The Thief’s Angel

by Lee, Caroline

  Rosa might’ve gotten a little weepy, seeing Cam’s incredulity and joy.

  Today, their wedding had been no different. Lachlan and Mellie, as Laird and Lady Fraser, had hosted a grand event, and the entire clan had turned out in their finery to celebrate the two marriages.

  Rosalind wished her own family could have been there to celebrate with her, but she and Cam still had a fortnight before they needed to return to Scone, and she had every intention of dragging him to Aberdeen. She’d already sent a missive ahead to warn her parents of her nuptials and knew Mother would be thrilled to welcome Cam—a man who could banter in Latin and who had read Marie de France’s Lais—into the family.

  Court and Ross—followed by his giant, shaggy hound, Honor—had been spending time with Ross’s family, but had showed up at the wee chapel right on time. Rosa’s friend was stoic as always throughout the ceremony, but gripped her betrothed’s hand as if it were a lifeline, and she were dangling from a cliff.

  Ross, of course, beamed throughout. That giant beast of his even let loose a series of frantic barks—which sounded joyful—when the priest blessed their union.

  The wedding feast was overwhelming, but Rosa found she didn’t mind. There was one moment where she, Mellie and Court gathered near the castle’s wall to observe Simone and the stable lads playing with Honor, each content to watch and enjoy this new life they were now a part of.

  “Ye ken,” Court said quietly, “everything’s going to change now.”

  Rosa shook her head. “Nay. Mellie might be here most of the time, while ye and I and Ross and Cam are back in Scone, but that matters naught. We’ll always be partners. A team.”

  “Aye,” Mellie said with a smile. “We’ll always be Angels.”

  As they grasped one another’s forearms, the familiar and unbroken triangle—Tri-Angel, her mind whispered—of support and love, Rosa smiled into her teammates’ eyes. She’d trusted these women with her life on more occasions than she could count. And now she was trusting her future to them as well.

  “I love ye both,” she whispered.

  Mellie threw her arms around Rosa, making a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I love ye too, Rosa! And ye, Court,” she cried, reaching out and pulling their recalcitrant friend into their hug.

  Court’s strong arms wrapped around both of them, cradling them and protecting them the way she always had, and she grunted slightly. “Aye, and I love ye both as well, but don’ expect me to be telling ye more than once.”

  With that, Rosa and Mellie burst into laughter, and Rosa knew, no matter where they went or what the future held, they would always be a team.

  Not long after, Ross arrived with a folded plaid and took Court’s hand. She nodded her goodbyes, and the two of them went off into the failing evening light.

  “I ken his family lives in Durris,” Mellie murmured, “but kenning those two, they’d be just as happy to bed down beside the loch.”

  “I’ll avoid the beach tonight then,” Rosa quipped in return.

  She needn’t have worried. Once Cam managed to break away from his clan’s well-wishes, he wasn’t letting her go anywhere. Swinging her up into his arms, he grinned down at her.

  “I’m taking ye to bed, wife. Any objections?”

  Her fingers played with the hair at the base of his neck. “None whatsoever, husband.”

  They’d been given a guest chamber, which meant Cam didn’t have to return to his childhood chamber.

  When they’d first arrived at An Torr, she’d seen the tension and bitterness in his gaze as he’d parsed through the painful memories his former home held for him, before acceptance and hope took their place.

  Now, however, he had only love in his eyes as he slowly undressed her.

  Soon, she was standing nude in the center of their chamber, her hair loose down her back, and trying not to feel self-conscious.

  The heat in his gaze soon warmed her enough to feel bold.

  Placing her hands on her hips, she lifted her chin. “Like what ye see?”

  Blowing out a breath, he raked his hand though his hair, then shook his head. “Rosa, I—I cannae…”

  When he trailed off, she realized she was chewing on her lip. “Aye?” she prompted cautiously.

  “When I look at ye, lass, I cannae believe my good fortune. I cannae believe someone like ye could love someone like me.”

  She decided she didn’t need to be bold; she needed to be in his arms.

