The Ghost (Highland Guard 12) (32 page)

But whether it was the little girl, the trouble with Boyd, the style of warfare, his personal code, because he couldn’t see an end, or a combination of all those things that caused him to leave, he’d done so with a noble purpose. He’d betrayed his friends and king because he thought he could do more good working for an end to the war from a different angle.

It was an admirable idea, but she guessed that it hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped. He’d counted on reasonable, honorable men like him—which were in short command. Moreover, the distrust and suspicion that Boyd had heaped on him for being “English” had followed him to England, where he was considered “Scottish.”

She’d sensed Alex’s frustration and had hoped to plant the idea to return. But she’d been a little heavy-handed with the seed, and now she feared she might have given herself away.

If he thought her sympathetic to Bruce, how long would it take him to connect her to the person feeding the “rebels” information? Perhaps he’d made the connection already. He’d been acting so strangely and purposefully evading her questions.

What a mess. The situation had become unbearable. She cared about him too much to continue to lie to him. But did she trust him with her life? Strangely, despite his betrayal of her brethren, she did. Unfortunately, there was more to it than trust. Telling him the truth would put him in a horrible position. He’d be forced to decide between her and his honor and duty. She didn’t want to do that to him yet. Not until she was sure there was no other way.

But what did he know?

She’d followed him to Pembroke’s solar to find out. As she could hardly listen at the door in the hallway, she gave proof to her spectral war name and passed through the wall like a ghost—or in this case, through the neighboring chamber with the unlocked door. She’d done this countless times before, but spying on Alex was different.

Though most of the castle was at the evening meal, just to be safe she hid behind the heavy tapestry that covered most of the wall. The partition was wood, but as it had been plastered, it muffled their voices enough to prevent her from hearing the entire conversation. But she heard enough to know that if Alex knew something, he had not passed it on to the earl. She also heard that he was being sent away, and that caused a surprisingly hard pang in her chest.

She was growing too attached. But how could she stop it?

She left the room not long after she heard him leave. When she was sure there was no one coming, she made her way down the tower stairwell and out into the yard.

She glanced around, scanning the area, and her heart slammed into her chest. The air in her lungs turned so hot and acrid it hurt to breathe.

It hurt all over.

She hadn’t waited long enough. Alex stood about fifty feet away near the entry to the chapel. She stepped behind the corner of the building, but she needn’t have worried about him noticing her. He had his arms around a woman and was lifting her off her feet. When he started to spin her around and knocked off her hood, Joan could see that it wasn’t just
a
woman, but one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen in her life.

Rosalin Clifford now Boyd was still laughing when Alex gave her one last squeeze and set her back down on her feet. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so shocked to see someone. Shocked and very happy. She reminded him of . . .

He stopped the thought. His old life was over.

She reached up and put a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Alex, it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth. “And I’ve missed you, too, lass.”

Suddenly, their location was brought back to him. They weren’t in Scotland, they were in the middle of a castle full of English soldiers, and she was the wife of one of the most hated men in England.

Perhaps his darkening countenance reminded her as well, for she hastily adjusted her hood back over her head, hiding her remarkable features. Rosalin was one of the most beautiful women on either side of the border—a face like hers would not go unnoticed.

He cursed. She’d heard worse from him and didn’t seem to pay it any mind. “God’s wounds, Rosalin. What the hell are you doing here?”

She wrinkled her nose as if annoyed by the question and the tone in which it had been asked. “Lower your voice. We are drawing enough attention as it is.”

He swore again and looked around. There were a handful of soldiers in the area, most of whom were looking at them curiously—and a few (who must have seen her face) enviously.

“Who is the woman?” Rosalin asked.

Alex frowned. “What woman?”

Rosalin looked around. “She was standing by the Constable Tower but she must have left. From the way she was looking at you, I assumed you knew her. Very pretty—sultry looking—dark haired.” She frowned. “She looked familiar.”

Alex swore again. Christ, Joan must have seen him. Sultry looking. He’d have to remember that—it fit.

“My betrothed,” he said. He was going to have some explaining to do to Joan later. But first, he had to deal with the more pressing problem.

Taking advantage of Rosalin’s shock at his announcement and noting the nearby chapel, he pulled her inside. Fortunately, it was empty.

“You are betrothed? Oh, Alex, I’m so happy for you. Do I know her? What is her name?”

“Later,” Alex said. He folded his arms across his chest and gave her a look that warned her not to lie to him. “Does your husband know you are here?”

She bit her lip, having the good sense to look chagrined. “Not exactly.”

Alex exploded, letting off a string of blasphemies and curse words that would have made MacRuairi proud. But his anger turned to something else entirely when she pulled back her hood again and unintentionally revealed something else—something he probably should have noticed when he was hugging her.

His face drained. “Good God, don’t tell me you are with child?”

She made a face that involved a pursed mouth of distaste and a frown of displeasure. “Very well, I won’t.”

“Christ, you are!” he said incredulously. “Raider is going to kill—” He almost said “me,” he was so damned used to being the source of blame, but he had nothing to do with this, which didn’t explain how he somehow felt responsible. “You,” he finished.

She didn’t seem worried and shrugged. “I have every right to be here. Robbie and I have an agreement.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What kind of agreement?”

“That I could come see my brother whenever I wished.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean for you to come on your own with the entire English army camped nearby. Bloody hell, the king is here. There are soldiers everywhere.”

The bite on her lip deepened. Funny, Joan did the same thing, but when Rosalin did it, he wasn’t distracted at all.

