“I cannae go slow. I am a thief, used to taking what I want—”
“Oh, Deus meus! Cam, just fuck me already!”
The sincerity in his gaze turned to incredulity, then humor, as his lips curled upward. With a chuckle, he shook his head. “Ye make me want to be honorable, lass, but…”
When she tugged him, he allowed himself to lower, to cover her.
“Ye are honorable, Cam,” she whispered, his lips so close to hers. “ ’Tis one of the reasons I love ye. Now please.”
“God’s Teeth, I love ye, lass,” he groaned, then withdrew his fingers from her and reached for himself.
And then he was in her, filling her with a tightness she hadn’t expected. There was pain, aye, but as the tightness turned to fullness, her thighs slowly relaxed, before falling open on either side of his hips.
He’d stilled, his breathing ragged and his eyes on hers. When she relaxed, he slowly exhaled.
“Lass?” he whispered. “I am sorry.”
Then he moved just slightly, the slightest little shift, and she sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide. “I am no’. Oh, Cam.”
His jaw was tight, even as his fingers went to her core again. “If ye look at me like that, I’ll no’ be able to hold myself back.”
She smiled, holding him tighter. “I donae want ye to hold yerself back, ye clot-heid.”
With a groan of surrender, he dropped his head to the pillow next to hers and moved again. Just another slight in-and-out, but the friction was delicious. She stretched her legs wider, wondering if she could take more of him, and wriggled beneath him.
“Please, Cam,” she begged.
As he began to move, as his thumb found the little pearl of pleasure hidden in her curls, she damn near screamed.
Each thrust of his took her higher, brought her closer to the precipice she ached for. Oh, she might’ve been a virgin, but she was no fool, not when it came to her own body. She knew what she needed, what she was so desperate for, but had never felt this way before.
And when her pleasure built around him, she knew she’d never again experience anything so breathtakingly perfect again.
The noise she made might’ve been a cry, might’ve been a groan, but as she stared wide-eyed at the canopy above her, she realized she wasn’t breathing.
Stop thinking about it, ye ninny!
So she stopped. She stopped thinking, stopped analyzing, and allowed herself to just feel. Just feel the pure pleasure burst over her, feel the white lights behind her eyelids when she squeezed them shut, feel the clenching, grasping sensation of wanting all of him.
It was Cam who bellowed as a rush of warmth spilled deep inside her.
Deus in caelo, she’d barely had time to inhale before he’d rolled to the side, taking her with him, and burying his face in the curve of her neck. They were both breathing heavily, and she found herself stroking the skin on his back, reveling in the freedom of touching him.
Finally, he muttered something against her neck.
“Hmm?” she asked, enjoying this moment too much to pull away.
“I’m sorry, “ he said. He was the one who lifted his head, guilty eyes meeting hers. “I should no’ have spent inside of ye.”
Her eyes widened slightly, counting. After all the times she’d teased Mellie about preventing a pregnancy, all the times she’d joked with Queen Elizabeth about counting in order to ensure a pregnancy, and she hadn’t even considered it before this moment.
Suddenly, she understood what Mellie had been trying to teach her, all those times she’d spoken of unbridled passion.
“ ’Tis the wrong time of my cycle to worry about that,” she reassured him.
And to her surprise, her first reaction hadn’t been relief, but disappointment. Her eyes dipped slightly, her cheeks heating.
She was embarrassed now?
Better tell him the truth.
“I am surprised to find I don’ mind the thought of carrying yer bairn.”
When he didn’t speak, she risked a peek up at him. They were still pressed together, and she could feel his heartbeat against her chest. But the look in his eyes was somewhere between yearning and acceptance.
“Cam?”
“Ye’re better than that, Rosa.” He rolled away from her and sat up, his legs already over the edge of the bed. “Better than to bear a bastard’s bastard.”
This, at least, was something she could address.
She sat up, pulling her legs under her, as the air suddenly seemed colder without his warmth, and reached for him. She rested her hand on his shoulder as he scrubbed one of his own hands over his face.
