The Ghost Read online

  But after taking off the lid, she stilled. There, sitting in her jewelry box, tucked into the MacDuff broach given to her by her mother—a broach she never wore—was a piece of parchment. She looked around, half expecting Lachlan to materialize from some shadow. Had he put it there earlier? Had Margaret?

  Carefully, she took it out to read. Her heart was pounding as she slowly unfolded it. The handwriting was not familiar, but the words turned her bones cold and sent chills racing through her blood.

  You are in danger. They suspect the truth.

  21

  IT HAD TAKEN two nights, but Alex had his answer. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the one he wanted.

  As he approached the stones just after dusk for the second night to wait, he felt the sharp press of a knife against his back that confirmed his worst fear. There was only one man who could sneak up on him like that. He didn’t need to turn around to know that the man behind him was Lachlan “Viper” MacRuairi.

  Apparently Alex’s leaving hadn’t made the Guard change their method of contact in an emergency. An unusual oversight on their part, but one that had enabled him to summon his proof. He’d gone to the Standing Stones at Diddo a short distance from Berwick and placed three rocks in a pyramid at its base. The stones, circles, and cairns that littered the Scottish (and English) countryside were a favorite meeting place and place to leave messages of Bruce and the Guard—the three stones were the signal to come right away.

  And who had answered the call but his betrothed’s “father.” That was whom Joan had been waiting for the night he surprised her in her room. That was what she’d started to say—Father, not Fiona. The maidservant had been a lie, as he’d discovered the morning after Gifford’s death when he’d asked to see “Fiona.” No one had heard of her.

  Alex couldn’t believe it. Joan was the spy; she was the Ghost. She’d been deceiving him all along. The clues had been there, he’d just been too besotted to see them.

  All the little oddities suddenly made sense. The deft move that had enabled her to escape Despenser in the barn and the instinct to block Alex’s flipping her when they’d been in bed were because she’d been trained—no doubt by the very man holding the knife at his back right now.

  Alex cursed. Of course, the knife! It had Norse carvings on the hilt just like the bracelet that she claimed to have received from her “father”—MacRuairi, not Buchan. How the hell had Alex not made the connection? MacRuairi carried an almost identical blade. And how could Alex not have realized her biggest mistake of all: dragon, not wyvern? She’d practically called him by his bloody war name. It hadn’t been the sword; she’d known he’d been a member of the Highland Guard all along.

  Suddenly the ramifications of that hit him with the force of a hammer in his gut. Had she been purposefully using him? Had she been spying on him? Had it all been a lie? The white-hot knife of betrayal sliced through his chest and burned with a new kind of pain. The pain of loving someone who’d been lying to him.

  MacRuairi was the first to break the silence. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t stick this knife in your back just like you did when you betrayed us.”

  MacRuairi’s taunt might have had some effect if Alex weren’t so furious. How could Joan have done this? How could they have let her do this? Heedless of the knife digging slowly deeper into his back, Alex snapped back, “I don’t think Joan would like it too much if you killed the man she’s going to marry in a few weeks.” He paused and added sarcastically, “Shall I call you Father?”

  MacRuairi cursed, and the press of the knife slackened for one instant. Having anticipated it, Alex was able to use his former guardsman’s moment of shock to twist away.

  The two men faced off in the darkness, MacRuairi still wielding his blade and Alex retrieving his own.

  “You hadn’t heard about our impending nuptials?” Alex taunted. “You must be slipping, Viper.”

  “You are a liar as well as a traitor.” MacRuairi’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade as if he couldn’t wait to attack. “Joan would never—”

  He slammed his mouth closed and gave Alex a deadly glare that might have intimidated him once. It didn’t any longer.

  “What?” Alex seethed. “Marry me knowing what she knows about me? Is that what you were about to say? Don’t stop now, there is no need for secrets between old friends,” he said with the kind of biting sarcasm that could have come from the man opposite him. “I know everything.” MacRuairi’s weren’t the only fingers tightening around his blade. Alex was practically shaking with the need to vent his anger on the man he held responsible. “I know Joan is the Ghost, damn it. I know you’ve been using her since she was barely more than a girl to spy on the English and send information back to Bruce. I knew you were a coldhearted bastard, Viper, but I never thought even you would let your wife’s daughter play a whore for your own ends. Do you have any idea the kind of danger she’s been in? Does Bella know what her daughter is doing?”

  It could have been a trick of the moonlight, but he thought MacRuairi might have paled. “Leave my wife out of this. You don’t know shite, you fucking English bastard. And we were never friends.”

  Alex’s fingers were white, the intricate metalwork of the hilt biting into his skin. “Maybe you’re right. But you know what? I don’t care anymore. This isn’t about me, it’s about Joan. You can pretend ignorance, but you had to know what she was doing. Did you not question how she got close enough to Fitzgerald to get all those shipping routes?”

  MacRuairi cursed again, but this time it didn’t seem to be directed at Alex but at himself. His blade came down just a little. “You are wrong. I didn’t know.”

  Alex took a step toward him. “But you suspected, didn’t you? And turned a blind eye because it suited your needs.”

  “You don’t know her at all if you think I had anything to do with it—Joan has her own mind.”

  He was undoubtedly right about that.

  “But you helped her,” Alex countered. “You taught her how to defend herself and wield that knife.”

  “Because I knew she would do it anyway, and I wanted her to be prepared. I was trying to protect her, damn it.”

  Alex didn’t want to hear MacRuairi’s bloody excuses. Alex looked at his former compatriot, at the man whose respect he’d fought so hard to earn. Though why the hell he’d wanted it so badly, he didn’t know. MacRuairi was the antithesis of everything Alex believed in. But at times Alex had thought he’d seen more. He thought he’d glimpsed the man who a great hero like Bella MacDuff could see something in. “How could you, Viper? After what they did to Bella, how could you let Joan put herself in such danger? Do you want to see her in a cage, too?”

  There was no mistaking the flinch this time—moonlight or not. MacRuairi lowered his blade completely, perhaps not even realizing it. “I told you I didn’t have a choice. I’ve argued against it since I found out, but she and Bruce would not be gainsaid. But she’s good—the best. Joan can take care of herself. She’s escaped detection for a long time.”

  “Until now,” Alex pointed out.

  MacRuairi’s eyes narrowed. “I warned her to stay away from you. I knew when you were spotted together in the village there would be trouble. What did you do? Trick her? Use your Sir Galahad routine to lure her in so you could betray her as well?” Another possibility appeared to occur to him and the knife lifted again. “If you touched her, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

  “It’s a little late to play the concerned father, don’t you think? And I have no intention of betraying her, I love her, you bloody arse, and she loves me.”

  Looking completely poleaxed by Alex’s claim, MacRuairi didn’t say anything for a moment. But then his mouth turned in a slow sneer. “Are you so sure about that? Joan has been playacting a long time.”

  Alex wasn’t sure about anything, but he wouldn’t let the other man see it. “Do you think she would agree to marry me if she didn’t?”

  MacRuairi hesita