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“Oh, aye, ye did. But there are many bonnie lasses out there in the villages, and one is right under yer nose. So, let me finish to tell ye how the story ended.”

Angus rubbed his eyes. “Please, do.”

“So.” Euphemia leaned over the candle and circled the small flame with her index finger several times, her eyes thoughtful. “So, of course, his queen noticed things. He stopped making love to her, stopped being playful with her, even stopped looking into her eyes.” Her eyes watered and her tears glistened in the light of the candle. “And so the queen knew. She loved him, see. She really loved him.” Her voice shook as she said the word “loved.”

Angus ignored a cold knot that was forming in the pit of his stomach.

She continued, “And it hurt her so much, that he betrayed her, that she—” She broke off and pressed a fist to her mouth.

A tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away.

“That her heart cracked and broke,” she said. “And even though she’d guarded it before, now that she’d opened up to the king, and knew happiness, she felt betrayed. She knew that had the king not met the bonnie lass, he’d still love the queen. And she was the queen, oh, aye.”

Her eyes blazed with the fire from the candle. “She could make her go away. And so, she did. The bonnie lass, as beautiful and innocent and kind as she was, hankered after another woman’s man. And she had to be punished.” She smiled a wild, mad smile that brought a chill to Angus from head to toe. “And so, one dark night, guards came to her bedchamber. The queen watched as they dragged her screaming and kicking, then as the hangman stripped her and whipped her in front of the whole castle. And finally, when the king came to see what the uproar was, the queen watched the reflection in his eyes of the beautiful head rolling away from the lass’s flayed body.”

Silence hung between them as her meaning spread through the room like darkness. He wasn’t afraid of Euphemia—not for himself, anyway.

But if she did hurt Rogene, it would be his fault. Who was he marrying? he wondered. Was his wife any better than his father had been?

God Almighty, if she was as self-absorbed and evil as his father, there’d be no way he could get a grip on her. He could reason with a normal woman. Even if he didn’t love her or want her, he could still live in peace with her and take care of her. Have children. This was the way of things.

But why did he have a feeling he was about to marry a viper? And if he was, he needed to show the viper his own fangs.

He leaned towards her on his elbow and met her eyes. “Lady Euphemia, I understand ye were hurt in the past, but I wilna let ye behead or kill innocent people because of yer suspicions. I dinna ken what kind of husbands ye had in the past, but ye will be my wife and ye will obey yer husband. Me. And if ye do any kind of injustice or evil deed, it wilna go unpunished as it did in the past.”

He noted with satisfaction that her eyes widened and she blinked in surprise. Her lips parted, her cheeks reddened, and her pupils dilated… Her chest rose and fell quickly. Had she just become aroused?

She stood up and hid the knife in the folds of her dress. “I hear ye, Lord,” she said. “I will be only too happy to obey my husband. I thought I was marrying a handsome giant, a stallion. But I’m marrying a man who is so much more—a lion.” She walked to the door, and Angus sighed with relief, but she paused and looked back at him, her eyes glimmering white in the darkness. “And trust me when I say that ye just became the best man I’ve even kent.”

When the door closed behind her, and Angus was left alone, he thought that instead of making this situation better, he’d just caused her to dig her claws even deeper into him.

And if he ever wanted to break things off with her, she wouldn’t let him go without spilling blood.

Chapter 11

The next day…

“May I ask ye, what do ye think of Lady Euphemia?” Catrìona said to Rogene.

Sitting at the table in the middle of the lord’s hall, Rogene stopped writing and looked up at Catrìona, surprised. Besides the two of them, the only other person in the great hall was a male servant who was cleaning out coals from the fireplace. He didn’t give any sign that he’d heard them. Catrìona pulled the handle of the warp-weighted loom and created a new layer of white woolen fabric. Rogene was practicing writing. She’d told Catrìona, who couldn’t read or write, that she was preparing the contract. It was a lie. Rogene had to practice her calligraphy or she’d not only risk being exposed as an impostor, but she would also create a potentially unreadable document for the people of today and generations to come.

As a historian, she just couldn’t have that.

Rogene studied Catrìona’s pretty face. Unlike her brothers, she was blond, and Rogene wondered if the young woman resembled her father or her mother more. Her wavy hair was the color of wheat, her eyelashes and eyebrows a bit darker. She was a beautiful young woman, and Rogene wondered how she’d look in colors that would suit her and a more fitted style, not this baggy, dirty-brown dress. Catrìona was preparing to go into the monastery, Rogene knew, and she should do what she wanted to do, but somehow, Rogene just couldn’t see her being a nun. She sensed the girl had way too much passion and character to be an obedient nun. She’d seen her stick out her chin stubbornly if her brothers told her to do something she didn’t want to do.

Catrìona was a wonderful roommate and very considerate. Rogene didn’t mind sharing the bed with her, and through their conversations, Rogene had learned some fascinating details about everyday life, beliefs, and customs of the Middle Ages.

Rogene thought about Catrìona’s question. “What do I think of Lady Euphemia?” she said slowly. “I’m not the person you should be asking that.”

Wood crackled cheerfully as a servant added more logs to the fire.

What else could she say? Euphemia would be the mother of Angus’s child, no matter how much Rogene wished Angus wouldn’t marry her. The kiss yesterday hadn’t helped. Actually, it had made her crave more. Even thinking of Angus’s hard body pressed against hers made her head spin and caused a thin layer of sweat to break through her skin.

“Please, I want to ken…” Catrìona spread a single thread between the woolen cords lined vertically. The stones tied to the ends of the cords clunked softly against each other as she worked. “Ye’re a guest, an outsider. Mayhap ye see something I dinna.”

Watching the servant leave from the room, Rogene bit her lip and returned to her writing. She dipped the pen into the jar and touched the edge of the vessel to remove the extra ink. She dragged the pen against the parchment and drew an A.

“Um,” she said. She had to be careful. “She’s beautiful.”