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

by Caroline Lee

  “If ye’ll have me, lass, after my name is cleared of treason, I’ll do whatever ye ask to be worth yer hand.”

  Her hand.

  A future.

  With Cam.

  There was so much uncertainty on the horizon, so much to fear. But in that moment, none of it mattered. Rosa lifted her palm to his cheek, cupping it gently, hoping he saw the love in her eyes.

  And when words failed her, she stretched up and kissed him.

  Kissed him with everything she was and ever would be.

  Kissed him with her whole heart.

  Behind her, someone chuckled. “I guess that answers that question,” Ross said drily.

  But it was longer still before Rosa could force herself to pull away, and the heat in Cam’s eyes almost made her lose her resolve again. “Cam…” she whispered.

  “God’s Blood, little brother,” Lachlan groaned from across the room, “we don’ need to see this.”

  Mellie giggled. “Can I make another joke about cocks?”

  “Aye,” Court said sardonically, “Something-something-rooster-something.”

  Even Cam burst into chuckles at that, and Rosa quickly scrambled from his lap, thrusting the bread at him and hurrying to pick up another piece, sure her friends could see how warm her cheeks were.

  Ross earned her appreciation for distracting everyone when he cleared his throat. He leaned against the hearth, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his sword hanging alongside his Fraser plaid.

  “No’ to ruin everyone’s fun, but what is our next move?”

  “My next move is to ask where that beast of yers is?” Lachlan drawled. “Does he no’ follow ye everywhere?”

  Ross nodded. “Aye, but that was until yer daughter arrived. Now I cannae drag Honor away from wee Simone. I think she slips him treats. I checked in on him last night, and he was lying in bed with her.”

  Lachlan chuckled. “She fed him when he was a wee pup. He likely recalls it. Do ye want the hound to join us?”

  “Nay.” Ross shook his head. “Let him guard the lassie. We are here to discuss our next steps, aye, Court? Ye called us here.”

  All business now, the tall woman straightened in her chair. “Aye. Yesterday, Charlotte said some things about this investigation, but I’m choosing to ignore them for the good of Scotland and our Queen. Are ye all with me?”

  Remembering the way Charlotte had forbid her to see Cam—whom she believed was their prime suspect—again, Rosa nodded resolutely, along with the rest of her friends.

  “Rosalind assures us Cam isnae behind the plot against the Crown. We have him here with us, but I need to ken ye all agree with this assessment.”

  Mellie was the first to nod. “He saved Lachlan and me, and protected Simone. I believe he’s a good man.”

  Her betrothed agreed. “He’s my brother, and I’ll support him because I never truly believed he was guilty in the first place.”

  Rosa met Court’s eye, and the two women nodded slightly to one another. Both of them would support Cam.

  Ross stepped away from the wall, closer to Cam. “Do ye remember me?”

  Squinting, as if thinking, Cam stood slowly.

  “Nay,” he finally admitted, shaking his head. “Although ye’re a Fraser, Court tells me.”

  “Aye. A bit aulder than Lachlan, so ye and I share nae history as lads. But I remember ye. I remember yer brother Hamish, and I remember the rumors about why ye ran away.”

  Sucking in a breath, Rosa’s eyes darted between the two men, wondering why Ross would bring this up. A muscle in Cam’s jaw jumped, but that was his only reaction.

  “The rumors are likely true,” he finally said, too mildly.

  Ross nodded. “ ’Twas my blade which ended yer uncle’s life. Besides Lachlan, I have nae love for yer family. I saw what kind of life ye’ve led, and I was quick to believe ye were guilty of this treason.” Then he shrugged. “But I was a suspect once myself. Now Lachlan and I are cleared of this suspicion, and I’ll do everything I can to help clear yer name as well.”

  Ross held out his hand.

  Cam seemed to exhale as he stepped closer and clasped the bigger man’s forearm.

  They were all in accord.

  Court nodded. “So what do we ken for certain, Rosalind?”

  Relieved now, and knowing she was able to do what she did best, Rosa tilted her head back to look at the ceiling.

