"Here."

Relief surged through her, weakening her limbs. "Grâce à Dieu, you are alive. Are you hurt?" In the dark, she found him, her palms stroking over his doublet, up his arms to his shoulders. "Are you bleeding?"

"Nay." He framed her waist in his hands, then hugged her close, the most wonderful feeling in the world. "I have a devil of a headache, but I'll live." His voice was deep and husky against her ear. "Did Kormad hurt you?"

"No. Girard is here also. They were arguing about what to do with me—kill me or allow Girard to take me back to France. I will not go—"

"What the hell were Rebbie and Dirk thinking, letting you slip into the bastard's hands?" he rasped along with blunt foreign words.

"It was Fingall. He and Kormad's man killed my bodyguards, then stole me away through the secret passages."

"Damn Fingall. I had someone watching him and I had two guards posted in the secret passages at all times."

"Likely they are dead. I pray Rebbie and Dirk still live."

"As do I."

The warm possession of his embrace lured her, but his betrayal repelled her. She backed away. "I thought if they could not rescue you, I would myself, you miserable miscreant."

"I ken I'm a damned fool. If you die, 'tis my fault." His tone was tortured. "I couldn't even protect you."

"I did not need your protection."

"Well then, what did you need from me?"

Things too precious to verbalize. Finally, her eyes adjusted to the dark. The sliver of light from the small window in the door outlined Lachlan's tawny hair, the bone structure of his face, his broad shoulders. "What I needed, you cannot give, so it matters not," she said.

"Tell me."

"Fidelity."

"I gave you that, at least. 'Twas the only thing I gave you."

"Do you imagine I believe your lies?" How could he think she'd never find out?

"What lies?" he demanded.

"I know what you did yesterday."

"You're angry that I bought you two white horses?"

Her throat ached. "No! Neilina. The south tower. I am not an imbecile."

"God's teeth! That was Dirk with Neilina. We hatched a scheme so she would think 'twas me, but in truth 'twas Dirk pretending to be me."

Lachlan would never change. He likely believed his own lies. "You think I am exceedingly naïve, oui?"

"Nay. 'Twas a good hoax."

She turned her back to him. "How are we to escape this place?"

"Angelique. You cannot believe that was me. I was meeting with members of the Robertson clan to purchase two mares for you as a surprise, a late wedding gift. You can ask Dirk and Rebbie."

"If they live, I trust their word no more than yours. They are your loyal friends, so naturally they will lie for you.

"Ask anyone in the Robertson clan when I left their castle." He named the Drummagans who accompanied him. "Ask any of them."

"I won't have a chance. Kormad is going to kill us, you know. Bury us in the same grave…so we are together forever." A sob burst from her constricted throat.

"Come here." Lachlan pulled her into his arms, her back against his hard chest. His thick, strong arms held her tight.

She squirmed from his grasp. "No, you are a lecher. I believed in you. I believed you had changed and every word you said." The tears would not stop no matter how much she wished they would.

"I swear to you, upon my honor, I didn't touch Neilina. And somehow I shall prove it to you."

"But I heard you. You told her to meet you in the south tower at sunset."

"I did say that, but I didn't meet her. I never intended to. I had Dirk take my place so he could find out if she's Kormad's spy. I think she is."

"You…the man with her wore a kilt. Dirk does not wear a kilt."

"He wore mine. He pretended to be me!"

Did he tell the truth? She wished to believe him. It would be her fondest dream if he was honest, but some part of her refused to be naïve and trusting anymore.

"She moaned your name while…" At the image of Lachlan driving into another woman, nausea welled inside her.

"'Twas not me. I told you, you're the only one I want." His tone was low and fierce. He turned her and clasped her close, her face against his chest. And she allowed it. She but needed one moment of hope. The unique, appealing scent of him filled her nostrils, bringing back memories of the profound and sweet intimacies they'd shared. How she wished….

"I'm sorry you went through that, and believed it was me," he said. "Truly, love, I'm not lying. Dirk made her think he was me. It was necessary so she wouldn't know we suspected her of being a spy. How are you thinking I got captured out on the moor if I was in the south tower?"

"I do not know when you were captured. I left."

"What do you mean?"

"I left you." She shoved back from him. "I was going to London for a divorce when Rebbie and Dirk stopped my coach."

"Damnation." His voice held an icy edge as if she were the betrayer.

"I had every right!"

"You would do that without even confronting me. Just assume?"

"I told you—"

"You judge and sentence me all without my knowledge?" His voice echoed from the walls.

So the small pleasant moment was passed. No more deceiving herself.

"I knew this would happen when I married you. I knew you would have affairs and mistresses and whores. I knew you would draw me in with your charm, make me trust you, then that you would trample my heart like refuse. I should not have been surprised really, but I wanted to believe. My own folly. Why did you have to pretend…?" Why couldn't he have simply been honest about his intentions?

"I didn't pretend about us! I told you at the first I would never lie to you and I haven't." Lachlan glared at Angelique's back through the dimness. How could she believe such a thing about him? Had she learned naught about him in the past few weeks?

"I do not know what the truth is anymore," she whispered.

Her words stabbed like daggers into his chest. He had never been called a liar so much in his life. Unfaithful? Hell, he hadn't even been tempted to look at another woman since he'd married her. Strangely, she was all he desired. He didn't understand it, but she wasn't like other women. She was special in a way he'd never experienced before. He wished only to please her, protect her, and give her all she wanted.

But the thing that quelled his anger was the raw pain in her voice. She cared; she wanted him all to herself. That much, he liked. What sliced him to the core was her distrust, her doubts. Like everyone else including his father, she expected the worst of him. He was a worthless, faithless, ne'er-do-well and could not rise above it. What a fool he was. Their capture was all his fault.

He must prove the truth to her. How? The testimony of Dirk and Rebbie meant naught. No one else knew of their ruse with Neilina. But plenty of men had seen him at the Robertsons'. None of this would matter anyway, if they couldn't escape. He had failed utterly at protecting her. What kind of husband was he?

"I have an idea," she whispered. "You will pretend to hit me. I will scream and cry, and the guard will come."

"I wouldn't have anyone believe I'd hit my wife."

"A ruse. He will open the door to separate us, and you hide behind the door and hit him."