She flushed, but when she swallowed and focused on the wall just beyond the Queen, Ross knew he’d touched on a difficult topic.
“Court?” Rosalind asked quietly. “We all heard ye say ‘No’ him.’ Were ye speaking of Ross here?”
Her slight head shake had them all leaning forward, and Ross found himself holding his breath.
“Who, Courtney?” the Queen prompted.
Court swallowed. “My… An old friend, Yer Majesty.”
“From your life before?”
Court’s hesitant nod had the Queen leaning back in her chair and the other two Angels releasing their breaths. Mellie and Rosalind exchanged a glance, and Court turned her tortured gaze to Ross.
Only, she wasn’t meeting his eyes. Instead, her own eyes were locked on his chest.
On the bloody handprint the assassin had left him.
“The Red Hand,” Court whispered. Then she shook her head, cleared her throat, and explained. “The Red Hand was the name of the group who…where I grew up. The man who leads it is a friend of mine. Or at least, he was,” she added quietly.
Charlotte was eyeing the bloody stain on Ross’s shirt. “If it’s a coincidence, it’s a strange one. That certainly looks like a deliberate message, and one ye were expected to understand.”
“Could the Red Hand be behind this assassination attempt?” Rosalind asked.
Reluctantly, Court nodded, even as she pulled her bow in front of her, her hands skimming the wood in what seemed to be a nervous motion. “If offered enough gold, mayhap. ‘Tis hard to imagine Cam taking on such a commission—”
“Because he’s loyal to the throne?” Ross bit out, still rankling at the accusation against his laird.
“Because he kens ‘twould be a stupid way to lose a man. There’s nae amount of coin worth losing a friend, he always said.”
“That’s the man?” Mellie prompted. “The one ye spoke of to the assassin when ye said, ‘No’ him?’ ”
Court licked her lips. “He’s loyal to his men, above all.”
And Ross was sure he wasn’t the only one who heard the bitterness in her voice when she said those words.
“Is it possible this Cam isnae in charge of the group anymore? If someone else is leading them, and kens yer connection to him…?”
“ ’Tis possible. I’ve been away from them a long time.”
Her hands still gripped the bow, but in a small movement—one he wasn’t even sure she realized—her right hand covered her left.
As long as he’d known her—even during their one night together—she’d worn a fingerless glove on her left hand, never removing it. When asked, she’d said it was to stabilize her bow, but was that the only reason?
Or did it have something to do with her time in this mysterious group?
The possibility they could be paid to send an assassin wasn’t comforting, when considering that group had also raised her.
She had a history with this group.
Were they outlaws, or something else?
Surely they must be outlaws, to consider the possibility of supplying an assassin.
Frowning, Ross dropped his hand to Honor’s head, and the dog snuffled quietly, then shifted, so his large bulk rested against his owner’s leg. Ross planted his weight and considered the woman in front of him.
Court kept her dark blonde hair cut shorter than was considered acceptable and pulled back in a leather tie at the base of her neck. She wore no ornamentation, and her dark brown eyes flashed with irritation, as often as not, when he was near.
So why was he so intrigued by this woman?
Why so anxious to learn her secrets?
Or was it merely because he wanted to know more about the Red Hand?
He’d been instrumental in stopping the assassin; mayhap this curiosity was his reaction toward that cowardly attempt. He wanted to punish the Red Hand, especially since his own laird had come under suspicion by the actions of the assassin.
Satisfied with his reasoning, Ross dug his fingers into Honor’s fur, his lips twitching when the big dog shifted his head to the side, allowing him better access to his favorite spot.
“I’ll go.” His words surprised even him, but when everyone turned his way, he shrugged. “I’ll track down this Cam, or whoever the Red Hand may be now, and ask him what he kens about what happened today.”
Liam studied Ross. “And if he doesnae like the way ye ask?”
“I’ll ask again, but in a bit more pointed way.” He patted the sword at his hip, and Liam snorted.
