The Ghost Read online

  Somehow she would find a way to break the betrothal—even if she feared that by then she might not want to.

  Her fears were not unwarranted. No sooner had Joan and her cousins descended the stairs to join the other women in the courtyard than Alex appeared by her side.

  “I’ve been conscripted as an escort,” he said, by way of answer to her unspoken question.

  Joan lifted a brow. “Why do I think you were not averse to the duty?”

  “Aye, it’s a nice break from the preparations of war.”

  “Is that all?”

  “There might have been another reason or two.”

  She frowned. “Two?”

  He quirked a decidedly devilish smile that made his already too-handsome face even more devastating and landed with a thump somewhere in the region above her ribs.

  Dear God, would she ever grow used to how handsome he was?

  He can be yours . . .

  No, he can’t. She had to force herself to quiet the voice of temptation. But every minute she spent with him, it grew louder.

  He was everything she’d once imagined a knight could be: courteous, gallant, charming, and attentive. He made her laugh, made her feel like she was the most important person in the world, and seemed to anticipate her wishes even before she thought them. When one of the “ladies” in the queen’s party tried to flirt with him—not seeming to care that Joan was right there—he gently but firmly cut her off. He only had eyes for one woman, and he made sure everyone knew it.

  It was like a dream. She might as well have fallen back in time into the pages of her favorite stories: the fair maid being wooed by the gallant knight. He seemed to have forgotten her reputation, and she forgot the disappointment and cynicism that had helped construct it.

  Maybe if she could have kept it at that it would have been easier to dismiss, but Alex was intent on drawing her in deeper and deeper with questions and conversations that made her realize he really wanted to know her. The real her. The person she hadn’t been for a very long time.

  The royal party had ridden for a few miles before stopping in a wide swath of moorland. As Joan had never had much interest in hawking—not only was it an extremely expensive sport, but frankly birds of prey terrified her—she had joined a few of the other ladies on an old stone wall to watch. After attending to his duties, Alex had ambled over to take a seat beside her. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused when the two ladies she’d been sitting with moved to give them some privacy.

  It didn’t take long for their light conversation to take a more serious turn. “I saw you once,” Alex admitted. “A long time ago.”

  Joan was so shocked that he mentioned it that at first she didn’t know what to say. She looked around to make sure no one was near and knew that she had to tread very carefully. “I thought I might have seen you once before as well.”

  He was clearly surprised. “You did?”

  She nodded.

  “At Roxburgh?” he asked.

  She nodded again. “About the time of my cousin’s wedding.” She paused, debating how much more to say. “I believe you were with my mother.”

  He held her gaze with an intensity that made her want to turn away. Keeping her thoughts hidden from him was getting harder and harder.

  “Aye, she was not very happy that I noticed you. You were far too young. Christ, you still are,” he said half to himself.

  “I haven’t been young for a very long time. Having my mother imprisoned in a cage and knowing my father was one of the people responsible for her being put there, as well as being disinherited and branded a bastard, tends to make one grow up fast.” Not to mention having her innocence taken from her by force at fifteen.

  Though she’d said it lightly, maybe he heard more bitterness than she intended.

  “Aye, I can see that,” he said slowly. “Why did you stay? You might have returned to Scotland after your mother was released.”

  She shook her head firmly; this was very dangerous ground. “Why would I? My life has been in England for the past eight years. My family is here.”

  “Your Comyn family, perhaps, but what about your mother, brothers, and sister?”

  The question pierced too deeply, touching on nerves that were more raw than she wanted them to be. She kept her voice as even and nonchalant as she could. “I barely remember my mother, and my brothers and sister I have never met.”

  “I have,” he said. “Your sister resembles you.”

  “She does?” Lachlan had never said anything, probably guessing that the subject cut deeper than she wanted to admit. “People have always said I look like my father.”

  “You do, but there is more of your mother in you than I realized. Christina had just started to walk when I saw her last. She has blond hair like your mother, but there is something in the eyes, nose, and chin.”

  He studied her face until she grew self-conscious, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What about Erik?” Robbie had been born after Alex left.

  “He has your color eyes and hair, but he looks just like his father.”

  There was an edge to his voice she couldn’t ignore. “You don’t like my mother’s husband?” She proceeded slowly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; Lachlan MacRuairi does not have the best reputation.”

  Alex gave a sharp laugh. “That is putting it rather mildly—and most of it is true. He’s more brigand than knight, and as mean as a snake.”

  Viper. Lachlan’s war name.

  “And yet,” Alex continued with a shrug. “Your mother saw something in him.”

  “And you did as well?”

  He gave her another shrug. “Maybe at times. It was complicated.”

  Joan suspected that was the biggest understatement of the day. Not for the first time she wondered what had happened to make him leave.

  They were quiet for a while, watching the hawks dive and soar, from their seat on the old wall. She might not like the birds up close, but they were absolutely beautiful to watch. “Why did you not say anything about seeing me at Roxburgh before?” Alex asked.

  She could ask him the same. “I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to make things any more difficult for you.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “So I see you’ve heard that my loyalties are currently suspect?”

  “My cousin mentioned something about your helping to uncover the spy to clear you from suspicion.”

  He shook his head, not without some disgust. “It’s bloody ironic, isn’t it? I turned traitor to one side only to be thought a traitor by the other. Everywhere I go, it’s suspicion.”

  She’d never thought about it that way, but as a baron with lands on both sides of the border he didn’t really have a side—he was caught in the middle. Was that it? She couldn’t hold back the questions any longer, though part of her feared the answer. Alex’s betrayal of Bruce and the Guard was the only thing keeping her heart at bay. It was easier not to know—it kept a wall between them. And yet she could no longer stop herself from asking, “Why did you do it, Alex? What made you decide to leave the Scots to fight for the English?”

  There was an almost imperceptible stiffening of his shoulders. “There are many people who have changed allegiance throughout this war. It is hardly unusual.”

  He was avoiding the question. “But those men aren’t you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You live and breathe honor and integrity.”

  He smiled, his teeth a white flash against his already sun-darkened skin. “You make me sound like some kind of paragon, which I assure you I am not.”

  “Maybe so, but those things are important to you.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “And a man who betrays his compatriots cannot be honorable and have integrity, is that it?” She didn’t say anything. “Yet that is why I left.”

  It was clear she didn’t understand, and he seemed to be weighing whether to say more. Perhaps her patience and silence helped to convince h