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

by Caroline Lee

  With an excited squeal, the girl jumped up and ran for the berry bushes at the top of the hill. Rosa got up to spread the plaid on a boulder to dry, and Cam…

  Well, Cam couldn’t stop thinking about his niece's words.

  Ye’re still a Fraser.

  Was that true?

  He’d turned his back on his family, his clan, years ago. He hadn’t wanted to be a Fraser, not then.

  But now…?

  Now Father and Hamish were gone, and Lachlan was the laird. And he had a precious daughter Cam already loved.

  And Mother was alive.

  Cam wasn’t sure if he could forgive her, but mayhap the chance to get to know her again…?

  Shaking his head, he set to making a fire to roast the fish.

  A week ago, his goal had been to find Court and make sure she was safe and doing well. Now, he was considering his mother and brother and family.

  Considering his future.

  And it was all thanks to this woman beside him. The one who, even now, sat quietly, staring out over the loch with a pensive expression upon her face.

  Somewhere over the last few days, she’d changed his goals. She’d come into his life with her brilliant mind and her clever wit and her unique way of looking at the world. She’d been the push he’d needed to visit An Torr and had told him so much about his family.

  There was still so much he didn’t know about her, but he couldn’t deny the truth: Somehow, Rosa Forbes had found a way into his heart.

  As they ate—the berries were juicy and ripe, a perfect complement to the fish—Simone’s eyelids began to grow heavy. Her shoulders slumped, and she asked fewer questions—a sure sign she was exhausted.

  “Ye’ve been walking and swimming all morning,” Rosa told her quietly, tugging her down to rest against her leg. “Close yer eyes for a moment.”

  The lassie was asleep before Cam had even finished kicking the coals apart.

  He stood, hands on his hips, and watched as his niece mumbled in her sleep, then rolled over, sprawling across the grass. Her linen shirt was all tangled around her gangly limbs, and she reminded him of a shepherd’s lad.

  “What?” Rosa asked him, wriggling out from under the lassie and gently lowering the young girl’s head to the grass.

  Cam shrugged, realizing Rosa had asked why he was smiling so hugely. It was the first words she’d spoken to him since he finished reading, since he realized how much she meant to him, and mayhap that was why he was smiling.

  Instead he jerked his chin toward Simone. “ ’Tis glad I am Lachlan is raising her with so much freedom.”

  One of Rosa’s brows twitched as she peered down at the girl. “She’s no’ exactly a proper lady, is she?”

  Chuckling, Cam offered her his hand. “Let her sleep for a bit. We can pick some berries for later while we wait. Unless ye prefer bannock again tonight?”

  She must’ve heard the challenge in his voice, because she was smiling when she reached up and took his hand. The warmth which spread up Cam’s arm was everything he’d hoped for, everything he’d ever wanted.

  Only now, he wasn’t sure what he wanted, which path his future would follow.

  Did he have the choice? Could one path lead back to An Torr? Back to his family?

  Back home?

  The silence followed them up the hill to the berry patch. Instead of using Simone’s cap to hold them, Rosa pulled a pouch from inside her scapular and offered it instead.

  They worked beside one another, avoiding the wicked, long thorns as they plucked the ripe berries.

  They shared a companionable silence, but he wanted to learn more about her.

  When he shifted so he could see her better, he discovered she was frowning in concentration at a particularly thick patch of thorns, carefully maneuvering her fingers toward the berries. Her tongue stuck out between her lips.

  It was purple.

  When he snorted softly, she froze for a moment, then her dark eyes flicked toward him. His smile grew as he lifted a berry and popped it into his mouth, certain his own tongue was now just as stained by the berry juice as hers was.

  Confronted with the evidence of her crime, Rosa pulled her hand back and straightened, her own smile growing, showing even more berry stains across her lips. “I confess I’ve stolen a few from our communal bag.”

  “Stealing, eh?” His smile grew even more as he dropped a few more berries into the bag. “And have ye ever stolen aught before?”

  “Aye.”

  Her answer was too quick, too certain, to be anything other than the truth, and that surprised him.

  “Really?” One of his brows rose. “What?”

  She shrugged and turned her attention back to the berry bush. “Once, one of the Queen’s letters fell into the wrong hands. It was from Robert, and Elizabeth believed the man who stole it from her would use the information in it against the Crown’s best interest.” Rose spoke nonchalantly, as if this information wasn’t incredible. “I devised the plan to get it back, which involved breaking into the inn where he was staying and stealing it back.”

  She kept picking berries and dropping them into the bag, while Cam stood there with his mouth hanging open.

  Not only did she live in the palace, but she was on intimate terms with the bloody Queen of Scotland?

  Rosa had just called the Queen—and even the King, for that matter!—by their given names, without a single blink or hesitation.

  He knew she wasn’t pretentious. Knew she wasn’t the kind to be impressed by titles or name-dropping. Which meant she was friends with the King and Queen of Scotland.

  God’s Teeth, she was about as far from a thief like him as he could imagine!

  But she kens the palace. She could help ye find Court.

  Aye, he knew it. He knew Rosa would be a valuable asset in his mission to find his old friend. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to take advantage of her, to use her like that.