“If it did happen, if I did bear yer bairn…he wouldnae have to be a bastard,” she offered hesitantly.
He stiffened but didn’t turn. “Ye speak of marriage?”
Didn’t he want to marry her?
He’d claimed he loved her.
Wasn’t that usually the next step?
Everything she’d done lately had been to build a future with him.
But if he didn’t want the same…
“Aye,” she croaked.
“Damnation,” he muttered, standing up.
When her hand fell away from him, she felt a hollow place open in her stomach.
He padded nude across the floor to where he’d dropped his sword belt and satchel when he’d come inside. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a bundle of material.
When he turned to her and shook it out, she realized what it was.
“Do ye ken what this is?” he asked.
“The Fraser plaid.”
He swallowed, staring down at the tartan. “Lachlan gave it to me. He’s offered me a place at An Torr. Offered me a place with my clan and my family.”
If he had that, would he want a future with her?
Rosa twisted her fingers together to hide their trembling. “He kens ye’re a good man, same as I do.”
The little breath he let out might been a laugh. “I love ye, Rosa, and I want a future with ye. But what can I give ye now?” When he extended his hands, as if offering her the tartan, the pain in his eyes almost broke her. “Ye said yerself I’m suspected of treason. Ye said ye’re no’ even supposed to be with me, although I have no notion of who this Charlotte is. Ye ken I’m as good as dead if anyone suspected me of being here with ye.”
As the silence stretched between them, Rosa’s heartbeat slowed. It slowed, and a sense of certainty filled her. “Aye, Cam,” she whispered, taking a deep breath, “all of that is true. But I also ken I want a future with ye. I want to be with ye, as yer wife, if ye’ll have me. I will fight for ye, and I swear everyone will ken ye are innocent.”
“How?” he cried, anguished. “How? Ye claim I’m a good man, but ye donae ken what I’ve done. Ye donae ken my secrets.”
There was only one secret which mattered.
“Why did ye leave An Torr, Cam?” she whispered. “Ye were so young. ‘Tis a miracle ye survived.”
His nostrils flared, as if surprised. “Everything I’ve done, and ye want to ken that?” he croaked.
“I’ve been friends with Court for five years. I love her, and I ken she’s a good person, despite what she’s done to survive. From her stories of ye, I ken ye to be a thief, but ye’ve led yer men with honor and discipline.” She shrugged, remembering the horses he’d stolen on their journey to Scone. “And besides, sometimes a bit of theft is necessary, ad maius bonum.”
His brow twitched. “For the greater good?”
Bonum Deus, but this man was remarkable.
“Aye.” She nodded solemnly. “For the good of the throne, for the good of Scotland, I myself have stolen before.”
“Ah, aye.” His shoulders slumped, the plaid dropping to one hand. “The King’s letter to the Queen. Ye told me.”
There was so much she hadn’t told him, and he still loved her. Holding her breath, Rosa waited. And prayed he’d make her happy.
“I’ll tell ye,” he said with a sigh, t
he plaid dragging behind him as he moved to the bed.
But once there, once she’d scooted over, he surprised her. With a few efficient movements, he reached for her, then wrapped them both in his clan colors. In moments, they were both cocooned, warm and intimate, inside his plaid.
A remarkable man, indeed, considering how long it’d been since he last wore Fraser colors.
“Cam?”
“Shh,” he commanded, pushing her head down so he could rest his chin atop it. They faced each other snugly, and it didn’t take her long to snake her arms around his middle and pull him even closer.
He sighed. “I might be illegitimate,” he began in a low voice, “but my eldest brother was the real bastard.”
Hamish.
She remembered the rumors Mellie—or rather, her clever little maid Brigit—had found at An Torr. Guessing where this confession was going, she pressed her lips together and tried to soften the ache in her heart.
“Hamish liked to prey on those younger and weaker than him.” Cam’s voice was empty, the lack of emotion betraying how hard this was for him to share. “He’d hurt them, use them in ways ye cannae imagine—“
“I understand,” she cut in, pressing her cheek against his skin. “Ye don’ need to say it.”
