper sliding into her voice.

  “Aye, but nae for a mercenary intent on killing the king.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I told you my reason for being in the forest.”

  “You did, a claim I find of great interest.” Thomas caught her wrist, stunned by the shock of desire he felt at the touch. He nodded to Rónán. “I will escort Mistress Alesone, if indeed ’tis her name, to the encampment.”

  His friend released her and stepped back.

  Alesone struggled against Thomas’s hold. “I dinna need an escort!”

  “What you need is yet to be determined,” Thomas warned, nae pleased by the delay, nor by being saddled with this mule-headed woman whom he couldna trust. “If you continue to fight me, you will be tied and carried to camp. How you meet the king is your choice.”

  Outrage flashed in her eyes. “How dare you treat me with such disrespect, you ill-bred lout! I am nae a criminal.”

  “A decision I will allow King Robert to make.” Though beautiful, this woman promised to be naught but trouble. With a muttered curse, Thomas tugged her with him and headed toward the king’s encampment.

  Chapter Two

  With a muttered curse, Thomas pulled the reckless woman past the camp’s outlying tents, her blistering scowl trying his patience.

  “Release me!” she hissed.

  Thomas shot the lass a warning glare. “Mistress Alesone.” He kept his voice level as he strode toward the king’s tent. “One doesna shoot arrows at a warrior and then make demands.”

  Alesone tugged hard to break free from his hold.

  Enough. He halted, jerked a thin hemp rope from his pack, and secured her wrists.

  She gasped. “W-what are you doing?”

  “I believe,” he said, his voice dry, “’tis obvious.”

  Lavender eyes narrowed. “I told you I wouldna try to escape.”

  “A promise broken by your action moments ago.”

  “This is ridiculous! One woman surrounded by several knights. I hardly think I present any threat.”

  He scoffed. “Your skill with the bow, along with the wide array of arms you had concealed upon your person, tends to undermine that argument.”

  “Your men seized all of my weapons,” she said. “And I do not appreciate being brought before the king restrained like a common criminal.”

  “Continue to argue and you will find yourself tossed over my shoulder with a gag in your mouth.”

  “An action you would sorely regret.”

  Thomas resumed walking. “The only thing I regret is that I didna tie you from the start. As for your being freed, once the king has confirmed that you are indeed his healer, you will be released.”

  Defiance flashed in her eyes. “A moment I shall relish.”

  Thomas forced a smile. However much she irritated him, the lass was a fighter. She clung to her declaration with the tenacity of a beggar fighting over crumbs.

  When they’d entered the encampment, he’d expected her to panic, petition for her rele
ase, and admit her claim of being the king’s healer a lie spoken out of desperation. Given Scotland’s turmoil, reasoning he’d understand.

  With the Highlanders’ loyalty torn between King Robert and Comyn, the king wouldna be amused by the woman’s false claim; less so once he learned of her impressive ability with a bow. The precision of her shots, her confidence, and her daring bespoke highly specific training. Well he knew the time and dedication necessary to gain such skill.

  Regardless of her insistence, she was more than just a lass trained in the healing arts. Whoever had sent her believed that with her beauty, none would perceive her as a threat. If nae for her warning shot, he might have made that error himself. It was a blunder he’d make sure she would come to regret.

  As they passed several knights training with their blades, her steps slowed. “We are drawing notice.”

  A hint of nerves tinged her voice, pleasing Thomas. Confident of an impending confession, he glanced over. “Nay doubt roused by your being a stranger.”

  She leveled her gaze on him. “They know who I am.”

  “Yet nay one comes to your rescue?” Thomas nodded at several knights he’d recently met at Avalon Castle before turning back to her. “A fact I find odd.”

  Red crept up her face. “In truth, I arrived but days ago. I have met only a handful of those in accompaniment with the king.”

  “Indeed?” he said with mock surprise. “Earlier you led me to believe otherwise.”

