Yet, the ache between her legs was far too much of a reminder of what she’d done. There was even a bite mark on her neck, which had garnered quite a number of questions.
She couldn’t ask Duncan. What if Ethan had been right all along? What if he admitted to the crime. And worse, what if he gloated over the killing? It would shatter her heart in the worst manner.
“Joanna,” a voice suddenly called from behind. Deep in thought, Grace had not heard anyone approaching.
She turned and staring at her were the red-rimmed eyes of Emily.
“Oh bollocks!” She exclaimed in surprise and lowered her gaze instantly, afraid that her hidden plan would be revealed.
“That was an English accent.”
Grace was surprised that Emily caught it. Those two words had escaped her mouth in a moment of weakness, and her English accent had slipped out.
Grace forced a laugh, “and how could that be?”
“I heard ye. Ye’re nae from here.”
“Of course I’m nae. Ye kenned that from the day I arrived.”
“Picked up from the road.” She corrected snidely. “Where are ye from Jo? Or is it Joanna?”
“Why are ye makin’ these accusations? Have I done somethin’ tae offend me lady?” Grace asked standing her hard ground. The girl really was astute.
“Ye already have the answer tae that. Yet ye choose tae mock me. ‘Tis why I cannae trust ye.”
Had she found out about Grace’s night with Duncan? Her chambers were on the other side of the castle. She could not have heard, at least Grace hoped. She knew what it meant to lose the one she loved to another and would not wish that suffering on her. And although it saddened her to hurt an innocent person, she was not sorry the night happened.
“I could never!” Grace burst out. “What are ye talkin’ about? Ye have me confused, Lady Emily.”
“Ye stole me man’s heart! I was already suspicious of ye and yer relationship with Duncan an’ now, I dinnae need more proof.” Emily shouted, alerting the guards who patrolled the area. “Go ahead, try an’ deny it. Deny that ye’re a spy. Let’s see if Duncan will still love ye after I tell him ye’re a spy!”
“Me lady…”
A loud commotion exploded from the gates. Grace thanked the heavens and ran with Emily to see what was happening. About ten men were marching towards the castle’s doors with a wounded man. Grace strained her neck to see better, but Emily approached the warriors boldly.
“What happened. The poor lad, he could have died,” she said.
“Yer heart is too soft. ‘Tis an English soldier, would ye have wanted him tae invade instead?”
Grace’s heart skipped. As subtly as she could, she moved closer to listen.
“But he had nae weapons. Mayhaps they willnae lynch him without hearin’ what he has tae say first,” said another warrior.
Unable to withstand it any longer, Grace followed them. The warriors were almost at the door. She could hear the struggles and the dragging feet of a prisoner. She could not see his face. Fervently, she prayed it’d be one of the three men that had hurt Archie’s grandfather. She slipped in with them. Looking to her right, she saw Emily watching her with a malicious glint in her face. Grace was past caring.
They entered the wide expanse of the hallway, the men’s voices echoing loud and clear in their victory. Before the laird’s chair, they spread out, dumping the strange man on the floor.
His form, the uniform on his back, the color of his pale golden hair. If she looked closely, she would make out the shape of his ear, which she knew all too well.
“Harris,” she muttered to herself. It took all of Grace’s self-control to keep herself hidden behind a burly warrior. Soon, the inner doors opened, ushering in Laird Fergus. Behind him, Duncan followed. The ruckus had even drawn Lady Fiona and Sheena from their chambers. Grace’s heart thumped in pure terror.
Harris was alone. In this state he’d be dead before the sun went down, if they thought he was a spy or useless.I’ll find you.Grace paused as those words filled her head. Laird Fergus took his seat and the hall quietened. Grace saw Duncan’s eyes sweep the crowd.
He was a different man. Groomed to take over the leadership of his clan. There was nothing but cold determination in those eyes. Duncan’s sword hung by his kilt and while his arms were crossed, he was surrounded by a dangerous energy. None of it was kind towards the struggling, tied man on the ground.
“Who is he?”
“A spy, me laird,” a tall man who appeared to be the leader answered. “He was found lurkin’ in the woods.”