“Ye’ll never find them,” Court scoffed. “They move every few seasons, but I’m sure I could likely track them down.”
The Queen shifted forward once more. “Then you should be the one to hunt for answers, Courtney.”
The tall woman nodded firmly. “Aye, Yer Majesty. ‘Tis the most logical.”
She turned to the other Angels, but when she opened her mouth—likely to bark a command—Queen Elizabeth spoke again.“I think you and Ross Fraser will make a fair team.”
Court’s head whipped around so quickly, she winced. Recovering, she cleared her throat. “Ross, Yer Majesty?”
Regally, the Queen nodded. “He has volunteered, and you have to admit, he is an imposing specimen. And you are the one with the knowledge we need. It is logical to work together.”
Court’s eyes darted back toward her teammates, who were looking a little uncomfortable at the idea. Finally, Mellie sighed.
“Aye, Court, go.” A mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “ ’Twill do ye good to hunt him down.”
Rosalind caught Court’s gaze and held it intently. “And ‘twill do Ross good to get out of the palace.”
The two women stared at one another for a long moment, then Court’s shoulders slumped on a sigh. “Aye, ye’re likely right.”
Lady Charlotte nudged the Queen. “Did she just refuse orders from her sovereign, but agree with a suggestion from a chit of a girl dressed as a nun?”
Elizabeth lifted a brow. “Did you just elbow your queen?”
“Aye, Yer Majesty,” the pregnant woman replied cheerfully.
The Queen rolled her eyes, then stood. “Ross Fraser, you will accompany Courtney on her quest. She has the knowledge, and you have the—the— What is that thing?”
Court scrubbed a hand down her face. “ ’Tis a dog apparently, Yer Majesty.”
“Hmm.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Well, take it with you. It looks useful for protection, and I shudder to imagine how we would feed it here at the palace.”
Ross shrugged, caring only that he had a purpose and was doing something for the good of Scotland once more. “His name is Honor, and he’s perfectly content with one goat a day, and a virgin sacrifice every full moon.”
Liam and Mellie both snorted at the joke, but the Queen’s only indication she found him humorous was the way her lips curved into an enigmatic smile.
It was only when her eyes flicked to Court, and back again, that Ross began to wonder why she was smiling.
“Yes indeed, Ross Fraser. I think you and Courtney will make an interesting team. If you cannot trust your partner, whom can you trust?”
Chapter 3
The damned dog came with them, of course.
Three hours outside of Scone, Court found herself glaring at Ross’s back, muttering to herself about the dog.
Who in the hell named an animal? Much less something like “Honor.” It was particularly irritating to her, because he’d claimed the Fraser laird had named the beast before he’d gifted it to Ross.
And that was another thing!
When had she started thinking of him as “Ross?”
In the two years he’d been gone, she’d thought of him—when she thought of him, which was rarely, because it wasn’t as if she’d been mooning over him—as Fraser. He was just another of the Queen’s bodyguards, and certainly not one she’d missed.
Bah.
Mayhap she’d missed him a wee bit.
&n
bsp; He was fine to look at, was he not?
Even from back here, she caught her eyes admiring the way the muscles on his shoulders flowed down into his strong, straight back. His arms were huge, his hands just as big as they gripped the reins.
As they’d gripped her.
She swallowed and shook her head, trying to force the memory of that night from her mind. It was hard, just as he’d been—
Ye’re thinking about it again!
It had meant naught. Less than naught. A celebration of a successful mission, too much ale, and they’d found themselves in each other’s arms much too easily.
His bed in the palace, in a room much like she’d been given, was the largest she’d ever been in, and it had been nice to stretch out atop him. Still, that hadn’t stopped her from gathering her clothes and rushing away from it.
After.
“Ye ken ye’re allowed to speak on missions, aye?”
Her head jerked up at his words, and her scowl deepened. “What?”
He twisted slightly in his saddle to smirk back at her. “Ye havenae said one word to me since we left, but I can hear ye muttering to yerself.”
