Heart's Thief (Highland Bodyguards, Book 2) (2 page)

“Ye are just cautious to let yer King dissolve into conspiracy theories—which is why I keep ye at my side, Colin,” the Bruce said, a faint smile touching his lips behind his beard.

“Aye,” Colin said simply with a sigh.

“Hear me out, lads,” the Bruce said softly. “I am no’ chasing ghosts or imagining my friends are my enemies—hell, I’ve got enough enemies as it is already. Harclay would benefit from intercepting a missive that alluded to an attack on his castle, but I doubt he would have the means to gather such information—especially if he would need to have people working for him here in Scotland. But the Earl of Lancaster certainly has that kind of power and reach. As does King Edward.”

“Ye think Lancaster or Edward is behind this?” Finn asked, his brows dropping.

“Edward has all but ceded the Lowlands to us, but he still has a vested interest in protecting his border. Losing any more castles to me in the Borderlands weakens his position with his nobles, who are already calling for his removal,” the Bruce said. “And Lancaster has holdings in both Cumberland and Northumberland. He cannae risk losing land to me, for if he did, he would be forced to either side with Edward against me, or side with me and reveal his treason to Edward.”

The Bruce was right about one thing—he had enemies aplenty. Lancaster had approached the Bruce in secret last year, proposing an alliance against Edward, his English King. Unbeknownst to Lancaster, the Bruce discovered, with the help of Ansel Sutherland, that Lancaster was actually attempting to take out both King Edward and the Bruce. Apparently the enemy of the Bruce’s enemy was still his enemy.

“The truth is, it doesnae matter who is behind the interception of my missives,” the Bruce went on with a wave of his hand. “Any one of my enemies would benefit. What matters is that my communications arenae secure.”

Dread tightened Colin’s stomach. There was truth to the Bruce’s words. And that meant that the entire cause for Scottish independence was in danger. Information could be more powerful than an army of thousands—their failure at Carlisle had just proven that.

Colin glanced at Finn again. Finn was the most wary, skeptical man Colin had ever known. He’d even accused the wife of their close friend Garrick Sinclair of being an English assassin when she’d saved the Bruce’s life many years ago.

With one look, Colin knew the truth, though. Finn nodded slightly. He believed the Bruce’s theory.

“What will ye do, Robert?” Colin asked quietly.

Thunder once again cut the silence as the Bruce steepled his fingers in thought.

“The most obvious explanation is that a messenger has been compromised,” the King said. “I dinnae wish to believe it is possible, but there it is.”

“Test the man, then,” Finn said. “Send the same messenger you sent to fetch us on some errand or other. Have the man watched for signs that he is either reading the missive you give him, or letting someone else read it.”

“Aye, that’s all well and good,” the Bruce replied. “I had the same thought. Osborn was the man I sent for ye. He was to leave on the morrow with another missive, this one for my brother.”

“There’s yer test, then,” Finn said. “Give him the letter for your brother. Ye’ll ken soon enough if Osborn can be trusted.”

The Bruce stood suddenly, shoving back his chair. “It is no’ so simple as that. I dinnae have time to play nursemaid to Osborn. Besides, the missive for my brother is no’ some bit of frivolity. He and his men are on the front lines in Ireland. If another one of my missives is compromised, it could cost him his life—and all our efforts in Ireland.”

Finn shifted, his chainmail scraping against his chair.

An idea began to sprout in Colin’s mind. “What if…what if ye sent Osborn with a dummy message—a bit of frivolity, as ye say, or even just a blank piece of parchment with yer seal on it?”

“And the message that must reach my brother in Ireland?” the Bruce shot back.

“Send it with me.” The last piece fell into place in Colin’s mind. “I can keep an eye on Osborn. Ye ken I’ll be able to tell if he is hiding something or if he is innocent.”

