The Ghost

by Monica McCarty

  She stopped suddenly. No, it didn’t. If it’s too good to be true, it probably is. Lachlan’s warning came back to her just in time.

  Joan knew better than to ignore what all her instincts were telling her. Something wasn’t right.

  Without another thought, Joan turned to the left and headed not for the Great Hall but for the chapel. If anyone was watching, they would see a woman going to pray—hardly unusual with the men about to march off to war.

  The chapel was quiet and dark when she entered. There was a priest with his back toward her near the altar lighting a candle, but he appeared not to have taken notice of her arrival.

  Stepping into one of the side chapels used for private prayer and confessions, she was about to kneel on the velvet-covered stool before the small altar when someone grabbed her from behind.

  22

  JOAN RECOGNIZED HIM right away. “Alex!” she exclaimed, twisting around to look up at him. “You scared me half to death.” One glance at his face was enough to tell her something was wrong. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  He didn’t answer her right away. His expression seemed dark and forbidding in the flickering candlelight of the chapel. His entire body seemed to be radiating with dangerous emotions. His eyes burned with dark flames that she hoped were a trick of the candlelight. He didn’t look like himself at all.

  She could feel his fingers tightening almost imperatively on her arm. “Where are you going this late in the evening? And don’t tell me it’s to confess your sins—not that you don’t have plenty of them, Joan.” He leaned closer, saying with a low growl, “Or should I call you Ghost?”

  No amount of training could have prevented the small gasp from escaping from between her lips or the draining of blood from every pore of her face. He knows . . . Dear God, he knows. And if the look of barely restrained fury burning in his eyes was any indication, he wasn’t in any mood to listen to excuses or explanations, though she had to try.

  “Alex, I know you are upset—and you have every right to be—but if you will just give me a chance to explain—”

  “Upset?” He cut her off with a roar of outrage. The hand set like a brand around her arm gave her a hard shake and hauled her closer. “Now why would I be upset to discover that the woman who has agreed to be my wife and to whom I have given my heart has been deceiving me since the day we met? That she has drugged me”—Joan winced—“and spied on me? That she has acted the wanton to entice information from men? That she has put herself in unspeakable danger with no thought—” He stopped, apparently realizing that his voice had grown too loud, and took what she hoped was a calming breath. “When I saw you come out of the donjon and feared I wouldn’t reach you in time . . . By God, you nearly walked right into their trap!”

  It had been a trap. Hearing confirmation of what her instincts had told her should have filled her with relief, but instead her eyes narrowed. “I don’t need you to rescue me, Alex. I figured it out myself.”

  “The hell you don’t—”

  “Is something wrong, my lady?”

  Joan turned, realizing the priest she’d seen upon entering was standing a few feet away. He must have heard their voices. If he’d heard anything else, his expression gave no indication. He looked at her with concern and at Alex with suspicion.

  Alex released her arm, his expression suddenly stony.

  Joan forced a cheery smile on her face. “I’m sorry if our voices disturbed you, Father. My betrothed and I were having a small disagreement about the wedding feast—or rather about certain guests at the wedding feast. Perhaps you might settle it for us? Tell me, Father, do you think a man should be excluded from the list just for smiling at me?”

  The priest seemed to understand the problem right away. Alex was being irrationally jealous—or at least that was what she wanted the priest to think.

  The portly middle-aged clergyman smiled and said as gallantly as any knight, “Your beauty deserves smiles, my lady. I should think if that is a criterion for exclusion you would be left with a feast full of women.”

  Joan blushed prettily, as would be expected by the compliment, and Alex glowered, but the priest merely chuckled as he walked away.

  “You lie convincingly, my lady,” Alex said in her ear as he led her out of the side altar and into a small room nearby.

  It wasn’t a compliment.

  Looking around, Joan realized they were in the sacristy. “Do you think we should be in here?” she asked as he closed the door.