  In a heartbeat, she was there, her cheek resting against his chest. “Believe it, Cam. I love ye, and I’ll love ye forever.”

  His palms skimmed across her bare back, dropping to cup her arse and pull her against his hardness.

  “Are ye sure, my wee flower?” he asked in a choked voice.

  As promised, she’d told him every day of her love, but she didn’t mind telling him again.

  “Aye, my thief.”

  Stretching up on her toes, she kissed him, and continued kissing him until he was breathing as heavy as she was, until her leg was hooked around his thigh, until his thumb was teasing her nipple.

  She kissed him until he understood.

  “Ye stole my heart, Cam,” she said, panting, when she pulled away. “How could I no’ love ye?”

  With a groan, he picked her up, whirled around, and reached the bed in two strides, where he unceremoniously dropped her. While he made short work of his clothing, she scooted under the coverlet.

  She shouldn’t have bothered though, because when he joined her, he just ripped the covering away, baring both of their bodies to the moonlight streaming in through the window.

  “God’s Teeth, lass. I have to have ye…now.”

  Eyeing the thick length of his manhood, jutting toward her as he knelt on the mattress, she hummed in agreement. Her core was already wet and pulsing for him.

  “We can go slower next time, husband,” she managed to say.

  With a relieved sound, he dropped beside her, pulling her to him, until their limbs were wrapped as tightly as any knot. Facing her, he held her gaze as he entered her, and at her whimper of pleasure, he growled.

  She hooked her leg around his hip, giving him a better angle, as he reached between their joined bodies and began caressing the nub of her pleasure. His strokes became faster, each one accompanied with a panting sob from her, the spiraling joy building between them.

  When it burst, she had to clamp her eyes shut tightly, lest the white lightening flashing behind her lids blind them both.

  With a shuddering roar, he found his own release, spilling his seed against her womb.

  Spent, facing one another, they held tightly as their breathing returned to normal. As he softened and slid from her wetness. As they slowly relaxed.

  “Ye’re mine now, Rosa,” he finally whispered, his gray eyes so serious, so near hers. “My wife.”

  She shifted slightly, giving them each room, although still facing him. “Nay, husband. Ye are mine.”

  His fingers toyed with her hair. With a wry smile, he lifted a lock of it, brushing it against her bare shoulder.

  “The first time I saw ye, my Angel, I loved yer hair. Remember that?”

  She remembered him telling her to let her hair down because it would entice a man.

  “It smelled of flowers,” he whispered. “I remembered that smell, long after ye ran off. I took myself in hand, thinking of ye. Imagining ye wrapped around me exactly like this.”

  The confession made her feel…powerful. To know she’d influenced him so strongly, from their very first meeting.

  He dragged the lock of hair against her skin. “I couldnae believe my good fortune when I found ye again.”

  “Ye thought me a whore,” she pointed out.

  “I thought ye a nun at that point.”

  Her smile bloomed. “And now?”

  “Now…” His fingers replaced the hair, and he began caressing her skin. Down her arm, up her side. Across her breast, light touches on her neck and under
her ear, which had her sighing in pleasure.

  “Now, I ken ye are a scholar,” he murmured. “A warrior. Ye are the most brilliant person I ken, and brave besides. Ye are—”

  “Now I am a wife, Cam.” She untangled her own hand enough to clasp his. Partly to stop his wonderfully distracting touches, partly to bring it to her lips to kiss his palm. “I am yer wife, and ye are my partner. Are ye ready to return to Scone and help me preserve the Crown? Ready to become an honorary Angel?”

  The gleam in his eye turned wicked as her lips caressed his palm, then traveled to the inside of his wrist.

  “Aye, wife,” he growled.

  When he flipped her onto her back, she squealed happily and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Aye,” he repeated, his breath feather-light against her breasts as he kissed his way between them. When he reached her belly and kept going, she understood his intention, and willingly spread her legs and arched her back.

