The Pirate’s Angel Read online

  Five years ago, after Elizabeth’s return from captivity in England, she’d befriended Lady Charlotte MacLeod, after Charlotte—posing as the notorious pirate, Black Banner—attacked her ship. ‘Twas how Charlotte had found Liam, the Queen’s bodyguard, and after they’d married, she’d moved to court. Elizabeth had then offered her a role coordinating a network of secret agents for the Crown—not Robert’s warriors, but Elizabeth’s ladies-in-waiting.

  The Queen’s Angels.

  The first three women had been handpicked by the Queen herself. Courtney, an ex-thief who’d been moldering in jail, had devoted her skills with a bow and other weaponry to protect the Queen and her team. She was now married to Ross Fraser, one of the Queen’s bodyguards, and the only time one or the other wasn’t at her side, was when Charlotte sent them on a mission.

  Lady Melisandre—Mellie—had been a friend of the Queen’s, and her recruitment to the Angels had been based on logic: she was a vivacious, beautiful young woman who knew how to get men to tell her their secrets. Isabel, however, had seen her unhappiness over the years, but now that she was married to Laird Lachlan Fraser, and a mother to his young daughter, Mellie seemed to be thriving.

  The last Angel was Lady Rosalind, a brilliant dark-skinned scholar, whom Isabel greatly admired, even before she’d realized Rosa was one of the first Angels. Rosa was now married to Cam Fraser, the laird’s younger brother, and the pair were devoted to Charlotte’s schemes and espionage.

  Isabel, for her part, had been flattered when the Queen had recommended her to Charlotte as another Angel, but she’d made it very clear she’d do naught to put Alex in danger or risk leaving him without a parent. Although she trusted Elizabeth and Robert and would always be grateful for the way they’d granted Alex his father’s lands and titles, despite Edward’s defection.

  Nay, ‘twas more than that. The royal couple had granted Alex their protection and approval, and Isabel knew that was more than a bastard—even a royal one—could typically expect.

  But as much as she loved them, she loved Alex more. And ‘twas up to her to ensure her wee Earl of Carrick had a loving influence who would not only raise him to be a just liege, but a good man.

  With a sudden motion, the Queen stood, obviously tired of the bickering. Stifling a sigh, Isabel stood as well, disappointed, as she sometimes was, that her “team” wasn’t closer. Ava was standoffish, thanks to her past in the convent, while Brigit—who possessed a cunning and brilliant mind, as well as a vivacious personality—really was “only” a ladies’ maid. And Isabel, while caring deeply for both of them, would always put her son first.

  Still, they’d been on more than a few missions together and had helped one another for the last two years. They were not as close as the first Angels, but they were able to work as a team, which was all Charlotte required.

  That, and occasionally kicking men in the bollocks.

  The memory of their last mission had Isabel covering a laugh with a cough, and when the Queen glanced at her with a raised brow, she offered Elizabeth a sheepish shrug.

  “Apologies, Yer Majesty. ‘Twas just remembering something amusing about Jedburgh.”

  “Was it the fact Brigit forgot to lace her bodice all the way up?” Ava grumbled.

  “Close.” Isabel winked at the Queen, who rolled her eyes.

  “Ladies, let us move inside. We have a long afternoon of sitting on hard chairs and listening to boring petitions ahead of us.”

  “Huzzah,” muttered Ava.

  Hiding her smile, the Queen gestured for Brigit to follow her. “Avaline, fetch Liam and send the children back to the nursery please. Isabel, you may attend me.”

  All three women dropped curtsies of acknowledgement, then Ava hurried toward the oak where the children were climbing, unseen from where they stood. Isabel glanced once over her shoulder at where she imagined her son to be, then lifted her skirts and chased after her monarch.

  Chapter 1

  “Da, why are ye staring so hard at that lady?”

  Dane’s question jerked Tav’s attention away from the Queen’s dais. “Hmm?” He glanced down at his son. “What lady?”

  The lad was eleven and looked about as uncomfortable in court as his father was. Still, his son pushed away from the wall where he’d been lounging in a pose which mimicked Tavish’s and nodded to the cluster of the Queen’s ladies. “That blonde lady in the green gown. Ye’ve been watching her.”