The Bruce nodded slowly, so Colin went on. “Ye can give me the real missive to yer brother. If Osborn is dirty, we’ll ken it, but he willnae compromise any more of your correspondence. If he’s clean, we’ll ken that as well. And either way, I’ll ensure that yer brother gets yer letter.”

Colin realized suddenly that he had risen to his feet as he spoke. He felt Finn’s eyes on him and turned to find his friend’s brows lifted quizzically.

A similarly surprised expression rested on the King’s features. “One of my best warriors, turned into a nanny goat and letter carrier?”

Colin couldn’t help the wry chuckle that rose in his throat. “Aye, if that’s what ye need from me.”

The Bruce grinned briefly, but then let it fade. “Are ye serious, lad?” he asked softly. “Without telling ye too much, I can say that the contents of the letter to my brother is of grave importance. Thousands of lives hang in the balance.”

Ignoring the aches in his body, the chill in his bones, and the cutting weight of his chainmail, Colin straightened and locked eyes with his King.

“I’ve served ye for nine years now, sire,” he said, emphasizing the Bruce’s title. “I have been honored to be included in yer inner circle, and honored again to join the Bodyguard Corps. This is what I have trained for—to assess and weed out dangers against ye, and to protect our cause in any and every way I can.”

A keen flicker now lit the Bruce’s eyes. A small smile played at the corners of his lips as his normal sharpness seemed to return at last. “Aye, aye,” he murmured, his mind clearly racing over Colin’s words.

“Ye are a member of the Bodyguard Corps,” Finn said with a rare smirk. “Whose body will ye be guarding, then?”

“Osborn’s, mayhap,” Colin shot back. “Or my own if necessary. Besides, the point of the Corps is to protect what is most valuable to our cause. Why cannae it be a missive?”

Finn’s lips twisted into something dangerously close to a smile. Colin narrowed his eyes on his friend, but before he could put Finn in his place, the Bruce cut in.

“Ye’ll leave on the morrow for Portpatrick,” he declared. “I’ll tell Osborn that ye are accompanying him to Ireland to join my brother’s army, but naught else. Ye’d best find some dry clothes and try to get some rest.”

Finn rose beside him and they both gave the King quick bows. As the two slipped from the Bruce’s tent and into the relentless rain, Finn pounded his shoulder.

“I cannae say I’m jealous that ye will be playing nursemaid to a grown man, but good on ye for it nonetheless.”

Colin’s chest swelled at the rare praise from Finn.

Despite the cold and dampness that had long ago seeped into his bones, his blood warmed at what lay ahead of him. It was his first solo mission as part of the Corps.

Aye, he would do his King proud—and he would do himself proud.

“Sabine! Come!”

Even muffled through the thick wooden door, Sabine jumped at Fabian’s voice.

As she quietly opened the door and slipped through, Miles slid past her on his way out.

Sabine lifted a silent brow in askance at Miles. Though his brusque, almost indifferent treatment of her in the field could hardly be misconstrued as a friendship, Miles was one of the few people she ever saw with regularity—other than Fabian.

Miles gave her a quick nod in response to her unspoken question. She breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as she stepped fully into the chamber, closing the door behind her. Fabian wasn’t in one of his moods, which meant that he wouldn’t hurt her—probably.

“Ah, there you are, my dear.”

Nay, he was definitely not in one of his moods—or rather, he wasn’t gripped by nigh blinding rage that caused him to lash out at anyone close to him. This kind, happy phase wasn’t so different, though, for it would pass soon enough, just as the dark moods did.

“Fabian,” she said, bobbing into a little curtsy.

He rose from behind an enormous oak desk that was covered in loose scraps of parchment, as always. With outstretched arms, he came around the desk, a smile curving his mouth behind his perfectly trimmed goatee.

Fabian took her in a gentle hug, patting her shoulders. “I’m glad to see you returned from the field,” he said, pulling back. His face grew serious, his slim gray eyebrows drawing down. “But it will not be a long visit, I’m afraid. I have another assignment for you.”

