"Rebbie, you bastard." Lachlan grinned. "I cannot accept my portion of this gift."

"You don't like it? Well then, 'haps I'll send it to Miles."

"Nay, 'twould be sacrilege! I thank you, Rebbie." Lachlan shook his friend's hand with much enthusiasm. "You are too generous by far."

She passed the daggers to Lachlan, then decided to keep her own. "Merci, Laird Rebbinglen. You honor us with this gift."

"My pleasure, madame. I thought you might need something to help fight off this rogue."

The men guffawed at that.

Angelique's face felt scalded and she wondered if they knew exactly how hard she had fought him off. And now feared her reprieve was over. Turning her attention to the next gift, she untied the bow around a carved oak box and lifted the lid. Two silver goblets rested inside on dark green velvet. "Oh." She removed one. An oval onyx stone and an engraved dragon decorated the side.

She had seen and touched this custom-made goblet before. In France. Girard. A sensation like ice water trickled through her body and she could scarce breathe. She glanced about the hall, skimming the dozens of faces. Where was he? Where was Girard?

Chapter Nine

"What's wrong?" Lachlan murmured in Angelique's ear.

The goblet slipped from her fingers and he caught it.

"Who is this gift from?" she whispered, her gaze darting into the back corners of the hall. No tall, vicious dark-haired man. No card or note inside the box.

"Who shall we thank for this lovely gift?" Lachlan asked the large group filling the great hall.

Murmuring followed and several heads shook. Some distance away, Camille's face paled.

Angelique's hands trembled and nausea rose within her. Lachlan took the box from her and passed it to a servant.

Mère de Dieu. Girard had come to kill her.

"What happened to the music?" Lachlan called, motioning to the musicians. "Dance, everyone. Excuse us." He rose and held his hand down to Angelique. "Come," he said to her in a low voice. "I'm thinking you need a break from all the celebrating."

She searched for Girard as Lachlan led her to the nearby solar. He lit candles and checked the room for guests. She had to speak with Camille immediately. Neither of them was safe.

"What upset you so much about the goblets?" Lachlan asked, stopping before her. His tone was compassionate, but his amber eyes fierce. "You turned pale as a banshee and looked terrified of a sudden."

As if he might see the answer in her eyes, she lowered her gaze and shook her head. "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Angelique. I promised I wouldn't lie to you, and I expect you to promise me the same."

She squeezed her eyes closed, fear climbing within her. "I cannot tell you."

"Why?" he asked, his tone harsher now.

She could not trust him with her deepest secrets. "I can only say... I have seen the goblets before. They were custom-made for a certain family. And the person who owned them is... not a nice person."

"Is he French or English?" Lachlan demanded.

"French."

"And you last saw the goblets in France?"

"Oui."

"What was this man to you?" Lachlan's voice was now that of a hardened warrior.

Her heart lurched. If she wasn't careful he would figure it out on his own. "I did not say this was a man."

"You also failed to correct me when I asked if he was French or English."

"I cannot tell you."

"Cannot or will not?"

She could not think what to say and wished only to escape this room and his questioning. During the silence, Lachlan inhaled a deep breath as if tired. Or perhaps he was trying to calm his anger.

"You can tell me anything, Ange," he continued, his voice gentler now. "I am your husband. We will have no secrets between us."

She shook her head, unable to trust anyone with her horrid secrets, save Camille.

"After I have protected you this long, you still refuse to trust me?" He sounded perplexed, perhaps even a bit hurt.

"I trust you to protect me," she whispered. Indeed, she did for he was a strong, skilled warrior.

Lachlan paced. "So, since the goblets are here, I assume that means this man who is not so nice is here in our home. Aye?" Pausing, he looked to her for confirmation.

"I did not see him; he might have sent someone."

"Are you thinking the gift is a message?"

"Perhaps."

"What does the message mean?"

She was silent. But inside, she was screaming. The message meant something too horrible to utter.

"Angelique, if you don't tell me what is happening, or what happened in the past, I cannot protect you and our clan. Is this man dangerous?"

"Oui, very dangerous."

"What has he done?"

No, she could not reveal that. At her continued silence, he sighed.

"Why are you making this so damned difficult? The whole clan could be in danger this very moment."

Perhaps she could tell him a bit. "His name is Girard. Guy Laurent, comte de Girard... a very dangerous man."

"What does he look like?" Lachlan's gaze became piercing, like that of a golden eagle ready to strike a rabbit with his talons.

"Tall and thin with dark hair. He used to have a mustache and short beard." She moved toward the exit.

"What did he do? Why is he here?"

"That is all I can tell you... but indeed, he is extremely dangerous. He wishes to see me and Camille dead." She yanked open the door and ran to find Camille.

Lachlan yelled a curse behind her. She dashed up the stairs to her sitting room where Camille waited.

"Where have you been?" Camille grabbed her arm. They raced into the bedchamber.

Angelique slammed the door and barred it from intruders. "Lachlan questioned me about the goblets," she whispered, her voice shaking.

"What did you tell him?"

Knees weak, she lowered herself to the settle. "That they must be from Girard and he is dangerous. I gave him a description. That is all. I cannot tell him about..."

"What will Lachlan do?"

"I do not know. Increase security, I assume."

"He will not give up until he knows the whole story."

Angelique's stomach pained her. "I know. But what if Girard is here? Either inside the castle or waiting outside the walls?"

Camille knelt before the hearth and stirred at the glowing fire coals with a poker, sending sparks shooting upwards. "We should have made sure the viper was dead when we had the chance." She almost growled the words.

"We are not murderers."

"No, we are not. But the bastard deserves to die. It would be justice."

***

After Lachlan made sure Angelique entered her guarded chambers, he headed toward the great hall. He would find this Girard or his messenger. The bastard would not get away with invading his home and frightening his wife. Damnation, but she vexed him when she refused to reveal the whole truth to him. Why did she mistrust him?

"My laird," called a female voice from the shadows.

He halted, hand on his sword hilt, his gaze searching the dark corners of the corridor.