  When he reached the junction of her thighs, he planted a kiss atop the cluster of dark hairs there and looked up to meet her gaze. He was grinning, happiness in his eyes.

  “I’ll return to Scone with ye, my Angel, but…”

  “But?” she prompted breathlessly, her core already aching for him.

  And just before he lowered his lips to her, he winked. “But no’ yet.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE On Historical Accuracy

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  On Historical Accuracy

  You made it! All the way to the end of The Highland Angels series! Huzzah!

  Wait, Caroline. Is it the end? Or is there more coming? Better keep reading…

  But first, let’s talk some history. Actually, most of what I want to say has been covered already in earlier Author’s Notes: kilts good, but historically inaccurate; Queen Elizabeth largely unrepresented in history books, but still cool to extrapolate about; Highland history complex.

  Bam. Author’s Note done.

  Hahahaha, just kidding.

  I did tell you all about Red Comyn’s claim to the throne in a previous Author’s Note—I hope you were paying attention!—and how his son died at Bannockburn. There were plenty of Scottish nobles who believed he had the stronger claim, but Robert was the one who ultimately took the throne (causing Red’s death along the way, if not actually killing the man himself).

  Even in 1320, a decade and a half after Robert became King, he had to put up with conspiracies against him. The most famous one was the de Soules conspiracy (yep, which included Agnes, Countess of Strathearn, who was ultimately the one who ratted them all out in exchange for lenient sentencing). There’s no reason to think William de Soules planned treason against King Robert in support of the Comyns, but because of his own power among the nobles, historians believe he hoped to take the crown for himself (or put Edward Balliol, son of the previous king—John, called Toom Tabard because his coat of arms was stripped when he surrendered to the English—on the throne instead).

  Of course, the idea of Red Comyn having an illegitimate son, and that son somehow having a claim to the throne of Scotland, is completely made up. But…I mean…isn’t that the point of fiction? Plus, I have a serious soft spot for Cam as a hero; he’s such a hottie, but he’s got a lot of childhood trauma and feelings he needs to parse through. Luckily, he’s got a brilliant and compassionate woman to help!

  Okay, in my last Author’s Note, I talked about the history of Scone Abbey/Palace, and since it’s relevant to this book, I’ll reiterate. Most of what I wrote about in regards to that structure is completely made up, because the structure King Robert and Queen Elizabeth would’ve lived in before he built a home in Cardross was destroyed in the 16th century.

  Still, it was loads of fun to make up bits about what a royal palace might’ve looked like, and of course the gardens were my favorite. Characters can get up to all sorts of interesting adventures in walled gardens, especially if there are secret doors and whatnot.

 

  Next up: fishing! Bet you never expected to read that line in an Author’s Note. But we’ve already established that Simone and Mellie grew up fishing, so of course Simone and Cam had to have a scene together, fishing.

  You know what’s cool, though? Recreational fishing with a rod—Cam’s claim that the value is in just sitting quietly and letting his thoughts wander—wasn’t “popular” until later in history.

  Oh, fishing poles have been around for thousands of years, but in many cases fishing quickly advanced to nets in order to gather more food (fish) faster. It wasn’t until fishing became a sport (like what Cam is doing, when Simone joins him) that we have more records of pole fishing again.

  Of course, just because it wasn’t written down for a few hundred more years doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening. It was recreation, as opposed to food-gathering, and there’s no reason to believe men and women weren’t finding ways to relax and enjoy themselves long before someone thought to write a manual on the sport.

  Speaking of manuals and stuff being written down, let’s talk briefly about Manuscript Culture. This is just a fancy way to talk about the evolution of how we, as humans, share knowledge. First it was oral, then handwritten, then printed, and now it’s electronic (like reading novels on your e-reader!).

  Cam and Rosa’s story takes place at an important point in European history, when books were becoming more accessible to more people. We imagine cold and dismal monasteries with lonely monks hunched over a calligraphed Bible page, but… Well, actually, that image is probably partly accurate.