  Not with how she’d worked her way into his heart.

  He cleared his throat. “It sounds as if the Queen trusts ye.”

  “I am one of her—her ladies.” Rosa still wasn’t looking at him. “There are some plans which have a higher chance of success if implemented by a person no-one excepts.”

  “Like ye.” Like an intelligent woman who knew about disguises. “Dressed as a nun?”

  She stilled; her gaze locked on the bush before her. He was able to count to five before she suddenly turned, a wide smile on her face.

  Which looked false as hell.

  “What about ye? What was the first thing ye stole?”

  He crossed his arms before his chest and raised a brow at her. She was changing the subject, fine. He’d go along with it.

  For now.

  “A horse,” he said succinctly. “Like we need now.”

  Without rising to the bait, she merely hummed, as if the information was fascinating. “Who’d ye steal it from?”

  His gaze drifted away from her, across the hill, toward the angelic figure of his sleeping niece.

  “My father,” he murmured. “Nae one questioned me when I saddled the beast and rode away from An Torr. They all assumed I had Father’s permission to go riding, and I’d be back that same evening.”

  “This was when ye were twelve?”

  She knew so much about him, and he knew next to nothing about her.

  “Aye,” he grunted.

  “Will ye tell me why ye left, Cam?” she asked softly.

  Without looking at her, he shook his head once. “Suffice it to say, I have never regretted leaving. That first winter, I had no plan, no destination. I traded the horse for a few month’s shelter in Glencoe and scrubbed tables at an inn. After the snows cleared, I headed south.”

  “To the Red Hand.”

  He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

  God’s Teeth, how could he be so entranced by a woman he knew nothing about, but who knew so much about him?

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, he
simply mumbled, “Aye.”

  Then he laced his fingers across the back of his head and stretched, watching the way the sun reflected off the waters of the loch.

  “Aye. When I found them, ‘twas not yet a year after I’d left. I was big for my age, but no’ big enough to survive long on my own. I kenned I needed…something. I didnae realize it at the time, but that something was a teacher, someone to help me survive.”

  “By thieving.”

  There was no use denying it. He was a thief. It was what he was good at.

  “I’d stolen to survive up until then, but I would’ve been caught had I tried it for longer. The man who ran the Red Hand at the time…”

  Remembering the pain inflicted during his training, Cam blew out a breath.

  “He was a ruthless bastard. But he was good at what he did. I learned from him, learned how to steal, learned how to pick pockets, learned how to turn stolen coin into food for the whole band. I learned how to lead. And when he was gone, I took over.”

  He'd been little more than a lad when he’d challenged for—and won—the chance to lead the Red Hand. It wasn’t the first time he’d killed a man, even at that young age, and it hadn’t been the last. But he liked to think he’d been able to mold that dirty, lawless group of men into something resembling a team.

  At least until he’d given it all up to atone for a past sin.

  Once in Scone, the men he’d brought with him from Kintyre had gone back to their honorless ways. They stole, raped, and killed against his orders, and he hated how easily he lost control of them among the temptations the city offered.

  And then, a sennight ago, he’d killed the last of them to save the man he now knew was his brother.

  All because he’d given up everything he’d built in order to find Court.

  “There was…a lassie.”

  “A lassie?” she repeated flatly.

  His hands dropped to his sides. “Aye. Courtney,” he said softly. “The lads called her English because she spoke with an accent when she was verra young. She was sold to the Red Hand when she was Simone’s age.”

  Staring down the hill at his niece, he couldn’t imagine the terror she—or any child—would face in that situation. Court had handled it by being tougher and angrier than any of the lads, and he prayed she’d maintained that fire.

  It would keep her alive.

  “I protected her,” he whispered. “I taught her what I knew. She was—she was like my little sister. And then, after I became leader, I betrayed her.”

  Rosa was silent for so long, he glanced at her. She was staring at him, chewing on her lower lip.

  It wasn’t one of her signs she was thinking, nay. This was her concerned look.

  “I’m no’ a hero, Rosa,” he said in a low voice, willing her to understand. “I’m a thief. I’ve done terrible things. And Court…” He shook his head, remembering the anguish on her face when he told her he was sending her away. “I sent her off on her own. She landed in gaol twice. The last I heard of her, she’s alive and working in the palace. That’s all I ken, and it’s driving me mad.”

  “And ye want to find her?”

  As always, her mind was two steps ahead of him.

  “Aye. I need to find her to make sure she’s safe and happy. To apologize.”

  He’d given up trying to understand Rosa, the way her mind could jump from one thought to the next. But whatever response he’d expected from her, it wasn’t the one he got.

  Surging toward him, she dropped the berries on the ground and threw her arms around his neck. Before he could react, she was tugging his lips down to hers.

  And then he wasn’t thinking about anything, because she was kissing him, and—God Almighty—it was everything he remembered.

  And more.

  With a groan, his arms snaked around her waist, lifting her up and pressing her slender frame against his larger one. Although her heavy habit was between them, hampering her movements, she managed to lift one leg and wrap it around his, pulling him closer, as her lips parted and invited his tongue in to play.

