Forbidden Knight. Diana Cosby

face, but her eyes remained defiant.

      Blast her for pushing him to this point, that she’d dare. “Your words are noble, but—” Thomas noticed the king’s interest in their tense interaction. Stunned by his outburst, he bit back the storm of words yearning to burst free. Few could unleash his emotions to such an extreme.

      Men, he trusted.

      Never a woman.

      As their sovereign continued to study him, Thomas silently cursed, too aware of Robert Bruce’s affinity for women who defied the norms of society, proven by his dealings with Lady Katherine months before. Regardless of his own belief that this lass should be carted off and left in one of his holdings for her own safety, ’twould seem her boldness had earned the king’s favor.

      “Mistress Alesone,” the king said, “Sir Thomas raises valid concerns about the dangers we face. If you have changed your mind and wish to leave, I will ensure you are escorted to a safe holding.”

      She shook her head. “Sire, I want to remain.”

      With a sigh, he nodded. “As you wish.”

      Outrage burned in Thomas’s gut. ’Twas her choice, her life. Her presence here wouldna affect him. Once they’d defeated Comyn he would move on, and this exasperating woman would be forgotten.

      The king lifted a goblet on a side table and took a sip. “Sir Thomas, I didna expect your arrival so soon.”

      “We took a shorter route along the cliffs, Your Grace, and were able to slip past the enemy.” He shot Alesone a hard look, wanting her to understand her antics had neither won him over nor earned his praise. “I admit my surprise to learn you have a woman healer.” The king must have sent for her, ’twould explain his protectiveness and their familiarity to the point where they could jest. “’Tis always welcome to have those alongside us whom we know.”

      Tenderness touched the king’s expression. “’Tis, but until her arrival a few days before, we had never met. We have a mutual friend, one who saved my life.”

      A debt paid, a logical explanation for why the Bruce had taken in a stranger versed in the art of healing. Clearly in the short time, a close bond had formed between them. Nae that he approved of the king’s offering his trust to her so quickly. With Scotland at war, spies lurked everywhere.

      Time would reveal which cloak she wore.

      Sir Thomas nodded his acquiescence to the king, but Alesone caught the doubt in his eyes, misgivings she’d expected. Loyal to the Bruce, the knight would ensure his sovereign was safe. A stranger gaining a position close to the king would invite his suspicion.

      She appreciated the fierce warrior’s concern for their king, but with the knight’s tenacity, Alesone dreaded their upcoming confrontation.

      There would be one.

      From the short time she’d known Sir Thomas she’d discovered he was a man who did naught by halves. Until he and his knights departed, ’twas best to keep her distance.

      “You and your men will be tired after your journey,” Robert Bruce said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. “We depart at first light. Once we have made camp on the morrow, we will begin discussions of the upcoming attack. Mistress Alesone, take the knights to the tent by the rowan tree.”

      ’Twould seem she would have little reprieve from the daunting knight.

      “When you are done,” he continued, “return.”

      “Aye, Your Grace.” She turned to Thomas and his men. “Follow me.”

      Several steps away from their sovereign’s tent, Sir Thomas glanced over. “You are fortunate to have the king’s protection.”

      “He is a generous man,” she replied, refusing to be baited by the suspicion coating his words.

      “Generous, aye, to those he trusts. Rarely with strangers.”

      “Our king explained the reason.”

      “He explained naught except you have a mutual friend. I find myself curious to learn more.”

      Alesone nodded to several men as they walked past. “Sir Thomas, I would think a knight would have better things to do than conjure misgivings, however subtly woven, about a woman he has never met.”

      “Know this,” he said in a cold voice. “If I learn that you have deceived our sovereign in any manner, I will deal with you personally.”

      Alesone tamped down her frustration and glanced at his warriors, noted each watched her with unfeigned interest. With her emotions in turmoil, the loss of Grisel too fresh, the last thing she wished was to argue. “As you, I am loyal to the Bruce. If necessary, I will give my life to protect him.”

      Thomas studied her for a long moment and then nodded.

      Thankful to arrive at their tent, she halted. “Extra blankets to make your pallets are inside. I will ensure food is sent to you posthaste.”

      “I thank you,” Thomas said.

      Exhaustion washed over her as she watched the lean, muscled knight, his sandy hair framing intense green eyes that left her unnerved. After being chased several days prior, why wouldna she feel threatened by a man who stared at her as if he could see straight into her soul?

      For an unexplainable reason, she found making him understand her and gaining his trust, if only a degree, important. “Throughout my life I have been forced to deal with unforgiving, arrogant men. If you are looking for treachery from me, you willna find it. If you seek a reason to deem me disloyal, you shall fail.”

      She started toward King Robert’s tent, half expecting the intimidating warrior to confront her. When the men’s voices of the encampment filled the air, she eased out a relieved breath.

      Alesone didna turn, refused to tempt fate, understanding that he watched her and pondered her words. A man like him did naught without reason.

      And with his suspicions, God forbid he learned the truth about her father.

      Chapter Three

      “Sir Thomas?”

      The unfamiliar male voice had Thomas reaching for his dagger, then he remembered that he and his men slept in the king’s camp. Loosening his grip, he sat. Moonlight spilling through the tent’s opening outlined one of the Bruce’s guards. “Speak.”

      “The king requests your presence. He says ’tis urgent.”

      What in Hades had occurred? Thomas shoved to his feet.

      Aiden, his faithful friend and fellow Templar, moved from his bed as the others began to rise. “I will go with you.”

      “Nay,” the runner stated. “His Grace requested Sir Thomas come alone.”

      Troubled by the possibilities raised by the summons at this late hour, Thomas tugged on his cape then faced his men. “I will brief you upon my return.” Preparing for the worst, he stepped into the night.

      A gust tossed snowflakes falling within the waxing moon’s silvery glow into a shimmering whirl. A wolf’s howl echoed in the distance, a lonesome sound against the silence filling the camp.

      That the Bruce’s warriors still slept ruled out concerns of an imminent attack. Still, with his sovereign’s command to speak to him at this late hour, he suspected the reason involved the Brotherhood. God’s teeth, what twisted mayhem had King Philip wrought now? Thomas damned France’s ruler, and prayed he was mistaken.

      At his approach, the king’s guard moved back.

      With a silent prayer, Thomas shoved aside the flap, stepped inside, then halted.

      Paces away Mistress Alesone stood rigid before their sovereign. The thick fabric scraped closed, and she turned. Her face grew ashen.

      What in God’s name was going on? With