"I must protect you, so we need to sleep in the same bedchamber," he said in a low, rough voice.
"It is but an excuse."
"Call it what you will. I'm your husband and we share a room, even if I do sleep on the floor."
"The floor. I agree with that." One part of her wanted to hurt him viciously as he had done her, while another part rebelled at the thought of him lying on the floor. No, that large poster bed with blue hangings of fine velvet was his.
He urged her inside the chamber and closed the door behind them. A thick white candle sat lit on the mantel and a cozy fire flickered in the hearth.
"That was one of your sons," she said.
His sharp, dark gaze shot to hers. "Aye."
"He appears to be a small replica of you."
Lachlan's lips lifted a bit. "Indeed. I hope you'll want to meet them."
Her mind felt overcrowded, too many thoughts and feelings squeezed into it. "Perhaps. But right now I'm exhausted. Would you mind if I rest alone for a while."
"'Tis exactly what you need." Lachlan turned down the covers and fluffed the pillow. "Would you like me to bring you anything else? Food, drink?"
"Non. Merci."
"Well then, I'll return in a short while. I'll be in the library with Alasdair should you need me."
A knock sounded at the door. He opened it to Camille, bowed and showed himself out.
Lachlan strode away from his own bedchamber, the one he'd slept in most of his life, feeling as if it was no longer his. He had let Angelique down in so many ways. Mayhap those people who believed he would amount to naught were right. Maybe he was not capable of handling the responsibility given to him; maybe he had no potential at all.
"God's blood," he muttered. He would not be defeated in this. He would get Draughon back if 'twas the last thing he accomplished.
Upon entering the library, he found Alasdair by the fireplace, pitcher in hand. "Clarey?"
"Aye, thanks."
His brother poured wine into a pewter mug and handed it to him. "So, you—Seducer of the Highlands—are married?" Alasdair held his own mug aloft.
"Aye." Lachlan clanked his mug against his brother's in toast. "To our lovely wives." He drank a long swallow of the spiced wine.
"I never thought I'd see it." Alasdair smiled.
"Nor I. But I couldn't pass up the king's generous offer. And I had to protect Angelique."
"You like being married?"
"Aye." Lachlan couldn't prevent the grin that escaped when he remembered the few days of bliss he'd shared with Angelique. Making love during the day, or at night. The games. The way they'd laughed together. Would they ever be that close and harmonious again?
"I can see you care for her."
Lachlan nodded, staring down into his mug. His brother didn't know the half of it. But Lachlan wasn't going to enlighten him.
"I've heard a rumor that…you two have had a disagreement."
"Damnation. What did you—?"
The library door opened. Rebbie and Dirk strode in and closed the door back.
"Are we interrupting?" Rebbie halted. "Should we come back later?"
"Nay," Lachlan said. "We're done with that subject."
"I'm not so sure about that, brother." Alasdair grinned.
***
Angelique crept down the dim, deserted stairway and toward the library where Lachlan was to meet with his brother. A chambermaid had been kind enough to tell her the location. Thankfully, Angelique encountered no one along her trek, though a murmur of conversation echoed from the great hall. She'd wished to sleep, but the restlessness would not leave her.
The library door was thick carved oak, but a slice of light escaped a narrow crack around the frame. If she held her head just right, she understood every word from within. The men did not keep their voices down. For a while they talked of the Drummagan clan and the problems at Draughon, then Rebbie mentioned Neilina.
"Who is this Neilina?" Alasdair asked.
"God's teeth, Rebbie. Can you not keep your mouth closed?" Lachlan growled.
"'Tis difficult."
Angelique awaited Lachlan's answer, a sick feeling coiling inside her. Would he admit his guilt?
"She's Angelique's cousin, and Kormad's. She was working for him, spying and trying to seduce me."
"You and your women," Alasdair scoffed.
"She's not my woman, never was. I sent Dirk to meet with her in my place to get information. She didn't even ken 'twas Dirk until after the deed."
"Then what happened?"
"She was furious," Dirk said. "Angelique believes 'twas Lachlan with her because I was wearing his kilt. We tried to tell her, but she still thinks Lachlan is the guilty party."
"Can't say I blame her, given your habits, Lachlan," Alasdair said.
"To hell with you. I've changed my habits."
Alasdair chuckled. "So, you're faithful to your wife?"
"Indeed."
"Does he tell the truth?"
"Aye. He's not near as much fun as he used to be. No more carousing. He but obsesses over the wee lass," Rebbie grumbled.
"Do you love her?" Alasdair inquired in a smooth voice.
In the dark, Angelique could scarce breathe, afraid she would miss the answer. But more, terrified his response would be nay.
"Who?" Lachlan asked.
"Don't be daft. Lady Angelique."
"She is beautiful. I enjoy her. She enjoys me."
"You didn't answer my question."
"You ken I don't get calf-eyed over women."
"Has he gone calf-eyed?" Alasdair asked.
"Aye, that he has," Rebbie answered.
"To hell with you, too. Don't be putting words in my mouth."
"He will never admit it. Do you ken, he couldn't even bed his own wife until she made him go to the physician and get his tarse checked for the French pox."
"Damnation, Rebbie," Lachlan snapped.
The other men let loose an uproarious laugh.
Angelique's face turned scorching. Why had he told them everything?
Lachlan muttered curses. "Well, I'm healthy, officially, and completely free of disease."
"'Tis a miracle," Alasdair said.
"Some brother you are."
"So, how long has she had you cut off this time?" Rebbie asked. "A week?"
"I will not be discussing my intimate relations with my wife with you heathens."
"No lass was ever able to resist him long. So doubtless, his wife cannot resist him either," Alasdair said.
"Even if she wishes to kill him sometimes," Rebbie put in.
"A stormy relationship suits him, I'm certain," Alasdair said.
"Will you bastards cease discussing my marriage like a gaggle of fishwives."
"I think he loves her," Alasdair said in an astounded tone.
"He does. He can think of naught else but her."
"Did I not tell you 'twould happen?" Alasdair asked. "You've been bitten on the arse."
"No one has bitten my arse, I thank you."
"Cupid shot him in the arse," Dirk said.
They guffawed. Angelique fanned her burning face, wondering if what Rebbie said was true—did Lachlan love her?
"You're all daft." The abrupt noise of chair legs scraping across the floor sounded. "I'm going to bed."
"Nay. Come back. We're sorry." More laughter.
"He never could take teasing, though he likes to do it to others."
"His pride is as big as Ben Nevis."
"Will you stop talking about me as if I'm not here? A bunch of lasses, the lot of you. I thought we were here to discuss the Draughon situation. If not, I'm going to bed."