Chapter 48

Josselin’s heart, which had sunk to the bottom of her stomach with the dull ache of betrayal, now bolted into her chest, clearing her head and awakening her instinct for survival.

There was no time to dwell on misplaced loyalties or broken vows or crushed dreams. Drew was right. Philipe meant to kill her.

She couldn’t blame him. He was only doing his duty. He had to eliminate any threats to the queen, and if that meant having his own spies assassinated, he was honor-bound to do so.

But that didn’t mean Josselin had to sit politely and wait to be killed. Her life was at stake. Assassins were on her trail. She had to flee…now.

She eyed Drew, wondering if she had the strength to do what was right. She had to let him go. She knew that. She couldn’t let Drew, dragged into the danger through no fault of his own, come to harm for her sake.

“Go!” she commanded. “Go back to England.”

“Not a chance.”

“This isn’t your battle.”

“Damned if ’tisn’t,” he said, arching a brow.

“I don’t want ye here,” she lied.

“I don’t much care.”

Shite, the man was infuriating. “I can’t…” The words stuck in her throat. “I won’t watch ye be killed for my sake.”

His gaze softened. “And I won’t watch ye be killed, darlin’. Which is why we’re goin’ to fight together.”

She gave him a disapproving scowl, but she couldn’t stop the secret relief that filled her at his promise. The odds might be stacked against her. She might be walking into a hopeless, suicidal mission. But unlike her mother, she wasn’t going to the battlefield alone.

They lingered long enough to drag the assassin’s body into the bushes. Syme might have been a God-fearing man, worthy of a proper burial, but according to Drew, the backstabbing bastard deserved to be eaten by wolves. By the time they kicked leaves over the bloody sod, the moon was rising.

They dared not return to The Sheep Heid or The White Hart. There was no telling who was friend or foe. So they crept through the moonlit streets of Musselburgh, crossed the links, and walked down to the shimmering firth, stealing along the shore until they came to a low cave carved out of the sandstone wall. ’Twould be a safe enough haven for the night to attend to Josselin’s injuries and hatch their plans.

They huddled together on the sandy floor of the cave, gazing out at the hissing sea.

“What if everyone were led to believe that Syme completed his mission?” Drew suggested. “What if he did kill ye?”

He lifted her bare arm to tie the makeshift linen bandage around her wounded shoulder.

“I can’t die,” Josselin insisted, watching Drew dress her wound. “’Twould kill my fathers and Kate. Besides, where would I go? To your fabled village of Tintclachan?”

“Ye could flee with me to England,” Drew said, though she could tell from his bleak voice that he didn’t want to leave her beloved Scotland any more than she did.

“In the company of a man deprived o’ his precious golf for the rest o’ his life?” She chuckled ruefully. “Nae, thank ye.”

Drew finished tying off the bandage, and Josselin sat forward, hugging her knees to her chest in thought. There had to be a way for them to remain in the Lowlands, under the noses of the royals, without being discovered.

“What if we disguise ourselves?” she pondered. “I can dress like a young man, and ye can dress like an old wo-…”

Drew silenced her with a scathing glare, then wrapped his fingers around her ankles and dragged her legs down straight so he could continue his inspection.

She sighed and leaned back on her elbows, letting him pull up her chemise and wincing as he pressed at the tender places between her ribs. She supposed ’twas too much to expect Drew to live the rest of his years as a woman. But dressing like the opposite sex had seemed like a good masquerade. Even the queen thought so.

The queen…

Josselin gazed dreamily out at the softly rippling, silvery waves of the North Sea, remembering Mary with her charming smile and laughing eyes and conspiratorial wink.

Drew was right about Philipe. He wasn’t a bad man. He was only possessed of the same fierce loyalty to the queen that she had. He couldn’t be blamed for protecting Mary so ferociously. The young queen’s vivacious spirit enchanted everyone. ’Twas probably a nightmare for Philipe to keep Mary safe when she insisted on tugging at the royal leash and mingling with the unwashed rabble.

