The Laird’s Angel Read online

  The Laird’s Angel

  Caroline Lee

  About this book

  As a member of the Queen’s Angels—an elite trio of secret agents, masquerading as ladies-in-waiting to Queen Elizabeth Bruce—Melisandre Lamond has a most useful skill: Seduction. Mayhap ‘tis her ability to understand others’ desires, or mayhap a yearning for acceptance; whatever the root, Mellie has become skilled in the art of love, and knows all the right ways to get a man to spill all his…secrets.

  After an assassination attempt on the Queen, all evidence points to the Frasers of Lovat, surely under orders from their new laird, the deceptively handsome Lachlan Fraser. But even Mellie is surprised when the Queen announces the seductive Angel’s betrothal to the traitor, wondering how far her loyalty to the Crown really extends. Can Mellie tempt Lachlan into revealing his treasonous plans, before she’s forced to actually marry the man?

  After the Scottish War for Independence, all Lachlan Fraser wants for his clan is peace. He’s happy working with his hands, building a strong future for his family and his beloved daughter. But duty calls him to Scone, where he’s surprised to learn of his betrothal to one of the Queen’s ladies…the very knife-wielding wench who’d so recently saved him from a cutpurse’s attack!

  He’ll marry her, aye, but Lachlan vows to unravel Lady Melisandre’s riddles first! Because once he gets her home and sees the way she effortlessly wins over his daughter, and the rest of the Frasers, he begins to suspect she’s not the cold and haughty lady she makes herself out to be. Will this mismatched couple discover the truth about each other in time, before the assassin strikes again? Or will their secrets remain hidden, the consequences of their stubbornness leading to a lethal outcome?

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2020, Caroline Lee

  [email protected]

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  First edition: 2020

  This work is made available in e-book format by Amazon Kindle at www.amazon.com

  Printing/manufacturing information for this book may be found on the last page

  Cover: EDHGraphics

  Contents

  Dedication

  Other books by Caroline Lee

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  AUTHOR’S NOTE On Historical Accuracy

  SNEAK PEEK

  Other books by Caroline Lee

  Dedication

  * * *

  For those who are the heart of the team,

  while keeping their own heart safe.

  * * *

  Other books by Caroline Lee

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  Prologue

  Lady Melisandre Lamond held her forgotten embroidery in her lap and watched the Queen of Scotland pace. She wondered if it was time to commission a new woven rug for the small solar; with the way Queen Elizabeth was wearing a track from one window to the opposite wall, they’d need one soon.

  This room was considerably more intimate than the Queen’s solar, which is why she’d given it over to her good friend, Charlotte Bruce, who was in command of the Queen’s Angels. Charlotte’s desk took up a good quarter of the space, leaving just enough room for her gathered Angels and the agitated Queen.

  Well, not all of her Angels.

  Mellie glanced across the room to the window seat, where her own dear friend, Rosalind, sat frowning at the view. She had one of her precious books open on her lap, but was making no attempt to turn the pages or even pretend she was reading, and Mellie wondered at that.

  Was Rosa worried about Courtney?

  The third member of their trio had left earlier that day with one of the Queen’s former guards, and Rosa already missed her presence as much as Mellie did. They each had their strengths, but when it came to action and battles, Court was the one they depended on to lead them.

  And everyone in the room was very much afraid they may need her before she could return.

  “In my own throne room,” the Queen muttered again, turning away from the wall and beginning her journey back. “I cannot believe it.”

  “Believe it,” Charlotte said in a bland voice, not looking up from her letter. Her stylus scratched against the parchment, the only sound, other than the swish of the Queen’s skirts. “I’ve told ye time and again, Yer Majesty, ye need better security.”

  “Yes, and I am beginning to agree with you. I thought surely, with so many guards and my ladies around—”

  Charlotte glanced up long enough to cock a brow at her friend. “Yer primary guards were still asleep when ye decided to meet with the Fraser delegation, remember?” And Charlotte ought to know; she was married to Liam Bruce, the head of the Queen’s guards, who was one of the aforementioned slumbering guards. “Thank God my Angels arrived in time.”

  When she nodded to Mellie and Rosa, the Queen glanced their way.

  “Yes,” she murmured, turning once more and squeezing her hands into fists. “Thank God.”

  They nearly hadn’t.

  Mellie, Court and Rosa had been in Aboyne, interrogating a group of Grant warriors about the Fraser delegation’s intentions. What they’d learned had sent them rushing back to Scone, hoping to arrive before the Queen met with the Fraser laird, a man the Grants had accused of being a traitor.