  Dear God in Heaven, he couldn’t recall ever feeling this way with any other woman. The desire hit so sudden and strong, he became lightheaded, all the blood rushing to his cock where it rubbed against the junction of her thighs.

  She clung to him, her fingers twisting in his hair as if she were as desperate as he was, her hips undulating against his hardness in the most delicious torture.

  One of his hands reached for her veil, yanking it off so he could feel her hair under his fingers. She broke away from his lips with a moan, dropping her head back to allow him access to her throat, which he happily took. His lips trailed across her skin, branding her.

  Mine.

  Mine!

  He slowly let her slide down his body, and she eased her hold on him until both her feet were on the ground. With his other hand free now, he cupped her breast, teasing and squeezing through the rough material.

  She moaned, arching against his touch, which brought her pelvis into contact with his stiff cock once more. Cam wanted to slam his eyes shut, to focus on the pleasure he was feeling at that moment, but then he’d lose the sight of Rosa, presenting herself to him like some kind of feast.

  “Cam…” She moaned again, undulating against him, as her hands reached around to cup his arse. “Please.”

  His lips trailed back up her neck. He knew what she was begging for. He knew what she needed, what he could give her.

  And he knew why he wouldn’t give it to her.

  She was offering herself to him. To him!

  But no matter how deliriously aroused she made him, she was still one of the Queen’s ladies, and he was still a common thief.

  And as his lips claimed hers again, stifling both of their groans of pleasure, he knew he would have to be the one to pull apart, to step away from this—this—whatever this was.

  But she surprised him yet again.

  Rosa was the one who broke their kiss; the one who pulled away with a gasp.

  And he let her go.

  She was breathing heavily when she pressed her cheek against his chest, her small hands trailing up to wrap around his waist. He missed the feel of them on his arse.

  It wasn’t until he wrapped her in his arms and dropped his chin to her head that he realized how hard he was breathing. How much she had affected him. How much her touch—her kiss—had affected him.

  Had been affecting him since that first meeting in the alley.

  Was this what it was like to kiss someone he cared for?

  Light as a feather, he felt her place a kiss against his chest. Then another one. He tightened his hold on her and willed his heart to stop pounding as if he’d run a race.

  Wait…cared for?

  Hellfire!

  He was falling in love with a completely unsuitable woman, and despite the terror that evoked, he couldn’t be happier.

  Suddenly, she groaned, then turned her head so her forehead was pressed against him. He stiffened, not sure how to react.

  Was she regretting their kiss?

  Then she nodded, pounding her head against his chest twice, before groaning again.

  “Stupid,” she hissed.

  “Rosa?” He pulled her gently away from him. “Rosa, what’s wrong?”

  She stared up at him; her lips swollen, her eyes dazed, and her hair in wild disarray. She looked as if she’d been thoroughly kissed, and despite his sudden worry, Cam felt a spike of primal pride.

  He’d been the one to kiss her like that.

  Mine!

  She squeezed her dark eyes shut and wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to do something wrong. Something stupid. Something there’s a high likelihood I will find myself regretting at least once in my life.”

  Mind racing, Cam’s gaze skipped over her face, looking for clues.

  Was she leaving him?

  Before they even reached Scone?

  Or was she talking about something different?
<
br />   Did she want…did she want him?

  And she thought that was a stupid thing?

  It was stupid to want a man like him. But he couldn’t deny he wanted her with all the aching in his heart.

  And his cock, if he were being honest.

  “What are ye saying, Rosa?” he asked hoarsely. When she didn’t answer him, he moved his hands to her arms. “Rosa?”

  Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes.

  There were no answers there, and her expression turned even more neutral.

  “Go steal us some horses, Cam.”

  It was so unexpected, he reared back. “What in damnation?”

  “The horses,” she repeated. “The ones ye’ve been wanting to steal. I’ll get the berries and wake Simone. Ye find us some horses. We’ll meet further up the road to Scone.”

  He felt his mouth open, but no sound came out.

  What was she saying?

  Her hands loosened their hold on him and came around to pat his chest. But her eyes held only determination when she nodded at him.

  “Go. Hurry. I would have this betrayal over and done.”

  Chapter 9

  This betrayal…?

  Rosa’s confusing, terrifying words echoed around in Cam’s head two days later, as he followed her along the palace’s curtain wall.

  He’d done as she’d asked that day beside the loch. They’d split up, with him finding a crofter’s hut with a broken-down nag in the barn. Surprised at the way his conscience pricked, he continued to the next village, where he borrowed two horses.

  Borrowed?

  Ha!

  His mantle’s hood up to hide his face, Cam shook his head in disgust. He was a thief. ‘Twas foolish to call it aught else. Foolish to lie to himself about who he was.

  “Shh!” Rosa hissed from ahead, flattening her back along the wall and gesturing to him to do the same.

  Far above, the sound of a guard’s patrol passed slowly by. With them tucked against the wall like this, they’d be invisible…unless the man had reason to look straight down, alerted by, say, a noise Cam made.

  This time his disappointment was silent, but he shook his head once more.

  God’s Teeth, he was a bloody thief!

  He should be better at sneaking into the royal palace, shouldn’t he?