Chapter Eleven

 

Margaret blinked. The dust Thunder had kicked up at their hasty departure was just beginning to settle, and she could no longer see horse and rider.

Ian entered the stable and glanced from her to the horizon and back again. “I take it that didna go well.”

She was too abashed to look at him. Her body felt numb and the tears burned the corners of her eyes. She simply shook her head in acknowledgment.

“I’ll see ye safely back,” Ian announced as he relinquished the reins to her horse.

Staring ahead, she inquired, “What happened to Isabelle?”

“It’s no’ my place to tell ye, ye ken?” he said gently, then heaved a sigh. “Verra well. Years ago, when the duke first acquired his land here, he had an eye for Isabelle. She was a bonnie lass, but far too young.”

“H-how old was she?”

“No more than ten and five.”

“Oh my…”

“Aye.” Ian busied himself with the horses before continuing. “He caught her when she was alone. He didna ravish her, ye ken, but he lured her with baubles, trinkets and promises.”

Maggie had a feeling she knew what happened next, but she nodded for him to continue.

“It wasna long after he convinced her to lay with him. Being the royal bastard he is, he tossed her aside as soon as he’d taken her. The family knew nothing about it then, only that Isabelle wasna acting herself.”

Maggie shook her head in disgust. She could only imagine how the poor girl had felt, being used and betrayed as she had. “It’s no wonder Alex hates the duke.”

Ian held up a finger. “But that’s no’ nearly the worst of it.” He slung a pack over his horse and turned to her. “She finally confessed to her mother. Her da confronted the duke, but he denied it, of course. With no proof there was nothing to be done. But Isabelle was as honest as an angel, and her family knew she wasna lying.”

Maggie’s knees felt weak. So this was the man to whom she was going to sacrifice herself?

“It was only a month or so after that they found her in her chamber, her stomach cut wide open by the blade in her hand. They could only guess she’d found herself carrying his child. But it devastated the entire family. Especially Alex. He blames himself for no’ protecting her.”

Maggie leaned against the nearby post for support as she processed the information. “But Alex had no idea what had transpired until it was too late. There was nothing he could have done,” she reasoned.

“Aye, but he doesna see it that way.” Ian brought her horse to her. “In his mind, he failed her. And he failed his family.”

Maggie glanced toward the inn where the duke stood, staring out the window at them with a twisted smirk. If she gave herself to the duke, she would be betraying MacKay. If she didn’t, and if he failed to produce the proof needed to clear her uncle, Alex would lose everything because of her.

Her shoulders dropped beneath the weight now put upon them. She glanced heavenward. God help us.

* * * * *

With an hour’s ride to ruminate, Maggie was feeling much the fool. It was no wonder Alex despised the duke. Had he thought she’d known all this time?

Her feet slapped the stairs in an angry beat before she threw open the door to Fiona’s kitchen. Cook let out a shriek and barely caught the loaf of bread that slipped out of her hands.

“My apologies,” Maggie offered on her way to the table where Fi was sitting, sipping a cup of tea. “Why didn’t you tell me about Isabelle?”

Fiona’s brows furrowed. “Who?”

“Isabelle MacKay. You’ve never mentioned a thing about her.”

“Oh, that.” Fi shrugged. “Yer brother and Alex are so close, I assumed ye knew.”

“I find that hard to believe.”Maggie crossed her arms. “With the numerous conversations we’ve had about the Duke of Westingham and the MacKay family, why hasn’t her name been mentioned at least once?”

“As I said, I thought ye knew, so why would I have spoken of it?”

Maggie’s chest constricted. Either Fi was far more unfeeling than Maggie had thought, or she had carefully avoided the topic of Isabelle. Both possibilities were disquieting.

“Ye need some nourishment.” Fi pushed a plate of tea cakes toward her. “And stop lookin’ at me as if I’ve grown two heads. Yer making something out of nothing, Margaret. It’s no’ that I didna feel sorry for the girl, but it was a long time ago. There’s naught that can be done about it.”

“Still…”

“‘Still’, nothing.”

Fi picked up one of the tea cakes and popped it in her mouth, removing the sticky crumbs from her fingers with those ruby lips that had wrapped around Alex’s cock on more than one occasion. The thought had Margaret gritting her teeth.

