Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519) by Jillian Hart

her step against dirt and stone faded away into nothing, nothing at all.
    She was gone, the vile betrayer, and he wretched, groaning in misery.
    He would hunt her down. Malcolm the Fierce would not rest until he had the traitor woman’s head.
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    â€œI cannot leave.” Alma dug in her heels. “There is Hugh to think of. And look, these men will need an herbed tea to calm their stomachs.”
    â€œNay, I want their stomachs churning.” Elin gave the cinch a good pull. “Listen, only danger lies ahead for me.”
    â€œDanger?”
    â€œWhy did Father bring us on this journey? We have no explanation. Perchance he planned something sinister. Then innocent protestations will not save us.”
    â€œWhat if justice prevails? I see no danger then.”
    â€œNot for you. But Father’s barony may be lost, and who will be at court to beg favors from Edward? Caradoc. He claims we are betrothed, and there will be no debate. Why should the king not secure the barony with his own blood?”
    â€œâ€™Tis logic you speak. And truth.” Alma frowned, her brows drawn together in serious thought. “Yet I cannot leave Hugh. He needs much care.”
    â€œAye. It weighs heavily on my conscience.” Elin rubbed her forehead, then turned to her waiting palfrey.
    â€œElin!” ’Twas Caradoc’s voice, thin with sickness. “You’ve not fallen ill from this vile food. Free me, and I’ll take these black knights to Edward’s punishment.”
    Alarm beat in her chest. She leaned close, whispering toAlma. “See what he plans? There still remains doubt over the true cause of his wife’s death. Can you blame me?”
    â€œNay. Do as you must.” Troubled, Alma laid her hand over the cross at her neck. “Promise to take care. I love you as a daughter and could not bear to lose you.” Tears misted the old woman’s eyes.
    And burned in Elin’s throat. “You’ve been a mother to me, Alma. If le Farouche harms you, he will answer to me, king’s protector or nay.”
    â€œAye, fierce you are.” Alma’s affection whispered in her voice, soft like an east wind. She lifted the chain from her neck. The silver cross, hand hewn, caught a flash of sunlight from a crack in the roof.
    â€œNay, I cannot—”
    â€œTake this with my blessing. ’Twill bring you safely to Elizabeth’s.” She secured the chain around Elin’s neck, tears on her face. “My prayers are with you.”
    â€œThen I have all I need.” Elin pressed a kiss to Alma’s papery cheek, and then mounted the waiting palfrey before she could change her mind.
    She was not sentimental, not one bit, but leaving Alma made her heart ache. As she galloped past the inn, she saw the wide-open door and thought of Malcolm within, the fiercest of knights who now suffered by her hand.
    She didn’t like what she had done, but she could not depend upon a knight without heart or soul, without mercy or conscience to save her, to plead her cause, to protect her from Caradoc before the king. Malcolm was more shadow than substance, more killer than man.
    Yet she’d seen the pain on his face when she’d taken his dagger. He hurt in the way of a real man.
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    Giles leaned against the door frame, sagging from weakness. “She left the prisoners.”
    â€œEven her father?”
    â€œAye. He curses her alongside the proud Caradoc.”
    â€œI curse her as well.” Bitterness soured Malcolm’s mouth, but he was the king’s protector, the best knight in the realm, a reputation earned by his skill with a sword and the cold hard calculation needed to win in battle. He should have watched the woman more carefully.
    â€œI fear we’ve tarried far too long. The king is awaiting Evenbough.”
    â€œI know the king’s eagerness to face this traitor.” The king’s cousin was dead, a young woman Edward