The Ghost (Highland Guard 12) (35 page)

“It was,” Margaret agreed. “And fruitful.”

They exchanged glances. Sir Hugh had been partaking freely of the brandy and had confirmed what they’d already guessed: the earls of Lancaster, Warwick, Lincoln, Arundel, and Warenne had refused to answer the king’s call. Edward was understandably furious; Bruce on the other hand would be thrilled.

Joan met her cousin’s gaze. “You are being careful, remember? I will take care of this.”

Margaret nodded, but then looked at her worriedly. “You will be careful, too?”

“Always.”

They bid each other good night, and Joan entered the darkened room without knocking. It was close to midnight, and Alice was likely sleeping. She didn’t want to take the chance of waking her; her cousin was at her most unpleasant when roused from sleep (and that was saying something!).

A candle had been left burning, however, enabling her to immediately make out the empty bed. Sir Henry must have sent for his wife tonight. A fact that was confirmed a moment later when Bess lifted her sleepy head from the cushioned bench in the alcove near the window.

“I thought it best to wait for her,” the girl said, explaining her presence in the room. “In case she returns.”

“She won’t be back until morning,” Joan said. “But I can take care of her if she comes back earlier. You are safe to find your own bed in the garret.”

Bess looked relieved. After the bracelet debacle, the girl was understandably terrified of upsetting Alice. “Thank you, my lady. But I will help you with your gown first.”

She picked up the candle and they crossed the room to Joan’s chamber. After opening the door, Bess set the candle on the small table by the bed and started to work the ties of Joan’s gown.

“Oh, my lady, I forgot to mention. You had a visitor earlier,” Bess said, pulling the tight sleeves of her gown down her arms.

“I did?”

“Aye.” She helped her out of the overgown. The undergown came next. “Lady Alice said he was your betrothed.”

She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “Alex is back?”

The girl nodded, handing her the velvet robe that she wore over her chemise at night. “He seemed anxious to see you.”

Joan wrapped the robe around her and tied it at the waist, aware that she was smiling like a well-fed cat.

Good grief, just hearing that he was anxious to see her made her happy. But she was also relieved that he was back safely.

She was about to ask if he had said anything else, when she glanced over at the shutter and noticed that the wooden crossbar that secured it had not been pulled down all the way into the iron fittings.

Joan was in awe. How had he done it? This window was even less accessible than the one at Carlisle.

Another mistake? She couldn’t believe that Lachlan would be so careless—and that she should be so lucky.

Her pulse quickened, eager to be rid of her company. “Thank you, Bess. I can finish the rest myself. You must be exhausted.”

The girl gave her a quick bob. “Thank you, my lady. I will see you in the morning.”

Joan’s door closed, and a few moments later, the outer door closed as well. She turned to the ambry and pulled open the door. “That was fast, Fath—”

She stopped, shocked mute when Alex—not Lachlan—slipped out of the darkness. His expression was so dark it almost didn’t look like him. When she managed to find her tongue, the word came out as a question. “Alex?”

“Expecting someone else?”

She hoped the room was too dark for him to see her face pale.

But the lapse was only momentary; she quickly got herself back under control and responded without hesitation. The ability to think of a lie quickly was one of the things that had made her so successful—although it wasn’t anything to be proud about under the circumstances.

“Aye, I did,” she said calmly. “I thought you were Fiona.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“The girl that keeps the brazier lit for Alice at night,” she explained. “It’s a game we play. She likes to hide and try to scare me.”

The lies that fell so easily from her tongue filled her with shame. God, she hated this. What once she’d not given much thought to now made her want to squirm.

Alex frowned. Not wanting to let him think too long—or ask any questions about a girl who didn’t exist—she used another tactic: making him be the one to hold up the shield and not her.

“I think I’m the one who should be asking the questions. What are you doing in my room, Alex? Spying on me while I undress?”

The tactic worked. Some of the darkness in his expression was replaced by sheepishness. From the way his gaze seemed to be avoiding anything below her neck, it was very clear that she was not the only one aware of her reduced state of clothing.

“I needed to see you. I’ve been waiting for hours. Christ, it must be midnight. Where the hell have you been?”

Joan’s eyes widened at his tone and the blasphemy that seemed to surprise even him.

Good Lord, whatever was the matter with him?

Suddenly, she realized what was the matter. Realized what he thought. Realized what had caused him to lose his temper and blurt out the accusation. For that was exactly what it was.
He thinks I’ve been with another man.

Given what he’d seen before, and what she’d let him think, maybe it was fair. Maybe it was reasonable under the circumstances.

But it still hurt. She’d thought—hoped—they were beyond that.

She arched a brow, giving no hint of the wound he’d just inflicted. “Where do you think I was?”

His mouth turned white around the edges and his face darkened. “Just answer the question, Joan.”

She was tempted to tell him to go to Hades and let him think what he wanted. But she could see his torment and would not add to it just to salve her hurt.

“I was with my former guardian. Sir Hugh arrived at the castle earlier and invited me to his rooms so I could fill him in on what has happened since I’ve seen him last. We lost track of time. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“And you were with him all this time?”

“I was,” she answered. “You can ask my cousin if you don’t believe me. Margaret was with us all evening.” But she sensed something more behind the question. “What is this about, Alex? Why are you sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, hurling baseless accusations as if I’ve done something wrong?”

He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration, and for the first time she could see the lines of exhaustion on his face. From the dust and dirt on his surcoat and armor, she realized he’d probably come straight here after returning. Why such haste?

The question was answered a moment later.