  “The accidents and attacks against King Robert are tied to the attack against Elizabeth. Someone wants to put a Comyn on the throne. This points to a conspiracy. Now we ken there is a Comyn available for the position, and proof allegedly exists.”

  When she paused, no one interrupted, so she continued. “We also ken Robert arrives soon in Scone, which explains why there’s been so many more nobles and visitors lately. They are likely gathering to petition him.”

  “Or kill him,” muttered Mellie.

  Rosa nodded. “This could be a clever cover for the conspirators, or ‘tis possible—if unlikely—they’re all conspirators. We have the names of two, and I’ve alerted the royal guards to search for more.”

  “And where does my mother come into this?” Lachlan asked. “I ken her madness is eating at her, but ye believe she’s a part of this?”

  It was enough to drag Rosa’s concentration to him. Then she glanced at Mellie, surprised she hadn’t told Lachlan the truth. Actually…she turned to peer questioningly at Cam. He should’ve told his brother the truth.

  Cam dragged his hand through his hair, and she saw the hesitation in his eyes. “I…” He shook his head, dropped his hand, and set his jaw. “Red Comyn is my sire, Lachlan.” He spat out the words, as if daring his brother to doubt them. “Mother confessed to me.”

  Silence stretched, and Lachlan’s only reaction was a slight flaring of his nostrils.

  Finally, he inclined his head. “ ’Twould explain much about our childhood.” His gray eyes flicked to Rosa. “And also prove Mother isnae just a part of this conspiracy.”

  “Nay,” Rosa agreed quietly. “I believe yer mother is the heart of it. She possesses a letter from the Comyn himself, acknowledging Cam as his son. The nobles who would remove Robert from the throne wouldnae dare to do so without proof of the next king’s rightful blood.”

  Court snorted quietly—probably at the idea of Comyn’s illegitimate son being rightful—but it was Mellie who spoke.

  “So without that letter, without proof, the conspiracy would no’ stand?”

  Nodding, Rosa turned to Cam. “ ’Twas my conclusion as well.”

  But to her surprise, Cam winced and blew out a breath. “I couldnae find it. I’m sorry.”

  “Find what?” Lachlan asked.

  Rosa answered without dropping Cam’s gaze. “Sometimes there are benefits to having a thief on yer side. Yer mother didnae have it in her room?” she asked Cam directly.

  He shrugged, looking pained at his inability to steal the letter. “It should have been, but I searched everywhere. I couldnae find it.”

  “That was quite the risk,” Ross rumbled quietly.

  Court was the one to defend her childhood friend. “If Cam was in Lady Isla’s room, she would have never kenned it.”

  One side of Cam’s lips curved upward at her impassioned defense, but he didn’t respond.

  “So now what?” Mellie asked.

  "Acta non verba,” Rosa murmured. Actions instead of words.

  Cam snorted, his smile growing. “ ’Tis hard to believe ye’d have us rush into action.”

  “I am no’” she was quick to point out. “But we need a plan, and soon.”

  He shrugged. “Faber est suae quisque fortunae.”

  And it was her turn to smirk. How could she not love a man who argued with her in Latin and could bring her so much pleasure? “Whether ye create yer own fortune or no’, ye need a plan.”

  Before he could reply, Mellie interrupted. “What we need is that letter.”

  Expression sobering once mo
re, Cam nodded. “I’ll try again tonight. Mayhap she has moved it.”

  Humming, Rosa tilted her head back once more. “Or mayhap she carries it with her at all times. We cannae deny she kens the letter’s importance. If she sleeps with it, searching her room will no’ work.”

  “Besides,” rumbled Ross, from his spot by the hearth, “we don’ have the time.” When they all turned to him, he shrugged. “King Robert will likely be here by the evening meal, assuming he rides ahead with only his guards to see his lady wife, as is his wont.”

  Both Cam and Lachlan cursed quietly, and Rosa felt like repeating it.

  Court’s hands curled into fists on her knees. “Then we have to move today. Now.”

  “To steal the letter in broad daylight?” Cam frowned.

