The Bruce's Angel (The Highland Angels Book 0)

by Caroline Lee

  He forced himself to exhale and relax, knowing he’d be no good in a fight. “I’m no’ a liar.”

  “Ye are a cowardly arsehole though,” his friend spit back at him.

  “Liam?” The Queen’s tone seemed almost gossipy. “Is this true? Ye took this woman’s virginity, and then—”

  And Char, bless her, interrupted in her own defense. “He took naught, Yer Majesty! I gave it, and willingly, to a man I thought loved me.”

  Elizabeth merely hummed, then stepped around Liam. He moved to intercept her, but she held up one imperious gloved hand as she peered at Charlotte.

  The two women stood the same height, but the similarities ended there.

  Elizabeth’s sable hair was still thick and luxurious, despite being several years older, but was bound under a pearl-studded net in the latest fashion.

  Charlotte was all fire and warmth, passion and gaiety. She’d worn her long red hair loose the day he’d made love to her for the first time, and Liam didn’t think he’d ever forget the way she’d looked with that fiery halo of curls cascading down around her pale breasts.

  His angel had bound her hair today, but during their fight, strands had come loose.

  The way he’d always loved.

  Actually…

  Liam narrowed his eyes as he glared at the two women he loved most in the world. They were similar. He saw the same quick intelligence and subtle wit in both of their eyes, and wondered at how well-matched they were.

  “Charlotte,” the Queen finally murmured. “My cousin’s question is pertinent. Why are ye here? You said you wanted access to me, but surely not to return me to England?”

  “Never, Yer Majesty.” The quickness of the vow proved its honesty. “I just need to speak with ye, and an uninterrupted time and place to do it.”

  Liam lowered his sword. He felt ridiculous standing there, threatening the woman he loved with it. Despite her accusations of his lies, he believed her when she said she didn’t intend to harm Elizabeth.

  The Queen was nodding thoughtfully. “And the pirates?” Her gaze flicked to a still-grinning Tav, who blew her a kiss. Elizabeth merely raised a brow, before turning her full attention to Charlotte once more. “From Liam’s stories, it appears he is unused to this new hobby of yours.”

  “I needed a way to get to ye,” Charlotte said quietly. “And the Black Banner had the best opportunity.”

  “And you believed murder and violence were the best way to get my attention?”

  Charlotte’s chin jerked up. “We’ve murdered no one! Yer men all still live!”

  “MacLeod men,” Liam growled in reminder.

  “Aye, MacLeod men,” Charlotte snapped. “Ye’re the one at fault, if ye were too dense to consider the implications!”

  “Why in the world would I consider the possibility of being attacked by the woman I love, masquerading as a pirate?”

  Tavish stepped forward then, his eyes hardening in anger. “No’ a masquerade, arsehole.”

  Liam spun, almost wishing he hadn’t sheathed his sword. “Stop calling me that!”

  “Ye stop being so free with my sister!”

  The Queen stopped them with her quiet words. “Well, Charlotte? Are ye a pirate? Ye might no’ have killed anyone on this adventure, but are ye willing to?” She cocked her head and peered at the other woman, as if seeing her in a new light. “Are ye willing to kill to complete yer mission?”

  Tav grunted. “I nominate this arsehole.”

  And before Liam could blink, Charlotte had whipped her sword up and around, and had the tip resting on his shoulder right below his ear. One twitch would drag it across his throat, opening his skin and spilling his life’s blood.

  In any other instance, Liam would’ve been angry. But here and now, the first emotion to course through his very-much-at-risk veins was…pride.

  The woman he loved was smarter and faster than half the warriors he’d worked with over the years.

  Her hand was steady, and her gaze clear as she glared at him. Still, he could see her subtle tells—the way her dark eyes were flickering between his, the way her lips were pressed a little too tightly—that she wasn’t entirely at ease with the situation.

  Good.

  Neither was he.

  “Well, Charlotte?” the Queen asked again. “Could you do it? Could you kill a man?”

  Charlotte’s pink tongue darted out to swipe across her lips, and Liam dropped his gaze to them.

