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

by Caroline Lee

  But she hadn’t, and he’d left. And now, fifteen years later, she was using Cam. Using him, but didn’t know him. She hadn’t even been willing to spend more than a few moments’ time with him yesterday morning.

  All these years later, and she only wanted him here so she could use him.

  Footsteps down the corridor jerked Cam’s attention away from his introspection, and he forced himself to breath carefully as he strolled in the opposite direction.

  Toward Rosa.

  He’d left her in her small room, smiling in her sleep. As a man, it had been hard to leave her, especially remembering the pleasure they’d given one another. But as a thief, he knew the best time to burgle was in the hours before dawn, when the target was sleeping deepest.

  Aye, it had been hard to leave Rosa, but he’d been doing it for the best reasons. To finish this, so the two of them could start planning a future.

  She loved him, and he planned to spend the rest of his life trying to be worth her love.

  Ahead, a man wearing a Bruce tartan stood with his back to a door, arms folded across his chest.

  A guard?

  He hadn’t been there when Cam had passed that way two hours before.

  ‘Twas too late to turn back now; that would be even more suspicious. So Cam lightened his steps, tucked his thumbs in his belt, and smiled like a man who’d spent the night in his cups or in a wench’s arms.

  “ ’Tis a beautiful morning, is it no’?” Cam called cheerfully with a smile.

  The guard scowled, his eyes darting to the plaid wrapped low on Cam’s hips, then to the window. “ ’Tis no’ yet morn,” the man grunted.

  Cam kept walking, his silly grin in place. “Then I had better get what sleep I can!”

  He held his breath until he turned the corner in the corridor, but there were no suspicious sounds behind him. The guard had believed him to be what he appeared, and Cam was pleased he’d left his sword in Rosa’s room.

  Truthfully, that had been a last-minute decision, the same as the decision to wear the plaid. It would’ve been easy to dress in his trewes and tunic, same as every day for the last fifteen years.

  But…

  Yesterday, his brother—the new Fraser laird—had offered him a tartan and a place in the clan.

  Yesterday, Rosa had told him she loved him.

  Yesterday, he’d discovered a chance to clear his name and build a future with the woman he loved.

  And so, early this morning, just before he’d slipped out to perform a bit of thieving, he hadn’t wanted to go back to the way things had been for the last fifteen years. He’d left his sword, aye, and had chosen to don his new plaid instead.

  As a reminder of what could be.

  He reached Rosa’s room without incident, but before he could lift the latch, the door swung open.

  “There ye are!” Rosa was fully dressed, her hair pinned up underneath a netting which managed to look proper and respectable for a royal palace…and also sexy as hell.

  Or mayhap he was just remembering the way she felt in his arms last night.

  She tsked. “Don’ look at me like that now. We have work to do,” she scolded in a low voice. “Here, take this.”

  When she offered him his sword and scabbard, he tied it to his belt with only a raised brow.

  Then she peeked her head into the corridor, looked both ways, and stepped out. Taking his arm, she began a sedate stroll toward the heart of the palace. Any on-looker might think he was just escorting a lady to break her fast early, but she was most definitely leading him.

  “Are ye willing to offer me any clues, milady?”

  “What?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “About where ye’re taking me this early? I was hoping to find ye still abed.”

  Naked. And willing.

  The way she flushed—subtle against her darker skin, but obvious to him—told him she’d heard the unspoken words.

  But she lifted her chin. “Too much to do to spend the day in bed, my love.”

  “Oh well.” He pretended to sigh, when in fact he adored this chance to banter with her. “Mayhap tomorrow, then?”

  But her nod was too serious. “Mayhap. If we are lucky.”

  Before he could ask what worried her, they reached a door and she paused.

  “This is Charlotte’s solar. The Angels often meet here, but she’s no’ here.”

  He didn’t like how nervous she was acting. “Are ye still afraid she’ll call the guards the moment she sees me?”

  “Nay. Well, aye,” Rosa confessed. “But for now, we just needed someplace to meet. She came to me this morning, ‘twas how I kenned ye’d left—no’ Charlotte, but—oh, ye’ll see. I’ll give ye as long as I can, alone, before returning with the others. And mayhap some food.”