  “Have I?” murmured Tav. And why not? Isabel de Strathbogie was a fine-looking woman, which he’d noticed on more than one occasion when he’d come to Scone to visit his sister. “Well, I suppose I’m a man of good taste.”

  “Da,” his son hissed, rolling his eyes. “I dinnae need to hear more of yer ‘conquests.’ I’m an impressionable child, ye ken.”

  Chuckling under his breath, Tav uncrossed his arms and threw one around his son’s shoulders, pleased at how tall the lad was becoming. “Aye,” he murmured under his breath, aware they shouldn’t be speaking so loudly. “And ‘tis the best time to learn all ye need to learn.”

  “I didnae ask why we’re attending court. I didnae ask why I had to wear this fancy new shirt, and I didnae ask why I had to leave my pipes in my room. I assumed it had something to do with Aunt Charlotte. If ye tell me we’re holding up this wall because ye wanted to stare at some bit o’ skirt—”

  Affectionately, Tav cuffed his son. “Bit of skirt? Holding up the wall? ‘Tis clear ye’ve been spending too much time with Tosh.”

  “I live on a boat, Da,” Dane murmured. “The only people I speak to are yer crew. Aye, I’ve been spending too much time with Tosh. And Robbie. And RobRob. And Robert. And ye.”

  The words were light and teasing, but the tone…

  Frowning slightly now, Tavish straightened away from the back wall where he’d been leaning. All around him, courtiers and noblemen were focused on the dais and the court the Queen was holding, preparing their petitions, murmuring back and forth about decisions made or favors owed.

  The conversation he was having with his son shouldn’t be one which was overheard, so he shifted his hold and grasped the lad by the back of his neck and steered him into one of the little niches which ringed the back of the hall.

  Once there, he didn’t release Dane, but lowered his head until he could look into the lad’s eyes. They were the deepest blue, just like Tav’s and his sister’s, and he was good at hiding his feelings.

  “Dane?” Tav gave his son a little shake, the way he used to when the lad had stolen a cake and needed help confessing. “What are ye no’ saying?”

  His son shrugged off his hand, then crossed his arms in a mimic of Tav’s favorite stance. “I’m saying naught, but my companions are limited.”

  Well, that was an understatement.

  Tav’s lips pulled into a full frown as he studied his son. Had it been wrong to raise the boy on a birlinn, where danger followed them, even though they were now more privateers than pirates, and were looking after Scotland’s interests at sea? Where they saw the same men—the same sailors—day in and day out? Where he’d learned about life and death and sex and vices at too young of an age?

  Where the hell else would he live?

  ‘Twas true. Although the rest of the MacLeods lived on Lewes, Tav hadn’t considered the island home for many years. His Uncle Rory still ruled the Highland Sinclair holding with Aunt Citrine, and he’d spent many happy months resting there with his young cousins. And of course, he was here in Scone more often than not, visiting with Charlotte and getting new assignments from her.

  But now that he thought about it, Dane had seemed happiest at the Sinclair holding, where there’d been children his age, more or less, and space to run and play.

  “Have I done wrong by ye, laddie?” he murmured thoughtfully.

  Dane blinked, then frowned. “What do ye mean?”

  He’d never held anything back from his son, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Ye had to grow up too quickly, did ye
no’? What kind of playmates are Tosh and Wee Robbie and the other lads? They taught ye to spit and curse and fight with blades, when ye should’ve been riding and running and falling into streams…and wrestling and— Well, whatever ‘tis lads yer age do.” His memories of his own childhood were fuzzy, and he recalled being obsessed with the sea and boats from a young age, thanks to his uncle’s influence.

  When Dane shrugged, his arms still folded, he looked the picture of nonchalance. But Tav noticed he wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “They also taught me to play the pipes,” Dane reminded him quietly.

  “Aye, ‘tis true.” Tav was still frowning down at his son, considering the past.

  Could he have done any of it differently? The lad’s mother was long dead, and her relatives wanted naught to do with a bastard, her son or nay. He might’ve paid someone to raise the lad—saints knew he had enough gold—or left him with the MacLeods on Lewes, but the thought of not having Dane at his side made his stomach sour.