  Her lips…

  He remembered the taste of them. He remembered the way they’d pursed to shush him, as she’d snuck him into her bedchamber, only to open with a giggle moments later. He remembered them tugged into a mischievous grin. He remembered everything about them.

  So why couldn’t he guess how they’d answer Elizabeth?

  “Well, Charlotte?” The Queen’s prompt yanked Liam back to the imminent danger. “Could you kill a man?”

  To his surprise, Charlotte growled, “Aye, were the cause worthy.”

  “And your cause now, my dear?” Elizabeth sounded merely curious. “You’ve attacked my ship, taken down my crew and my bodyguards, and stand ready to murder my cousin. Is this cause so important?”

  Did no one else notice how Charlotte’s hand shook at the question?

  The tip of her blade nicked the skin below his ear, but he didn’t react.

  Finally, she swallowed. “Aye. ‘Tis important.”

  Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Well, if you feel it necessary to kill Liam…”

  He met Charlotte’s eyes once more, careful to keep his emotions hidden. Strangely, he wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t so much he didn’t believe her capable of killing him, it was that he could see how conflicted she was. If she was in so much trouble she felt killing him would further her mission, he wanted to know what was wrong.

  Besides, he loved her.

  If she killed him today, he’d never get the chance to help her.

  He flexed his knees, ready to dive to his left and risk losing an ear, if it kept his throat intact and her soul unstained.

  “Well, Char?” he prompted quietly.

  As he expected, the name—once an endearment, yet now an irritation—caused her eyes to flash. She straightened her elbow to steady the blade and glared at him.

  “Do ye have any last words?”

  He exhaled slowly. “Aye. I love ye. I’ve never stopped loving ye.”

  Their little tableau was frozen for a heartbeat, two, three.

  Then she snarled and threw herself forward, shifting her grip on the short sword so it pressed against the front of his throat.

  “How dare ye?” Her face was only inches from his. “How dare ye think to say something like that to me?”

  His hands were free, and her body close to his. He spread his arms. “How could I no’? I’ve said it many times before.”

  “Lies!”

  Before the word was finished, he’d grabbed her wrist and ducked from under the sword, forcing her arm up and around, so the blade—still in her hand—was thrust over his left shoulder. At the same time, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, until they stood in a bizarre parody of a dance.

  “I. Do no’. Lie.”

  He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t threatened her, but still her eyes widened. “Nay,” she whispered.

  “I love ye, Char. I always have.”

  And before she could shake her head in denial yet again, he slammed his lips down on hers.

  Chapter 5

  God help her, but he tasted of salt air and sweat and rightness…and anger. So much anger.

  Under his lips, Charlotte felt her own resistance collapse. She was angry—just as angry as he was—and she wouldn’t back down. But she’d missed this, missed the feel of his skin against hers.

  That was why she was angry.

  So she snaked her free hand around the back of his head, curled her fingers through his thick dark hair, and held him in place, while she kissed him rig
ht back.

  Her blade still rested atop his shoulder, but his fingers around her forearm shifted their grip, until they were almost caressing in their firmness.

  She smiled against his mouth.

  With a groan, he broke away from her, but didn’t retreat. Nay, he was Liam Bruce; he didn’t retreat. Instead, he held her, their noses almost touching, as he stared into her eyes.

  Her smile faded.

  Was he married already? Is that why she hadn’t heard from him for the last year?

  But how could he kiss her this way? Claim to still love her?

  He must’ve seen her thoughts in her expression—he’d always understood her better than anyone else—because his lips twitched.

  “I love ye, Char. I’ve missed ye.”

  “Do ye love me more, or less, than ye love yer wife?”

  He huffed a sigh. “I’m no’ married nor betrothed, Charlotte. Ye’re the only woman who has ever held my heart.”

  It was Tavish who spoke up in her defense, since Charlotte seemed incapable.

  “Ye have a fine way of showing it, Bruce. No word from ye for months and months, then Da tells us about yer marriage contract.”

  Without looking at her brother—which was fair, because she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away from Liam’s to look at him either—Liam said bitingly, “And yer Da would never lie, would he? I’ve been busy.”

