The Thief's Angel: a bad-boy, enemies-to-lovers medieval romance (The Highland Angels Book 3)

by Caroline Lee

  “Tell me about some of the places they went!”

  It was an easy enough request, and Rosa was able to easily split her attention between the story and the path ahead of them. Just because there hadn’t been any danger yet, didn’t mean there wouldn’t be.

  The morning turned into afternoon, and Rosa realized she wasn’t going to reach Kingussie as she’d hoped. That had been her destination, but wee Simone was tiring easily and complaining often. The girl had tried her best, but Rosa couldn’t expect her to sit on a horse all day without some respite, so she began to check for possible campsites.

  The sun was almost setting when Rosa found a copse of trees tucked against a small stream, far enough from the road for some privacy and safety. Simone praised her for the find as she nearly fell from the horse, and even Rosa’s legs were a bit stiff.

  Still, it was short work to make a fire and prepare the girl’s bedding from the small bundle the horse carried, which also contained a single dress fine enough for Simone to wear when they arrived at court and Rosa’s book. After they’d supped and performed their ablutions, Rosa sat beside the fire with the book open on her lap and read to Simone.

  Well, she didn’t read exactly. ‘Twas too dark for that, though all the light in the world couldn’t help Rosa anymore. But she spoke the tale of Lanval and his beautiful fairy lover from memory, and soon, Simone’s questions blessedly stopped as her eyes closed and the stars came out.

  It was the following morning as they were breaking camp, and Rosa was explaining her actions as she went in order to stall Simone’s constant commentary, when the hairs on her arms stood up.

  She froze mid-sentence, wondering what had alerted her. Something had changed in the last minute, and in the back of her mind, she’d been paying attention, gratias Deo.

  She suddenly realized what was different: there was no birdsong.

  Slowly, she rotated until she was facing the copse of trees which stood between them and the road. Someone—a quiet someone—could be hiding, watching them.

  “Simone,” she whispered hoarsely, “get behind me.”

  “Why?”

  “Do it.”

  Something in her tone must’ve convinced the girl not to dally, because she did as Rosa commanded.

  Carefully, her eyes on the trees, Rosa shook out her arms and took a deep breath, while preparing herself for what was to come.

  Et cessabit.

  Be calm.

  Her grandfather had taught her that when he’d given her the sticks and taught her how to use them.

  Now, she balanced lightly on the heels of her feet and slid one of the steel spikes out of its sheath along her forearm. It was not a blade, but a solid piece of metal eight inches long. It would block a dirk but could also be used to attack.

  She’d killed men with it.

  “Rosa?” Simone whispered behind her.

  “Shh.” Rosa’s gaze flicked from one shadow to the next, wondering where the danger lurked and cursing herself for her inattention. “When I tell ye to, run for the horse and ride like hell north again. Ye remember how to find the way north?”

  As she reached between her legs to pull up her habit and tuck it into her belt, she heard the lassie whimper.

  “Keep the sun on my right. I’m afraid, Rosa.”

  “I ken it, lassie. I need ye to trust me.”

  Rosa prayed her request wouldn’t mean the death of the sweet girl.

  There was no movement from the woods. Cautiously, Rosa slid one foot forward, waiting until she knew the path was clear before committing her weight. As she did it again, she pulled her other stick free.

  Armed with both of her weapons, she took a deep breath. “Show yerself!”

  The words seemed to echo around the small clearing. When a flock of crows took wing, the noise and movement startled Rosa so much, she flinched away.

  When she looked back, a man was stepping from the shadows, leading a horse. When she saw the sword at his hip, Rosa raised her sticks.

  “Get ready, Simone,” she murmured. She would stand between their attacker and the girl, giving her time to reach safety.

  The man’s steps were easy and carefree, and his long legs were encased in leather trewes, which supported a trim torso and wide shoulders. When he reached his hand up to push his hood away from his face, she saw he had blond hair.

  But it was the way he moved—as if he were in complete control and had all the time in the world—which made her eyes open wide.

