LITMIR.BIZ

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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 and 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.”

      Alesone scoffed, “I am far from helpless, and as I explained to our king, neither am I afraid of war.”

      Furious she’d ignore the risk, or believe herself immune to the danger, Thomas’s well-cultivated reply shattered. “Only a fool has no fear.”

      Her lavender eyes flared with annoyance, inciting him further.

      The senseless chit. “You think you understand, but a bard’s stories of combat told around the hearth hardly paint the truth. In the haze of battle,” Thomas said with cold precision, “the air is wrought with screams of death, the earth stained with blood, and mercy nonexistent.” His ire mounting, he stepped closer, determined to sever her belief that she would be unaffected. “Brave men lay mutilated, each breath filled with agony, pleading for an end to their suffering. You are so caught up in your own struggle to live as you wield your blade, you ignore them.” He fisted his hands at his sides as the horrific images stained his mind.

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