No sound came from the guest chamber, and through the crack, she saw that the room was dark. Male voices carried from the library. Pausing behind that room, she set the candle on the floor and peered through the crack.

Lachlan, Dirk, Rebbie and Miles sat at a table, playing cards and drinking amber-colored whisky from small crystal glasses. So, he hadn't lied. Thank the heavens. For a time, she relaxed and simply listened to the rich sound of his voice. How pleasant and persuasive it could be, and that Scottish burr made it even more so. They discussed the clan and things that had happened during the day. A short time later, Dirk and Miles left, headed to their guest quarters.

Rebbie shuffled the cards while Lachlan stirred at coals in the hearth.

"Why are you not with your wee wifey? Surely, you would like to show your gratitude to her for saving your life today." Rebbie snickered.

"I don't find that funny. 'Tis a wonder I'm not a laughingstock after what she pulled."

"Better than being dead."

"I would've put a stop to him soon enough."

She couldn't believe he was so ungrateful for her help; his arrogant pride spoke for him.

"From what I can tell, the men of the clan respect you," Rebbie said.

"They don't trust me."

"'Tis your first day here. Once they get to know you, I'm sure they will be so loyal as to give their lives in your stead."

"I hope they will allow me to lead them. I intend to protect them as well. I only hope Angelique doesn't undermine my authority. 'Tis her clan by birth, I ken, but I am chief."

"I'm sure you know well how to keep her reined in."

"'Tis easier said than done. But indeed, I have her under control for now. I'm starting to understand her a bit more. She loves to pick a fight more than anything. But I don't yet ken whether this fight is with me or herself."

Angelique clenched her teeth so tightly she feared they would break. That lout! Balourd! Goujat!

"Hmm," Rebbie mused. "Why would she fight herself?"

"Though she doesn't want to, she likes me more than she will admit." Lachlan's voice held an amused tone. "And I've made sure she'll be busy planning the second wedding ceremony and the feast for the next week and a half, while I attend to important clan business."

The bastard! Her hands fisted, her nails biting into her palms. Angelique wished she could crawl through the crack so she could throttle him now. She could scarce concentrate on the rest of the damnable conversation for the blood roaring in her ears.

"Your wedding is not important?" Rebbie asked.

"Aye, but we're already married. This wedding will be a formality, for Angelique and the clan."

"She doesn't ken what an indulgent husband she has," Rebbie said in a dry tone.

"Aye." Lachlan turned from the hearth. "'Tis late and I'm off to find my bed."

"Not your wife's bed?" Rebbie opened the door.

Lachlan picked up the candelabra and followed. "The doors of our sitting rooms connect so…" Lachlan's voice trailed off into mumble as they left the room.

Damn him! The beast. He thought he was controlling her? Angelique picked up the candle and rushed up the narrow stairwell. She stubbed her toe on one of the stone steps. The pain near blinded her. "Mère de Dieu," she gasped. Was it broken? The thin leather slipper offered no protection. The poker fell from her hand with a loud clang among the debris on the steps. Holding tight to the candle, she continued up the stairs, limping.

At the top, the door was still ajar. She passed through and closed it. Fighting her way from beneath the heavy tapestry, she rushed forward to replace the rock over the latch at the base of the hearth. She set the candle down and it toppled to the floor, extinguishing the light.

"Parbleu," she whispered and ran for the door through the pitch blackness. Her leg slammed into something large and solid. She fell, cursing and rubbing her shin. Lachlan's damned trunk.

A distant door opened, Lachlan's sitting room door. Merde! I must hide.

Chapter Six

Angelique crawled across the floorboards and a carpet but could see nothing. She found the bed and slid beneath, praying no spiders lived there.

The bedchamber door opened and candlelight flowed into the room. Lachlan hummed a bawdy Scottish song, then whistled part of it. She watched his booted feet as he crossed to the hearth. A clunk sounded as he set his lit candle on the mantel. He stopped whistling, bent down and picked up the extinguished candle she'd dropped. Sacrebleu.

Silence followed. His feet turned slowly. Metal hissed against leather. She could scarce breathe. She didn't want to reveal herself, nor did she want him to take his sword or dagger to her, thinking she was a thief.

The light from his candle descended as he set it on the floor. He knelt, then peered beneath the bed. He squinted. "Angelique? Is that you?"

"Merde," she muttered and scooted from her hiding place.

"What the devil are you doing beneath my bed? I'd much rather find you in it."

Face burning, she rose and hobbled toward the exit, her shin and toe throbbing. He was faster, running to stand before the door. "Are you limping?"

"I slammed my shin against your damnable trunk." She tried to reach the door latch, but he blocked it. "I am tired and I wish to go to bed," she snapped. Control her, would he? A string of foul names formed in her mind.

"Let me see." He sheathed his sword, then swept a hand toward the chair near his bed. "Have a seat over there so I can see to your injury."

"Non. It is nothing, I assure you." Balourd! How dare he think to "keep her busy" with their wedding while he did "important" things?

He tilted his head and observed her with a charming, seductive expression. It only made her want to throttle him.

"You're angry with me," he said.

"Non. Why should I be?" Nullard!

"Why, indeed?" His grin lingered, as did his perceptive gaze. "So…you were paying me a wee visit."

"I only wished to look around this room to see if anything of my father's remained." Good lie, she congratulated herself.

"Aye, lots of his things are here. What would you like to see?"

"Très bien. I will look at them tomorrow. Excusez moi, s'il vous plaît. I must bid you good night."

"Angelique, tell me true. Why were you in here? I won't be angry."

No, but she was angry as Hades. She yearned to confront him about the arrogant and callous things he'd said to Rebbie without him knowing she'd eavesdropped, but that was impossible. She didn't want him to suspect the presence of hidden passages so she could further spy on him in the future. She must get to the bottom of his deception and manipulation.

Besides that, one of the reasons she'd married him was because she thought he would be easy to control. And he thought he was controlling her? Merde! She would show him!

"Angelique?" His voice this time came out low and intimate, stirring. And though she was ready to clout him, her thoughts scattered.

She tried to think of a lie quickly, but her mind went blank. "I but wondered where you were."

"You wanted to see me?"