“Here. Have the yellow one. They taste like heaven.”

Maggie wasn’t hungry. She pushed the plate out of her way. “I can’t say I blame Alex for hating the duke.”

Fi swallowed the last bit of her food and chased it down with a swig of whiskey. “That was a long time ago. It’s time for Alex to let it rest, aye?”

“His sister is dead, Fi! It’s not as if the duke stole his ale and Alex is in a pucker.”

Fi dismissed the comment with a wave of her delicate hand. “He’s taken it to heart for far too long. Perhaps the duke even feels remorseful about it. Did ye bother to ask him?”

The more she defended the duke, the hotter Maggie’s cheeks became. What had gotten into her friend? She shook herself. If Fi didn’t have a conscience, nothing she said would change it now. “Nay. I had other matters to discuss with him.”

Fi propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Tell me what happened!” she inquired with more enthusiasm than necessary. “Were ye successful?”

Maggie shrugged. “It’s difficult to say.”

“Difficult to say? Either he agreed to release yer uncle for a fuck or he didn’t,” Fi declared crossly. “Which is it?”

Maggie furrowed a brow. Why was Fi so interested in the outcome? It was natural for a friend to be curious about what transpired, but Fi was acting as if the result was of personal interest to her. Rather odd. Even for Fi. “Why does it matter?”

If Maggie hadn’t been paying such close attention, she would have missed Fi’s eyes widening in surprise. As quickly as the look came over her, it left. Fi’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as she took Maggie’s hand in hers. “I’m concerned, is all. What happened when you told the duke what ye were after?”

The tiny hairs on her neck stood in warning. She’d trusted Fi for the past two years with every secret she’d ever harbored. Why didn’t she feel she could trust her now? It wasn’t as if she could ignore the question, though. Fi would hound her until she gave an answer.

“Suffice it to say he’s considering my offer.”

“Hmm.” She set down the confection. “At least it’s not a refusal. When do ye meet again?”

When, indeed? “Another week. He has business to conduct in the meanwhile.”

“Is there anything I can do to help ye?”

“I…er, I don’t believe so.” Maggie glanced down at her hemline. “I’m coated in dust. I think I’ll go wash up.”

It may have been her imagination, but it felt as if Fi’s eyes were on her back as she left the room. She didn’t bother to confirm it for fear of stoking her overactive imagination. Fi was a different sort, but there was no reason to distrust her.

Was there?

Maggie couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was definitely something amiss. All she could do was keep a vigilant eye on Fi and watch what she said.

If you can’t trust a friend, who can you trust?

No one.

* * * * *

Alex knelt before Isabelle’s grave, clutching a fistful of wild flowers. The weight in his chest stole his breath.

“I havena forgotten ye, little one.” He placed the colorful blooms beside the stone, one by one. “Forgive me for not visiting ye in a while. I’ve been away.”

Alex raised his face to the sky and closed his eyes. The sun felt warm against his skin despite the chill inside him. There were still days when he’d see a blonde-haired lass and think it was her. Every time, his heart sank when he remembered she was here, lying in the cold, damp ground. He couldn’t wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be all right.

Nor had he been there to tell her that when she discovered she was with child. Perhaps he could have convinced her it wasn’t worth taking her own life.

He would never know for sure.

Alex glanced around the knoll. A smile slowly spread across his lips as he spotted one of the butterflies that always seemed to be close by. Its gossamer wings were sprinkled with blue and green, two of Isabelle’s favorite colors. “I’m a foolish man, Isabelle. Sometimes I imagine the butterfly is you, flying free and touching the soul of anyone lucky enough to see ye.”

The butterfly flitted its wings and twirled in the air in front of him.

“I willna stay long today.” He fidgeted with his kilt. “Ye see, I have a lass to save. She’s verra important to me. I… I love her.”

His heart beat at an accelerated pace. It felt strange to say those words aloud, but oddly freeing.

“If ye have any advice on how to find the culprit who stole the cattle two years ago, I’m willing to listen.” He carefully reached for the butterfly, but it darted away from his outstretched fingers. It fluttered past him as if to tease him. Alex chuckled softly. “I love ye, little sister. Be well, wherever ye are.”

He blew a kiss toward the ground before straightening his shaking knees. Fate was against him with this new challenge, but he was determined to make it work. For his Maggie, he had to make it work.