  The tall woman pushed herself to her feet with a dangerous grace. “It might be too late to steal the letter. We need to eliminate the threat to the Crown before the King arrives. Once he and the conspirators and the Queen are in one place, we’ll have lost the advantage our knowledge grants us now.”

  Mellie hummed, exchanging a glance with Rosa. “She has a point.” She sounded almost apologetic.

  But Rosa nodded. “Court’s right. We have the element of surprise now. Once the King is in the palace, the conspirators will have the advantage of being able to either implement their final plan, or choose the time and place they need to give them the best chance of success. We cannae allow them that advantage.”

  “So the question then becomes…” Ross straightened away from the wall. “When do we move against Isla Fraser? And how?”

  “And do we have yer approval?” Court asked both Lachlan and Cam.

  Cam jerked back, surprise in his expression, as he glanced at his brother.

  Lachlan was frowning, his gaze locked on the floor. “I cannae deny her madness has gotten worse over the years. ‘Tis hard to believe she’d be involved in something this stupid, but she and our—my father were always staunch Comyn supporters.” With a sigh, he looked up and met Cam’s gaze. “If she’s guilty, she needs to be punished.”

  Rosa wondered if anyone else could see the emotions warring behind Cam’s eyes, or if she just understood him well enough.

  Finally, he dropped his chin in acceptance. “Aye,” he quietly agreed.

  “Today then?” Ross rumbled.

  Court shook her head. “Now.”

  Cam took a deep breath, the plaid across his shoulders making him look somehow larger and more noble. “She was sleeping when I left her chambers. ‘Tis possible she’s awake now.”

  Lachlan grunted as he reached for his betrothed’s hand and lifted himself to his feet with a wince. “Then we go there now.” He met his brother’s eyes. “We confront her.”

  Cam’s nod was quick, final. Certain. “We end this.”

  Chapter 17

  Mother wasn’t in her chambers.

  Cam insisted on going in first, while Ross stood watch. When he determined they were alone, he alerted the others to join him.

  The six of them filled the room, which hadn’t seemed this small when Cam had been there before dawn.

  Had that only been a short time ago?

  And a few hours before then that he’d wrapped himself in the Fraser plaid for the first time?

  That he’d made love to Rosa for the first time?

  That he’d lost his heart?

  She moved to stand beside him near the bed. Her dark eyes were serious, her expression grim. But when she slipped her small hand in his, he felt strength radiating through her.

  She was an Angel, and he had to keep reminding himself she was no weaker than Court. The lass—the woman—he’d thought of as his little sister now stood tall and strong beside Ross, her stance the easy battle-ready one he’d taught her so long ago. Her strung bow was clutched in one hand, three arrows in the other. He knew she could nock and fire those three in a blink and found himself praying they wouldn’t be necessary this morning.

  Mellie was seated at the window, but not out of choice, it seemed. Lachlan had pushed her behind him, and now stood, feet braced, hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Cam had only just found him again, but even he could see his older brother’s lips were pressed into a hard line; his face paler than normal. He’d been wounded only a short time ago, and it was possible he was pushing himself too hard.

  But far be it for Cam to tell him he should sit down and rest. The way Mellie’s blue eyes were shooting daggers at Lachlan, she’d already tried and failed.

  Nay, the Fraser laird would stand between danger and the woman he loved.

  And so would Cam.

  Rosa’s shoulder pressed against his arm, and he squeezed her fingers.

  “Will ye stand behind me, love?” he murmured.

  She peeked up at him. “Do ye fear yer mother will hurt me?”

  “Nay, I—” He shook his head. “I donae ken what is coming, and I cannae stand the thought of ye in danger.”

  “Donae worry. I am armed.” She offered him a slight grin and touched her forearms, where he imagined her steal shafts were hidden. “I am smart, aye, but fast. Also, smart enough to ken when to stand back and let someone with a sword enter the melee on my behalf.”

  With a grin, he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her fingers. “I love ye, Angel.”

  “Enough to marry me?”

  So she’d understood what he’d been asking when she’d sat on his lap in the solar?

  He knew she was brilliant.

  “Please.” He swallowed, knowing that wasn’t much of a proposal. “I ken I’m no’ worth—”

  “Shh.” She stretched up on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Ye are worth everything to me.”