  But for the first time, Tavish was wondering if mayhap the deck of a pirate boat wasn’t the best place to raise a child. Or mayhap ‘twould have been a fine place, had Dane had access to playmates his own age.

  With a sigh, Tav scrubbed his hand across his face, hating to second-guess himself like this. Tosh, his second, would say second-guessing the past did no good, and he was right. But Tosh—despite his loyalty and humor—was a poor playmate for Tav’s bastard son.

  “Da, why are we here?”

  Since Dane had accompanied him to Scone often over the last five years since Charlotte had started her work for the Queen, Tav knew the lad wasn’t referring to the palace. “At court?” With another stifled sigh, Tav shifted so he could see the dais. “Since yer aunt wasn’t available to see us, I thought we’d catch up on news until she came looking for us.”

  “So no’ because of the blonde?”

  With a mock scowl in response to the lad’s teasing, Tav pretended to cuff him again. “I dinnae even ken which blonde ye mean.”

  Ducking out of his reach, Dane grinned impishly. “The one who stares at ye when ye’re no’ looking.”

  Well, that was news. Tavish’s gaze swung back to the dais, but Lady Isabel’s attention was placed firmly on Queen Elizabeth, who was now speaking to the court. Tav had met the Queen many times over the years, and from their very first meeting—on the deck of her ship when his pirates had attacked her—he’d known she had the power and ability to hold anyone’s attention.

  Still, the thought of Lady Isabel occasionally staring at him…?

  When he glanced back to his son, the lad’s lips twitched merrily, and Tav couldn’t be sure Dane hadn’t been teasing him. It was obvious they would learn naught here today.

  “Come along, laddie,” he murmured, stepping out of their little niche, “let us slip away. We’ll find some ale, some sunshine, and—”

  “There’s Aunt Char!” Dane hissed.

  Tav’s head swung back around, and for certes, ‘twas his twin sister who had stepped in from the small door in the back of the hall and was now sweeping her gaze around the gathered courtiers. If she’d heard he’d arrived, she would be looking for him.

  When he stepped forward, the movement caught her eye, and her expression brightened. She glanced up at the Queen’s dais—likely ensuring she wasn’t needed—then met his gaze once more. With the tiniest jerk of her head, she gestured toward the door she’d stepped through, and he nodded.

  “The winds have changed,” he murmured quietly, as his sister slipped out into the hall, “we’re to meet yer aunt in her office.”

  “Ye got all that from one wee headshake?”

  Since his son had grumbled the question under his breath, Tav didn’t bother answering him but gestured for the lad to follow. They slipped out the main entrance since there’d be no way to cross in front of the dais to exit from the same door Charlotte had used.

  Once out in the hall, he nodded to the brawny Bruce men guarding the door and turned to the left. Char’s office was near the Queen’s private solar, and he was stopped twice on his way.

  “It seems security is tighter when the King isnae at court.”

  “When the King’s here,” his son pointed out, “the Queen doesnae need security because his men are here too.”

  Tav only hummed in response, not wanting to burden the lad with the news of the assassination attempt earlier that summer and how the mastermind had actually been a member of the Queen’s court: an old woman determined to put her son on the throne instead of the Bruce. Charlotte had told him everything during his last visit, and he’d been amazed—as always—at what her Angels had managed to accomplish.

  He knocked once on the door to her office, then threw it open. She’d been expecting him after all, and she whirled from her desk with a big smile on her face. When he opened his arms, she threw herself into them.

  “I’ve missed ye, ye great lump of hair! And Dane, ye’ve gotten even taller!” she exclaimed, as she pulled him into a hug as well.

  “Ye say that every time,” the lad mumbled against her shoulder, but Tav noticed he hugged her firmly in return.

  “Enough of the niceties,” Tav growled, pretending irritation. “Where’s my nephew? Wee Roger has clearly been pining for his Uncle Tav.”

  His sister rolled her eyes. “Yer father’s become singularly focused on my son,” she said to Dane.

  The lad nodded solemnly. “He’s enamored. I think he wants another bairn but cannae fit one on the birlinn.”

  Tav ruffled the boy’s hair. “I missed out on all the best parts of ye being a bairn. Mayhap I want to experience them!”