He wouldn’t let her down too.

* * * * *

The haunting music from the parlor downstairs lent itself to the dreary hall. Flickering shadows licked the walls where the handful of sconces could reach, disguising any imperfections daylight would eagerly note. Margaret steadied herself as she left the safety of the stairs behind her. The thick carpet was plush enough for royalty, and her slippered feet sank with every step. With any luck, it would swallow her whole before she reached the door at the end.

The thumping in her chest felt as if it was making its way into her throat. Clumsily, she wiped her dampened palms against the sides of her skirt and clutched the fabric. Would the duke be in his chamber so early? It seemed he’d vanished into thin air, and there were only a handful of places he could be. She’d already scanned the garden, but he was nowhere to be found.

You’re brave, Margaret Fraser. Think of how happy your aunt will be when her husband returns home.

Maggie felt anything but brave. Her body was trembling, ready to abandon her grand scheme and seek solace anywhere but here. What possessed her to come here tonight? She was wagering against Alex’s success, and she felt like a traitor. He was on a fool’s errand, and he knew it. But he was doing it for her. What she was about to offer the duke might not even benefit her uncle. There were no certainties, only promises made in the heat of the moment. If she had intercourse with the duke tonight, it may have no impact on the outcome. The man was a deviant rogue. Had she truly been desperate enough to believe he’d honor their bargain?

Maggie turned and looked back at the staircase. She could leave right now and her family would be none the wiser.

But she would always question if she would have succeeded. Perhaps the pain of knowing would be less than that of wondering. Her heart ached already, knowing Alex would be wounded by her actions. She would make him understand she had to put her family first.

Besides, if she gave up now it would validate everything her mother ever chastised her for. That alone was enough to spur her on.

Swallowing hard, she turned back toward the duke’s room and bade herself to continue. Each door she passed, she braced herself for the possibility it might open and she’d be discovered lurking where she shouldn’t. There would be no doubt of her intentions, and she’d be ruined before she could begin.

The floor creaked as she stepped where she oughtn’t. She held her breath. Please tell me I didn’t give myself away. She stood so still a marble statue would be envious, and strained to hear anything other than the beating of her own heart.

Nothing.

Treading lightly, she closed the distance between herself and the door. After taking a deep, steadying breath, she rested her hand on the cool glass knob. The door was vibrating slightly, in perfect tune to the music and dancing below. Her unsteady hand turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open.

The room was lit by only one candle, and that was on the farthest side of the room. She wasn’t sure whether she was overjoyed or disappointed by the fact the duke was nowhere to be seen.

A momentary reprieve or a test of my resolve? Yet another question she couldn’t answer.

She wasn’t about to traverse the hall again and risk being seen. There was little else to do but wait. After tucking her wide skirt closer to her, she slipped inside the room.

The air felt heavy, almost sticky. She sniffed, trying to identify the peculiar scent. It wasn’t unpleasant, just out of place.

An arm snaked around her middle and hauled her back. All of the air whooshed from her lungs with the force of their impact, rendering her momentarily helpless. As she struggled to catch her breath she felt a cold steel blade meet the underside of her chin. She tried not to move, but the first violent rush of air burned her lungs, sending her into a coughing fit.

Her assailant dropped his knife and it clamored to the floor. Her upper lip scraped against her teeth as he clasped his hand tightly over her mouth. She tasted dust and blood—but whose blood?

Her panic started anew when she realized it was her own. The fact it was a superficial wound to her lip mattered not.

“Shh!” he hissed in her ear.

In no mood to comply, she continued her muted demand that he release her.

He grumbled as she elbowed him in the gut, but it did nothing to slow him down. Her mind raced, trying to recall what Alex had taught her. She couldn’t remember much beyond screaming and freeing her wrist, and neither would apply here.

Think, think!

She hauled back and kicked at his knee, grazing his shin instead. It was just enough that he loosened his grip around her waist, but his hand was still firmly clamped over her mouth. Her shallow exhalations hissed through her nostrils as she reached up and pulled free one of her hairpins. With a quick jab, she stuck his arm just below his elbow.

“God’s teeth, woman!” he growled between clenched teeth.