  Had he thought himself lucky before?

  When he’d held her, been inside her?

  Nay, ‘twas nothing compared to the joy he felt knowing she loved him.

  No matter what the next few hours brought, no matter how much danger returned along with his mother, he would hold on to that knowledge.

  And the certainty, when his name was cleared, he had a chance at a new life with Rosalind Forbes.

  But as it turned out, no danger arrived with Mother.

  In fact, as she stepped into the chamber, it was hard to imagine this elderly woman was the enemy.

  But on the other hand, it was hard to consider her his mother, as well.

  Mothers protected their children from harm; they didn’t encourage it. Mothers didn’t use their sons to advance their own careers.

  This woman—Isla Fraser—was frowning when she looked at all the people in her chamber. But her expression cleared as her eyes fell on Lachlan.

  “Cameron! I kenned ye would return!”

  Lachlan’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze flicked to Cam, questioningly.

  Aye, they’d said Isla’s mind had begun to break the day Lachlan had been wounded, and she had begun calling him by different names.

  Mellie slowly stood behind Lachlan, and when she saw her, Isla’s expression clouded once more.

  “Why’d ye bring her, my lad? I’ll no’ make her queen.”

  Beside him, Rosa sucked in a breath, and Court spat out a curse, which drew Isla’s attention.

  “What are ye doing in my chambers?”

  “Lady Isla Fraser,” Court spoke in a commanding voice, “ye seek to make yer son king of Scotland, do ye no’?”

  When Isla glanced at Lachlan, Court’s voice stopped her, snapping out, “No’ Lachlan. Cam.”

  It was obvious how confused the old woman had become. She shook her head, her gaze flitting around the room and not landing on anything in particular. “I—Cameron is my son. The Comyn’s son. He will be King!”

  Rosa’s fingers tightened around Cam’s, and he was torn between pity and anger at his mother’s treason.

  Court had no such compulsions. She lifted her bow as Ross’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. “I accuse ye of treason, Isla Fras
er. Ye will name yer conspirators, those who helped ye in this plot. Was it de Soules and the Countess of Strathearn? Who else?”

  The old woman was shaking her head harder, her hand pressed to her hip in what seemed to be a comforting gesture. Her frantic gaze landed on Cam, finally.

  “Cameron! Ye will no’ let them harm yer mother, would ye?” she called, reaching for him.

  Instinctively, he leaned away, pulling Rosa away from this woman’s madness.

  And the look in Isla’s eyes turned from desperation to anger, in one heartbeat.

  “So be it!” She whirled around and lunged for the door. “I’ll see ye all in hell before I betray our plans!”

  “Nay!” cried Lachlan, at the same time Court loosed one of her arrows.

  It flew over the old woman’s head when she ducked around the corner.

  Then Cam was moving, tugging Rosa out the door, following Isla.

  Following his mother.

  “Mother!” he bellowed, knowing of all of them, he might be the only one who could stop her. “Mother, please.”

  It worked.

  At the top of the grand staircase leading to the lower level—were her conspirators there, even now?—Isla stopped and turned around.

  Cam skidded to a stop, dropping Rosa’s hand, and praying she had the sense to stay behind him.

  He wanted to rail at his mother.

  He wanted to shout, to ask her how she could be so stupid as to believe she could kill the King of Scotland.

  And part of him wanted to cry, to ask her how she could abandon him and use him this way.

  Instead, he lifted his hands, palms down.

  “Mother,” he said softly, his stomach twisting at the thought of acknowledging this woman as his relation, “please stop. Talk to us.”

  “Talk?” she spat, as her hand curled around the silk of the gown at her hip. “Talk? I should’ve kenned ye wouldnae understand.”

  “Ye want to put me on the throne, do ye no’? Is that no’ worth some discussion?”

  There were people about—servants and courtiers and holy men—who’d stopped to watch the drama unfolding. Court stood off to one side, staring down the length of her arrow at Isla’s heart. Mellie and Rosa stood together, but Lachlan and Ross had their swords half-drawn already.