  “Oh, aye.” Char nodded solemnly. “The nappies are the best part. Nay, the spitting up! Ooh, or the walking in circles at midnight because the wee mite’s cutting a tooth and cannae be calmed.”

  “Ye live in a palace,” Tav reminded her. “Roger sleeps in the royal nursery. Surely there’s someone else to walk him?”

  As Char shrugged, Dane pointed out, “And he’s only a few months old, is he no’? When do bairns get teeth?”

  Charlotte tossed her hands into the air. “Look, all I ken is that I didnae get the sleep I needed last night because my wee warrior needed me. No’ the nurse, no’ his father, but me. Ask me how thrilled I am right now.”

  Chuckling, Tav pulled her into a hug again. “I’ve missed ye. Now, pour me some spirits and catch me up.”

  It was good to be with her again, and the three of them settled in as if they’d never been apart. Char had always accepted Dane was part of the conversation when it came to Tav, and she did a good job including the lad.

  For now, she shared the court gossip, the tantalizing rumor that the Queen might be with child again, and the latest on wee Roger’s development. Tav asked after her Angels, and she reported what she was able about the three who’d married earlier that summer, and Dane listened.

  ‘Twasnae until a lull came in the conversation that the lad stabbed him in the back.

  “The pretty blonde lady up on the dais with the Queen, the one with the green gown and gold embellishments, is she one of yer Angels?”

  Charlotte and Tavish both gaped at the lad.

  “What?” she blurted.

  “My son is teasing me,” Tav growled, with a warning glance at the cheeky boy. “Lady Isabel de Strathbogie was to be married to the Bruce’s brother, Edward. She bore him a son. She and Queen Elizabeth are as close as any sisters-by-marriage.”

  But Dane wouldn’t leave the topic well alone. “Is she an Angel?”

  Charlotte was frowning at him. “What makes ye ask that?”

  He shrugged. “She’s always near the Queen—”

  “Because she is her lady.” Tavish uncrossed his booted legs and sat forward, glaring at his son. “Lady Isabel’s role is to remain at the Queen’s side.”

  “—and she’s always watching,” the boy continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “And because she’s beautiful, and Da wi
llnae stop looking at her.”

  “ ’Tis a terrible reason to assume she’s an agent for the Crown!” Tav exploded, irritated his son was revealing his secrets.

  As Dane shrugged unrepentantly, Charlotte hummed, not quite hiding a smirk.

  “He willnae stop watching her, eh?” she repeated thoughtfully.

  Tav switched his glare to his twin. “She’s a beautiful woman, and I like looking at beautiful women.”

  Charlotte offered Dane a wink. “Ye are good at noticing things, laddie.”

  “So she is an Angel then?”

  She shook her head. “Ye ken I willnae tell ye that, but I’m far more interested in the fact my brother is making eyes at one of the Queen’s ladies.”

  “I am no’ making eyes!” Tav exploded, then threw up his hands and collapsed in his chair. “I swear, sometimes the pair of ye sound exactly like Tosh!”

  “And why do ye think that ‘tis?” Dane asked blandly.

  Tav glared. “Dinnae get cheeky with me, laddie, or I’ll whoop yer arse ‘til ye show me the respect I deserve.”

  His son, knowing good and well he’d never touch him in anger, merely hummed in acknowledgement, his lips twitching wryly. ‘Twas Charlotte who grabbed their attention, when she leaned forward and propped her elbows on her desk.

  “Where is Tosh? Do ye no’ usually bring him to the palace?”

  The older man was wooing one of the cook’s assistants, or had been trying to, over the years. He tagged along whenever they were moored in the River Tay.

  “We left the birlinn on the Clyde at Dumbarton. Tosh stayed with her to oversee the mending of the sails.”

  “Da figured since we had a fortnight, we should come see my cousin.”

  Charlotte’s brows twitched. “He really is excited about bairns, is he no’?”

  Dane nodded. “I think he’s more excited about a bed stuffed with real feathers which doesnae rock.”

  Knowing when he was being teased, Tav tried to relax. “We buy our wool for sails in Sterling, so we stopped there on the way and made an order.”