“Oopf!” Unprepared for such a quick release she stumbled forward, regaining her balance after several clumsy steps. With the candle now within reach, she grabbed the holder with shaking hands. If nothing else, she could throw it at him as a distraction while she fled the room.

Maggie turned to her assailant and, in her state of surprise, nearly dropped the candle. “Ian?”

Ian put a finger to his lips and shushed her as he cradled his bleeding arm.

“Oh, Ian, I’m so sorry!” she whispered. She went toward him, stopped, then retreated to put the candle back down on the dresser. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

“Perhaps we can discuss this later, aye?” he whispered back, examining the blood still coming from the wound she’d inflicted.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Feeling rather foolish, she avoided looking him in the eye. “I had no idea, I didn’t know it was you.”

Ian shook his head. “Dunna be sorry, lass. I dinna realize it was ye when first ye came through the door either.”

She stared at him, unblinking. In her guilt over hurting him, she’d almost forgotten he’d held her at knifepoint. All things considered, she supposed she responded appropriately.

“Shall we consider this a draw, then?” he quipped, forcing a smile from the tight line of his lips.

“I suppose so.” She lifted his arm to better assess the wound. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

“Aye.” He took her by the arm. “After we leave.”

She only hesitated a moment longer before allowing Ian to lead her from the chamber. Her shoulders relaxed beneath the itchy high-collared blouse as he shut the door behind them. It may have put off the inevitable but, for the moment, she felt nothing but relief.

The night air was chilly, and Ian placed his cloak around Maggie’s shoulders without saying a word. She gladly accepted, drawing the material more tightly about her torso.

“Where are we going?”

“My horse is ’round the back.”

They walked on in silence. There were questions she wanted to ask him, but the fear of honest answers held her back. Had Alex been in touch with him, and was there any news? And most importantly, had Alex asked about her? It was silly to want such a thing, yet it would mean the world to her if he had. She licked her dry lips and swallowed the unspoken question.

Ian’s horse gave a soft nicker as they approached, sniffing the air in greeting. Ian gently rubbed the beast’s nose. Without taking his eyes from the horse, he addressed Maggie. “I ken ye took Fiona’s carriage.”

“Yes. But the, er, the carriage…it isn’t…”

Ian held up a hand to stop her. “I didna see it when I arrived. I gather ye need a way back, aye?”

Maggie lowered her head in abashment and nodded slowly. She felt his eyes upon her as he gathered the reins.

“This is between ye and MacKay, Miss Fraser. I willna judge.”

His word did little to ease her guilt. He knew what she’d intended to do that night. Why else would she have sent the carriage away?

“Oh! I nearly forgot. Has the bleeding stopped?”

He chuckled. “Aye. Despite yer attempt, I’ll live to see ano’er day.” In the moonlight she caught the wink he gave her, and it set her mind at ease.

“Here.” He locked his hands in a makeshift stirrup. Maggie stepped gingerly into his palms. “Up ye go,” he said, and hoisted her atop the horse.

She worried her lower lip. “Has there been any news, Ian?”

After righting the reins, he looked her in the eye. “He hasn’t found anything yet. I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “I gathered as much.”

“Was there something else ye wanted to ask?”

Her heartbeat quickened. Yes. Has he asked about me? Did he send a message for me? She took a deep breath and released it slowly. The question was too personal to ask aloud. “No, thank you.”

After a simple nod of acknowledgment, he led the horse forward.

Maggie glanced up at the stars. The last time she’d done so was with Alex. Was he looking at them now?

She had no idea what made her turn to Ian, but she did so just in time to see him slip some paper from his sleeve to the outer pocket of his satchel. Interesting. Obviously she’d taken him unaware when she’d entered the duke’s room. It seemed he was conducting an unofficial investigation of his own.

“Ian?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“What were you doing in the duke’s chamber?”

He shifted his lower jaw from side to side. “Perhaps I should ask the same of ye, no?”

She blushed at the mention of it, but didn’t let it deter her. She narrowed her eyes at him. “It seems you and Alexander were cut from the same cloth. He, too, will answer a question with another question.”

Ian shrugged. “I propose we allow one another to keep our missions secret. Are ye in accord, Miss Fraser?”

She bit her lower lip as she weighed her options. Her mission hadn’t come to pass. There was little reason for Alex to discover what had almost transpired. “Yes, I believe I am.”

