The Scot's Spy

by Keira Montclair

  “We’ll move along through Ayr this eve, see what we can uncover,” Els said. “On the morrow, I suggest we attempt to track King Robert’s camp, but not until we find out where the English are hidden.”

  Joya appeared excited about the prospect of spying again, her eyes lighting up. “Aye, and I can infiltrate their camp and get more information for Robert.”

  Els had to be honest about what sat heavy in his gut. He couldn’t shake the worry he had for his wounded cousin and prayed Dyna got him home safely. “I wish to remain here for the full three nights to see if my cousins return or send a message. I am concerned about Alasdair’s welfare.”

  Joya reached for his knee under the table and squeezed it, something that surprised him, but pleased him. He had to admit his feelings for the lass were growing in ways he hadn’t expected. Respect for her work as a spy, yet a deepening sense of wonder at all she’d experienced. What would he do without all his cousins? There were so many in his clan he knew he could always count on, and some in other clans.

  But Joya? He wondered who she could count on besides Robert the Bruce.

  He was pleased to add his own name to that list. No matter where he was or what she needed, he’d be there to help her if she sent him a message. He had to let her know that much if they parted ways.

  He hoped it didn’t happen anytime soon.

  But first, he desperately wished to hear anything about Alasdair and Dyna.

  Derric rubbed the scruff of his beard as he stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you need to worry about your cousin. He looks to be a tough fighter. It may slow him for a day, but then he’ll be back.” He stood, finished with his stew, and packed some cheese into a small sack. “My thanks for the meal, Els. Joya,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I hope to see you when this is over, married to that man and with a babe in your belly.”

  Joya playfully slapped his forearm and said, “Godspeed to you and your men, Derric.”

  Her brother left, and when Joya turned to look at Els, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the last comment Derric had made. The image of Joya as his wife, carrying their bairn, was one he quite liked.

  “Never mind, I see what you’re thinking, and I’ll stop you before the idea grows. You know ’tis not what I want. I’m not ready to carry a babe in my belly yet. I nominate you to do it instead,” she said with a smirk, crossing her arms. “Aye, ’tis a lovely idea.”

  “What?” he asked, shocked or pretending to be. “Have the bairns? ’Tis God’s way for it to be your belly, not mine.”

  “I think it would suit you just fine. I don’t know why God didn’t arrange it that way.”

  He honestly didn’t know how to respond since he’d never thought of the possibility of a man bearing children. He decided to keep quiet, waiting for her to lead the conversation wherever she wanted it to go.

  “Forget my suggestion,” she said. “We have work to do. When we finish here, we’ll go through town and see what we can learn.” She glanced at the few travelers in the inn. “No one here is likely to give us any news. Everyone is keeping to themselves. We’ll see what we can learn, await word from your cousins, then we’ll move on to the place where the most English are hiding. I’ll sidle in and find out what I can.”

  Els didn’t necessarily like that version of their plans, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. He had a feeling she might disappear on a whim if he weren’t careful. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “That you won’t leave me behind. ’Tis as we discussed—I wish to watch from a distance in case you encounter more trouble than you can handle alone.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “Agreed. As long as you don’t show your presence to anyone.”

  “I’ll agree to that,” Els said. He wished to add that he’d agree as long as there was no trouble. If he felt she was in danger, he wouldn’t hesitate to reveal himself, but he decided against informing her of that truth. With any luck, it wouldn’t happen. “We’ve reserved our chamber. We’ll bring some food out to the guards, and I’ll give them instructions on their part in this endeavor.”

  The rest of what was on his mind he didn’t say.

  He and Joya were spending the night together as husband and wife. It was a charade they played for the innkeeper, but he had to admit he looked forward to it.

  But would he sleep on the floor or in her bed?

  ***

  Alasdair gritted his teeth as Dyna sewed his wound up for him in the solar he shared with Emmalin. He’d taken a bit of ale to help dull the pain, but the wound itself proved more painful than others he’d had before, including the previous wound he’d been dealt on this same leg.

  Dyna stayed completely focused on the wound, her left hand mopping away the blood while her right hand made the careful stitches. “’Tis because of all your scars.”

  “What?” he asked, still often shocked when she seemed to read his thoughts.

  Emmalin stuck her head in briefly, her face as pale as a ghost, but Alasdair motioned for her to leave. He knew she often got weak in the knees watching Dyna’s handiwork. She had enough to deal with at the moment.

  “Your pain is worse because this is the same area you were struck before. Scars are harder to sew through.”

  “But why? Much of the area is numb, yet other areas are extremely painful.”

  Dyna shrugged, continuing to focus on her work. “One more stitch and I’m finished,” she said, making the last one and tying off her needlework.

  Alasdair had to see what Emmalin had wanted. “Em, come on in. She’s done.”

  Emmalin came inside, making a point not to look at his still oozing wound. Alasdair picked up a clean linen cloth and tossed it over the worst of it so she wouldn’t have to see it. “What is it?” he asked.