  Normally being in a small, mostly dark room with him would be making her senses jump with awareness, but now they were jumping with something more akin to trepidation. Good gracious, did he have to look so big and imposing? Where was her golden knight now?

  “Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” Alex said, adding to the ominousness. “And this way we won’t be interrupted again.”

  “How did you find out?” she asked, and then answered for herself. “It was the men, wasn’t it?”

  “You mean learning that you were not a wanton but only pretending to be one?” he said sarcastically. “Aye, among other things. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I did, and if I can so can someone else. You may have avoided their trap tonight, but do not think that is the end. They are determined to find the person who has been feeding information to Bruce, and I sure as hell am not going to let that be you. It’s over, Joan. As of right now, the Ghost is no more.”

  She bristled. It didn’t matter that she’d come to the same conclusion herself, she didn’t like being ordered and dictated to. It reminded her too much of her father. “That is for me to decide, Alex. Not you.”

  “You are dead wrong about that. If you think that I’ll let this charade continue, that I will allow my wife to keep putting herself in danger, you are mad.” Allow? “Do you even realize the horrible position you’ve put me in? I’ve had to lie for you, but I will not keep doing so.” He paused, adding as if he knew her thinking, “And if you are thinking about running to your father, don’t bother. I’ve already talked to him.”

  He’d seen Lachlan? If the allow comment wasn’t enough to make her angry, that threw her over the edge. “By God, Alex, what were you thinking? Are you sure you are not the one who is mad? He could have killed you. God knows, he’s been waiting for the chance.”

  “Aye, well he didn’t. I pointed out that he might not want to stick a knife in the back of his future son-in-law.”

  Joan made a face. “I can only imagine his reaction to that.”

  Alex didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. They both knew what Lachlan thought of him.

  “I won’t be ordered about, Alex. Not even by you. If you think marriage gives you that right, then you are mistaken. I have been doing this a long time; I am not a helpless maid in need of rescue. And if that is why you wish to marry me, you should reconsider. I know what I am doing, and I will continue to do whatever it takes to help our cause with or without your permission.”

  “Your cause,” he corrected. “It isn’t mine anymore. Whatever it takes? Christ, you sound just like Boyd. It doesn’t matter who you hurt, who you lie to, and who you use as long as you win, is that it? God, I thought you loved me—or was that a lie, too?”

  Guilt stabbed her. “Of course, I did—I do. I never wanted to lie to you, Alex. I hated every moment of it. There were so many times I wanted to tell you the truth, but I couldn’t. You try to make it sound so simple, but it isn’t. I did what I had to for the sake of the mission. Because I believe in what I’m doing. Because I believe in Bruce. Because I know the alternative and never wish to see anyone else’s mother in a cage. So if it means I have to speak a few untruths, if it means I couldn’t tell you what I was doing, if it means I have to pretend to be interested in a few men to get information, then I will do so. Gladly.”

  “Is that what you told yourself when you drugged me?”

  She flushed with guilt. “That was an accident.”

  “So you di
dn’t come to my room with the intention of knocking me out to search for the missive we retrieved from the monk?”

  Her face heated some more. She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d figured it out. “Yes . . . no . . .” She gazed up at him helplessly. “I changed my mind.”

  “Before or after you planned to seduce me?”

  “It wasn’t like that, Alex. I never intended it to go that far. What happened between us was real. With what you learned about Phillip, you have to know that.”

  She’d won that point, at least. He didn’t argue, but his mouth still flattened in a thin white line. “Justify it however you wish, but it was wrong, and it all comes to an end tonight. No more lying. No more spying. No more doing whatever it takes. I’ve been through this before; I won’t do it again.”

  He sounded so final. So stubborn. So intractable. So confident in the righteousness of his view of things. “Or what, Alex? Will you do the same thing you did last time that someone didn’t meet your stringent sense of right and wrong? Will you leave and turn your back on me just like you did your friends? Or maybe you will turn on me and betray me, too, for some idealized myth of chivalry that doesn’t exist?”

