by Caroline Lee
Seemingly just as intelligent was the lady sitting beside her: A golden-haired beauty, with flashing eyes, and a red gown cut low enough to show off more than a little skin. She lounged, where her companion sat properly. This woman was eyeing Liam speculatively, one long finger idly tracing the upper curve of her breast, as if imagining it was him touching her.
Frowning, Charlotte turned her attention to the third—and most ill-at-ease—woman. Charlotte would’ve thought her a servant, based on her dull gown and simple coiffure. But the fact she stood with her arms crossed in front of her, scowling at the assembly as she braced herself against the wall, told Charlotte she was there for a reason. The unstrung bow at her side, and the thief’s brand on the back of her left hand, were even more intriguing.
The Queen’s voice was low when she explained. “Rosalind, Melisandre, and Courtney have agreed to join this little…experiment. Some took a little more prodding than others.”
The golden-haired one smiled languidly, while the standing woman’s scowl deepened.
“All that’s missing, Charlotte MacLeod, is a leader.”
Charlotte’s attention swung to the Queen once more. Elizabeth was looking at her expectantly. “Me, Yer Majesty?”
“I know you to be intelligent and unorthodox. You have connections at court, and connections—somehow, and please do not explain, for I do not wish to know—to pirates. I believe you and I to be kindred spirits, and I want you to have the leading role of this new endeavor.”
Glancing at Liam, Charlotte saw the pride in his expression.
He was proud of her? Proud she’d gained this attention?
Nay, she realized. Proud she’d been offered such a role.
I can help shape Scotland’s future.
The realization slammed into her so hard, Charlotte’s head jerked upward. Only Liam’s grip on her hand kept her attention where it needed to be, and she used that touch, that warmth, to force herself to breathe deeply.
The chance to shape her country’s future. The chance to make history. The chance to do more than spend her days as a fine lady in the MacDonald keep.
A chance not to be executed as a traitor.
Her lips tugged upward.
Put like that, how could she refuse?
“What—” When her voice cracked, Charlotte shook her head ruefully and cleared her throat. “What exactly would ye have me do, Yer Majesty?”
Elizabeth’s sharp gaze jumped from her, to the women, to her husband, to Liam, then back to Charlotte. “Charlotte, my dear…I would have you make them into Angels.”
Angels?
Charlotte caught Liam’s gaze, and when he began to smile, she joined him. “Angels, hmm? Beautiful, dangerous, hidden creatures?”
“The angels no one expects,” Liam offered.
“The angels who work for good, but are willing to do whatever it takes,” the Queen commanded.
And these “Angels” would be the Queen’s? Not the King’s?
Charlotte’s gaze darted to the Bruce, who seemed to understand, because he shook his head.
“Yer loyalty no longer lies with me, lass. Ye’ll swear fealty to the Queen, and take yer commands from her.”
It was a novel idea, to be sure, but Charlotte’s heart pounded in excitement. She could change history. She could make a place for herself at court.
She could lead the Queen’s Angels.
“However, your first mission, Charlotte, will be without the Angels. You and…” The Queen nodded to Liam. “You, and your betrothed, will journey to Finlaggan and avenge yourself.”
Charlotte’s gaze flicked to the three women, not sure how much the royal couple had shared with them. She would keep her questions general.
“Avenge myself, Yer Majesty? So this isnae an official mission?”
“This is not a mission officially sanctioned by the crown, Charlotte. ‘Tis a secret mission, delivering justice to a traitor who deserves it, although we are unable to condemn him.”
The Queen’s gaze was steady, and her meaning very clear: John MacDonald would die, but not on the King’s orders. He would die in secret, in the dark…
Condemned by an angel.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte released Liam’s hand and stepped toward the Queen, her fist over her heart. Instead of a curtsey, this time she bowed; a symbol of fealty and obedience.
“Yer Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, I swear my pledge to serve ye as ye see fit.”
Was it her imagination, or did the Queen breathe out a sigh of relief at her pledge?
Liam stepped up beside her once more, and as Charlotte straightened, offered his own bow.
“I swear it as well, my Queen.”
After straightening, Liam snaked his arm around Charlotte’s middle, and she—nigh overwhelmed by the last minutes—sagged against him.
Queen Elizabeth exchanged pleased glances with her husband, then turned to them with a soft smile. “Well then, Charlotte MacLeod, welcome to court. To the both of you, welcome to your future.”
“Aye,” Liam drawled, turning Charlotte in his arms. When she was facing him, he lifted her chin with one callused finger. “Welcome to yer future, my love,” he murmured, right before his lips met hers.
Epilogue
“Have ye ever been on a pirate’s boat before, Liam?”
Tav’s teasing question jerked Liam’s attention away from their distant prize. He glanced over at Charlotte, who stood beside him at the rail. She leaned forward slightly, as if she could hurry the birlinn toward the MacDonald boat, but he saw her lips twitch.
Was she remembering the last time she’d been a pirate? Or was she recalling that night a year ago, when they’d made love on this very deck?
Liam knew which memory he preferred, and he allowed some of his smug satisfaction to show as he twitched a brow in Tav’s direction.
