The Princess and the Templar Read Online Free

keep your vow? Will she live?”
    “Yes, she will live. The wound isn’t serious.”
    The hint of a smile lifted Malcolm’s mouth. “’Tis good, Sir Templar, for I wouldn’t want to have to kill you.” His gaze snagged Raul’s. “We voted that you and your men can stay.”
    “What say you?”
    “That we accept the Sinclair’s protection in the name of the princess.”
    Malcolm’s unexpected capitulation surprised him. Might it be a trap? Or was the man telling the truth? “Why did she resist the earl’s protection?”
    The young knight crossed to one of the long slits in the wall that served as a window. “Do you have a family, Sir Raul?”
    “Of sorts. My father and uncle. I never knew my mother.”
    Malcolm turned from the window and said, “The princess has buried—these two years past—her father and four brothers slaughtered by Anglo-Normans, sent by the English king.” He spat. “Like yourself, she never knew her mother. Milady’s alone in the world, and all she has is this.” He lifted his arm and made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the room and more. “She won’t give it up. Not after her family died fighting to hold this castle and lands.”
    Raul understood loss and loneliness. But hearing the harsh tale from Malcolm, a man who cared for his lady, lent the story an added poignancy.
    Malcolm fisted one hand in a gesture of defiance. Then his eyes darkened with confusion, and he let his hand fall. “I know why she does what she does, but we can’t fight on. She doesn’t want to accept it, but she will wed a powerful man who can protect her. She cannot stop the way of the world.”
    “You believe this?”
    “Aye, and so does her master-at-arms, Dwyer MacMalley. He wanted to welcome your party, but she forbade it. She had me take his place at her side.”
    “There will be no further resistance?” Raul asked.
    Malcolm strode to the couch and gazed at the fallen princess. A variety of emotions, like scudding clouds, crossed his features. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Nay, no more resistance. She must understand. Even so, she’ll think we’ve betrayed her.”
    Raul put his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. “Perhaps not. Let me speak with her when she awakens.”
    Malcolm snorted. “I’ve heard of Templar exploits. But I doubt you can persuade her.”
    “Let me try.”
    The knight tugged on his short beard. “Mayhap you can persuade her for you speak right good Gaelic, though your name proclaims you a Spaniard.”
    “Yes, I’m Spanish born, but I’ve an ear for languages. I know nigh unto a score.”
    Malcolm’s eyes widened. “A score? ’Tis a gift, that. And the healing arts, too.”
    “Yes,” Raul agreed and then he hesitated, wanting to choose his words with care. “Sir Malcolm, I must ask a boon. I’ve two wounded men. Can you bring them to me?”
    The young knight nodded slowly. “’Twill be done. Your wounded will be brought here, and I’ll send the servants with pallets.”
    “And the other knights and squires. Where will they lodge?”
    “In the castle with my men. We’ve room enough.”
    Raul bowed again. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
    Malcolm inclined his head and darted a glance at the princess. “I only hope my lady can find it in her heart to forgive me.”
    ****
    The cool touch of water revived Cahira, lifting her from the depths of a dreamless sleep. She lay drifting with her eyes closed. When she tried to gather her wits, her thoughts were fuzzy, misshapen things, and her head pounded as if the castle’s smithy had misused it for an anvil.
    What had happened? And where was she?
    She thought to open her eyes but reconsidered. She’d met the enemy and done battle with a Knight Templar. His broadsword had tangled in her visor, and she’d experienced the sharp bite of its edge. After that, she remembered nothing.
    What if she’d fallen into enemy hands? Better to feign sleep until she knew. Keeping her eyes closed, she called upon her