Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) Read online

  She knew it for a lie. “Then why did you say, if I wished—”

  He straightened and grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger then eased a knuckle along her lower lip. “Because I know you better than you know yourself. When your parents betrothed you to Brice, you were too young to recognize the difference between passion and love. You’ve been wed, so you should understand now. But,” he paused, searching her expression. “I am nae certain you do. ’Tis reason enough to nae pressure you. Sooner or later, your true desires will win out as they once did.”

  He dropped his hand and turned away.

  So he had nae forgotten, either. She used those memories to fuel her anger.

  “My true desire is to be done with you and all things Marr.” She turned to the window, staring out into the darkness once more, nae wanting him to see her pain. “In fact, I prefer to return home.” She did nae lie, but much as she might wish for the peace of Dungarob, that haven was denied her by her own actions.

  “That will nae be possible.”

  “You canna make me stay.” She glared at him, her body shaking with the conflict between wish and reality. “Clan Marr will be so glad to see a hated MacKai leave, they will help me.”

  He studied his nails again. “I doubt they will wish to upset their earl by denying him the wife he loves and whose tender nursing saved his life.”

  “I’ll tell them you’re Colin. I’ll show them Brice’s body.”

  He shook his head. “Brice’s body will disappear before you can show anyone. And you said yourself that I was supposed to have died years ago.”

  She opened her mouth to protest then closed it. Could the cur be right? She had nae doubt that Colin would make Brice’s body vanish thoroughly. Even with the corpse, none would believe her, save perhaps the chamberlain, and surely his loyalty belonged to his earl. Brice had even ordered Colin’s plaque for the front of the Marr tomb.

  She would have to submit to Colin’s plans.

  He captured her hand and eased his thumb over her stiff fingers. “I see you realize you’ve nae alternative.”

  She pressed her lips together then lifted her chin. “Fine. I shall help you, but on condition that once the spies and letters are found, you will let me go where I wish and you will never attempt to see or communicate with me again.” Where she went when she left mattered little, since he was correct. She had nae alternative.

  He studied her for a long time. “I agree to your conditions.”

  “Very well, tell me what we must do to catch these supposed spies, for I would end this sham quickly.”

  “You need only behave as my loving wife when others are present. And, of course, you will call me Brice. We must forget the name of Colin Marr.”

  “Since you are supposed to be dead, banishing your name should be easy. However, I canna believe that a ruse as husband and wife is all that is needed to flush a covey of spies.”

  “While I am pretending to recover my health, we will search this room and all of Brice’s belongings for clues. Once we have gathered every scrap of information we can find—”

  A loud banging interrupted him.

  “Sorcha MacKai, I insist you unlock this door immediately!”

  The strident female voice made Sorcha wince.

  “Not Countess Strathnaver?” murmured Colin.

  “’Tis your stepmother.” Sorcha lowered her voice and spoke rapidly. “She hates me for displacing her as Strathnaver’s countess. ’Tis worse in her eyes that the Marr clan favors me over her, especially since our clans are enemies. She doesna understand that any Scot—even an enemy—is better than any English. Now hide, or your plans for spy-catching will be for naught.”

  “SORCHA! I demand to see my stepson.”

  “Get rid of her. She canna know that Brice is dead.” Colin disappeared into the shadows on the other side of the room near the head of the bed.

  Sorcha thought she saw the bed curtains gathered there billow then fall still. Satisfied he would nae be seen, she went to speak with her dead husband’s English stepmother.

  Squeezing through the portal was nae easy with Lady Agnes pounding on the door, but Sorcha managed.

  “Silence,” she hissed. “Brice finally sleeps; do you wish to wake him when he needs his rest?”

  “Is that why you neglected to send for his supper?” the woman accused. Unhappy frown lines marked her face

  Had she a more pleasant nature, Lady Agnes’s faded beauty might have shone brighter. But bitterness and resentment soured her soul, and age drew the truth of her character on a face and body that once graced Edward Plantagenet’s bed.

  Sorcha had often wondered if the old earl had wed the woman to curry favor with Edward and to claim for Strathnaver a child fathered by the king of England. Certainly the old earl had been beyond the age of siring babes, and the disagreements between him and his twin sons would make having another possible heir very attractive. The old earl had been as vain and grasping as his new wife. Giving a royal bastard the Marr name would have appealed to the man’s vanity.

  ’Twas ironic justice that Lady Agnes made the old earl’s final years a misery.

  “Well! Answer me, you lame Scot.”

  Sorcha plastered on her most pleasant smile and replied in an exaggerated accent. “Aye, ’tis th’ verra reason. Dinna dragh yerself; I’ve soup warmin’ on th’ hearth.”

  Lady Agnes curled a lip and looked as if she wished to spit. “No wonder he does not recover. I insist he eat nourishment from my own hand.”

  Sorcha shuddered inwardly. “’Tis nae need, Mathair. Dinna weary yerself wi’ work an’ care. T’ cook will prepare any bidh ye ask of ’er. She’s doted on th’ earl since he was a wee babe an’ loves carin’ fer ’im.”

  Lady Agnes hated being called mother as much as she despised all things Scottish.

  The older woman drew herself up and sniffed. “Hmpf. I suppose I will allow that slattern in the kitchen to prepare a good English porridge to replace that Scottish swill you constantly pour down the earl’s throat. But I’ll watch every move the cook makes. It would not surprise me if you are trying to poison your husband.”

  With a sweep of skirts Lady Agnes left.

  Sorcha slumped against the door. That was close. She hated to even think she could need Colin’s sudden appearance and desire to pretend he was Brice. Without him, how could she prove to anyone Brice died of natural causes? As a MacKai, as Brice’s heir, and because of her past, she would have the greatest motive for murder. Lady Agnes’s accusation could become a hanging matter.

  Sorcha shivered. She truly had no choice. Without Colin to act as Brice, she was a dead woman. Like it or not, she needed him as much as he needed her.

  To purchase this ebook and learn more about the author, click here.

  “This story was riveting and kept me on the edge of my seat. If you enjoy historical Highlander and Scottish romance, this is definitely the book for you!” —5 stars, Teatime and Books

  “What grabbed me the most [is] this novel was a second chance at first love.” —5 stars, Itsy Bitsy Book Bits

  “Knight Protector is a must read if you are a fan of medieval or historical romances. There are a lot of surprises in the story ... I am looking forward to reading the next book in the series.” —5 stars, Girl With Pen

  “I love a good historical romance and I thought this one was great! Delicious knights, secrets, and intrigue kept me on the edge of my seat and reading. Rue weaves a tale of medieval Highland romance that will melt your heart.” —5 stars, Beverley Ovalle at Smile, Somebody Loves You

  For more from Rue Allyn, check out:

  Knight Errant

  “...an expertly woven tale of intrigue and adventure and suspense. While the characters are fictional save for Edward II, Ms. Allyn creatively weaves medieval history into the plot and the rule of the church in the persecution of women will not be lost on the reader ... This medieval historical romance is one readers should not miss!” --5 stars, InD
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