Seduced by Destiny (31 page)

For a moment, she almost forgot her troubles… the royal note she’d forged… the Englishmen with whom she’d fraternized… the
assassin, who lay in a pool of blood a few yards away.

Then, as if a great milldam burst, all the implications of their actions flooded her brain at once. Drew and she were in grave
danger. And there was little time to lose.

She broke from Drew’s embrace, pushing him gently away.

“God save us,” she muttered, “we’ve murdered the queen’s man. What do we do now?”

Drew bit the inside of his cheek. Jossy might have shrugged off Syme’s dire warning as an empty threat, but Drew knew better.
They were no safer than before, and now they couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

They both spoke at once.

“We have to hide the body,” he said.

“We have to inform Philipe,” she said.

“Nae!”

“But we
have
to,” she said with a scowl.

“Philipe… can’t be trusted.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “He’s the bloody secretary o’ the queen. If he can’t be trusted, who can?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and fixed her with a sober gaze. “Listen, I know ye don’t want to hear this, but it has
to be said. Syme was sent by Philipe.”

“What!” With a sneer of disbelief, she tossed off his hands. “That’s impossible. Philipe had no cause to suspect me of anythin’.
I handed the missive to him myself. If he didn’t believe my story, if he didn’t trust me, why would he return me to Musselburgh
to spy for him?” She shook her head. “Nae, if anythin’, that missive cast doubt upon Syme. Syme was the only one who knew
’twas a forgery. Which is why he came after me.”

“Do ye think Syme wouldn’t tell Philipe ’twas a forgery?”

“And admit that he’d let the missive fall into enemy hands? I don’t think so. Syme came after me because I made a fool o’
him for namin’ the queen as an English spy.”

Drew might have believed that, if not for Syme’s threat. But how could he prove his suspicions to Jossy?

“Think, Jossy. What made ye come to The Sheep Heid?” he prompted. “Why did ye agree to meet with Syme?”

“I wasn’t supposed to meet with him. Accordin’ to the note, I was supposed to meet with Ph—” She stopped short, realizing
what he was insinuating.

“Philipe?” he prodded.

She scowled, reluctant to acknowledge the truth.

Drew continued. “Was Philipe’s mark on the note?”

“Aye,” she admitted, bristling. “But that could have been a forgery.”

He answered quietly. “Ye don’t really believe that.”

She was silent. He could see she was digesting the painful possibility that Philipe had betrayed her.

He took her hand in his, and though she resisted, he refused to let her pull away.

“What did ye sign, Jossy? That first day when ye met Philipe in The White Hart. What did ye sign?”

She compressed her lips.

“Was it an oath?” he asked. “Did he make ye swear to kill yourself if ye fell into the hands o’ the enemy?”

She gave him a quick startled glance, then averted her gaze.

“That’s why ye tried to take your life in the forest, isn’t it?” he asked.

Her stone silence was answer enough.

“Philipe,” he told her, “Philipe means to finish the deed. He means to murder ye.”

“Nae!” she snapped, trying to pull away.

He held on firmly. “I know it hurts ye to hear it, Jossy, but in the royal game o’ chess, ye and me, we’re only pawns. When
it comes to the safety o’ the queen, if there’s any doubt whatsoever about your trustworthiness, Philipe would sacrifice ye
without battin’ an eye. ’Tis his duty, and he’s very good at it.”

Jossy broke loose of his hold and rounded on him in fury. Despite his efforts, despite the overwhelming evidence, the loyal
lass simply couldn’t accept that the
country she’d vowed to defend with her last breath and the queen to whom she’d pledged her life now wished her dead.

“ ’Tisn’t true!” she cried. “I won’t believe it.”

She began pacing in agitation, as if she could outrun the inevitable truth.

“Jossy, listen to me!” he barked in frustration. “We don’t have much time.”

“But I’m a faithful servant o’ the queen,” she countered. “Philipe knows that. Mary knows it.”

“Damn it, Jossy! Did ye not hear what Syme said? He’s not the only one after ye,” he bit out. “He told ye so himself.”

She stopped pacing abruptly. Her brow creased as she searched her memory for Syme’s exact words. “Nae,” she breathed.

“Remember? He said ye weren’t long for this world,” Drew insisted, “and aye, he told ye he wasn’t the only one after ye. Who
else is a threat to ye, Jossy? How many others want ye dead? How long before Philipe sends another man? Before another assassin
comes to finish what Syme started?”

J
osselin’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 da’s 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 unravel this whole tangled 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. She gasped as his thumb brushed over her nipple. 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 wide and dragged down her chemise, exposing her breasts, 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.

Emboldened by lust, she slipped her hands inside the back of his trews to clasp his sculpted arse and was rewarded with his
groan of pleasure.

As if they were well-matched combatants, he answered her with a brazen attack of his own. He nuzzled her breast, finding her
nipple with his tongue, then drawing it between his lips to take strong suckle.

Every nerve in Josselin’s body suddenly came alive with current. ’Twas as if he sucked all modesty and patience and reason
from her, replacing them with pure need.

Seeking sweet revenge, she seized the top of his trews and wrenched them down over his hips, freeing his swollen staff.

She massaged his buttocks, and he moaned against her breast, but even as she lifted her head to flash him a triumphant smile,
his hand moved stealthily beneath her skirts. With unerring aim, he nudged aside her thighs and trapped the aching place between
them in his palm.

She dropped her head back onto the soft pillow of sand, thrusting her hips up to meet his hand.

He obliged her desires, deftly parting her nether lips to delve between, and she gasped in sweet distress as he teased the
flesh there.

But she wasn’t ready to give up the fight. Biting her lip against a wave of yearning, she snaked her hand between them to
surround his pulsing cock and gently squeezed.

He arched back, sucking breath between his teeth as she drew her fingers firmly along his silken length.

She 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, spread her legs, 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.