The Ghost (Highland Guard 12) (34 page)

At the first opportunity, she excused herself to retire to her chamber where she could think and recover from the shock in private. Margaret offered to accompany her, but Joan declined—not ready to answer the inevitable questions.

She realized the hastiness of her decision a few moments later when her path to the door was blocked by a big, mail-clad warrior in a white surcoat with the familiar black, yellow, and red arms.

Her heart pounded. She didn’t need to look up to see the handsome features, golden-blond hair, and brilliant green eyes to recognize him. Recognition was visceral. She felt it in the disgust that crawled over her skin and the revulsion that slithered down her spine in a shiver. And if that weren’t enough, the smell would do it. For months she hadn’t been able to get his scent out of her nose or his taste out of her mouth. Brandy and licorice. Two things that she used to find pleasant, but after made her want to retch.

“Leaving without saying hello?” he said in that low, taunting voice that she’d once found so charming.

Now it made her stiffen. Every muscle in her body turned rigid and hard as steel.

She looked up, meeting the amused gaze of the man who at one time had seemed to be everything she’d ever dreamed of.

He was undoubtedly handsome, but now she realized he was just a pale imitation of the man she’d seen all those years ago and unconsciously tried to replicate: Alex. But compared to Alex, Phillip came up short in every respect. Most significantly in the color of his soul.

He wasn’t as tall as she remembered, although he was considerably broader in the chest and shoulders. Most of it seemed to be muscle, but the belt around his surcoat cinched a gut that she suspected would tend toward portliness in a few years.

He still favored the short beard and longer hair that were popular among the nobility—although he wasn’t. He was the son of a minor baron who with a lucky arrow had saved his lord from being attacked by a boar and earned his son a place in Sir Hugh’s household. Joan’s rank had been part of her appeal, and when it was gone, Phillip had lost use for her, but she’d been too much of a fool to see it until too late.

But she wasn’t a fool now. She was no longer fifteen and trusting. She was no longer innocent and naive. He’d seen to that.

Her heart was now pounding in her ears and the shock that had weakened her limbs before was forgotten in the hot rush of anger and hatred that raced through her blood. Her instincts had changed, she realized.
She
had changed. She was no longer weak and helpless. She no longer cowered, rather she wanted to slip her blade from the scabbard at her waist and plunge it between his ribs.

Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, he took a small step back and frowned.

“Get out of my way,” she said, clenching her fists into balls at her sides. “I have nothing to say to you.”

He looked around as if concerned that someone might have heard. But they were well enough away from the tables—he’d seen to that—and the room was loud with its boisterous occupants.

“There is no cause to be impolite. We are old friends, are we not?”

The charming twinkle in his eyes and lazy grin that were probably fooling anyone watching them now seemed slimy to her. “We are not.”

His gaze hardened almost imperceptibly. “From what I hear, you are quite friendly. So there is no use playing the frigid maid with me.” He smiled again, with the glint of cruelty she would never forget. “Besides, I know differently.” He gave her a long, slow look that made her skin crawl and leaned in to whisper. “Perhaps I should remind you later?”

He’d obviously heard of her reputation.

She held herself completely still. It took everything she had not to react, not to show him exactly how repugnant his “offer” was to her. Her body shook from the effort as she looked him in the eye and said very slowly, “I am no longer a helpless fifteen-year-old girl to be forced by a common brute.” His gaze flared, she presumed at the word “common.” “Unless you want everyone in this room to know exactly what you are, you will step aside and not come near me again.”

His expression darkened. She’d angered him. Good. But he did not doubt her word. With a dramatic flourish, he bowed and stepped aside to let her pass. She held her back straight and strode calmly out of the Hall, not running until she reached the courtyard.

It was just after dark by the time Alex and his men rode across the wooden drawbridge. Fortunately, they’d made it just before the night bell and the porter locked the castle gates.

After dismounting, Alex pulled off his helm and gave it to his squire. He would have normally handed off his horse as well, but as the lad looked about ready to keel over with exhaustion, Alex led the palfrey to the stable himself.

He, too, was physically and mentally exhausted, as well as pushed to the breaking point by frustration and angry enough to kill someone—preferably the arse in charge at Hailes—but he’d driven his men hard to make it back tonight. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been wrong with Joan, and with the shite heap of trouble that he’d just gone through in East Lothian, he needed to know that not all of his life had gone to hell.

He raked his fingers through his helm-plastered hair.
Christ, I need some sleep
. But it would have to wait. He needed to make his report to Pembroke. It was going to take everything he had not to let him see exactly what he thought of the English “lordship” in Scotland.

The garrison commander hadn’t been so lucky. Sir Raoul had narrowly escaped with his life for what he’d done.

Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d come over to the English to
prevent
things like this from happening. Alex’s hand might not have been the one to light the fire, but innocent lives of people he was responsible for had been lost all the same.

The situation had been even worse than Alex anticipated. He should have known Pembroke’s information would be skewed. He’d gotten the full story from his mother and Sir Alan Murray, a trusted captain of Alex’s father who’d kept charge of their lands for as long as Alex could remember.