Sabine lifted her lips into a smile, forcing it to reach her eyes. “No need to apologize. You know I prefer to stay busy.”

In a strange way, it was almost easier to deal with Fabian in one of his dark moods. At least then she knew what he was about. In times like these, Sabine had to use every drop of skill she possessed, every ounce of watchfulness and care.

“Aye, indeed,” he replied, smiling again. “Good girl.”

He stepped back around his desk and took up his seat once more, smoothing his silk vest. “How did your last assignment go?”

Sabine reached inside the cinched bodice of her dress and removed three folded missives.

“The seals?” Fabian asked sharply as she extended them across his desk.

“Unbroken, as requested.”

“Good girl,” he repeated.

Despite herself, she felt a swell of pride at her work. She’d done everything right, and Fabian was pleased.

Fabian fingered the three missives for a moment before setting them on his desk along with all the other slips of parchment. Though she wasn’t sure how, the piles and stacks made sense to him.

“Our client will be most gratified,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

He waved for her to take a seat as well, and she carefully lowered herself into a chair upholstered in red silk that matched his own.

“Regarding this new assignment,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “This one will not be a take, but a memorize. You haven’t gotten rusty, have you?”

“Nay, of course not,” she replied quickly. She would never let a skill so valuable as being able to read and memorize a missive erode due to lack of use. Even when she went months without such an assignment, she practiced on her own so as never to fall out of the habit.

“Ah, of course you haven’t,” Fabian said, granting her another kindly smile. “Good, because you’ll need to be ready to depart today.”

“Where am I going?”

“My lookout has sent word that a messenger left Lochmaben this morning headed west. You’ll intercept them in Dumfries.”

“
Them
?”

Fabian exhaled, sliding a hand along gray hair that used to be brown. “My source says that he recognized the messenger immediately—in fact, he intercepted one of the man’s missives not long ago. But apparently the messenger is traveling with some sort of brute.”

Unease slid down Sabine’s spine to pool in her belly. “And I am to deal with the brute as well as the messenger?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t ask such a thing of you, my dear. Your strengths are your stealth and that lovely face of yours, not your ability to fight. It is more than likely that the thug is simply accompanying the messenger because their destination is the same.”

Sabine nodded, but before she could ask her next question, Fabian went on.

“Of course, there is a more troubling possibility as well. The brute may have been sent to protect the messenger. In that case, it is probably because the roads have become so dangerous in the last few years.”

“Or because what the messenger carries is extremely valuable,” Sabine said softly.

Fabian’s dark eyes lit up with pleasure. “Aye, exactly, my darling. This is why you are my dearest treasure. This assignment will take special care. As always, you’ll need to avoid raising the messenger’s suspicion. The missive must appear untampered with. The client was very specific about this—he doesn’t wish anyone to know that he has gained this information. And you’ll have to steer clear of the messenger’s thug as well.”

Sabine swallowed but gave Fabian a nod. “I can do it.”

“Of course you can, darling. I have complete faith in you, which is just what I told the client. He is a very powerful man, and this is…important to him.”

Important
meant that the client was paying handsomely for the information Sabine was to retrieve, she knew.

“I’ll expect you back in a sennight with the contents of the missive in that clever little head of yours,” Fabian said, a cool smile touching his lips. “Miles will be in Dumfries as well, but you shouldn’t need him. In fact, it would be best if you didn’t contact anyone, for this assignment requires the most delicate and discreet of touches. That is why I am sending you.”

Sabine nodded again. “I won’t let you down.”

Almost unconsciously, she touched the thin chain around her neck. Concealed under her bodice hung a gold ring set with a small emerald. It was too dangerous to display the ring in the field, but she always wore it on that chain so that she would never forget what it represented.

Fabian must have noticed her motion, for his smile softened. He lifted his hand to show her the matching ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

“I believe in you,” he said, bringing his ringed hand to his heart. “Now go. You have work to do.”