Damnation.
She snapped her gaze forward once more. “I wasnae muttering.”
“Aye, ye were. Something about the dog?”
Her knuckles tightened around the reins. “I was wondering why ye are the one in the lead, if I am the one who kens where the Red Hand is likely to be camped.”
He shrugged and pulled up, waiting until her horse was beside his, before nudging his into motion once more. “There. Better?”
She grunted softly, refusing him the satisfaction of an agreement.
Truthfully, she was a little surprised he was willing to allow her the lead, or any equality at all. There weren’t many men who wouldn’t demand to ride in front of a woman. Liam Bruce was one who treated his wife as an equal…and his cousin, the King, did as well.
Mayhap the time spent around those two great men had rubbed off on Ross.
Ross?
Fraser, by all the saints!
Still, she owed him something. “Aye, ‘tis better. How do ye feel about taking orders from a woman?”
“Why?” His eyebrow twitched in her direction. “Are ye likely to start ordering me about?” Before she could speak, he shook his head with a slight smile, and said, “I guarded the Queen for years, Court, remember? I ken all about strong women with great ability.”
Her head reared back as her gaze darted to his, then away just as fast.
Was that…a compliment?
They rode in silence for a bit longer, before she cleared her throat, and asked, “Ye think me strong?”
God in Heaven, but she hated how unsure she sounded! As if she was looking for a compliment.
But he merely shrugged, and his tone seemed to be sincere when he replied, “Aye, I ken it. Ye took that shot yesterday, and it was a fine one. And I remember the missions the Queen would send ye on. I cannae recall ye ever failing.”
“There were a few times,” she corrected quietly, her attention on the road ahead. “I am no’ perfect.”
He snorted. “Nay, but ye’re damned good at what ye do.”
And that, more than anything else he could’ve said, caused Court to sit straighter in the saddle, warmth spreading throughout her stomach and chest.
Pride?
Or pleasure?
Or a little of both, because he’d noticed and judged her favorably?
And why did Ross’s regard mean aught to her?
Fraser. Fraser’s regard, she reminded herself.
He was a Fraser and had spent years with his traitorous laird.
Suddenly, his dog woofed eagerly and shot from Ross’s side toward the underbrush. The sound the beast made as it crashed around was more than enough to scare off whatever it had scented.
“Honor!” Fraser lifted two fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. “Honor, get back here!”
Court couldn’t contain her small snort.
He twisted to face her, his expression one of comical surprise. “Was that a laugh? Did Lady Ranged-Weapon just laugh?”
“Nay,” she reassured him. “ ’Tis just ye sound ridiculous.”
“Calling for my dog?”
“Calling for honor in the middle of the road, as if ye’d lost it.”
He shrugged, and she did her best not to watch the way his muscles moved.
She failed.
“ ’Tisnae a common name for a beast, I’ll admit. But Lachlan has a sense of humor, and kens what I value,” he said, as he searched the bracken for his dog.
“Honor,” Court acknowledged.
They crossed into an area of open fields, and the dog came bounding toward them, as if her softly spoken comment had been meant to call him back.
He looked…happy. Could dogs look happy?
He was a huge, hairy monster, and it should have been impossible to know what it was feeling, since she couldn’t see its face.
But it was hard to deny the thing looked as if it was enjoying itself, bounding in and out of mud, chasing leaves and investigating interesting smells.
When the beast fell back into its gentle lope by his master’s side, Ross—nay, Fraser—grunted approval. “Good lad, Honor.”
Honor.
The laird who’d betrayed them all had named this beast Honor. How could that be?
Well, Court wasn’t Mellie or Rosalind. She couldn’t manipulate a conversation, or think her way through the twisted maze of men’s thoughts. She was more direct and to-the-point.
“Yer laird named him ‘Honor,’ but when that assassin was asked who sent him, he spoke of yer clan.”