  “With what?” Tav snapped, the irritation in his voice obvious.

  Finally, Liam turned his attention to the other man, but kept his hold on her. “With Bannockburn. Mayhap ye’ve heard of it?”

  Charlotte caught her brother’s flush before he looked away.

  The decisive battle, which had turned the tide of the Bruce’s war, had taken place last summer, just a fortnight after Liam had been called back. It made sense that the repercussions of the battle would last much longer; it was the exchange of captured English Barons which had allowed Queen Elizabeth, her stepdaughter Princess Marjorie, and the Bruce’s sisters to return home.

  If Liam’s orders had involved the prisoner exchange, that would account for his absence since last winter, most certainly. Possibly longer.

  But was that all there was to it?

  And had Da really lied?

  It was the Queen who answered Charlotte’s unspoken question when she stepped forward. “I have only known my husband’s cousin for a few short months, Lady Charlotte, but I know he would not lie.”

  Charlotte’s eyes searched Liam’s face. Aye, she knew that fact, as well as she knew her own abilities. Liam did not lie. He was a good, honorable man.

  So why had she been so quick to believe her father?

  Because Liam hadn’t been there when she’d needed him most.

  Elizabeth was brave enough to place a gentle hand on Charlotte’s, where it gripped the hilt of her short sword. “He is not betrothed, my dear,” she said softly. “And he’s spoken of no other woman but you.”

  Charlotte’s gaze slammed back into Liam’s. She didn’t see anger in his bright blue eyes anymore, nor smugness.

  Just certainty.

  “I love ye, Charlotte MacLeod. I’m sorry I couldnae return sooner.”

  “Or write?” she managed to whisper.

  Finally, a wince of regret. “Aye. I’m sorry I was only able to send a few missives. The Bruce kept me busy cleaning up after the battle, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy since November, when the exchange for the Queen actually took place.”

  Mayhap he continued to speak, but Charlotte heard little after “a few missives.”

  “Ye’ve written me?” she blurted, interrupting him.

  He frowned. “Aye. No’ often, but a few, telling ye I was safe after the battle, or asking ye to be patient with me, as I couldnae return yet.”

  Shaking her head, Charlotte released him and stumbled backward, sheathing her sword with trembling hands.

  He wasn’t betrothed. He hadn’t abandoned her. He’d written, asking her to wait.

  “I never got yer letters,” she whispered hoarsely. “What happened—”

  Her brother’s loud snort drew her attention, but Tav wasn’t looking at them. Nay, he cut an impressive figure, all in black, his arms folded as he frowned down at his men administering to the Queen’s bodyguards.

  He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to.

  “Da,” she whispered, and caught her brother’s faint nod.

  Liam stepped forward, then halted, as if unsure if he should go to her or stay at the Queen’s side. “Ye thought I’d abandoned ye? Ye didnae see the messengers?”

  “I was at the MacDonald holding,” she said dully, staring at the waves over Tav’s shoulder. “Being told what a miserable piece of garbage I was, and listening to them plot treason. I believed my father when he told me ye’d used me and run back to yer Lowland lass.”

  When he took her hand, his fingers twining through hers, she glanced at him, then down.

  “Why?” he whispered.

  Why were they treating ye like that?

  She understood his question, because she’d asked the same many times. “Because John MacDonald discovered I wasnae a virgin, and threatened to void the marriage contract my father had made with his. When our fathers refused, he…” She forced herself not to think of those days before she escaped. “He cast me aside on his own.”

  Liam made a noise, but as she was staring at their joined hands, Charlotte didn’t know what it meant. She wasn’t sure if she was angry, or embarrassed, to have to tell him all this with their current audience.

  It was the Queen who saved her by sweeping up and folding her hands in front of her, poised and regal, as if she was standing at court, instead of on the swaying deck of a wounded birlinn.

  “Well, I cannot say this has been the most normal return, what with the secrecy and the pirate attack and the lack of triumphant procession. But seeing the two of you reunite has certainly been…interesting.” Her eyes hardened. “And now that it is through, you will give me an explanation and the return of my men. Immediately.”

