Joan was so shocked that he mentioned it that at first she didn’t know what to say. She looked around to make sure no one was near and knew that she had to tread very carefully. “I thought I might have seen you once before as well.”

He was clearly surprised. “You did?”

She nodded.

“At Roxburgh?” he asked.

She nodded again. “About the time of my cousin’s wedding.” She paused, debating how much more to say. “I believe you were with my mother.”

He held her gaze with an intensity that made her want to turn away. Keeping her thoughts hidden from him was getting harder and harder.

“Aye, she was not very happy that I noticed you. You were far too young. Christ, you still are,” he said half to himself.

“I haven’t been young for a very long time. Having my mother imprisoned in a cage and knowing my father was one of the people responsible for her being put there, as well as being disinherited and branded a bastard, tends to make one grow up fast.” Not to mention having her innocence taken from her by force at fifteen.

Though she’d said it lightly, maybe he heard more bitterness than she intended.

“Aye, I can see that,” he said slowly. “Why did you stay? You might have returned to Scotland after your mother was released.”

She shook her head firmly; this was very dangerous ground. “Why would I? My life has been in England for the past eight years. My family is here.”

“Your Comyn family, perhaps, but what about your mother, brothers, and sister?”

The question pierced too deeply, touching on nerves that were more raw than she wanted them to be. She kept her voice as even and nonchalant as she could. “I barely remember my mother, and my brothers and sister I have never met.”

“I have,” he said. “Your sister resembles you.”

“She does?” Lachlan had never said anything, probably guessing that the subject cut deeper than she wanted to admit. “People have always said I look like my father.”

“You do, but there is more of your mother in you than I realized. Christina had just started to walk when I saw her last. She has blond hair like your mother, but there is something in the eyes, nose, and chin.”

He studied her face until she grew self-conscious, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What about Erik?” Robbie had been born after Alex left.

“He has your color eyes and hair, but he looks just like his father.”

There was an edge to his voice she couldn’t ignore. “You don’t like my mother’s husband?” She proceeded slowly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; Lachlan MacRuairi does not have the best reputation.”

Alex gave a sharp laugh. “That is putting it rather mildly—and most of it is true. He’s more brigand than knight, and as mean as a snake.”