  She wasn’t making any sense, and the way she was chewing on her lip wasn’t normal either. Her worry was beginning to affect him.

  “Rosa, love?” His hand dropped to hers. “What is it?”

  She didn’t answer, but took a breath and pushed the door open. Instinctively, Cam’s gaze swept the room, but made it no further than the tall woman in trewes near the window, who spun around at the sound of their entrance. She’d instinctively reached for the bow propped beside her, but as she recognized him, she slowly straightened, her hand falling back to her side.

  Courtney.

  He felt Rosa’s hand tighten around his. “I’ll be back soon,” she murmured, then pulled away.

  He wanted to thank her, to at least acknowledge her words, but no sound emerged. He could only listen to the sound of the door shutting behind Rosa, as he stared at the woman he’d raised as a sister.

  Court.

  He owed her so many apologies, but didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know what to say to make her accept him. Didn’t know how to make up for—

  “Cam,” she breathed, and then she was in front of him, her hands reaching, pulling him into a hug.

  He wrapped his own arms around her and hugged her back, praying for her pardon.

  It felt like ages before they pulled apart, standing close enough together to examine one another. Her hair was longer than she’d kept it among the Red Hand, but still shorter than was likely proper. It had darkened some in the years since he’d last seen her, now a color somewhere between her childhood blonde and a light brown.

  And she was taller, if such a thing was even possible. She’d never been a small lassie, and now stood almost eye-to-eye with him. There was a reason she’d never succeeded as a housebreaker.

  That reminder—the reminder of what she’d endured after he’d sent her away—caused him to suck in a sharp breath.

  “Court, I—” he began, but his voice caught, and he pressed his lips together.

  She was the one to take his hands, to squeeze them.

  “I ken, Cam,” she said in a low voice. “I ken. Andrew told me why ye sent me away.”

  Shaking his head, he refused to accept her forgiveness so easily. “I should no’ have done it. I—” Glancing down at their joined hands, he saw the brand on the back of hers, and twisted it up to bring it into the light. “Oh, God in Heaven, Court. I am sorry.” He dragged his anguished stare back to her eyes. “Ye’ll never ken how sorry I am, how much I’ve regretted sending ye here, to face the—the King’s justice”—he spat out the word, lifting her branded hand higher—“on yer own. I should’ve been here. Nay, I should no’ have let ye go in the first place.”

  She swallowed, then shook her head. “Ye could no’ protect me from Andrew. I’ve had time to think it over, Cam, and ‘tis why ye sent me. Before we killed him—and I ken I should apologize to ye for killing the bastard, but—”

  “Nay,” he interrupted, certainty in his voice. “I kenned him, remember. He was well-suited to lead the Red Hand—vicious, power-hungry, and angry. ‘Twas one of the reasons I held onto power so long, merely so he wouldnae take it. I left my family because of their sins, and my uncle was nae different.” Bittern
ess crept into his tone. “The only difference was I had to live with him for another ten years, after I thought I was done with them. So nae, lass, I understand why ye might want to kill him, and now I understand his role in the current mess.”

  Court peered at him for a moment, as if uncertain, then shrugged. “Well, before we killed him, Ross and I, Andrew said he’d wanted me, and that was why ye had sent me away. I didnae ken he was yer uncle, no’ til Ross told me. But ye couldnae maintain yer power as leader if ye were protecting me from him or anyone else. ‘Twas why ye sent me away, was it no’?”

  Slowly, he nodded, more than a little amazed how easily she understood and accepted his motives.

  “Aye, lass,” he croaked, then shook his head again as he exhaled. “Aye, ‘twas it exactly. But I couldnae live with my decision, no’ for long. ‘Twas only a few years later I gave up my spot to Andrew and came to Scone to find ye.”

  “That’s what Rosa deduced.”

  Rosa.

  The reminder of his love’s brilliance reminded him of another miracle.