“Aye,” he drawled. “Once or twice.”
His friend blinked. “Really? One as nice as this one?”
Pressing his lips together to hide his smug grin, Liam merely nodded.
Tav shrugged. “Well, it might be yer last time. I have a fondness for this birlinn, but she’s no’ as fast as some of the southern ships.”
Char leaned toward them, lowering her voice in a mock whisper. “My brother fancies a cog for himself, and means to take one afore the year is out.”
“By next summer, at the latest,” Tavish said with an eager nod. “Nae ship in the Isles will be able to match us then!”
“As a representative of the Crown, and therefore law and order in the Kingdom, I donae think ye should be telling me this.” Liam managed with a straight face.
Tav just shrugged, jerking his chin toward the distant ship, carrying their quarry. “The two of ye—and Char’s new Angels—will have to get used to unorthodox methods, Bruce. I doubt this will be the last time ye’ll need the Black Banner’s help.”
Liam had to concede that point. With a grunt of agreement, he turned back to Char.
“Ye’re sure that’s the correct birlinn?”
She nodded. “He’s there. John MacDonald is on that ship, and has nae idea his hours on earth are limited.”
Tav moved up on Liam’s other side, holding a bundle of black material. “Trust her, Liam. She’s brilliant at bribes and research.”
“Aye,” Char agreed, eyes sparkling as she reached across Liam to snag one of the scarfs Tav offered. “ ’Tis how I learned the location of the Queen’s birlinn, remember?”
“ ’Tis easy when ye command the royal seal, and can ensure yer quarry’s route,” Liam shot back.
It had been Char’s idea to have John MacDonald summoned to court, knowing which route he’d be likely to take. From then, it had simply been a matter of bribes and messages, until she knew exactly which boat carried him.
She bumped her hip against his. “Aye, but no’ so different from watching for a MacLeod birlinn, crewed by my MacLeods, carrying a royal entourage.”
Liam snorted, even as he
took the last scarf and began to wrap it around his head the way his friend was doing. “Ye’re bragging about what a piss-poor bodyguard I am, are ye no’?”
With a chuckle, Char pushed herself up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Nay, my love. I cannae help it if I outsmarted—”
Her words were cut off with a gasp when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him, capturing those sassy lips in a kiss.
For a moment, Tav and the MacDonald boat, and even the impending battle, all became irrelevant. All that mattered was the feel of his betrothed in his arms.
She hummed low in her throat as her arms snaked around his neck, and he smiled against her lips when their swords, hanging in their scabbards, clanged against one another.
He loved this woman, with everything he was and would be. And thanks to God—and Queen Elizabeth—he’d have a forever with her.
It was Tav’s muttered curse which finally broke them apart, and as Liam placed a small, reverent kiss at the corner of her lips, he heard his friend huff in exasperation.
“For the love of God, man, do ye no’ ken ‘tis rude to ravish a man’s sister in front of him?”
Her arms still around him, Char leaned sideways to smirk at her brother. “Mayhap ye should turn around then, brother.”
Liam snorted with laughter, just as a cry came down from Wee Robbie atop the cross-spar. “They’re turning!”
Just like that, Charlotte’s jovial manner turned serious, and she whipped the scarf up and around her head. Liam took her cue and finished tucking his in, even as Tav turned and called commands to his men.
Before she could tuck the last length of black material around her face, Liam reached out and touched her chin. “I love ye, Char. I want ye to remember that.”
One dark red brow twitched. “Why? Ye think I’ll do something reckless, otherwise?”
He hesitated, not sure how to explain his feelings. “What MacDonald did to ye was unforgivable, and I ken ye’ve made him pay already. What we do today is punishment for his treason.”
She nodded, expression serious. “I’ve ordered the lads no’ to kill indiscriminately. We’re here to take John’s life, but cannae make it look deliberate. Tav will ensure the birlinn is looted to make the attack seem ordinary.”
Or as ordinary as a pirate attack could be.
“This will be one more death laid at the feet of the dreaded Black Banner, but…” He shook his head. “I cannae ask yer brother to kill him.”
“I’ve already had to talk Tav out of killing John twice. I think my brother is looking forward to the opportunity.” Her tone sounded curious almost, as if she were waiting to hear his reaction.
Slowly, he nodded, letting her know he understood. “I promise ye he doesnae want to slay John MacDonald any less than I do. The man abused the woman I love and deserves death. But…”
“But?” Her brow twitched in challenge.
“But ye have more reason to wish revenge than either of us. If ye have the chance to take it, and ye’re comfortable with it, I’ll no’ stand in yer way.”
Although he was constantly surprised by her determination, intelligence and ability, he had no idea how she’d react if called upon to kill a man. That had been what Elizabeth had asked her, and her response—
“Were the cause worthy,” she whispered, proving she was remembering the same.
He slowly nodded, his palm moving to cup her cheek. “The cause is worthy. We do this for Robert and Elizabeth.”
“And Scotland.”
“And Scotland,” he agreed.
She smiled at him, and he knew she’d do what was necessary, and would come through it the same woman he loved. Mayhap she’d have the opportunity to execute John MacDonald, or maybe Liam would. Mayhap it’d be Tav, or one of the other MacLeod pirates.