  Court had sent Mellie and Rosa to the Queen’s side to protect her, but when the threat materialized, neither had yet been close enough to help. It was only Court and her incredible skill with a bow, along with some help from Ross Fraser—the same former Queen’s guard who was on a mission with Court now—who was able to react in time to take down the assassin, just before he reached the Queen.

  It had been a hell of a way to start the morning.

  Before he’d died, the assassin had only had time to respond to the question of who had sent him: saying only “Fraser.” Damning enough, perhaps, but Court had also recognized the sign he gave as identifying him as a member of the Red Hand, a cutthroat gang of thieves and mu
rderers who had raised her.

  Court and Ross Fraser—who was still a suspect, as far as Mellie was concerned—had left earlier that day on their way to track down the Red Hand. If Court’s old friend was still in command, they might have some luck determining why the gang was behind this assassination attempt.

  If not, then Court might be in real danger.

  As for the rest of them…

  “One of us will always be at yer side, Yer Majesty,” Mellie assured her. “Ye cannae be alone, not until this mystery is solved. Whoever sent that assassin will likely try again, since the first attempt failed.”

  The Queen glanced at Charlotte, who sighed and tossed the stylus down as she shook her head. The spy-mistress pressed her fingertips to her temples.

  “Nay, Mellie,” she finally said, “ye and Rosa arenae guards.”

  Mellie glanced at her teammate, who was still staring out the window. “I ken it well, Charlotte, but the Queen—”

  “The Queen will be guarded,” Charlotte snapped, finally meeting Mellie’s eyes. She seemed to quickly regret her tone, because she sighed again and dropped her hands to her very pregnant belly. “My apologies.”

  Mellie lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We’re all on edge.”

  “Aye,” Charlotte agreed with a grimace, exchanging a hooded look with the Queen, her best friend. “And the bairn isnae helping matters.”

  “How much longer?” Queen Elizabeth asked in a quiet voice.

  It was Rosa who answered, still not looking their way. “Ten days, based on my calculations of Charlotte’s cycle and the calendar. But she might labor early, as it is her first child.”

  Mellie’s lips twitched, and she lifted her embroidery once more, hoping to cover her smile before her friend noticed. Leave it to Rosalind to have calculated something as intimate as Charlotte’s fertility and due date, and then not even realize how odd it was to casually announce such a thing.

  Still, the youngest Angel was brilliant, and as Charlotte often said, Rosa’s mind was their best weapon. Mellie would never let her friend know she thought she was a bit strange.

  “Ten days,” Charlotte repeated to Elizabeth, somehow keeping a straight face. “Maybe sooner.”

  The Queen shook her head, hiding her own smile. “It’s amazing you can know such a thing, Rosalind, when the midwives can merely guess.”

  Shrugging, Rosa finally turned from her study of the view and met the Queen’s gaze. “ ’Tis no’ so difficult. The midwives just do no’ like to be wrong.”

  “And you do not mind?” the Queen asked, with a raised brow.

  “I am no’ wrong.”

  Their youngest member said it with such confidence, the Queen had to turn away, but not before Mellie saw her smile bloom in full, knowing she should be thankful to Rosa for lightening the Queen’s mood, but also knowing her fellow Angel wouldn’t understand why her odd claims would cause such a thing.

  To ensure her friend wasn’t hurt, Mellie tossed a smile her way, even as she focused her gaze on the tiny leaf she was embroidering around a pink rose. “Rosa’s calculations have saved me a time or two.”

  Charlotte grunted in agreement, even as Rosa smirked and closed the book in her lap.

  “Aye. Ye might no’ be the only pregnant Angel around here, Charlotte, had I not taught Mellie to count very carefully.”

  The Queen’s startled laughter was good to hear and caused them all to relax. Mellie shot her friend a grateful smile, forgiving Rosa for her teasing. And she was right; in Mellie’s work, she had to keep careful count of the days to ensure she wouldn’t fall pregnant inopportunely.

  Once was more than enough.

  Mayhap there was a flicker of that thought in Mellie’s eyes, because Rosa suddenly winced, as if remembering Mellie’s history. Her expression turned apologetic, but Mellie merely shook her head, just slightly, to let her friend know all was forgiven.

  Bon Dieu!

  Mellie teased Rosa often enough; she should be free to tease in return.

  Unaware of the undercurrent between the friends, the Queen sighed and sank into a chair beside Charlotte’s desk, finally relaxing with a smile. “When Robert’s home, I do not even bother with the counting.”

  “When Robert’s home, Yer Majesty,” Charlotte teased with a wink, “I doubt ye have enough time to count.”