  “As if with your treating me as a threat to the king’s life you would have believed anything I said?”

  Bedamned, her spirit would impress the stoutest man. However, with the danger about, there was naught laudable about her presence or untruths. Somber, he resumed his stride, tugging her along.

  “Enough! I came with you to camp with minor resistance. Release me now, and I willna tell our king of your reprehensible behavior.”

  A slow pounding built in Thomas’s head. “Mistress Alesone, you are nae in a position to state conditions.”

  She set her jaw. “We shall see how smug you are once we meet with the king.”

  They would. Robert Bruce wouldna allow a woman to join him while on campaign. Except for Lady Katherine Calbraith: a woman so desperate for vengeance that less than two weeks ago she’d made demands of the king. That twisted tale had hurled Thomas’s friend and fellow Templar, Stephan MacQuistan, into a forced marriage where in the end, Stephan and Katherine had both found love.

  After years of personal torment, Stephan had found happiness, which pleased Thomas.

  He glanced at the woman. Regardless of her beauty, intelligence, or the way she made a man ponder more than a lingering glance, he didna seek a lass. Nor did he trust her. She was a fine example of how well treachery could be disguised.

  However dangerous, life served wielding his blade for the king and the country held great appeal. Though he’d enjoyed Katherine’s wit and daring while he’d stayed at Avalon Castle, neither did he envy Stephan’s being sentenced to a wife.

  Irritated his thoughts had strayed beyond those of duty, he stopped before the guard, more than ready to relinquish his unwanted prisoner. “Inform the king that Sir Thomas and his men have arrived from Avalon Castle.”

  “Aye.” The fabric making up the entry scraped against the tent as the man disappeared inside.

  Thomas glanced over impressed by her steely glare, halfway between outraged queen and one of the fae. “’Tis a surprise you didna plead your case to the guard.”

  She stared straight ahead with cool disregard. “My words are reserved for our king.”

  “The lass seems adamant,” Aiden stated, his voice edged with concern.

  “Or desperate.” Thomas dismissed a trickle of unease. “It matters little. In a moment we will have the truth.”

  The canvas flap opened, and the guard stepped back. “The king will see you.”

  “I thank you.” Thomas hauled her inside. The rich tang of smoke filled the air as he halted several paces before the king. He bowed, the soft thud of his men’s boots in his wake. “Your Grace.”

  The formal greetings to the Bruce sounded behind him.

  A frown furrowed the king’s brow as his gaze shifted to the woman. “Why is she with you?”

  “Sire,” Thomas replied, “en route, my men and I captured this assassin near camp.”

  The king’s surprised expression shifted to fury. “Assassin?”

  “Aye, Sire.” Thomas slanted her a cool look. “She stated her name is Mistress Alesone, and dared claim that she is your healer.”

  His men dumped the well-made bow, arrows, and quiver, and lethal knives onto the ground before the king.

  “Weaponry we relived her of,” Thomas said.

  He shot to his feet. Face taut, the Bruce stormed over. “Where did you find her?”

  “A league from your camp, Your Grace,” Thomas replied, astonished that with the king towering over her, Alesone didna flinch.

  At her defiance, the king’s face reddened.

  Neither could Thomas blame the sovereign for his anger. There comes a time when even the finest warrior has the wisdom to show deference.

  “What say you, lass, for your daring?” the king growled.

  Her mouth tightened.

  God’s blade, she didna have a whit of sense. Or, more chilling, was she this hardhearted? A good judge of character, Thomas could believe her highly trained from her confidence and skill, but naught about her comportment during the journey had suggested the cold, ruthless woman before him.

  Unsure if he was more disgusted with himself for missing the depth of her callousness or ashamed he’d been drawn to her spirit, Thomas glared at her. Under most circumstances, he would feel sorry for the woman receiving the king’s wrath. In this case, she deserved whatever punishment the Bruce served.

  The sovereign’s fierce expression fell upon her wrists, and the anger on his face faded to surprise. “You tied her?”

