It had been a trap. Hearing confirmation of what her instincts had told her should have filled her with relief, but instead her eyes narrowed. “I don’t need you to rescue me, Alex. I figured it out myself.”

“The hell you don’t—”

“Is something wrong, my lady?”

Joan turned, realizing the priest she’d seen upon entering was standing a few feet away. He must have heard their voices. If he’d heard anything else, his expression gave no indication. He looked at her with concern and at Alex with suspicion.

Alex released her arm, his expression suddenly stony.

Joan forced a cheery smile on her face. “I’m sorry if our voices disturbed you, Father. My betrothed and I were having a small disagreement about the wedding feast—or rather about certain guests at the wedding feast. Perhaps you might settle it for us? Tell me, Father, do you think a man should be excluded from the list just for smiling at me?”

The priest seemed to understand the problem right away. Alex was being irrationally jealous—or at least that was what she wanted the priest to think.

The portly middle-aged clergyman smiled and said as gallantly as any knight, “Your beauty deserves smiles, my lady. I should think if that is a criterion for exclusion you would be left with a feast full of women.”

Joan blushed prettily, as would be expected by the compliment, and Alex glowered, but the priest merely chuckled as he walked away.

“You lie convincingly, my lady,” Alex said in her ear as he led her out of the side altar and into a small room nearby.

It wasn’t a compliment.

Looking around, Joan realized they were in the sacristy. “Do you think we should be in here?” she asked as he closed the door.

Normally being in a small, mostly dark room with him would be making her senses jump with awareness, but now they were jumping with something more akin to trepidation. Good gracious, did he have to look so big and imposing? Where was her golden knight now?

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” Alex said, adding to the ominousness. “And this way we won’t be interrupted again.”

“How did you find out?” she asked, and then answered for herself. “It was the men, wasn’t it?”

“You mean learning that you were not a wanton but only pretending to be one?” he said sarcastically. “Aye, among other things. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I did, and if I can so can someone else. You may have avoided their trap tonight, but do not think that is the end. They are determined to find the person who has been feeding information to Bruce, and I sure as hell am not going to let that be you. It’s over, Joan. As of right now, the Ghost is no more.”