  Stepping back slightly, he held onto his sister’s hands as he looked her up and down. “And look at ye now! One of the Queen’s Angels.” A flicker of surprise flashed across her normally impassive expression. “Rosa told me everything—about yer real role and the current investigation. But she didnae tell me how ye came to be an Angel.”

  Court’s dry chuckle was a surprise; the woman he remembered didn’t laugh, or even smile, easily.

  “ ’Tis a hell of a story,” she muttered, as she tugged him toward the chairs near the cold hearth.

  The two of them sat, and she told him of her failed career as a thief in Scone. He winced when she spoke of being caught and branded, and he cursed when she told him of all she’d endured while in prison.

  “Court, I’m sorry I didnae—”

  “Nay, ‘twas for the best.” A rare smile flicked across her face as she stared at the hearthstones. “I was due to be hanged in the morning, ye see. The gaoler announced I had a visitor, and I assumed ‘twas a priest, come to shrive me. But then she walked in: Queen Elizabeth.”

  When she met Cam’s eyes, he saw the love and devotion there.

  “She told me she was putting together a team and needed someone of my talents. Well, I would’ve done just about anything to escape, but the chance of a future with a real purpose, no’ to mention food and a warm bed?” She shook her head. “I couldnae pass that up.”

  “Thank the saints ye didnae, lass,” he breathed. Then with a small shake of his head, he chuckled. “I was able to track ye to the gaol, but no’ what happened to ye. It took almost a year before I heard of a lass matching yer description in the palace. I hoped that meant ye’d gotten a position as a servant or something. But look at ye—a proper lady!”

  Her expression settled into a frown. “I’m wearing leather trewes and carrying a bow—”

  “Nae, ye’re no’,” he teased her.

  Her eyes flicked to the weapon, still propped beside the window. “—and when I’m no’, I’m nervous.”

  One side of his lips pulled up, acknowledging the way she’d finished her claim.

  “The point is, Cam, I’m nae lady. But Elizabeth—the Queen, I mean—doesnae seem to care. I’m useful here. I’ve done more good than I could ever imagine. I have sisters and a family, and—and Ross.”

  And damnation, if she didn’t flush and stare down at her hands. “Ross loves me just the way I am, and he’s determined to stand by my side between the Queen and danger. We’re a good team.”

  Ah. Love.

  “And who is Ross?” Cam prompted gently, not about to turn protective big brother on this woman he’d seen raised.

  She peeked up at him. “A Fraser, same as ye. Lachlan’s friend and advisor. He used to be a bodyguard for the Queen, but had returned to An Torr to help Lachlan after Hamish died. Now Ross is back in Scone again.”

  “And he loves ye?”

  Her chin came up, that same mulish set of her jaw he remembered. “Aye. And I love him.”

  God’s Teeth, she was—in the same moment—so much the lassie he’d raised and the strong independent woman who’d saved the Queen.

  His heart swelled as he reached for her hand once more and held her gaze. “I am happy for ye. And, Court…I have absolutely nae right in the world to feel this way, but I’m proud of ye. Immensely proud of everything ye’ve accomplished. And ye have nae idea how much joy it brings me to see ye again.”

  She squeezed his hand. One side of her mouth twitched, and someone else might’ve dismissed it, but he knew it was a smile.

  “And ye, Cam? Rosa—who is one of my dearest friends, by the way—seems awfully taken with ye. She stood up to Charlotte for ye, claiming yer innocence. I believe her.”

  “Thank the saints.” Cam dropped her hand and leaned back in the chair with a groan, scrubbing his hand across his face. “I’m no’ even sure I understand the whole plot. And now my mother’s involved.”

  “No’ just involved,” Court said seriously. “But mayhap the leader. I am sorry, Cam.”

  “Nay, she means little to me at this point. Lachlan’s the one who must be mourning.”

  “Aye, Mellie says he’s no’ as accepting of Isla’s guilt as we are. No’ yet, anyhow.”

  Cam yawned, then waved in apology. He’d been up all night, first with Rosa—which he would not complain about—then with trying to find the letter. “So what’s the next step?”

  She leaned forward, propped her elbows on her knees, and took a deep breath. “That’s what we need to discuss.”

