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She knew who they were after. All this time. And she’d kept it secret.
Miss Morgan Fucking Bligh had set him up.
Cam looked like he’d been in a fight. And lost.
A fading yellow and green eye seemed the worst, but he held himself stiffly, favoring one leg over another. Old injuries aggravated by Doran’s attack. The fall from the roof.
Morgan sympathized. She’d been hobbling around for the last two days like the walking wounded, snarling at anyone who dared glance in her direction. Ensign Traverse had finally given up trying to be nice and snarled back, which only made her feel guilty on top of miserable. After all, he’d taken them in. Let them hide in his rooms. And asked nothing in return, though she knew he held his despair in check by only the merest threads. She hoped Gram had received her letter by now.
Cam closed the door behind him, the snick of the latch making her jump. His face beneath the bruising hardened into strained lines, his lips pressed tightly together. Just as if they hadn’t almost…as if she…and then he…Could this be more awkward?
She leaned back against a table, gripping the top with both hands, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her.
No embarrassment clouded his flint-hard gaze. He pinned her in place with the force of his stare, a muscle jumping in his rigid jaw. It reminded her of what he’d revealed in that alleyway. The skills. The violence. If she’d been hiding her true self, apparently so had he. “What the hell is going on, Morgan? And no lies this time.”
He advanced toward her, murder in his tone, his hands clenched into fists he looked all too willing to use.
“What do you mean—this time?”
“You’ve been holding back since the beginning. You’ve known all along who stole the damn sword. Is he Amhas-draoi? A friend of yours? A lover?”
The words brought her up short like a slap to the face. The disgust in his eyes made her want to throw something heavy at him. He actually believed she’d slept with Doran. She’d think he was jealous, except jealousy implied feeling. And the only feeling evident in Cam’s gaze was raw fury.
Hurt and angry, she met him glare for glare. “You filthy bastard. I hate you.”
His brows rose in smug condescension. “Really? That’s not the way it seemed a few days ago. But perhaps you go for the men you despise. Adds a little spice to the conquest.”
He made it sound so sordid. And mayhap it had been. But for a single moment when he’d whispered in her ear, she’d come alive. She’d felt the chill of winter at the window, the heat of a roaring fire, and the security of Cam’s love.
The present shattered her girlish imaginings. “Or was your little seduction just a game, Morgan? A way to distract me from what was really going on?”
He kept picking at her, knowing what words would punish the most. Knowing just how to destroy her. He had a gift for that.
“That’s it exactly, Cam,” she bit back, this new betrayal almost harder to bear than the first because she’d done it to herself. “You figured it out. Get you excited, and you wouldn’t know whether you were coming or going. It was my plan from the beginning.”
His shoulders slumped, the heat of his rage turning cold and hard. They stood inches apart yet the distance between them seemed unbridgeable. Too much held them back. Nothing held them together.
“I’m tired of being played for a fool. I’m running blind. And looking the perfect jackass. Must have been quite a joke to you.”
“We had our reasons,” was all she could say. Inadequate as it sounded.
“I’ll bet you did.”
He left her, the vacuum his sudden absence created almost painful. She wanted to cradle her arms to her body, squeeze her eyes shut. Instead, she remained stiffly upright against the table, her chin up. The picture of indifference.
He crossed toward the door. Definitely favoring the right leg now. “Well, you can keep your reasons. Joke’s over. And so is this insane arrangement. You’re on your own.”
“Where are you going?”
He reached the door. Glanced back over his shoulder. “You’re the tracker. You figure it out.”
Scathach found Morgan in what passed for a back garden. She’d not left the lodging house since Doran’s attack. If he thought she and Cam had died, so much better. He’d be off his guard. More confident. And thus easier to track. That was the conclusion she and Scathach had come to, but it didn’t help her jumbled thoughts and boiling frustration. She needed to be doing something. Anything.
“The young soldier says you’ve been out here since breakfast.”
“It’s better than running into Cam.”
Scathach folded her arms across her chest. “I heard about that as well.”