Either way, the man would be punished for his treason, and Robert’s shaky kingdom wouldn’t wobble because of his death.
Behind them, a cry went up, and both Liam and Char whirled toward the other boat. It was closer now, the men onboard obviously preparing for battle.
But there was no way they’d match the Black Banner.
The two of them tucked in the length of scarf hiding their features and unsheathed their swords in tandem.
“Beware the black,” Liam whispered.
She echoed the motto, louder, and when the men behind them joined in, she brandished her blade at the enemy.
As their birlinn crashed into the MacDonald ship, Liam and Char jumped together into the battle.
“Beware the black!”
ONE YEAR LATER
* * *
Letter, letter…transcript, letter...
Where in damnation is that report?
Charlotte shuffled through the documents on her desk, wondering if she should’ve allowed Liam to have that cubby system built for her after all. She’d always claimed it was easier to find things if she could see and touch them, but this was—
Aha!
Crowing triumphantly, she pulled Melisandre’s report out from under a letter to the Queen. In her role as the Queen’s confidante and spy-mistress, Charlotte intercepted much of Her Majesty’s correspondence, or at least read it after the fact. But this report of recent brigand activity on the roads north of the city, was what she’d been looking for.
And even more interesting, was the curt addendum scribbled at the bottom in Courtney’s rough hand: Three ded. Five wunded. Will track.
Charlotte insisted all of her agents—Angels, as the Queen had named them—know how to read and write. Courtney’s upbringing meant she’d come late to these arts, and had never been at ease with a stylus.
She was at ease with a bow and a woodland trail, however, so Charlotte trusted her to track the brigands to their lair.
What she didn’t trust was the younger woman having the sense to come back for the rest of her team. Although they’d only been together for a year, Court had quickly become the leader of their little band, and was constantly throwing herself into danger to protect the others.
Charlotte quickly scribbled a note to Rosalind, urging her to gather resources and follow her fellow Angel. Courtney would likely need backup, and Rosa wasn’t a warrior, but smarter than all of them put together.
Sighing, Charlotte threw down her stylus and scrubbed a hand down her face.
“Rough day?”
Her husband’s voice jerked her attention to the door, and as always, when she saw that wry smile of his, her heart lifted. Liam’s arms were crossed in front of him, and his hip was resting against the jamb.
As she stood, she stretched and affected a nonchalant air. “No’ as bad as some. Ye?”
He shrugged and pushed away from the wall, prowling across the room toward her. “Nae threats to Her Majesty. Just boring arguments and pleas. We’re expected to sit with her tonight.”
Charlotte almost stumbled as she stepped away from her desk, but it was impossible to pay attention to silly little matters such as furniture when he had that I need you look in his eyes.
“Aye?” she croaked, her hands already lifting to her laces.
“Aye. It seems Her Majesty is determined to enjoy every last evening of revelry, before she enters her confinement.” Liam halted before her, his hands settling on her hips, as he leaned closer.
When he inhaled deeply against her neck, as if tasting her, Charlotte’s knees went weak.
“And— And she wants us—” she managed to squeak, thoroughly distracted by the feel of his shoulders under her palms.
“To dine with her again, aye. Ye ken ye’re one of her best friends,” he murmured, dropping his lips to her skin.
He was right; Charlotte and Elizabeth had grown close over the last year, and both enjoyed the other’s company. Charlotte was looking forward to finally meeting the royal prince or princess who’d be born soon, but was more looking forward to getting her friend back.
And maybe she would’ve said all of that, had Liam’s t
ongue not rasped against the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
When she moaned, he yanked her closer, his hard member pressing against her pelvis.
God! The sensation—the knowledge he wanted her—made her warm and wet and breathless in a heartbeat.
“Dinner is an hour away,” she said breathlessly.
Mayhap he heard the plea in her voice, or mayhap he was as desperate as she was, because his grin was wicked.
“There’s all sorts of ways to spend that hour,” he drawled.
Her solar was connected to their shared chambers, but they didn’t need a bed. Hell, they didn’t need a desk sometimes, when they stole moments to be together.
This afternoon, though…
“Just let me move some of my scrolls,” she commanded.
A year ago, she’d thought her life simple. Without love or a future, she’d been focused on punishing a traitor and saving herself from a cruel marriage. Now, she had friends, a purpose, and a position in the royal court no one could even guess at.
And most importantly, she had a husband she loved with all her heart. A husband who would stand beside her, and allow her to stand beside him, for the rest of their lives.
As she turned to her desk and began to push letters out of the way—the last time they’d made love here, her admittedly haphazard organization had been completely ruined—she felt his hands reach for her skirts.
“Let’s no’ worry about the scrolls, love,” he murmured against her hair.
She grinned wickedly. “Ye want me to just bend over and lift my skirts?”
“I want ye on the bed, but I donae think I can wait that long.”
So Charlotte was laughing as she reached for the edge of the desk, feeling cool air against her arse. Aye, she had friends around her, a future changing history, and a husband who couldn’t keep his hands off her.
Life was good.
AUTHOR’S NOTE on historical accuracy