  She sat down, her hands kneading in her lap. “A man left a message with one of our guards, then hurried off before anyone could follow.” She chewed on her lower lip, a sign of how deeply she worried about their son.

  “The message?” Alasdair asked, shifting his position.

  “They want a trade. The English have John and they’ll trade him for one person only.”

  “Who?” Dyna and Alasdair asked in unison.

  “Your grandsire,” she whispered, pushing the strands of her hair back from her face. “They also sent a message to Grant Castle.”

  Alasdair just stared at her in shock, unable to comprehend such a cruel choice. Dyna, still thinking, asked, “Where do they want you to bring Grandsire?”

  “To Ayr. In three days, they’ll send us another message telling us where to meet them in Ayr to make the exchange.”

  Alasdair didn’t even know if they could get his grandfather to MacLintock Castle, let alone Ayr. Besides which, he could only think of one reason they’d want the famous Highland hero, and he didn’t like that thought at all.

  What the hell were they to do now?

  ***

  They’d wandered the burgh for a while, but no one had imparted any information other than beware the English, which was something they already knew. They were everywhere.

  Joya had thought about venturing deep into the forest, but her ankle had already started to trouble her. It needed time to properly heal, so she finally gave in and said, “Els, let’s go to our room at the inn. I’m tired. I’ll be better prepared on the morrow.”

  He agreed, so they slowly trudged back to their chamber after grabbing a goblet of ale to take up with them. Els said to the serving lass, “Please bring a platter of cheese and bread to our room shortly.”

  “We can eat down here,” Joya offered.

  “Nay, we need to talk privately, not where there are so many ears. One never knows who will walk in the door.”

  Perhaps he merely wished for them to be alone. She certainly did. Joya was curious about how this night would go. Would Els play the gentleman or try to get her into bed?

  She did hope for the latter,
simply because she had to know. Would it be different if one cared deeply for the other person? She couldn’t answer that question. It had never happened that way for her before. The other men she’d brought to her bed had been a distraction from her loneliness—from the life of a spy who could not connect with anyone for fear of betraying herself. But she was still a person who needed comfort and friendship in her life.

  They climbed the stairs quietly and settled inside, waiting until the lass brought the food before they sat down to talk.

  She decided to start the discussion. “Els, you have much on your mind. I can tell from the way your eyes are constantly moving. You’re considering several different approaches and can’t decide which one to take.” She sat in one of the chairs at the table and reached for a piece of cheese. “Why don’t you share your thoughts with me?”

  He let out a deep sigh and reached across to cocoon her hands in his. “I don’t know what to do. You are so different than any lass I’ve ever known, and I…”

  “Go ahead. How am I different?” she asked.

  “Let me begin again. I was raised to believe that if I cared deeply for a lass and took her to bed I would marry her. The Grant men are raised to be honorable, which means we don’t consider bedding a lass unless we, or I, intend to make her mine. ’Tis something we believe in.” He blushed and sat back, taking a huge gulp of his ale. “Though we are not saintly either.”

  She decided the best course of action was to be direct and blunt. “Els, are you a virgin?”

  He blushed and replied, “Nay. ’Tis not what I’m saying. I’ve some experience, but not with… I don’t know what to say… What do you expect from me tonight? I’ll sleep in front of the door to protect you or I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “Nay, ’tis not what I want. I’d like you in my bed, Els. We are developing feelings for each other, are we not?”

  “Aye, but I don’t know what happens from here. I’d gladly make you mine, but from what you’ve said, ’tis clear you’re not ready to marry.”

  So now she understood. “When we finish, would you like to get on your knees and pound your chest? Yell out that I’m yours now? That we’re bound together for life?”

  “Aye,” he laughed. “Sounds appropriate.”

  Perhaps it was time for some truth telling. “Els, I told you about the time I left home, how I was held captive, used, and abused, so you know I don’t have my maidenhead. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, for certes. Some would call me a whore, like my brother, but it was never like that. True, I’ve had to do some regrettable things, but I’ve done them for the love of my country, for the belief that Scotland should not have to answer to King Edward.

  “I decided to become a spy because the one who saved me wished to be king and deserves to be king. I vowed to do whatever I could to help him, though I was young and didn’t know exactly what that meant. Over the years, I learned how to tempt and tease men out of their secrets, so I haven’t had to go to bed with them. But you need to know that I’m far from pure. I’ve changed, but I can’t change my past. So you can pound your chest and take me as yours, but it would be verra difficult for me to sit in front of your mother and father.” She took a sip of her ale and fussed with her plait, pulling it to the front to play with the loose strands.

  She couldn’t look at him.

  “None of that matters to me. And I’ll admit I have strong feelings for you, but ’tis probably best if I sleep on the floor. My uncle already warned me about moving into your bedchamber.”

  “So that’s why you won’t sleep in my bed?”

  “Nay.” He reached for her hand again, rubbing his thumb across the back. “’Struth is I feel more for you than I have for any other lass. And if I do have relations with you, I’ll not be able to handle seeing you flirt. I’ll do something foolish like brandish my sword and use the Grant war whoop if anyone touches you. I nearly do that now. If we finish, my heart will believe what I’ve been raised to believe. That you’re mine.”