When he slowly exhaled, she joined him.
Silence stretched before he inhaled again, then whispered his confession. “He hurt me.”
There was anguish in his voice now, and as much as she ached to hear it, she was glad he was at least reacting.
“He hurt me. Many times. He took me, hurt me, and I was too young to fight him.”
It wasn’t until she felt the wetness between them that she knew she was crying. Crying for his pain, and the betrayal by those who should’ve protected him.
“I told my parents. Mother didnae believe me, and my father—” When Cam shuddered, she felt it course through her as well. “Father told me to shut up and allow it, because Hamish would be my laird one day.”
She’d intended to stay silent, but couldn’t help the way her whisper caught on a sob. “Oh, Cam…”
He took another deep breath. “I decided then and there he’d never be my laird. ‘Twas the dead of winter, but I stole a horse and left, kenning I’d die happy if I never had to see any of them again.”
He’d told her of his survival on his own. But now… “Ye had nae wish to see yer mother again, and I forced ye to, did I no’?”
When he shifted his hold on her, somehow, she managed to end up snuggled even tighter against him.
“I cannae fault ye, Rosa. If ye hadnae, I would no’ have learned of her infidelity, and the truth of my past.”
“Ye think yer father kenned about ye being the Comyn’s, ‘twas why he treated ye so poorly?”
When Cam shrugged, it jiggled her enough to squirm her way back, then push herself up to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry for causing ye more pain, Cam.”
His lips twitched sadly. “I am no’ sorry, love. Ye brought me here to the palace so we can be together.”
“Aye,” she breathed, her eyes caressing his features. “Ye’ve told me all yer secrets, have ye no’?”
He winced. “Ye ken the worst of me.”
She freed one hand and lifted it to his cheek. When he turned his head to press a kiss into her palm, her heart melted.
“I ken the best of ye, Cameron Fraser. Ye have none of Michael Fraser’s blood in ye. Ye are no’ to be blamed for the sins of those who were meant to protect ye.” Her voice shook with her conviction. “I love ye, and I will stand between ye and anyone who claims ye are no’ any man’s equal.”
This time his half-smile was a little wry. “Ye’ll fight for me, my wee flower? With those sticks of yers?”
“Aye.”
Lying there in her bed, wrapped against her with his brother’s colors, Cam studied her. His gray eyes betrayed his uncertainty when he licked his bottom lip.
“Will ye tell me why ye carry those sticks, Rosa? Why ye dress as a nun and ride like a demon and kiss like a—”
When he bit off his words, Rosa smiled impishly. “Like a whore? Ye were the one to make that assumption.”
He didn’t so much pull her closer as just flex slightly, and she could feel his long, hard body pressed against hers. She flushed, remembering the pleasure he’d just brought her.
“And I cannae regret that, nor the kiss, lass,” he growled.
Her smile grew. “I didnae start out that morning to kiss ye like a whore, but to follow ye as Charlotte commanded me. I’ve been taught to use all weapons at my disposal, and Mellie has always shown me how efficiently my body can be used as a weapon.”
She could tell from his little frown he didn’t understand.
Lifting her chin, she met his eyes. “I am no’ a nun, nor a whore, nor a warrior. I’m an Angel.”
Chapter 14
Mayhap ‘twas her smile. Mayhap ‘twas how blasted proud she looked of herself. Mayhap ‘twas the relief he felt, having finally unburdened his soul of all its secrets. Mayhap ‘twas because he was lying, sated and naked, in a bed with Rosa.
Whatever the reason, Cam felt his lips twitch upwards.
“Aye, my angel. Ye are indeed.”
Mysteriously, her smile grew, as she pushed herself upright to sit cross-legged beside him. She pulled his colors—the Fraser plaid—around her shoulders, which meant his legs were no longer covered, but he would never be cold around her.
He loved the way she was so free around him. The only things covering all that glorious skin of hers were her stockings and his plaid, and his palms itched to touch her again.