To her surprise, his tone was mild. “Even yer fellow Angel pointed out ‘twas likely because he was looking at me. He was saying my name, no’ answering yer question.”
“And was it likely he kenned who ye were? That he recognized ye on sight?”
A moment of tense silence passed, before he grunted and shook his head. “Ye’re right. I’ve never seen him before.”
“And if ye had, ye’d tell me?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
When he twisted in his saddle to pierce her with those deep green eyes of his, she saw he was frowning. “Aye, of course. Why d’ye think I wouldnae?”
“Because ye’re riding with me to the Red Hand. We’re partners on this mission, Fraser, and if I was in yer position, I wouldnae tell me.”
“Wait.” He pulled his mount to a stop, forcing her to do the same. “Ye think I had something to do with that assassin? And ye believe I’m lying to ye now about that, in the hopes of…what? Of gaining access to the Red Hand? For what purpose?”
Her horse danced sideways as she held his glare, causing her trewes—her preferred wear when she was on a mission which didn’t require a disguise—to brush against his bare knees, but neither of them moved away.
Nay, instead, he lifted his chin and dared her to outright accuse him.
But she couldn’t.
After rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “Nay, Fraser, I’m no’ accusing ye. Ye’re too honorable to have aught to do with the assassin. Ye did no’ send him.”
“But ye think my laird did.” His voice was hard, his anger evident. The man wore his emotions on his face, plain as daylight. “Ye think Lachlan isnae loyal to the King and Queen?”
She shrugged and kneed her horse into motion once more. “What other Fraser could the bastard have been speaking of?”
Behind her, she heard him curse quietly, before calling that dog of his once more. It was several long moments after that before he rode up beside her, and longer still until he spoke again.
“Ye’re wrong about Lachlan. He’s a good man.”
“Mayhap. And mayhap Cam will be able to tell us who hired him to send that assassin.”
They rode in silence for another while, before Ross inquired, “This Cam, he’s the one ye ken? The leader of the Red Hand?”
>
Court knew what he was asking, but wouldn’t give him the information he sought. Wouldn’t tell him about how Cam had been the one who had taken her in, protecting and caring for her, when no one else would. It had been Cam who’d taught her to use a bow and track deer, and how to pick a pocket and set traps for larger prizes.
He’d been a thief, aye, but she’d loved him.
He’d been her brother, in every way which mattered, …until it hadn’t.
When he’d sent her away, she’d lost everything she’d ever known and loved, and had ended up in a gaol cell, awaiting the hangman.
Nay, she couldn’t tell Ross all that. Only the Queen, Charlotte, and her fellow Angels knew of Court’s history, and even that was too many.
So all she said in response was, “He was the leader, the last I kenned. We’ll find out soon enough.”
* * *
Honor was flagging, and Ross’s lips twitched ironically at the thought.
No’ a metaphor, I hope.
It was well past sunset, but Court hadn’t shown any signs of stopping for the night. Nay, they’d ridden many hours westward already, and she was pushing all of them—including the dog—farther than most warriors would’ve traveled in a single day.
Why?
What was she trying to prove?
Or did she not even realize what she was doing?
Shuffling along beside him, Honor let out a muffled whine. He was tired and hungry, and the horse likely was as well. Ross shifted in his saddle, feeling guilty. He could call an end to their journey for the day, but the thought of having to ask to stop—especially having to ask this to a woman—was galling.
On the other hand, the dog was clearly exhausted. They were passing through a valley, but with the sun below one ridge, and the moon not yet over the other, it was hard to see much of the landscape. Court rode ahead of him, and Ross stared at the back of her, taking note of the way she was hunched in the saddle, her shoulders slumped and her head down.
Was she as tired as he was?
Ross wanted to ask if she was even aware of how tired the dog was—not to mention the horses and himself—but the way she’d snapped at him earlier made him wary. Besides, her hand was never far from that bow of hers, and he’d seen how fast she could nock and draw an arrow.
The Highlander’s Angel Page 4