In the moonlight, she saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a brief smile. “Alex was right about ye.”

She bristled, preparing for whatever ill-intended comment Alex had made about her over the past two years. “What, pray tell, did he say?”

“He said ‘Margaret Fraser is a spitfire who knows her own mind. She’ll no’ argue with ye if she agrees with ye, but heaven help ye if she doesna’.”

Margaret gazed up at the starlit sky to hide her smile. Perhaps Alexander MacKay knew her better than she’d thought.

* * * * *

The next day Maggie realized it wasn’t his fault. The poor man was merely carrying out Alex’s request, but Maggie couldn’t force a smile to her face. Disappointment sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Why had he sent Ian to fetch her instead of coming for her himself? Regardless of the outcome of Alex’s search, it was only appropriate that he deliver the message in person.

“Did he find the thief?” she inquired even though she knew it wasn’t likely.

“I have no idea.” Ian gave a half smile, and she wondered if he knew more than he was letting on. “He sent word that he and the duke are meeting within the hour.”

Maggie sucked in a breath. So the time had come. Either her uncle would be released, or he would stay imprisoned until the day of his death. There was so much at stake she didn’t want to know at all.

But she had to know.

Maggie grabbed her shawl. “He didn’t give me much notice, now, did he?”

Ian shifted so she could no longer see his face. It struck her as odd, and she couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t telling her something.

“Ian?”

He glanced at her briefly before turning to the door. “We should be on our way.”

She thought back to what she’d said, and then to the words Ian had carefully chosen prior to that. She stiffened. “Ian, he did ask you to fetch me, didn’t he?”

No longer able to hide his guilt, he frowned. “Nay, but I’m certain it was an oversight.”

Maggie huffed. “Has he forgotten this is my family at stake? Am I not entitled to know their fate?” She crossed her arms to keep from lashing out at the first thing within her reach, which would have been Ian. “Oversight, my a—”

“Well, time to go,” Ian interrupted and ushered her out the door.

Just you wait, Alexander MacKay!

* * * * *

Alex dismounted from Thunder. He was coated with so much dust from the road it was like a second skin. Even the stubble on his face had collected it, making him long for a tub full of steaming-hot water.

And a pint of ale.

“How long before he arrives?” Her words were faint as they wafted down from the open window, but Alex knew her voice anywhere.

His bath would have to wait.

Alex took the steps two at a time. What in hell was Maggie doing there with the duke? She shouldn’t be anywhere near him. The bargain had been made, and she wasn’t part of it. Unless, of course, she’d changed her mind.

No. Dunna think it. But for what other reason would she be there?

The door was ajar, but it did little to reassure him. The duke was such a depraved soul it wouldn’t have stopped him from taking her in the middle of the floor if he so desired.

“You bastard!” His murderous glance landed on his enemy as soon as he was through the door. He scanned the room for Maggie, but she wasn’t there. He’d heard her voice; there was no mistaking it. Alex’s hands shot out before he was even conscious of what he was doing and grabbed the scoundrel by his lapels. “Where is she? Hiding in the wardrobe?”

“My, aren’t we suspicious!” the duke remarked, struggling to loosen Alex’s hold.

“Where is who?” Her voice wafted through the door of the adjoining chamber.

For days, Alex had thought of little else but her. He’d imagined what it would be like to hold her again, to make love to her.

Did the son of a bitch beat him to it?

“What is going on in here?” Maggie demanded from across the room.

He released his hold on the duke and stepped back. “What are ye doing here?” he snapped before turning to her. The sight of Miss Fraser with her fiery hair loosely coiffed nearly unraveled him. His ire peaked in earnest. “Ye were supposed to wait at Fi’s, were ye not?”

Maggie narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

“I recall it!”

She planted her fists on her hips. “For your information, I have been at Fi’s. I was summoned here a short time ago.”

Alex took a step toward the duke, ready to pummel him if he saw fit. “Why did ye bring her here?”

Maggie didn’t give him time enough to answer. “He didn’t, you ninny!”

“She should be here, MacKay.” Ian was standing in the doorway behind her with his arms crossed. “I’m the one who brought her here. If ye have issue with it, we’ll discuss it outside, aye?”