“Because I rode back anxious to see my betrothed only to have the first thing I hear be that she was seen cavorting with another man.”

She held his gaze. “And you believed this?” She took a step closer, smelling the leather and horse and the hint of sweat that was oddly intoxicating. “After what happened between us, do you really think I could share intimacies like that with someone else?”

He winced with shame. “No, yes, hell I didn’t want to. But Despenser sounded pretty damned convincing. He said you knew this man.”

“Sir Hugh?” she repeated incredulously. “Of course he has no reason to lie?”

He paused. “Despenser said you were once in love with this man. And then you were gone so late . . .”

Joan bristled.
Sir Phillip
. That was what this was about. Alex was jealous of the man who’d raped her. She would laugh if she didn’t feel so much like crying.

God, if he only knew how wrong he was.

“Sir Hugh is feeding you lies, Alex. There is a knight who arrived with his father whom I knew as a girl, but I can assure you I want nothing to do with him. Which is exactly what I told him when he sought me out at the midday meal.”

His eyes scanned her face, presumably for signs of untruth. “Then you did not love him?”

“I have only been in love with one man in my life, and I can assure you it is
not
Sir Phillip Gifford.”

Her words didn’t seem to mollify him; indeed they seemed to anger him. “Then who is it?”

She stared at him for a moment, shook her head, and laughed.

He scowled angrily. “I don’t see anything amusing. I asked you a damned question.”

Still laughing, she put her hand on his cheek soothingly. “
You
, Alex. I meant you.”

A
LEX STARED AT
her dumbfounded. “You meant me?”

She smiled so sweetly he thought his heart might break from overfilling. “Aye. Whatever else the future holds, you can trust that.”

He was too stunned by her declaration to pay any mind to the odd warning of her words. She loved him?

God, he was an idiot. The luckiest damned idiot in the world. “I’m sorry. I’ve acted like a complete arse, haven’t I?”

Her mouth twisted. “Maybe not
complete
. Although next time you climb a tower and crawl through a window, it might be easier to remove your mail first.” She shook her head. “I should have liked to see you squeezing through that.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he said wryly. He looked down into her beautiful upturned face and felt his heart swell all over again. “I’ve no excuse other than that I was out of my mind with jealousy at the thought that you might love someone else, when I am completely, thoroughly, and even more out of my mind in love with you.”

She smiled back at him, eyes shining with happiness. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He cocked a brow. “But not surprised?”

She gave him a distinctly female shrug. “I hoped that you might after what you confided in me. You’ve kept that vow an awful long time.”

“Believe me, I know.”

She laughed at his tone, but then sobered. “Still, I wasn’t sure after . . .”

Her voice fell off, and he cursed inwardly, knowing what she’d been about to say. “She’s an old friend, Joan. Nothing more.”

“I know that’s what you said.”

“It’s the truth.” He thought for a moment and realized no harm could come from telling her now. “She’s married to someone I once considered a close friend. She was here in secret visiting her brother, and I didn’t want to say anything that might put her in jeopardy. You have probably heard her name mentioned before: it’s Rosalin Boyd.”

She didn’t look surprised. Actually she looked
more
distressed. “You don’t need to tell me this, Alex.”

She tried to turn away, but he caught her chin and forced her gaze back to his. His finger swept the velvety curve of her cheek. “Yes, I do. I want there to be no secrets between us.”

Now
she looked pained.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nay, what you said is perfect. Too perfect.”

He was having trouble following her logic. “Good. Then in case I wasn’t clear, I love you, and only you.”

Her eyes were luminous and shimmery—he hoped with emotion—as they looked into his. And her mouth . . . it was too damned inviting. Unable to help himself, he lowered his lips to hers and gave proof to his words with a slow, tender kiss.

God, her mouth was like honey. So soft and sweet and irresistible. He had to pull back before he sank in deeper.

But everything seemed to be conspiring against him. The bed that was right behind her was also too inviting—as was her very-easy-to-remove night robe. He tried to step back, but the room was too small, and it wasn’t enough to break the invisible current pulling them together.

But he’d made a vow, damn it. Not until they were married. “I should go,” he said firmly to remind himself.

He even managed a half-turn, before she caught his arm. “Nay, please. Won’t you stay?”

As if it were the most natural thing in the world—which it was—she sidled up to him and curled against his chest as if she belonged there—which she did.

He would have had to be made of stone to resist the urge to put his arms around her. He wasn’t—made of stone, that is, although part of him sure as hell felt that way.

He drew her closer, savoring the sensations as her body melted into his. “You make it hard to do the right thing, sweetheart. I made a vow.”

“And you can make another one,” she said, moving her hands from his shoulders down his stomach to his belt. “Once I’m done with you.”

“I should bathe—I’ve been riding all day.”

She gave him a naughty smile. “Nice try, but you smell fine. And I suspect we’ll both be a little sweaty soon.”

Ah hell. Alex was done arguing. It was just making him hotter when she talked like that. He could feel the tug at his waist right before she succeeded in unbuckling his belt. He gave up the pretense of fighting it and tore off his surcoat. She was as efficient as any squire at helping him remove the heavy mail shirt and the padded linen aketon underneath. Only then did she hesitate—letting him see that she wasn’t quite as confident as she appeared—but it wasn’t for long. A moment later, his linen shirt was on the bed behind them and his chest was bare. She was quiet for a long time as she seemed to take in every inch of skin and muscle. Her gaze was soft with desire when her eyes finally met his. “I’m afraid I have to warn you that I might not be done with you for quite some time.”