“He is?” She may have winced with a little bit of shame. “I didn’t realize, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. I needed to see Cliff.”

She was referring to her brother, Lord Robert Clifford, one of the highest ranking of Edward’s barons and a longtime enemy of her husband’s. Alex had no idea what she’d done to work out a truce between those two—hell, maybe he should have had her try to talk some sense into King Edward.

“And it couldn’t wait?” he asked.

She shook her head, her expression suddenly despondent. “I had to see him before he left. I don’t know how to explain it—it’s just a feeling . . .”

Alex’s mouth fell in a grim line. He didn’t believe in premonitions, but he would not argue with one. “Have you seen him yet?”

She shook her head. “I was on my way to his rooms when I saw you. But I guess it was a good thing I did, as I suspect his rooms may have moved.”

Alex nodded. “He’s in the Captain’s Lodgings. Pembroke has his old rooms in the Constable Tower.”

“Indeed a very good thing, then. Sir Aymer would recognize me quite easily.”

“I will take you to Clifford—and then I will take you back to wherever it is you came from.”

“That isn’t necessary—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t bother arguing. Your husband already has a sword out there with my name on it, I will not give him another. And it would be deserved if I let you walk out of here alone. How the hell did you get in here anyway?”

From the way she blushed, he figured he wasn’t going to like it.

He didn’t. He exploded again. “You came in with some of the women from town? You mean some of the whores who make their rounds in the barracks?” He raked his fingers through his hair. This was just getting worse and worse. “And what if one of the men was ‘interested’?”

“I just pretended to be with the women to get through the gate, and I have men waiting for me nearby.”

Alex made a sound that was more of a snort. “As if they would have been any good to you in here.”

“If you take me to them when I am done, they will see me safely back.”

He started to ask back to where, but stopped himself. She must have understood why. When their eyes met, he could see the sadness in the realization that they were on opposite sides now.

He nodded. He would be able to return her to Boyd’s men without too much of a detour from the route he would take with his men to Hailes.

“Now, tell me about this woman you are to marry. Do you love her?”

He winced, suspecting he was the one blushing now. “Christ, what a thing to ask, Rosalin.”

“You do!” she exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around him again. “Oh, Alex, I’m so happy for you. Does she love you? Of course, she must. You are one of the most wonderful men I know. The quintessential perfect, handsome knight. Sir Galahad to the rescue,” she said with a laugh.

Not her, too? Is that what everyone thought of him? Christ, how embarrassing. Not to mention untrue. It made him feel like some kind of fraud.

He extracted himself, uncomfortably going back to the question. Did he love her? He’d never put words on it, but aye, he did. And did she feel the same about him? He didn’t know. She
liked
him, which was enough for now. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It was arranged by the families?”

“Not exactly.” More like it was arranged by him and ordered by the king.

She stared at him for a long time. “No . . . you didn’t?” She laughed, clapping her hands. “You did! I can’t believe it. Maybe not Sir Galahad after all.”

Now he was really uncomfortable. How the hell had she guessed? Did he have debaucher of innocents—he stopped, not letting himself think about
that
—branded on his forehead? “Let’s just say I have a little more sympathy for your husband.”

Though he said it lightly, the sentiments behind it were not. She knew the reasons for his leaving, including what he thought had been Boyd taking advantage of her when she was their hostage. Boyd had been wrong. But Alex had been wrong to think that forgetting his honor in the arms of a woman he loved was a sin that would never be laid at his feet. A sin that might be more complicated than it first appeared.

She put her hand on his arm. “I feel to blame for what happened. It wasn’t his fault, Alex. I know you thought it was, but I wanted what happened as much as he did. I loved him to distraction. I still do. It was everything else I thought I couldn’t live with.”

Alex shook his head. “It wasn’t you. As I told you then, it had been a long time in the working.”

“But I know how hard it was for you. I was there—I saw what you were going through. I know Robbie is sorry for some of the things he did and wishes it could have been different.”

“I very much doubt that,” Alex said dryly.

“He does. You were like a brother to him, though he was too blinded by anger and vengeance to admit it. Maybe . . . do you ever think about going back?”

He wished he could say no. But he couldn’t lie to himself. Every day he thought of what he’d given up. The challenges. The danger. The feeling as if he was part of something important. The camaraderie. Aye, most of all that. The Guardsmen had been the closest friends he’d ever had—even if it hadn’t always felt like that. Walking away from them had been like walking away from part of himself. But he’d had to do it. He couldn’t keep doing what he was doing. He just hoped to hell that in the end it would all be worth it.

“It hasn’t been the same—Robbie hasn’t been the same—since you left,” she said, guessing his thoughts. “They need you, Alex.”

Alex shook his head; she was wrong. “I saw them not long ago.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “When?”

He explained what had happened with the little girl and how he’d been surrounded. “They let me go, but your husband was very clear about what would happen the next time we met.” He shook his head. “Nay, there is no going back.”

“You are sure?”

He smiled; that was the second time he’d been asked that today. “I am.”

“I suppose it would be difficult to explain to your new wife,” Rosalin said with a smile that was just as sad as his. “She is probably from some illustrious English family.”

Alex grimaced. He hadn’t been holding back her name intentionally, but he hadn’t volunteered it either. “Not exactly.”

She lifted a brow. When he finally said her name, Rosalin gasped. Then she paled. “Bella’s daughter? I knew she looked familiar. Good God, Alex, you can’t marry her! It isn’t my husband’s sword you will need to worry about, it’s Lachlan’s dagger. He’ll kill you when he finds out.”