"It is late."

"Aye."

She remained silent while he dressed.

"You wish me to sleep here tonight?" he asked, observing her for reaction.

"Oui," she whispered in a vulnerable tone.

An aching thrill twisted through his chest. "'Twill be my pleasure." He gave her a lingering kiss on the lips.

Though he did not want to leave the room, he had to. Rebbie wouldn't interrupt them unless it was important.

He found his friend in the great hall with Dirk and one of the guards who had followed Philippe to the inn.

"Come." He escorted them to the solar and closed the door. "What news?"

The guard spoke first. "M'laird, the French lad did indeed go to the inn and meet with a richly dressed lady. We sat close but could hear naught of what they said. They whispered and drank wine. Later, they retired to separate rooms for the night."

"Now, tell him the most interesting part," Rebbie said.

"We stayed in the common room a while to see if either of them left. They didn't, but another man came in. A man with only one arm. This one was also a Frenchman—we figured out by his speech—but a more finely dressed one. Considering the way the proprietor bowed and coddled to him, we figured him of noble blood."

"Did you get a name?" Lachlan asked, almost holding his breath.

"No, we only heard his title mentioned. Comte. Count."

"God's teeth. 'Tis Girard, I'm certain of it," Lachlan said. Angelique's terror sliced through him again. He could only imagine the pain she suffered at the bastard's hand and body when he'd raped her. Lachlan should castrate the whoreson. "Our first priority is to protect Angelique. My concern is he will try to kill her or kidnap her. Why else would he be here?"

Rebbie and Dirk nodded.

"Anything else?" Lachlan asked the guard.

"Nay."

"I thank you. Excellent work. I will see you on the morrow."

When the guard left, Lachlan spoke to Rebbie and Dirk in a low voice. "You must not repeat this, ever, to anyone but you must know why Girard is so dangerous to Angelique. Do you swear?"

"Aye." Both men waited with troubled gazes.

Lachlan hated to even say the damnable words. "Girard raped her."

"Nay. The bastard," Rebbie growled.

Dirk's expression changed to lethal iciness.

"Aye." Lachlan said. "And I hope he gives me a reason to kill him outright." They knew what he meant. He had never killed a man in cold blood, nor would he ever, but his rage over this was intense and he yearned for justice. "If Girard tries to approach Angelique, I take that as leave to kill him. I protect what is mine. Girard will never lay a finger on her again. Before first light, we'll leave for the inn."

Chapter Thirteen

A soft tap sounded at Angelique's bedchamber door. Her first thought was that Lachlan had returned. But no, he would not knock.

"Who is it?"

"Me." Camille stuck her head in.

"Enter." Angelique sat up in bed, the sheet and counterpane covering her breasts.

Her friend closed the door with a snap. "Well, I see you have been thoroughly bedded. Is he a skilled lover?"

Angelique's face burned. "Do not ask such a question." She could not discuss the profound things she and Lachlan shared. No words existed, in French or English, to adequately describe the astounding sensations and feelings he provoked within her. Too conflicting—wicked, yet divine. What she should find abhorrent was instead amazing and wonderful.

"I knew he would be by the way he moves…and the way he looks at you."

Angelique wanted to ask how Lachlan looked at her, but she already knew—with sensual, dark and lingering interest. His eyes communicated his sexual thoughts clearly. She shivered.

Camille sat by the fireplace, stirred the coals and added more wood. "He also seems very just and fair."

"I suppose." Angelique could not help but remember the silly games they'd played and how Lachlan had manipulated the outcome to suit himself…and her, too, if one considered the pleasure she received.

"Not only just, but almost lenient," Camille went on. "Though I feared he would kill Philippe in the dungeon, he released him instead."

A shock went through her. "Why was Philippe in the dungeon?"

"Oh, you did not know? He had Philippe held for a short while, went to visit him—I suspect to question him—then released him, free as a bird. Not many men would do that after someone tried to lure their wife away with suggestions of divorce."

"Sacrebleu! When did he capture him? I saw Philippe leave and run through the gates."

"After your ruckus, with all the chasing and yelling. What a lovers' spat that was." Camille giggled.

"Please tell me what you know."

"Lachlan had someone bring Philippe back. I suspect you were here being seduced at the time."

"That bastard!" She shoved herself toward the edge of the bed. "He manipulated me."

"As I said, he was lenient with Philippe; he did not harm him."

"He withheld the truth from me!" Angelique yanked her smock over her head, then slid on her wrap. "He promised to keep me informed about everything." And worst of all he had imprisoned her friend.

"If I'd known you would react this way, I would not have told you."

"What? You are my cousin. I thought you my friend."

"I am, but you cannot blame Lachlan for wanting to protect you. He is the best husband for you."

"You are as daft as he is," she muttered, though she could not imagine being married to anyone else.

"It is not my fault you refuse to see the truth. He would protect you with his life. If Girard returns, you will be most fortunate to have Lachlan for a protector."

That was likely true. She did trust him to protect her, as she always had, but…"I shall kill Girard myself."

"Like you did last time?" Camille's tone reeked of sarcasm.

"My aim will be better in the future. I must have you by my side, Camille. We protect each other, remember?" She sat down on the settle by her cousin.

"Oui. I am with you always, my friend."

"But Lachlan…I shall deal with him."

***

Awareness buzzed through Angelique when Lachlan returned an hour later, entering her room and removing his boots. "I thought you would be sleeping," he said.

"No." She sat by the hearth, watching the flames. "I awaited your return."

"Well then, you should've awaited me in bed, naked," he said in a teasing tone.

She refused to look at him, knowing that seductive expression would be on his face. Perhaps even a charming grin or wink. But she must stay focused on her anger. "You were to tell me of all your decisions that affect me and the clan."

"What do you mean?"

"You imprisoned Philippe without telling me." Not that she loved Philippe, but he was harmless. She often felt the need to protect him. He had been her friend back when few others were.

Lachlan sighed and dropped into the chair across from her. "There was no time to consult with you. I had to make a speedy decision. I had to find out what Philippe knew."