Page 33 of The Protector’s Promise

Without waiting for an answer, Marion rushed across the courtyard to the stables. She would find out soon if Court had been lying about her status here. Guest or captive?

“My men and I are leaving,” she said to the stable master just inside the entrance.

Kenneth caught up to her as their horses were being readied.

“What is happening?” he demanded in his typical condescending tone.

She was having none of it. She would treat the man who protected her with his life with the respect he deserved if he could give her that same courtesy. If he could not, she didn’t need him.

“Kenneth,” she said, “that is quite enough. I will remind you that I am the daughter of Archibald Rosehaugh, 3rd Earl of Ormonde, and the Protector of the Stone of Scotland. You will either speak to me with the same respect you give my father, or any other man of status for that matter, or you may remain here, relieved of your duties to me and my family.”

The other men arrived during her speech. The stable master and one of his hands gawked at them openly, and Marion couldn’t blame them. By the time she finished, her voice likely carried back into the hall, where Court and the king’s regent plotted her people’s demise.

“Aye, my lady,” he said. They stared at each other a moment longer, a new understanding dawning between them.

“Circumstances have changed, and we need to leave. Now.”

Kenneth’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth but promptly closed it. Instead, he gave her a quick nod and turned to the others.

“You heard the lady. Let’s go.”

Marion would have smiled had the situation not been so dire. In a flurry of activity, she and the men prepared to leave Camburg.

I may have failed to retrieve the stone, but I will not fail Moordon.

As she rode away from the stable and through the courtyard, Marion wondered why Court had allowed her to leave. Though she looked over her shoulder, once, twice, as they rode through the gatehouse and beyond, there was no sign of pursuit. Nothing.

And just like that, the stone, and the man to whom she’d inadvertently given her heart, were gone forever. She ignored the pull that tried to lure her back. The stone would not protect Moordon now.

She would.

10

Court watched as his unwanted guest was led from the hall.

He had to find Marion to explain. When she’d dashed out of the hall, Court had very nearly run after her. But he’d reminded himself of her words, her pledge, and trusted she would understand. Whatever happened next, they would be in it together.

He should have questioned Almain’s motives earlier. But he’d been too stubborn, too blinded by his own ambition to see what was before his eyes. The stone had revealed the truth to him—everything had become clear as he spoke to the king’s regent.

A vision had nearly knocked him off his feet. In front of his very eyes, Edmund of Almain had transformed from an elegant agent of the crown to a snarling, vindictive man. The man’s eyes had narrowed as he looked at Court in greedy anticipation of the spoils at Moordon. As the vision peeled away, Court fully understood the ability the stone gave him for the first time.

He could see things as they truly were. Or in some cases, how they would be.

He wasn’t sure how he knew, but Edmund’s intentions were not honorable. Was it because Scotland would suffer or was it more than that? Either way, he had to find out. He also needed to speak with Marion, but first he would need to find her. It was only after he searched her rooms that Court’s pulse began to race.

She wouldn’t have left, not after everything they’d shared. Would she have?

Every step he took toward the stables brought him closer to the truth. Marion was nowhere to be found because she had left. Did she have so little faith in him? He’d agreed to Almain’s plan for one reason—he needed to pacify him until he had an alternate plan. But had he ever told Marion he wouldn’t make the attack? What precisely had he said to her?

A connection forged because of it.

Nay. That was not true. There was so much more than simply the stone between them. So why had he said it?

Because it was easier than facing the truth. Court had fallen in love with a woman who circumstance dictated was his enemy. One who likely despised him now.

Damn, Court. What have you done?

He needed to go after her, but he could not do that. Not yet. One of the most powerful men in all of England, powerful enough that he had been chosen as a regent to Edward, would be returning belowstairs for dinner, and Court needed a plan before then.