  Alex’s ears were ringing and his head blared. His lungs felt as if he’d just swallowed a hot ball of fire. She’d learned more from Viper than how to use a knife and defend herself; she’d learned how to skewer and eviscerate with her tongue. She’d learned how to find a place of pain, poke it, and make it hurt some more.

  Idealized myth? She’d reduced the hardest thing he’d ever done to a bard’s tale. She made him sound rigid, idealistic, and uncompromising—as if he hadn’t tried to think of another way.

  But beyond the hurt, his body shook with rage and indignation. How dare she accuse him of such after the hideous position she’d put him in. He had been tasked with uncovering her, for Christ’s sake!

  “Betray you? To the contrary, I’ve lied to a man to whom I have a duty to protect you. It is not me who is the traitor here, Joan, but you. Turning you in is exactly what I should do, damn it.” He let his voice drop off, his fists clenched. “But it was my misfortune to have fallen in love with a damned spy, who has now embroiled me in her treachery and made liars of us both.”

  She had the good grace to wince and looked up at him apologetically. How could she still look so damned sweet and tempting after what she’d done? How could he still want to drag her into his arms and kiss her when she’d deceived him so horribly?

  “I’m sorry, Alex. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  His jaw was like a block. “Aye, well it did. And lying and dishonesty might come easy to you, but they don’t to me. All I’ve ever tried to do was what was right, but tell me how the hell it can be right to keep your secret while doing my duty as a knight to the king?”

  “What if doing your duty to Edward is not right anymore?”

  He stiffened.

  She went on. “What if what is right is returning to Bruce and the Guard?” She paused and added gently, “I know you thought you were doing what you had to do when you left. You were worn down and disillusioned by what seemed an endless war that wasn’t going anywhere and couldn’t see another choice. But you have a choice now. You came here to help persuade the English to end the war by peaceable means. You gave it a valiant try, but it didn’t work. The English are going to march on Scotland, and nothing you do will stop them. So now you need to decide whether you march with them or return to the place where you belong—where you can do some good. It’s not too late, Alex. You gave up on them, but I don’t think they ever gave up on you. They trusted you—even Raider, although maybe he didn’t always show it.”

  He didn’t say anything; his chest was burning too hot. Give up on them? He wanted to deny it, but after what MacRuairi said, he didn’t know what the hell to think anymore.

  “You were one of us.”

  Echoing his thought she added, “The fact that you are still standing here without any apparent dagger wounds after coming into contact with my stepfather should tell you something. It tells me something. He would never have let you go after what you told him if he didn’t still trust you on some level.”

  Frankly, he was just as surprised as she was that Lachlan had let him go without a fight. Was she right?

  “Come back, Alex. They need you. Bruce needs you. It’s where you belong.”

  Her voice was like a siren’s call, lulling him, beguiling him, fooling him. Making him think about things he didn’t want to remember. “Nay,” he said angrily. “I can never go back. I made my choice. What you want is impossible.”

  “Is it? Or is it your knightly pride speaking? Is it that you don’t want to admit you might have been wrong? That war isn’t black or white, it’s gray—no matter what side you fight on?”

  He hadn’t been wrong, damn it. He’d done what he had to do to see this war end. To see the suffering of his people stop. To be able to keep looking at himself in the mirror. He thought she’d understood that. But could someone like her ever understand? Whatever it takes . . . Christ, not again—never again. That was exactly the mind-set he’d wanted to avoid when he’d left, and he’d fallen in love with someone who was just as bad as Boyd. She wanted him to go back to that? To a war without limits?

  His jaw clenched. “I don’t want to talk about this, Joan. I’ve told you my decision. I’m not going to go back for you or anyone else. Do not think my feelings for you can bend me to your will.”