  She smiled and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. “You melt my heart, Elshander Grant. If my life had been different, I’d be so honored to be considered yours.”

  They finished their repast, and Joya stood up to prepare for bed. Giving Els her back, she dropped her gown to the floor and climbed under the furs. She didn’t know what else to say to him. As he made his way around the chamber, she was so attuned to his movements she knew exactly what he did and when. Removed his plaid, set his sword where he wanted it, sighed three different times, took his last swig of ale, made himself a small pallet next to her bed and settled onto it.

  She fell asleep, but it did not last for long. It must have been less than a quarter of an hour later when she awakened again. She couldn’t let it go and rolled onto her side, facing him.

  “Els?” She was quite sure he was awake, but she didn’t know if he’d respond to her.

  “What?”

  “What if I begged you?” She leaned over the side of her bed and stared into his eyes, something that was only possible because they were aligned head to foot. He lay flat on his back, a gorgeous hunk of muscle blatantly taunting her.

  “Nay, Joya. You’re not sure how you feel about me yet, and I know my emotions will only get deeper after knowing you that way.”

  “What do I need to do to convince you?”

  She could see him staring at the ceiling, and tears welled in her eyes. Perhaps she did love this man. If only she knew exactly what that meant.

  “Joya, I know how strong my feelings are for you, but I’m holding them back because I don’t want to scare you away. When your feelings are as strong as mine, you’ll know it. I need that much from you.”

  “But what if I don’t know how?”

  Dead silence from him.

  Tears slid down her cheeks.

  He sat up and stared into her eyes. “Don’t know how to what?”

  “Love. I want you to come to my bed simply because you want to, but also so I can see what it’s like to be with a man who truly cares for me. This could be my only chance. You could be my only chance.”

  His hand came up to tuck stray hairs behind her ears, and his thumb brushed away her tears. “Your parents didn’t love you?”

  “I don’t remember. It’s all fallen away, or been pushed away by everything that’s happened since. My aunt did not, and Derric walked away from me. Twice. There’s no love there. I know I have feelings for you, but I don’t know what to call it.”

  He leaned toward her and touched his lips to hers for just a second. “You’ll know it’s love if you don’t want me to stop kissing you. If you always find yourself wanting more of the other person, if they’re the first thing you wish to see in the morn and the last thing you seek out at night.” He kissed her again, this time a little deeper. “And if you can see them at their worst and still wish to be with them. That’s love.”

  “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, Els. Please make love to me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him closer. “I need you.”

  He groaned and slid into bed next to her, his hardness and heat covering her from head to toe. He must have dropped his plaid just before climbing in for nothing covered him now. His lips descended on hers in a slow, sensual assault that was the most delicious kiss she’d ever experienced. She was enveloped by him—his heat, his protectiveness, his need for her. His desire was more than evident, and she relished that she’d enflamed him so quickly.

  He rolled her onto her back and settled her underneath him, exploring her mouth with a seriousness no one had ever attempted before. Those clever lips then moved to her cheek, to her neck, and down the fine bone to her chest.

  He left a trail of kisses over her chemise until he found her nipple, cupping her breast through the fine fabric and nipping her skin lightly until she peaked and arched against him. “Oh, Els. You know how to treat a woman, do you not?”

  He grinned, stopping his sensual assault momentarily b
efore he feasted on her other breast. She reached for him, taunting him and teasing him with her hand, moving him just so until he moaned.

  “Don’t stop,” he whispered.

  She continued and brought him to her slick folds, spreading her legs to give him entrance, wanting him so badly, needing this to be as wonderful as she’d always envisioned it could be with the right man.

  He slid inside her and she moaned as soon as he was fully seated. He stopped and said, “You sure about this, Joya? I might be ready to pound my chest.”

  “Aye,” she panted, surprised at her own husky voice and the power of her own need. “Take me, Els. Finish this. I need you in so many ways.”

  He settled his weight on his elbows and thrust into her again, meeting her sex at just the right spot. They continued on like that for a time, giving all they could to each other until her climax crashed over her in waves, her hands gripping his shoulders as though she’d never let go, and he roared her name, burying his face in her neck as he finished.

  Neither moved nor spoke for several moments, until Joya said, “At last I know.”

  He lifted his head and gave her a questioning look.

  “It was better than I ever thought it could be, and nothing like anything I’d ever done before.”

  When he grinned, she poked him.

  “Do. Not. Pound. Your. Chest.”

  He fell to the side of her, taking her with him, and nuzzled her neck. “I won’t, but you are mine now, whether you like it or not.”

  She set her head down on his chest, closed her eyes, and said, “I like it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Joya and Els dressed for a day in the burgh, leaving their plaids behind to ensure they were better able to spy on the English. Before leaving, they broke their fast in the inn, dining on a sweet pottage of oats, apples, and berries. They were the only ones eating, so they had no way of picking up information.