  But! But those monks weren’t just copying the Bible, or religious text! In the medieval period, they were also copying books about plants and how to use them, or travel accounts from far-off lands. They were copying allegorical stories and epic poems.

  And what’s interesting is that it wasn’t just monks doing the copying and sharing of written knowledge! In the larger cities, students and booksellers were also involved. In Paris, for instance, the wealthy elite could have their own library hand-copied for a fee.

  The old term for this period was the Dark Ages, but it’s been discarded because it’s really not true. Information was being spread in all sorts of ways, including precious books, among all sorts of people. It wasn’t just monks who were educated, as more and more people realized how big the world really was.

  Speaking of which, just a quick mention of Algiers, where Rosa’s grandfather was from. In the 13th and 14th centuries, there were plenty of merchants and travelers jaunting around the Mediterranean, North Africa, Italy, France, and Spain. Ibn Battuta got started shortly after this book takes place, and left his home in Tangier, Morocco, to travel over 117,000 km in his lifetime (Africa, Asia, India and China)…almost ten times farther than the Italian Marco Polo did (who was about a hundred years earlier).

  Algiers was called Jazaʾir Banī Mazghanna, which means “The Islands of the Sons of Mazghanna”. The Mazghanna were a confederation of tribes in North Africa, and the city was spread across the mainland and four islands. If you say the Arabic name “The Islands” aloud (“al-Jazāʾir”) you’ll get an idea where the modern name “Algiers” comes from.

  These cities in North Africa, Egypt and what is now the Middle East were some of the most advanced in the world. Not just in trade and power, but education and travel as well. There were public school systems and universities for both men and women long before such a thing caught on in Europe. In fact, the world’s oldest continuously operating university (University of al-Qarawiyyin in Morocco) was founded in 859 by a woman.

  That’s…that’s not really relevant at all to this book, except I think it’s really cool. Also, I think it gives some background as to why Rosa’s grandfather believed so strongly in educating his own daughter and granddaughters. Luckily, his son-in-law agreed, and Rosa was raised with access to an epic library.

  Which leads me to my last note: Lanval. This is a lay, which is a type of narrative rhyming poem, usually with chivalric themes. Th
e oldest surviving lais, including Lanval, were written Marie de France.

  Not much is known about Marie, other than hints we get from her famous poems. We don’t even know if she was living in France when she wrote them, but since they were written in a French dialect and because of, you know, her name being “de France” and all, she’s considered to be the first French female poet.

  Her lais, including Lanval, were widely known, and I love the idea of the courtly love appealing to Rosa, while the naughty bits appealed to Cam. Okay, there weren’t actual naughty bits.

  In the story, Lanval is passed over for reward by King Arthur and while he’s moping, is approached by the handmaidens of a fairy who wants him to become her “close friend” (winkwink), and will give him a bunch of awesome riches as long as he doesn’t tell anyone about her. Queen Guinevere is impressed by Lanval’s wealth, and comes on to him. When he turns her down, she tells Arthur Lanval tried to proposition her. Lanval says No Way, I Have A Hottie, and then in the climatic trial scene (spoiler alert!), his gorgeous fairy lover shows up to exonerate him.

  Quite romantic, quite lovely, and yes, there’s descriptions of naked beauty that teenaged Cam would like.

  I owe a debt to Dr. Judith Shoaf at the University of Florida, who not only translated Lanval into English, complete with rhyming couplets, but who made it available to the public. Read the text I quoted from here.

  Whew, this has been a long Author’s Note. But you read all the way to the end (I hope you learned something!) and you deserve a reward.

  I bet you’re reeeeeally curious about what Isabel, Brigit and Avaline are doing hanging out with Charlotte Bruce, aren’t you? Is it possible, as Court and Rosa have suspected, that there are more teams of Angels working for the Queen?

  If you’re ready to find out, you should check out The Pirate’s Angel. Fans of Charlotte’s twin brother from The Bruce’s Angel are going to be thrilled to discover Tav is back, and you’ve been reading so much about Lady Isabel of Strathbogie, you’re probably ready to meet her in person!