  She looked genuinely offended. “That is not what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to make you see that you can’t straddle the fence anymore. You came here, I know with good intentions, but it didn’t work. You tried to stop it, but war is coming anyway. Now you have to pick a side. You can’t be both an English knight and a Scot patriot. You have to choose.”

  Perhaps unknowingly, she’d pricked old wounds. He’d heard the same damned refrain from Raider for seven bloody years. “I made my choice two years ago.”

  Her eyes met his with disbelief. “So you will fight against Bruce and your former brethren?”

  He thought of that little girl, and the thousands of innocents like her who hadn’t been so lucky. “If I have to, but you and I both know it won’t come to that. Bruce won’t take the field.”

  And the war would go on.

  “And if he does and the English win? Would you see Scotland ruled by England with Edward as overlord? More English justice in the form of cages?”

  “Edward isn’t his father.”

  “No, he isn’t,” she conceded. “But neither is he Robert the Bruce.”

  She was too bloody right about that—much to Alex’s frustration over the past two years. But until Bruce was willing to challenge Edward in open battle, he would never be recognized as king and the war would go on. If Alex thought Bruce could be persuaded . . .

  Christ, listen to him! She had him so twisted around that he was letting himself consider what-ifs. But he wasn’t going to let her force his hand. Even an English overlord was better than a war of attrition. “I’m sorry, Joan, but I won’t do it. I won’t turn traitor even for you.”

  It had nearly killed him the first time.

  “You mean you won’t turn traitor again. For don’t delude yourself, Alex. No matter what you told yourself, no matter what justification and good intentions you might have had, the ugly truth is that you gave Bruce and the Guard your loyalty and broke it, and now when you have a chance to make it right, you are too stubborn and afraid to try.”

  Alex struggled to keep a rein on his temper, but it was whipping and snapping inside him like a sail unfurled in a maelstrom. “You seem to have such a firm grasp on the situation, Joan. So tell me, what is it exactly that you propose I do? Jump on my horse and ride into whatever forest or patch of heather Bruce and the Guard have made their headquarters? Boyd as much as promised that the next time he sees me, he will try to kill me. As you’ve pointed out, I betrayed them; they think I am a traitor. Somehow none of m
y former brethren strike me as the forgive-and-forget type. Do you have any reason to believe that they will welcome me back with open arms?”

  She flushed.

  “I didn’t think so,” Alex said.

  “I didn’t say it would be easy, but I can help.”

  “Now who is the one who is deluded?”

  Her mouth pursed. “So what does that mean?”

  “It means that when I leave for Wark tomorrow, it will be in the service of Edward of England, and when I return, you and I will do our best to forget any of this ever happened.”

  Joan gasped. “Tomorrow?” She couldn’t believe her ears. “You are leaving tomorrow?”

  Alex’s nod was grim.

  “Why did you not tell me?”

  “I only found out tonight when I returned—just in time—to discover that a trap had been laid to catch the spy. Pembroke has been ordered to ride ahead; the rest of the army will follow in a few days.”

  “I see,” Joan said softly, feeling as if her heart were being torn in shreds. “That is it, then.”

  Alex tensed. “What do you mean, that is it?”

  “We are on opposite sides. You can’t really think I would marry someone who would fight against everything I believe in. Everything I have worked for since I saw my mother in a cage in this very castle.”

  Horror crossed his features. “Christ, you saw her?”

  “My father thought I needed to be taught a lesson,” she said bitterly. “It was not the one that he intended.” She held his gaze. “I will not be told what to do, nor will I marry someone who would fight against my friends and brethren.”

  It took him a moment to realize what she meant. When he did, his face grew as dark as a thundercloud. “You are one of them. I should have guessed. Your skills at deception are unmatched.” She flushed at the dig. “As is your obvious affinity for danger. Do you have any idea what the English would do to get ahold of one of Bruce’s Phantoms?” He dragged his fingers through his hair and paced a few steps. “You will go to my mother in Winton tomorrow. I will talk to Edward and say it is an emergency. I can spare a few men to escort you.”