Alex’s tenants had indeed supplied victuals to the castle soldiers, who’d in turn promised to protect them from Bruce’s raiders. But they didn’t. When Bruce’s men had come, the bloody English cowards had refused to leave the protection of the castle walls to come to the farmers’ aid. That hadn’t stopped the castle soldiers from coming for more supplies later, however. When the farmers understandably refused—they had little left and even less inclination after being left in the lurch by English “lordship”—the English commander had raided their farms and villages, killing two men who’d been trying to free animals from a burning barn when it had collapsed on them.

Alex had left the English commander in no doubt of what would happen if he ever did something like that again. He would also take the matter to the king, but he wasn’t going to count on Edward to do what was right. Even if Alex could convince him of the unjustness of the situation—which was unlikely—he knew the king was too focused on the war to worry about a few farmers in Scotland, even if it was his duty as overlord and king. So Alex had been forced to take on the role of enforcer. It was ironic, given how much he’d hated it when his former partner, Boyd, had done the same.

Protecting the people in the Borders was what had driven Alex to the English, but he’d been unable to keep his own people safe from
English
raids. They were on the same side, damn it. Was this the kind of overlordship and protection King Edward intended for his Scottish subjects?

The last thing Alex needed on leaving the stables after seeing to his mount was to nearly run into Sir Hugh Despenser—a visibly sotted Sir Hugh Despenser—and a few of his toadies.

“Back already, Seton?” he said with a snide grin. “I see you learned from my mistake. But from what I saw earlier, I fear you may be too late. The lass works quickly, I’ll give her that.”

A few of the men with him chuckled. Alex stiffened, but in no other way reacted to the bastard’s taunts. He didn’t need to ask what Despenser meant; it was obvious he was trying to goad Alex into a fight by slighting Joan.

But Alex didn’t for one minute put any store into what he’d alluded to. Joan cared for him. She’d accepted his proposal. Reluctantly maybe at first, but she’d come around. She wouldn’t turn her sights on anyone else.

If thoughts of the past intruded for a moment, he pushed them away. He wasn’t going to let Despenser get to him.

Ignoring the other men, Alex started to walk away. He was headed toward Pembroke’s rooms, but Despenser mistook his direction.

“You won’t find her in de Beaumont’s rooms,” he taunted with a laugh. “The last time I saw her she was with my father. But I doubt she’s there now. She’s probably renewing old acquaintances with one of his men. They were supposed to be quite in love a few years back, as I recall. They made quite a scene cavorting at the midday meal today, didn’t they, lads?”

The other men snickered and hooted like puppets on a string. Alex wanted nothing more than to put his fist through Despenser’s malicious grin, but he wouldn’t give the lies credence. He was sure there was an explanation.

But what the hell did he mean by “in love”?

Alex walked away; they didn’t try to stop him again. Instead of heading to Pembroke’s room as he should, he headed for Joan’s. He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a damned thing until he saw her. He was sure she would clear up whatever misapprehension Despenser was operating under in a few minutes.

But “in love”? Christ, the very idea made him twist with uncertainty and left his chest feeling as if it had been opened up and acid poured inside.

A few minutes later, he stood outside her cousin’s door.
This is silly,
he told himself. Still, he knocked.

He heard voices inside and a moment later the door was cracked open a few inches by a young serving girl. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” Alex said. “But there is something I must speak with Lady Joan about.”

She looked worried. “She’s not here, my lord.”

“Who is it?” he heard Lady Alice demand from inside the room.

The girl looked to him.

“Sir Alexander Seton,” he replied to the silent question.

The girl relayed his name to Alice, and then added, “He’s looking for Lady Joan, my lady.”

“Tell him she’s not here. She’s gone off somewhere again. She always disappears at the most inconvenient time.”

The young serving girl’s look of worry and anxiousness increased. “I’d best get back, my lord. I’m curling her hair with hot tongs, and I’m afraid I’m not nearly as good as Lady Joan.”

Inconvenient indeed, Alex thought. He was glad Joan was nothing like her cousin, but he understood the barely opened door.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” he said again, and left.

He should have gone to Pembroke’s at that point. But he didn’t. He waited and waited at the bottom of the tower until the pitying looks from the guard on watch outside the door proved too much.

To hell with this. It had been a long time since he’d put his Highland Guard skills to use, but he still remembered what to do.

Joan paused outside the door to Alice’s chamber and turned to her cousin. “Thank you for insisting on accompanying me tonight.”

Margaret grinned. “It was my pleasure. I’m not normally so pushy, but after what happened earlier, I did not want you to have to face that horrible man again—at least not alone. I’m just glad he was smart enough not to show his face; I don’t think I would have been able to feign politeness.”

Joan was glad Sir Phillip had stayed away as well. More than glad. Her cousin wouldn’t have been the only one to find it difficult to feign politeness, and Joan didn’t think her former guardian would have been as satisfied by the explanation as Margaret had been.

Joan had told her the truth—that she’d thought herself in love with him and he’d betrayed her—but omitted the specifics of that betrayal. Margaret had been content with the explanation that he’d lost interest when Joan had been disinherited.

“You, not pushy? Since when?” Joan laughed. “But seriously, I am thankful for the company. It was a delightful night.”