  “Shite.”

  And then he smiled.

  She knew she was in trouble.

  Whirling, she faced Simone as she attempted to shove her sticks back into their forearm sheaths with shaking hands. At a distance, her eyesight was perfect, and she would know that smile anywhere.

  Cameron Fraser had somehow found her.

  “Rosa?” Simone whispered, craning her neck in order to get a glimpse of the man. “Should I run?”

  Running was appealing, but Rosa knew there’d be no way to get them both on the horse and outrun him. Better to face the problem.

  Once her spikes finally snapped into place, she straightened her shoulders. “Nay,” she said, taking another deep breath. “I don’ think he’ll harm us.”

  “Why? Because—” The lassie must’ve finally seen who was approaching, because her eyes grew wide. To Rosa’s surprise, she squealed in delight! “Cam!” she yelled, then ducked around Rosa and began to run toward the man.

  Rosa found herself whirling once more and was just in time to see Simone throw herself against Cameron’s legs.

  Cam?

  How in damnation did Simone know who Cameron was?

  In the time it took Rosa to regain her wits, Simone had the man by the hand and was tugging him along behind her. “Faster, faster! I want ye to meet her! She’s the one taking me to my da!”

  His deep rumble—the voice which still did things to her insides—drifted ahead of him. “Yer da trusted a nun to escort ye to Scone?”

  How in damnation did he ken so much?

  “Rosa’s no’ a nun, silly!” Simone was giggling. “I’m no’ a lad either. Did ye see my plaid? I’ve never worn it afore; ye can see my knees!”

  Cameron’s gaze had jerked upward when Simone had said her name, and she saw the moment his gaze landed on her face and realized who she was.

  Then he was before her, his gray eyes more than a little surprised, and his lips parted.

  His lips.

  Deus in caelo!

  She twisted away, taking four stumbling steps to the side, before she could force herself to face him—and those lips of his—once more. Not because she was having trouble seeing his features so close, but because she couldn’t trust herself not to do something stupid.

  Something involving his lips.

  He was still watching her, and Simone was still chattering away about her disguise, but Cameron was clearly not listening. Nay, his gaze skimmed almost frantically over Rosa’s features.

  Interrupting the lassie, he asked Rosa, “I don’ suppose ye have a twin sister named Rosa as well?”

  Mutely, she shook her head, and he winced.

  “Shite.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “Shite!” repeated Simone with a giggle. “Rosa said that too. She’s in disguise, ye ken. A nun wouldnae say ‘shite,’ but I can now. Shite, shite, shite!”

  “Simone!” snapped Rosa. “That’s enough. Do no’ use that word.”

  “Aye,” the lassie said happily, dropping Cameron’s hand. “I ken plenty of words I don’ repeat.”

  From between his fingers, he glanced down at the girl. “We both ken that’s no’ true.”

  Simone’s giggle burbled out. “Mostly.”

  “Simone,” Rosa said with a sigh, “go pet the horse.”

  “Can I talk to him? Tell him about our trip? I think his back is bony. Do ye think that too? Mayhap if I ask, he’ll grow some cushion for me. Do ye think so?”

  Rosa cataloged th
e questions. “Aye. Aye. That’s interesting. Nay. Unlikely.”

  Satisfied, the girl darted off toward the horse, and Rosa was left alone with him.

  Cameron blew out a breath and stepped forward, dragging a hand through his light hair so it was left adorably disheveled. “Ye’re no’ a nun, according to Simone?”

  She lifted her chin. “Don’ look so hopeful. I’m no’ a whore either.”

  One of his brows rose, along with the corner of his lips, giving him a wry sort of grin. “ ’Tis good, because ye werenae verra skilled at it.”

  She saw the lie in his gray eyes and matched his smirk with one of her own. “When I want to be a nun, I’m the best damn nun in the Highlands. When I want to be a whore, ye’ll never meet one better.”

  The laugh which burst out of him quickly turned into a groan, and he scrubbed the same hand over his features again. When he emerged, he looked more than a little chagrined.

