Lachlan eyed the small fellow cowering in the corner, squinting at them. He might pity the weasel if he hadn't tried to steal Angelique. "What is your name?"

"Philippe Descartes, my lord." He crawled forward a few inches and remained in a submissive kneeling position.

"And why have you come here to Draughon?"

The boy's eyes were so wide, Lachlan feared they'd pop from their sockets.

"I am but an old friend of Angelique. I wished to congratulate both of you on your marriage." He bowed his head briefly.

"Humph. What a lie," Lachlan muttered, remembering the goblets from Girard. "Did you bring a gift?"

"A…a gift? Pray pardon, my lord, I did not. But I shall send you one if—"

"Nay, I mean, did you deliver a gift from someone else?"

"Non." The boy's gaze remained steady for a few seconds, then dropped to the glinting blade of Lachlan's sword. Perhaps he told the truth, but who could tell? The gutter rat probably knew not how to be honest.

"Who did you travel from London with?" Lachlan asked.

"No one."

"I'll tolerate no more lies, laddie! I want the truth."

Philippe turned jittery, his hands trembling, gaze darting about.

"You traveled with someone or spoke with someone. Now, who was it?" Lachlan demanded.

"Eleanor, countess of Wexbury, my lord."

Rebbie muttered a curse, and Dirk sent him a concerned glance.

"I see," Lachlan said. Now what was that witch up to? "And who else?"

"Her servants and that is all; I swear it." The lad's voice broke, making him sound no more than a dozen years old, but he had to be around twenty.

"What has Eleanor said to you?" Lachlan asked.

"Sir?"

"I know you and Eleanor are plotting against Angelique and me. Planning to destroy our marriage. Tell me of these plans."

"There…there were no plans, my lord."

"You're lying again," Lachlan growled. "Would you like me to show you how dangerous lying is?" He lifted his sword before him, as if examining the sharpness of the blade.

Philippe trembled and gave his head a spasm-like shake. "She wished to…to visit with you. I wished to see Angelique one last time before I return to France."

"And what did she say about Angelique or me?"

"She has a most keen interest in you, my lord."

"Why?"

"I believe she has a great affection for you. Perhaps she loves you, though she did not say."

Rebbie snorted. And Lachlan felt like doing the same.

Eleanor wouldn't know love if it bashed her on the side of the head. Dallying with her had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life. "What did she tell you to do here?"

Philippe cleared his throat, his gaze darting from Dirk, to Rebbie and back again to Lachlan and his sword.

"If you tell me the complete truth, we won't harm you."

His breaths were so harsh as to be audible. "Eleanor wished me to…to lure Angelique away from you."

"I see." Lachlan had suspected the woman could be evil and cunning. "Do you suppose Eleanor went back to London when she left?"

"I know not…but I was to meet her at the Breakstane Inn in the village if we were separated."

"Do you know Baron Kormad?"

"I have seen him, but never talked to him."

"What about a French count named Girard?"

"I have never met him. I only know he asked for Angelique's hand in marriage but she refused to go through with it."

Lachlan kept his malevolent glower on the squirming lad several moments longer, hoping to frighten him one last bit. "I shall release you if you promise never to set foot here at Draughon and never approach Lady Angelique again. She is my wife and will remain so. My advice to you is to return to France and stay there."

"Oui, my lord. I shall. Merci." He bowed again, which put his face close to the floor in his kneeling position.

Lachlan and his two friends strode out. Near the top of the dungeon steps, Lachlan spoke in a low voice to the guard. "Release him but send two men to secretly follow him. See if he meets with a countess named Eleanor Stanhope at the Breakstane Inn. If so, see if they can find out what the two discuss. Have one man report back to me tonight."

***

"Where have you been?" Angelique asked when Lachlan entered her room minutes later.

He paused, observing her in the large wooden tub. Firelight gleamed off her wet, ivory skin. Her scrunched nipples flirted with the surface of the water. The sight arrested him, making him instantly hard.

"The remainder of our guests left." With much haste, Lachlan disrobed and dropped his clothing into a pile on the floor.

"What? I did not get to say good-bye." Angelique might have been talking about guests, but her gaze devoured the more intimate areas of his body.

"I conveyed your good wishes and your gratitude." He knelt by the tub, observing her in closer detail. Her face was rosy, either from the hot water or a blush. Damp ringlets of hair teased at her neck, as he wished to do with his kisses. "How long have you been soaking in there?"

"Not long."

"Do you suppose there's room for me?"

"Perhaps." With a shy grin, she scooted back, lifting her upper body out of the water and drawing her knees up. He was pleased to see she was no longer shy about exposing her breasts.

He stepped into the tub, then sat. "Ahh, nice and hot."

"Oui."

"Come. Sit here between my legs."

Even in the dim firelight her blush was obvious.

"You're in no danger, I vow. We will refrain from coupling for now…if we can." He winked and sent her a wicked grin.

She giggled. If ever there was a sound he loved, that was it—Angelique being happy.

"We shall talk about other matters to distract ourselves."

A knock sounded at the door. "Your food, m'laird," the female servant called.

He took Angelique's smock from a nearby chair and covered her chest with it. "Come," he said.

Angelique sucked in a sharp breath, her blush deepening. "Why did you…?"

"I'm hungry. Are you not?"

The door opened and a middle-aged maid carried in a tray of food and drink.

"Place it here, if you would." He indicated a wooden chair near him, and she deposited it there. "My thanks," he said.

"M'laird. M'lady." The maid curtseyed and left.

"Mère de Dieu, that was mortifying," Angelique whispered.

"Why?" He tore off a bite of bread and threw it into his mouth.

"We are nude…together. And bathing."

"You are covered. The servants help you bathe and dress all the time. And she cannot see beneath the surface of the water with all this soap you've used. Besides, you are beautiful in the nude and should not be ashamed."

She blew out a breath. "You've surely gone daft."

He snickered and offered her a bite of bread. "If you'll come over here, I'll feed you well and proper."

"I thought we were bathing. Now we are eating a meal?"

"Indeed. We accomplish two things at once. It leaves more time for…other activities."

***

A half hour later, the bath water started to cool. Lachlan and Angelique had helped each other bathe and wash their hair, in between sharing bites of food or sips of wine. Angelique found the whole exchange to be shockingly intimate but more fun than she'd had in years. Since Lachlan didn't try to couple with her, perhaps he'd had his fill of carnal pursuits, at least for now…even though he did have an erection half the time. This intimacy with a man was so new to her, she could not decide how she felt about it. She feared she was slipping beneath his seductive spell and enjoying him too much.