The Ghost (Highland Guard 12) by Monica Mccarty Page A

activity where she might discover information, and she’d been grateful for her cousin’s possessiveness of her husband. But at other times—like now—it could be dashed inconvenient. The last thing Joan needed was to have a jealous Alice watching her.
    “Thank you, cousin,” Joan said, pretending obliviousness to Alice’s concern. “Lady Isabella had it made for me before I left. It needed a few adjustments, but I was pleased that it still fit.”
    Her cousin’s gaze dropped to the low cut of her bodice and her mouth pursed as if she might disagree about the fit.
    But someone else spoke before she could. “I must thank my mother the next time I see her,” a voice on the other side of Sir Henry said. Recognizing it, Joan felt a wave of satisfaction that only deepened when she turned and met Sir Hugh’s appreciative gaze. “Her taste is as exquisite as the beauty of the woman wearing it.”
    Joan blushed prettily and gave him a nod to acknowledge the compliment. She could still feel the heat of his eyes on her as she turned away and started a quiet conversation with Margaret—who was nothing like her sister—about their activities for tomorrow.
    Joan didn’t need to attract any more attention. The first spark had been lit. The question was whether it would catch fire.

    It was a conflagration.
    Joan remembered Sir Hugh as bold, and he did not disappoint her. Barely had the first course been served when he made his way down the bench where she was seated and squeezed in between her and Margaret. For the rest of the meal, he entertained them with stories of some of the ridiculous things he’d witnessed at court. His witty observations had them both laughing until tears ran down their cheeks. She’d forgotten how amusing he could be, and for a while Joan could almost forget her purpose. But near the end of the meal, when Margaret was temporarily drawn into conversation with her sister, it was brought back to her in full force.
    Sir Hugh inched closer on the bench, leaning his body toward hers until they were almost touching. “You have grown into quite a lovely young woman, Lady Joan. I must admit you surprised me.”
    “How is that, my lord?”
    She could feel the heat of his gaze moving over the bare skin of her neck and chest. He made no attempt to hide his meaning—or his intentions. He wanted her, and he was letting her see that. She almost admired him for it. She preferred straightforward and matter-of-fact to lies and false promises.
    “I didn’t expect the quiet, reserved young girl who used to watch me when she thought I wasn’t looking to become so bold and adventuresome.” The hard muscle of his thigh pressed against hers. He was a big and powerfully built man, and it was not without effect. “You are adventuresome, aren’t you, my lady?”
    She did not mistake his meaning. “Under the right circumstances, my lord,” she answered, and then added, “and with the right companion, of course.”
    The eyes that held hers were dark with understanding—and anticipation. Joan had to force herself not to shift and look away. Something about him made her uneasy. Sir Hugh Despenser was different from the other knights from whom she’d sought information. He was a man, for one. The others had been merely boys, and she was feeling the difference now. It was the difference between playing with a puppy and a wolf. She suspected that if Sir Hugh sank his teeth into her, he would not be easily shaken off.
    “Of course.” His hand moved a few inches closer, brushing her fingers with his own. “I hope we will have many adventures together while you are here.” Not wanting to appear too eager, she didn’t respond. After a moment he continued. “I don’t like being indebted to de Beaumont, but in this case I think I must be.”
    “My lord?” She tilted her head in question.
    “For bringing you here,” he said with a smile. “I expected weeks of boredom and tedium in preparation for war, but now I