Alex scowled. “I dunna care for surprises.” Nor did he like having the three of them staring at him as if he’d grown three heads. He was filthy, tired and ready to be done with this. As much as he would’ve liked to argue his point, he hadn’t the energy. “We may as well get on with this.”

“I’m certain this won’t take long.” Douglas, the duke of Westingham, sat down on the edge of his bed. The smile he was trying to suppress tugged at his lips until it became a smug grin. “Did you find the thief or not?”

Alex shook his head. “Nay. But I’ve confirmed who the thief was not.”

Douglas waved his hand in dismissal. “That’s preposterous. You cannot know who the thief isn’t unless you know who the thief is.”

“Ah, but ye are wrong.” Alex pulled from his satchel the document he’d nearly bled for and carefully unfolded it. “This statement is written in the hand of yer games keeper and witnessed by an English magistrate. The night yer cattle was stolen, the games keeper attacked the thief. He vividly recalls taking a chunk of flesh out of the man’s right thigh.”

“That proves nothing,” Douglas announced with a snort. “It wasn’t a mortal wound. Hamish would have survived it.”

“Aye, of course the thief would have survived it—but he would have a terrible scar on his right leg.” He ventured a glance in Maggie’s direction. Her eyes were wide with what he could only guess was hope. “I’m no’ usually a betting man, but in this case I’m willing to wager Hamish Fraser has no such scar.”

Douglas rubbed the back of his neck as he thought. “You do understand I don’t have the authority to release him, do you not?”

Maggie launched herself at the duke, but Ian quickly hauled her back.

“You heartless bastard!” she spat. “My uncle didn’t commit the crime. He must be freed.”

Alex understood her anger, but the duke spoke the truth. Alone, he had no authority. The fate of her uncle was dependent upon others as well. Douglas would have to convince her, though. This wasn’t Alex’s fight.

The duke rose to his feet. “As I told you before, it is not up to me. I can only do so much.”

“You created this disaster, Your Grace. You shall fix it,” she decreed through clenched teeth.

* * * * *

Maggie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. If only they had known two weeks ago about the suspect’s wound, there wouldn’t have been a need to involve the duke in the first place. Alex wouldn’t have signed away the majority of his lands to spare Maggie, and everything would be fine. But it was too late for that now. The agreement was binding.

She had won, Alex had lost.

The bitter taste of irony had plagued Maggie since she left the inn. She wouldn’t be giving her body over to the demoralized Duke of Westingham, and her reputation was whole. If all went well, her uncle would be home soon and the family’s lands would be saved. In exchange, the man she loved was losing his.

Offering him an apology would almost be cruel.

She had little else to offer. Even her heartfelt thanks for his sacrifice would likely be met with indifference. Any feelings he may have had for her had vanished in the wind, leaving behind a bitter man. He hadn’t wanted her at the meeting. He’d been so angry he barely glanced in her direction, and the few times he had, his expression was anything but warm. It was obvious his interest in her had waned, proving Fi had been right.

MacKay was not a perfect man, but the sacrifice he’d made had been selfless. The least she could do was let him know his forfeiture wasn’t in vain.

Maggie knocked on the door and waited. It was far too silent inside. No servant shuffling toward the door, no beckoning from the master of the house. She knocked more insistently and waited again. Why wouldn’t he answer? The stable hand told her he was inside.

She knocked once again. Still nothing but silence.

Fine, then. I’ll show myself in.

It wasn’t the proper thing to do, but there wasn’t anyone there to witness her transgression. She needed to speak with Alex and if he didn’t want her there he should have barricaded the bloody door.

“Hello?” Maggie called out as she entered the first room. It was far too quiet for her liking. Was he entertaining someone in his chamber? Her shoulders stiffened at the thought. She strained to hear any sound that would give his location away as she passed from door to door, roaming the desolate hall.

Maggie had been there once before with her brother, but she hadn’t ventured any farther than the first ten feet of the front door. Thankfully it wasn’t as large as Fi’s house or she’d be lost. The sunlight had waned and it was becoming difficult to see where she was going.

The second to the last door on the right was closed, but candlelight spilled from beneath it. Chances were good he wasn’t sleeping, then. She debated knocking softly—just in case he really was asleep—then the image of the whore from the inn flashed through her mind. Alex could be dallying with any number of women behind that door while she stood there staring like an imbecile.

She knocked loud enough to wake the dead.