“Angels, my love, mean something different to everyone,” she began, her tone settling into a lecturing cadence. “To Queen Elizabeth, they were women no one would suspect, but who could work for the good of the Crown behind the scenes. Her ladies-in-waiting have been trained the same way one of the King’s agents might be.”
“Wait…” His brows drew in as he considered this news. “Ye mean like…spies?”
When she shrugged, the tartan fell off one shoulder, but she made no move to pull it back. “A bit. We work for the Queen. She gives us missions or objectives to fulfill.”
Incredulous, he propped himself up on one elbow. “Like stealing back letters,” he whispered.
“Aye.”
This was remarkable. “How many of ye Angels are there?”
She shrugged again. “I donae ken, which is irritating sometimes. Lady Charlotte Bruce, whose husband is cousin to the King and the head of the Queen’s bodyguards, is our leader. She and the Queen are close friends.”
Distracted by the dusky expanse of skin in front of him, Cam trailed his fingertip down her shin.
“I’ve heard of her,” he murmured.
She hummed. “There are three of us on our team. I’ve never heard of other teams, but ‘tis logical to assume Charlotte has others. We three Angels cannae be expected to meet every threat against the Crown.”
God’s Teeth, but he loved to hear the way her mind worked. He loved to touch her as well.
“Are ye listening, Cam?”
He glanced upward. “I can listen and admire the beauty before me at the same time, can I no’?”
She squirmed backward, reaching for the coverlet. “If ye continue to admire me that way, I’ll no’ get my secrets told.”
His brow shot up. “Ye’re finally telling me all yer secrets, lass?”
As she settled herself beneath the coverlet, she lifted her chin stubbornly. “I might, if ye cease touching me.”
With a chuckle, he threw off his plaid and reached for the coverlet as well. “Then ye ask the impossible.”
“Cam.”
“Aye, angel?” He was still chuckling as he settled himself beneath the blanket beside her in the too-small bed. “Three of ye. I was listening.”
The noise she made sounded doubtful, but she was smiling. “Mellie, yer brother’s betrothed, is one of our trio. She’s no’ onl
y the most caring, but the one who understands people. She’s the Angel who kens what our targets—or our enemies—desire, and figures out how to manipulate that.”
He settled his head on his forearm. “Sounds like she’s almost a match for ye, lass.”
“Aye, well, as ye can imagine, Charlotte recruited me for the team for my memory.”
He snorted. “She recruited ye for yer brilliant mind, love. I ken ye said ye could recall what ye read, and now ye can nae longer read…”
“ ’Tis just it!” She shifted excitedly, rolling to face him. “Charlotte was so—so accepting of my secret!” Blowing out a breath, she shook her head slightly. “I’ve been so worried what would happen to my place on the team when they found out I could nae longer see the words on parchment, but Charlotte and Mellie just picked up the letters and read to me.”
He remembered the look of joy in Rosa’s eyes when he’d read her Lanval on that magical afternoon. It had been one of the best days of his life.
Now, her expression of wonder made his chest tighten.
“I’m glad,” he whispered, reaching for her. His fingertips brushed against her lips, then caressed her cheeks. “They would be fools to lose ye.”
Rosa Forbes had a place here in Scone. A purpose.
A future.
A future which didn’t include a thief accused of treason.
No matter how much they loved one another.
But he couldn’t make his fingers stop touching her, so he cleared his throat. “And yer third member?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Can ye guess?”
“I would hope ‘tis Court, but…” But an orphan, sold to a band of footpads and cutpurses, branded as a thief and rescued from the gaol, would not be a proper lady-in-waiting.
Rosa tilted her head enough to press a kiss against his palm. “ ’Tis Court.”
He exhaled. His mission was complete. If Court was one of these Angels, she had a place here in the palace at the Queen’s side. And Lachlan said she was happy, which is all Cam had ever wanted for her.
“I cannae tell her story for her, Cam, but she is an Angel, the same as I am. She is our leader, our strength. She’s our brawn, who stands between us and danger. She taught me how to use a blade.”
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