  “I’ve been thinking of ye, Rosa.”

  She lifted a brow in challenge. “Is that why ye followed me? Why are ye here?”

  “Ye?” He shook his head. “Nay, I’ve been following Simone. I met her two days ago at An Torr and needed to make sure she arrived in Scone safely. But I wasted half a day trailing that baggage wagon afore I realized I’d been fooled.”

  Rosa hid her reaction to his casual confession that her ruse had worked, and he sighed.

  “Took me the rest of the day to backtrack and snoop around, just to discover she had left. So then I rode ahead of the damned wagon, frantic I might’ve lost her.” He shrugged. “Then I saw yer camp.”

  He’d met Simone at An Torr?

  Rosa’s mind spun as she walked through the possibilities.

  Had he been at An Torr to meet with someone?

  For what purpose? Discovering Cameron’s return to Fraser lands was damning evidence. The plot against the Crown—organized by a Fraser, according to Andrew of Lovat’s testimony—could be linked to An Torr. Cameron’s absence for so long spoke in his favor, but now that she knew he’d returned, she wasn’t sure what that meant. Returning once meant he could’ve returned before.

  ‘Tis his home! He’s allowed to visit home, is he no’?

  “Rosa?”

  Her gaze jerked back to his, and she blew out a breath. “Listen, Cameron, ye cannae—”

  A startled gasp burst out of her when he dropped his horse’s reins and grabbed her by the shoulders. As he jerked her close, his eyes bore into hers. She didn’t even have time to flick her wrists to dislodge her spikes.

  “Ye ken my name. How do ye ken who I am?”

  His fingers were digging into her upper arms, and he was too close to easily make out his features. But his warmth and his scent—horse and leather and wind and pine—made her throat dry.

  She stared up at him, struck mute by his nearness, and doing her best to control her body’s reaction to him.

  He shook her slightly. “How do ye ken me?”

  Her tongue darted across her lips. “Ye kissed me,” she reminded him in a whisper.

  They were close enough to kiss again, but from what she could see, his expression was much too angry for such intimacies. He gave her another little shake.

  “I never told ye my name. How do ye ken that? Why do ye call me Cameron?”

  Gather yerself, lass.

  This wasn’t the first time she’d been held by a man, and as an Angel, she doubted it would be her last. She knew how to break his hold on her…

  But did she want to?

  Aye. Simone’s safety comes first.

  So she blew out a breath, snapped her forearms up between them, and swept them to each side, breaking his hold as she stepped backward. She kept her hands up, balled into fists to protect herself if need be.

  “Yer brother sent me to An Torr, Cameron. I ken who ye are because he kens it.”

  Now she could see the way his gaze turned uncertain, flicking between her eyes. “He does?”

  And Deus carus, but her heart twisted at the sound of confusion in his voice. Did he think, all this time, Lachlan had known his brother was out there?

  She stepped back again but lowered her hands. “We figured it out, Cameron, after the battle where ye saved him. I am one of Mellie’s closest friends.”

  For a long moment he watched her, as if trying to determine if she were telling him the truth or lies. Then his shoulders slumped, and he dragged his fingers through his hair again.

  “He is alive?”

  His first question—and he likely had dozens—was for his brother.

  “Aye,” she said simply. “Mellie got him to the healer in plenty of time.”

  “Good.” His hands fell to his belt, where he hooked his thumbs, then rocked back on his heels. “And ye’re taking Simone to him?”

  “Aye, so she can be with him when he marries Mellie.”

  “And ye’re no’ a nun?”

  Her lips twitched. “No’ a nun.”

  His gaze dropped to her wrists, as if he could see her secret weapons. “And no’ entirely unprotected, even traveling as a nun and a lad.”

  There wasn’t anything to say, so she nodded.

  “Well then.” He took a breath, and his shoulders straightened as if he’d come to a decision. “I’m going with ye.”

  It made sense. It really did.

  They were both going in the same direction and were equally concerned for the safety of the same lassie.

