voice. “But I admit I am pleased to learn that you arena wed. Living near the monastery and miles away from the closest village, rarely do I see women, even less often one of such intelligence and beauty.”
Unused to compliments, Alesone, fumbled with how to reply, and in the end decided to change topics. “Once he is well enough, we will leave.”
At the nerves in her voice, a frown worked across the imposing man’s brow. “Are you in danger?”
Dread crawled through her at his question. Had he recognized her? She covertly slid her hand next to her dagger. “Excuse me?”
The man’s eyes narrowed on Thomas. “Did he abduct you? If so, dinna fear telling me the truth. I will protect you.”
After years of being shunned, that a complete stranger would step into the role of her protector left her humbled. Moved by his kindness, Alesone shook her head. “Nay, he was kind enough to offer me aid.”
Doubt simmered in the man’s gaze. “I saw only one horse.”
However gallant, they’d met but a short while before. Though he’d helped her without hesitation, his noble actions far from secured her trust. “I swear to you, Thomas has been naught but a gentleman. My horse grew lame, and he offered me escort.” The truth, or as close as she would share.
The red-haired man studied her a long moment, and then nodded. “The reason for your journey must be grave to travel in such dire conditions.”
Fleeing the Bruce’s camp and barely escaping Comyn’s men raced through her mind. “’Tis complicated.”
An understanding smile touched his mouth. “Most things in life are.”
Thomas shifted.
Thankful for the diversion, Alesone tucked in the blanket his movements had shoved aside. “He is coming to.”
On a groan, Thomas lifted his lids. “Alesone?” he whispered.
“I am here.”
Pain filled eyes met hers, then narrowed on the man at her side, the confusion shifting to a scowl. “W-who are you?”
“I am called John,” he stated, his voice gruff. “’Tis my home you abide in. The lass brought you to my door earlier this day. Given the weather, you are fortunate she found me before you died.”
* * *
Fortunate? Pain swamped Thomas as he took in the binding over his shoulder. Aye, luck was behind them indeed.
“I stitched up your wounds a short while ago,” Alesone said with quiet warning. “You dinna need to be moving about.”
Guilt slid through him. Bedamned, ’twas he who was charged with her protection. And he’d failed. Worse, he’d passed out, forced her to face the threat of those in pursuit while stranded with a wounded and unconscious man. “I thank you for bringing me to safety. I owe you much.”
Compassion darkened her gaze. “You owe me naught, ’tis what I do.”
Thomas had met many women in his life, but none as selfless or courageous as Alesone. That she would dismiss her bravery when most would have broken down or abandoned him, assured him of her depth of character, the same strength he’d witnessed in Templar Knights.
Moved, he studied her through the blur of pain. As a man of strong will, regardless of how she made him feel, he’d kept her at a distance. Never had he meant her to become important to him beyond his duty. By risking her life to save his, regardless of his wish or hers, a bond had formed.
He muttered a curse, as drawn to her as he was torn to keep her at a distance. Now what? With his fealty pledged to Robert Bruce, was there a choice?
A movement to his right had him glancing over. Thomas eyed the stranger, and noted the man assessed him as well. What had she told him? With his allowing them to remain within his home, clearly naught that’d place them in danger.
Red brows narrowed. “I am John MacLairish.”
As he took in the stocky man, a sense of familiarity tugged at him. In his youth a lad with the same name had lived within Dair Castle, the son of the castle’s smithy. Although John was a commoner, he and Thomas had often sparred, and the two boys had shared the dream of one day becoming knights. Years later they had again met, this time on a crusade. John MacLairish had indeed achieved his ambition, but it had ended during a battle that had left his leg disabled. He could walk and ride, but nae to the standards required of a Templar Knight.
Thomas narrowed his gaze. God’s teeth, ’twas John! “’Tis—” Coughs wracked his body.
“Your throat will be dry,” Alesone said as she held a cup to his mouth.
Cautious, he took several sips, then pushed the cup away. “I thank you.” He met John’s gaze. “I am Thomas MacKelloch.”
A grin creased John’s face, and he laughed. “God in heaven, I thought ’twas you, and then decided I was daft, a result of living on my own too long.”
Alesone’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You know each other?”
“Aye,” John said, his voice rough with emotion. “A long time ago Thomas and I fought side by side until…” He paused. “I shouldna have doubted ’twas you.”
“Many years have passed,” Thomas said. “’Tis good to see you, my friend.” He glanced at the twist in John’s leg. “How do you fare?”
“Well enough.” He arched a brow. “I would say a fair piece better than you.”
Thomas grimaced. “The truth. I am escorting Mistress Alesone to—”
“I dinna think you should be talking so much given your health.”
At the nerves in her voice, Thomas realized that she didna understand the inherent loyalty of the Templars, one that with their oath sworn would always hold true. Nor would he explain. “Sir John and I have been friends since our youth. I trust him with my life.”
“And,” his friend said, “that I live is due to Sir Thomas. After he carried me from the battlefield, ’twas he who ensured that when I returned to Scotland, I would have a place to live.”
Uncomfortable with the laud, Thomas exhaled. “’Tis Brother Nicholai MacDaniell who deserves the thanks for your home.”
“’Twas your letter requesting his aid that guided him,” John said. “An entreaty your father sanctioned.”
Though their travel to the monastery would leave them leagues from Thomas’s home, the soul-deep yearning to see his family caught him off guard. Since he’d fled those many years before, he’d smothered his need of those dear to him beneath his guilt, and had foolishly believed himself immune to any reaction to his family, however near.
Against the rush of unwanted feelings, Thomas focused on the fact that they’d traveled farther south than he’d planned. ’Twould add several days or more until they reached Avalon Castle.
He