As she thought about her beloved Mary, Josselin began to realize that the headstrong queen herself just might be the single strand that could untangle this whole snarled mess. Slowly, thread by thread, a simple, clever, perfect scheme wove itself into her thoughts.

Drew broke into her musings. “Your ribs don’t seem to be cracked, just bruised. Do ye hurt anywhere else?”

His fingers rested lightly on her belly, warm and gentle, and Josselin, suddenly happier than she’d been in days, smiled slyly up at him. She had the answer now. ’Twas as clear as a summer sky.

“That’s a wicked grin ye’re wearin’, lass,” he said, grazing the sensitive flesh of her stomach with the back of his knuckles. “What’s on your mind?”

“Tell me, Drew,” she said, “what’s the best way to hide a weak defense?”

He smirked at her unexpected question. “Now ye want my advice on swordfightin’?”

“Tell me.”

He let his fingers drift up between her breasts, sending a pleased shiver through her. “A strong offense.” Behind his grin, his eyes began to smolder with desire.

“And what’s the best way,” she said, squirming deliciously beneath his tantalizing touch, “to meet a foe?”

He boldly slipped his hand beneath her chemise to cup her breast, making her shiver. He leaned forward to whisper, “Face to face.”

Despite her injuries, despite their desperate situation, despite the fact they were huddled in a cave like fugitives, Josselin wanted him. Now.

“We won’t hide,” she said breathlessly, gazing at him through half-closed lids. “And we won’t flee. I have an idea.”

She sighed in surrender, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back.

“Is this your idea, lass?” Drew said with a chuckle, lunging forward to feast on her exposed neck like a lion feasting on prey.

All reason deserted her then as a strong mélange of lust and affection rose up in her, as powerful as the tide that raked the nearby shore. She sank back onto the smooth sand and captured him by the back of his neck, guiding him to her hungry mouth.

He tasted like the sea—cleansing and commanding and relentless. But each kiss was more to her now than water for her thirst, more than balm for her wounds, more than satisfaction for her desire. Each kiss was a promise of their future together, an affirmation of their love.

She fought with his doublet, trying to wrench it from his shoulders, and he separated from her just long enough to peel it off, along with his shirt, and cast them aside.

Returning, he opened her bodice and dragged down her chemise, then lowered himself to warm her body with his own.

She drew in a sharp breath as his flesh melded with hers, sending hot current through her veins. She arched up, aching to be even closer to him.

They strove against each other like well-matched combatants, answering one brazen attack with another, taking turns dominating the battlefield.

Jossy knew her victory was short-lived. ’Twould always be thus. But this was one war she didn’t mind losing.

Drew flashed her a savage grin. Then, with a growl of claiming, he tossed up her skirts and took what she’d intended to give him all along.

Their lovemaking was as feral and unpredictable as the North Sea, and Josselin clung to Drew like a storm-tossed ship, trusting in him to steer them both through the squall.

The current of their passion grew stronger and stronger, the surf more intense, until she feared to drown beneath the heaving waves.

As the waters threatened to close over her head, ’twas suddenly as if lightning flashed across the sky, electrifying the wide sea and sending a sizzling bolt through her body. She cried out in shock and amazement and heard her wonder answered in Drew’s groan of triumph. Their release was wild and powerful, like the sea pounding the sand. She spasmed in pain and pleasure all at once, fused to Drew by the heat of their passion and the strength of their love.

When ’twas over, they lay like castaways stranded on the shore, breathless and exhausted. Their clothing was damp, their hair was strewn with sand, and they smelled of sea, salt, and satisfaction.

But Josselin had never felt more content as she drifted off to the reassuring sounds of their slowing heartbeats and Drew’s even breath and the soft hiss of ocean foam caressing the shore.

Her destiny was clear now.

The future was bright.

And their stars were no longer crossed.