  And having him along would allow Rosa more time to question him, to discover the truth of, not just his journey to An Torr, but his possible motivations for putting a Comyn on the throne.

  Aye, it made sense to invite him to ride with them.

  But as he lifted Simone up to sit behind Rosa, his hand brushed against her leg, and she had to swallow down the moan of desire just that simple touch elicited.

  And she knew this journey would be her most difficult mission to date.

  Chapter 5

  She wasn’t a whore.

  But on the other hand, she wasn’t a nun either.

  So who was she?

  As Cam rode beside the two of them, he couldn’t help stealing little glances at Rosa.

  Rosa.

  It had been her real name she’d given him that morning in the alley, and as far as he could tell, she’d been honest about everything else as well.

  Well, not honest about being a whore.

  Although it had been Cam who’d made that assumption, but she hadn’t corrected him, had she?

  But she’d been honest in her reactions to him at least.

  He’d seen the way she’d looked up at him when he’d grabbed her. He’d been angry, but that hadn’t been fear in her eyes.

  Nay. She’s been remembering the kiss they’d shared. He’d bet anything on that.

  The kiss he couldn’t stop thinking of either.

  Who was she?

  She was beautiful, aye, but quick-witted and confident too.

  Throughout the morning, he found himself searching for topics of conversation, but she tended to answer him with curt responses.

  And he eventually came to realize it was because of the lass sitting behind her.

  “How much longer do ye think we’ll be? Can we stop for the noon meal now?”

  “Still two days, if we’re lucky,” Rosa said with a sigh, the muscles in her jaw jumping under her wimple. “And nay, ‘tis no’ yet noon.”

  One bony arm snaked around her to point. “Then can I go look at that tree? ‘Tis an interesting tree. I could walk there.”

  “Nay,” Rosa snapped. “If ye did, ‘twould take us three days to reach Scone.”

  It was clear to Cam Rosa’s patience was nearing its end with Simone’s questions. Clucking to his horse, he rode up beside the pair. “Would ye like the wee lassie to ride with me for a bit?”

  The sharp glance Rosa sent his way was full of suspicion. “Why?”

  Why?

  The question took him aback.

  “W
hy no’? She is my niece.”

  To his surprise, Simone gasped and leaned toward him, her eyes wide. “I am?”

  He frowned, his gaze going back to Rosa. “Ye didnae tell her?”

  Rosa had known who he was, and his relation to Lachlan, so why wouldn’t she have told Simone?

  Unless…she was ashamed of him?

  Or afraid?

  Was it possible she’d guessed what he’d been up to all these years?

  When she didn’t respond, but kept her gaze ahead, Cam shrugged and turned back to Simone. “Aye, lassie. I’m yer Uncle Cam. Yer da’s younger brother.”

  “Uncle Cam!” the girl squealed, as she threw herself off Rosa’s horse and into his arms.

  ‘Twas a good thing he was so close by and so ready to accept her as a passenger, because he ended up with her on his lap and her arms around his neck.

  Tight.

  After a quick hug, Simone reared back to study him. “Ye look like me.”

  “I look like yer da,” he corrected. “Ye look like him.”

  Her little hand cupped his cheek. “I have gray eyes too, like ye. But ye have more beard. Will I get a beard one day? I’ve never seen a lady with a beard. Do ladies grow beards?”

  She turned in his arms and settled herself across his lap as he answered her questions the way he remembered Rosa doing. “Aye. Aye. Hopefully no’. I’ve seen a woman with a beard, aye.”

  She sucked in a gasp and demanded the story. He easily slid into the tale of one of his best footpads, a large bull of a woman named Doris, who’d seemed more like a man than woman at times.

  Although he was careful not to tell Simone details about his life as the leader of the Red Hand, he answered her questions with chuckles and details and questions of his own.

  And when she started nagging him to be let down, he showed her some of the sleight of hand tricks he’d learned over the years. Mostly they were good for hiding pilfered coins, as he’d shown wee Tess, but they could also be used as a way to entertain.