  Swallowing, Charlotte pulled away from Liam’s hold. She’d been the one to give the orders to attack her sovereign lord’s wife. It could be argued her treasonous act deserved the harshest penalty, and now they could not even hide behind anonymity. Thankfully, although Liam knew who her brother was, they hadn’t identified him in front of the Queen.

  Would Liam keep the secret, even if Charlotte had to be punished?

  Please God, donae let him be the one to take my head, if that’s what Elizabeth decides.

  She placed her right palm over her heart and sunk to one knee before the Queen, the way she’d seen her father’s warriors pledge their fealty.

  “I have evidence of treason, Yer Majesty. I’ve been to court twice since Hogmany, with excuses both times, and been refused access to the King.”

  “So you escalated to becoming a pirate and kidnapping your Queen? I simply cannot imagine why the King’s guards would not let you see him. Did it not occur to you that the King was not even in Scone?”

  It was impossible to miss the amused note in the other woman’s voice, but Charlotte didn’t lift her gaze from the Queen’s knees. “Aye, Yer Majesty,” she whispered hoarsely. “But I got tired of being ignored.”

  “I will have to remember that,” the Queen said dryly.

  “As will I,” Liam rumbled.

  Charlotte swallowed again, wondering if she might actually live through the day.

  “Rise, Lady Charlotte,” Elizabeth demanded. “I will hear your reasons and see your evidence, but”—she hastened to add, as Tav lowered his arms and stepped toward their group—“not on your ship. Here. On my ship. Surrounded by my men.”

  Slowly, Charlotte gained her feet, working through the implications. She glanced at Liam, whose expression was carefully neutral as he stood equidistant from the two women. Not an hour ago, she was sure she hated him, but now, she didn’t understand her own feelings.

&nbs
p; If everything he’d said was true—and she had to admit he was no liar—then she had no reason to hate him.

  And if he was still the man she’d fallen in love with, then she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

  But would he allow her to be hurt by someone else? Did his loyalty to Elizabeth run deep enough to stand by as his men took her and her brother down?

  She met his eyes, hoping for an indication.

  She received none.

  It was as if he were leaving the decision up to her.

  She swallowed, then nodded. No matter what came of today, she would show Liam she trusted him. And that she was sorry she doubted him.

  “Aye,” she croaked, then whirled on her brother. “Bring me the letters.”

  Tav rolled his eyes. “Are ye daft, lass? Ye may believe him, and his oh-so-logical reasons, but I’ve hated him right alongside ye for almost a year. I’ll no’ forgive him so easily, nor will I leave ye here alone with him.”

  “I will be here, Lord Banner,” the Queen said imperiously.

  Tav sketched a bow, as if reminding her she didn’t know his name. “And ye may be my Queen, but ye have the same sharp look as Char, begging yer pardon. I wouldn’t trust either of ye, as far as I could throw ye.”

  Elizabeth’s lips twitched as her eyes raked over Tav’s wide shoulders. “Probably a wise idea.”

  Tavish rose and turned to the watching men once more. “Tosh,” he called down, “bring Her Majesty’s guards up here and make them comfortable.”

  His second raised a brow, then shrugged. “Aye, Banner. But I’ll keep ‘em tied, if it’s all the same.”

  “The Queen’s invited them for tea and cakes, but she’ll have to be disappointed.”

  Elizabeth snorted at Tav’s quip.

  Ignoring her, Tav cupped his hands and bellowed across to his own birlinn. “Dane! Bring the small casket!”

  “Dane?” Liam blurted incredulously. “Ye brought yer son pirating?” He whirled on Charlotte. “Ye allowed it?”

  It was Tav who answered with a nonchalant shrug. “The family business, aye?”

  The two men frowned at one another for a long moment, before Tav’s gaze flicked to first her, then Elizabeth. Liam seemed to understand the man was daring him to reveal his identity to the Queen, and Charlotte watched the realization creep up on him—if he told Elizabeth the Black Banner was the brother of the woman he loved, he’d be complicit.