He didn't know. Maybe forever. He could not imagine tiring of looking into her eyes, of driving himself into her hot, wet body. But he yearned to see more in her gaze—complete trust. Love. How could he gain such things? How could he decipher the secrets in her?

After another minute he detected a change in her breathing and loosened some of the control he held. They reached the height of pleasure together.

He lay her down beside him and pulled her close so they could rest.

"Angelique?" he murmured a few moments later, after his own breathing was back to normal, but she didn't respond. Asleep already? He kissed her cheek, quietly slid out of bed and dressed. While she napped, he would see what information he could extract from Philippe.

***

Eleanor descended the narrow wooden staircase at the inn to dine in the common room. All heads turned to her as she and her maid entered. She prayed none of the men were thieves.

"M'lady." The stocky proprietor bowed before her. "I hope you will allow us to serve you supper this evening."

"Perhaps." If anything from his humble kitchen appealed. But she tried not to treat these poor commoners too badly.

"I've saved you the perfect spot." He escorted her to a private table in the corner by the window. Not that the view of a cobblestone street and livery stable was anything worth noting. Her maid and a footman stood nearby, if she should need anything. Being a countess could sometimes be lonely. How she wished Lachlan or some other member of the aristocracy was here.

Once Eleanor ordered and they'd served the wine, she waited while her gaze searched the faces of each person present. Commoners, all. Judging by their clothing, not even a lowly baron was present.

A tall, thin gentleman with black hair and stylish clothing descended the staircase. His dark brown eyes caught on her immediately. Well now, this one showed promise. He had to be titled or at least wealthy. She thought her eyes were playing tricks on her when she noticed one of his arms missing.

He approached and bowed before her. "Madame, pardonnez-moi for being so forward as to introduce myself. I am Guy Laurent, comte de Girard, at your service."

"A French count?" Indeed it was her lucky day.

"Mais oui." Despite the paleness of his skin, his midnight eyes sparkled wickedly.

"Eleanor Stanhope, countess of Wexbury." She lifted her hand and he kissed the back.

"Enchanté, madame."

"A pleasure. Join me, won't you?"

"Merci. Nothing would please me more." He pulled out a chair and seated himself across from her.

"Wine?" She waved her maid forward to pour him a glass. Eleanor had a most intense curiosity as to how he lost his arm, but minded her manners. "What brings you all the way to the wilds of Scotland?"

"Visiting an old friend." His French accent was very thick.

"And who would that be?"

"She is a countess, also. Perhaps you know her? Angelique Drummagan."

"Indeed, I do! We were ladies in waiting together for Her Majesty, Queen Anne. You wouldn't be…Angelique's former suitor, would you?" If this man would take Angelique away from Lachlan, then the Highlander would be free for her taking. What a brilliant circumstance.

"I am flattered. You have heard of me?" the comte asked.

"I only know she wished to marry a French nobleman but her Scottish father forbade the match. She did not reveal his name to me."

He smiled, but strangely, it did not appear a genuine smile. "You have found me out."

"I assume you've heard she is recently wed."

"Oui." He sipped the wine, then scowled at it and set it down. "What can you tell me of this fortunate man?"

Fortunate? Hmm, clearly he still had feelings for Angelique. "Lachlan MacGrath is a good man, a Scottish Highlander. The marriage was arranged by the king, you see, as a reward. But I fear it is a terrible match."

"And is this man brave, powerful?"

"Indeed, he is what one would call a warrior. Very large, strong and crafty with a sword. Also cunning. He saved the life of the king's favorite by uncovering an assassination plot."

"Aha." Girard leaned back in his chair, his expression turning frosty. "And his family?"

Eleanor was careful not to show her glee. Girard was clearly jealous. Perhaps he would kidnap Angelique. "The new earl of Draughon is a second son, brother to an earl and chief. Lachlan is a formidable man. One would not want to confront him directly."

"Hmm." Girard lifted a dark brow, waiting.

"He has several guards and trained warriors who travel with him. If one wanted something he had, one would be wiser to steal it away while he wasn't looking."

"Indeed?"

Eleanor nodded, observing the scheming thoughts reflecting in the man's eyes. She did not want him challenging Lachlan. Not that he had a chance of besting him with only one arm. Still, pistols could be deadly accurate in the right hand.

"You have seen Angelique recently, no?" he asked.

"Yes, I've just come from a visit to Draughon Castle and the wedding festivities."

"And how is she?"

"Unhappy to have been forced to marry a man she doesn't love."

Girard snickered, his black mustache and neatly groomed beard lending him a devilish quality. "Poor little Angelique."

"Did you love her?" Eleanor prayed he did.

"Ah, amour. It is such a perplexing emotion, non?" The smirk appeared on his face again. Something about that was all wrong. The man was supposed to be jealous, angry, and wanting Angelique all to himself.

"I agree," she said. "Sometimes intense desire can masquerade as love."

"You are a wise lady, I see." His attention focused on her completely, delving down to that sensual side she tried to keep hidden, except before the right man.

Excitement charged through her. "I thank you." Oh, who cared if he had only one arm? The man was intriguing and debonair. With his slender physique, he could never measure up to Lachlan and his burly muscles, but he could keep her entertained in the meantime.

"Angelique took something from me," Girard said in a secretive tone. "Perhaps you would be willing to help me retrieve it?"

"Perhaps. If you will help me in turn. She stole something from me, as well…my lover. And I would like him back."

Girard threw back his head and laughed. Once he'd calmed, he lifted her hand and kissed it. "I think we have a deal, madame."

Chapter Twelve

"Let Angelique sleep as long as she will. When she wakes, take the bath in for her," Lachlan told the servants. He must keep her occupied, after all. Hopefully, questioning Philippe wouldn't take long and he'd be back in time to share her bath before it was cold.

After taking almost an hour to bid their departing wedding guests farewell, he descended the steps to the dungeon. Rebbie and Dirk followed.

"We're here to see the French lad," Lachlan told the armed guard.

"Aye, m'laird." He led them further along the dank, underground passage and opened a wooden and metal door. Dirk carried a torch into the dark cell, Lachlan entered, unsheathing his sword and Rebbie followed.