  Confused, Thomas nodded. Had he known the depth of her treachery, he would have run a blade through her and left her for the wolves. “Foolishly, the woman tried to kill me. Much to her regret, she failed. Once caught, Sire, she ignored my warning to nae try to escape and left me little choice.”

  “Which tells me,” King Robert said, his each word weighted, “that she is either foolhardy or very brave.” A twinkle flickered in the sovereign’s eyes. “Mistress Alesone, is what Sir Thomas states true?”

  Stunned by the king’s teasing, Thomas stared at the monarch in disbelief. Did he nae understand the gravity of the situation? “Your Grace—”

  The Bruce held up his hand. “She will answer me.”

  The brazen expression on her face melted to a smile. “Sire,” she replied with complete innocence, “I sent but a warning shot.”

  As if accepting her words as truth, the king withdrew his dagger, pressed the blade against the rope at her wrists, slashed.

  God’s teeth! Thomas caught her freed hands. “Sire, she isna to be trusted.”

  Without warning, Alesone laughed.

  The Bruce joined in, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Sir Thomas, forgive me. With the demands on campaign, little time exists to have a bit of fun.”

  Thomas struggled with the king’s assertion.

  “Furthermore,” Robert Bruce continued, “having met you several weeks ago at Avalon Castle and knowing of your penchant for a jest, even if you were the subject of the teasing, I knew you would find amusement in the situation once you learned the truth.” Beaming, he nodded to the woman. “She is indeed my healer, whom I trust with my life.”

  The king’s explanation roared through Thomas’s mind, but it eroded down to two words. A jest? The entire time she’d stated naught but the truth? However stunned to be caught off guard, he wouldna apologize. With the dangerous state of the Highlands, the weapons she carried, her skill as an archer, and Comyn’s ruthless determination to kill the Bruce an
d claim the crown, his conclusions had been logical.

  Laughter danced in her eyes. “You can release me.”

  Thomas let go as if he touched a hot coal.

  “And Sir Thomas, had I meant to kill you,” she said, “my arrows would have lodged in your heart.”

  With the accuracy of her shots, the truth. Far from pleased with the situation, neither did he miss the smiles of his men. Why wouldna they find amusement in his being the object of a bit of fun? As the king had pointed out, his enjoyment of antics were well known, along with his ability to take as good as he gave.

  Under normal circumstance, he’d laugh at the ruse. Except something about this woman left him on edge. With the limited time he and his men would remain in camp, nor would he ponder thoughts of her further. “Regardless the confusion, Sire, she is safe.”

  “For that I thank you.” The last wisps of humor in King Robert’s eyes faded as he faced her. “You willna again take such risks.”

  “Sire, I needed but a few herbs to restock my supplies, and I am more than able to—”

  “Enough!” The king’s jaw tightened. “With Comyn’s forces in search of us, whatever your weaponry skills, ’tis too dangerous to be outside the encampment alone. You willna do such again. I forbid it!”

  Her face paled. “Aye, Your Grace.”

  Submissive? That Thomas doubted. The hint of frustration in her eyes betrayed her calm, her words offered to defuse the king’s ire. Neither was she a fool. However much the lass chafed at the restrictions, she’d obey.

  “Mistress Alesone,” the Bruce continued as he returned to his chair, “if you need to leave camp in the future, ’twill be under proper guard.”

  God’s teeth, after her foolish risk, how could their sovereign allow her to remain with their force? Thomas cleared his throat. “Sire, within a fortnight we head into battle. A situation far from fostering a safe haven for a willful lass.”

  “I explained the dangers to her upon our initial meeting.” The Bruce frowned. “She wouldna be swayed.”

  Why had the sovereign allowed her a blasted choice? After today’s fiasco, he could order her to leave, under escort if necessary, or confine her within one of his recently seized castles. To Thomas, the latter held great appeal. “I beseech you to reconsider, Your Grace. For her safety.”