  Chapter 16

  It was after dawn when Rosa returned to Charlotte’s solar, carrying a tray of food and leading the others. When Ross opened the door, she slipped inside and placed the food on the large desk which was still—in typical Charlotte fashion—covered in untidy stacks of letters.

  Then she took a deep breath and turned to Cam.

  He was smiling at her. Sitting beside Court by the hearth and smiling.

  A weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying seemed to lift from her shoulders, and she smiled in return.

  “Are ye hungry?” she prompted quietly.

  And Heaven help her, but he winked.

  “Aye,” he drawled, “I’ve had an active night.”

  Mellie was helping Lachlan sit at the window seat, but she couldn’t pass up that opening. “Oh, really?” she quipped, her blue eyes sparkling in the morning light. “How long? And was it hard?”

  Rosa flushed, Cam’s eyes widened, and Court rolled hers. It was Lachlan, however, who scoffed at his betrothed’s lewd joke.

  “If ye don’ mind, I have nae need to hear details of my brother’s conquests.”

  Mellie nudged his shoulder—the uninjured one—with a wink. “No’ his conquests. I was referencing his—”

  Lachlan caught her hand and brought it to his lips with an exasperated sigh. “I ken what ye meant, Mellie.”

  “Aye, hush, Mellie,” Cam called out, nodding seriously, while one side of his lips curved upward. “Nae need to shame my brother when he finds out how much larger my cock is than his.”

  Rosa nearly choked, so quickly did she suck in a breath. Cam had naught to worry about in the size department, but to make so bold a claim…!

  It was Mellie’s turn to snort, her fingers lacing through her husband’s. “Doubtful, Cam. Still…” She smiled conspiratorially at the blond man. “ ’Tis glad I am to finally meet ye officially.”

  “Oh?” Cam stretched his legs out in front of him. “To thank me for saving yer life?”

  Mellie’s eyes rounded innocently. “Nay, to have someone to joke about cocks with, of course.”

  While Cam’s smile grew, Ross crossed to Court. “God help us, lass. Yer friends are incorrigible.”

  “My friends are mad,” their leader replied stoically.

  “No’ mad,” Rosa joined in. “They just like cocks.”

  It was obvious no one expec
ted her to participate in the teasing, judging from the incredulous looks Ross and Court sent her way, and how Lachlan and Cam both make choking sounds.

  Her grin grew. “Roosters, aye? ‘Tis what we’re speaking of?”

  Lachlan’s choking turned to full-on laughter, and Mellie’s grin grew. “Lord help us, Rosa’s discovered naughtiness!” She winked at Cam. “Good work!”

  Cam managed a mocking bow from his chair, which set everyone else to chuckling—except Court, of course, who just snorted. Rolling her eyes, and blushing in happiness, Rosa snatched up a loaf of still-warm bread and crossed to her love.

  “Here,” she murmured, shoving it at him. “Since ye’re so hungry.”

  “No’ for bread, lass,” he murmured right back, wrapping one arm around her waist and tugging her closer to him.

  With a squeal, she dropped into his lap. But her breath caught when he lifted her hand holding the bread and took a bite from it, directly from her hand!

  They were here to make a battle plan. They were surrounded by her teammates. This was entirely the wrong time for flirtations.

  But that didn’t stop the rush of warmth spread through her chest. And when he looked at her like that, as if there was more he wanted to taste, the warmth turned to a pulsing deep in her core.

  He’d brought her so much pleasure last night, she was a bit sore this morning. But that didn’t stop her from wriggling against his lap, and his hardness. His hold tightened on her in warning, and humor flashed in his gray eyes.

  Across the room, a throat cleared. “Ye look good in my plaid, Cameron.”

  Cam’s hold on her loosened, and he shot a smile at Lachlan. “Our plaid, brother.”

  Twisting in his lap, Rosa was quick enough to catch the look of pleasure which flashed across the Fraser laird’s face.

  “Ye’ve made a decision then? About yer future?” she asked Cam.

  “Aye.” Cam nodded, and she watched him glance around the room, his gaze sweeping over all these people who meant so much to her. Then he met her eyes.