  All four women chuckled at the reference to the royal couple’s tendency to “retire early” when they were together. But with the King so oft in Ireland, or traveling about the country, it was no wonder they took advantage of their time together.

  And besides, the two of them—and all of Scotland—were desperate for another healthy pregnancy…of the male variety.

  “Why do ye think he attacked me?” Elizabeth asked abruptly.

  Mellie was startled enough by the change in topics, she pricked herself and dropped her embroidery to her lap once more with a muttered, “Merde.”

  Lifting her finger to her lips, she glanced at Charlotte, who was frowning down at her papers once more.

  “I donae ken,” their leader said with a sigh. “Threats against the Bruce are logical, at least, but his Queen?”

  “The royal succession,” Rosa said matter-of-factly, and when they all turned to her, she shrugged. “It’s obvious. Elizabeth has been pregnant enough to assure the kingdom she’s fertile, but only two daughters have survived thus far.”

  Mellie winced at her friend’s bluntness, but Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully.

  “I would not trade dear Margaret nor Maude for the world, but I would be a fool not to feel the pressure of needing a royal heir.”

  “Now that Edward’s dead, and without a legitimate son,” Charlotte said, referring to the King’s only remaining brother, “there’s no clear heir, and that does present a worry for many people.”

  The Queen sighed. “You think I am not aware of this? Why do you believe Robert and I spend so much time abed?”

  Mellie pulled her finger from her mouth and snorted. “If ye truly need to ask that, the King’s doing something wrong.”

  All three women chuckled, as Mellie had intended. She had a role in the Angels, and she played it well.

  “There’s always Alex,” Charlotte offered. “Although his mother seems to care little for politics.”

  Rosa shook her head. “His youth and illegitimacy would make for a nasty battle for the throne.”

  While Queen Elizabeth had been a prisoner in England for so many years, King Robert’s legacy had been in jeopardy. So he’d declared his brother Edward his heir, and Edward’s sons after him. Edward had been betrothed to Isabel de Strathbogie, as good as married in the eyes of many. But when he turned away from her to marry another, leaving her with sweet little Alex, she was devastated.

  Mellie’s hands tightened around the cloth in her lap.

  This world they lived in seemed to be formed to allow men to do as they pleased to women—even sisters of powerful lairds—without consequence.

  She should know.

  Of course, Isabel had not been thrown to the wolves, the way Mellie had. Robert and his family made their support of Isabel’s son clear, and now that Edward was gone, without legitimate heirs, Alex was the Crown’s only hope, despite his bastardy.

  Aye, by taking Isabel under her wing, Elizabeth had saved her. The same as she’d done for Mellie five years before.

  Charlotte cleared her throat. “The point is moot, because Alex will no’ become King of Scotland, aye?” She pierced each of her Angels with a glare. “The Bruce is hale and hearty, and Elizabeth will bear a son soon enough.”

  Understanding what Charlotte was after, Mellie nodded enthusiastically. “Aye, of course. The King will be home soon, and ye can practice some more. Surely there are positions to increase the hope of breeding?” She winked lewdly at the Queen. “I’ll be happy to help research.”

  As expected, the Queen rolled her eyes with an indulgent smile. “I believe we can manage on our own, thank you.”

 
; “Whatever the future holds, we were discussing the assassin’s motives,” Rosa reminded them. “I believe my answer is still the strongest: With Elizabeth dead, the King would be free to marry again. A different wife—mayhap one with a son already?—would set many at ease when it comes to the royal succession.”

  “Marry again?” Mellie repeated. “Ye cannae think the King was behind—”

  “Nay,” Rosa was quick to assure them. “But mayhap someone with a sister or daughter available for the position? Ye ken, nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae fuit.”

  Ignoring Rosa’s habit of spouting gibberish, Charlotte spat out, “ ’Tis ridiculous! Why murder the Queen for such a weak reason? As if one woman is a better breeder than another?” Her hands dropped to her stomach. “If that is indeed the motive, I believe our mastermind to be a clot-heid!”

  Rosa shrugged, turning the book over in her hands, but not opening it again. “Then mayhap ‘tis someone who already believes he has a valid claim to the throne.”

  Mellie’s thoughts flashed to Isabel de Strathbogie, a woman who’d already borne a royal bastard—a male child. But the Queen trusted her, and the dear woman clearly wanted only to raise her son to steward the lands King Robert had gifted him upon his birth.

  It was Elizabeth who shook them all, when she lifted her head to meet Charlotte’s eyes. “If that is the case, then this person would have plans to harm Robert as well.”