But the foiled attack, her ignorance of Pembroke’s arrival, and Sir Richard’s upcoming departure combined to make Joan realize that she was going to need to increase her efforts. She would not be caught in the dark again. If she was going to continue to be useful to Bruce, she had to take risks. Sir Richard had information, and she was going to get it. Even if she didn’t like how she would have to do so.

Chapter 3

3

JOAN COULD BARELY close the door behind her, her hands were shaking so badly. Actually, her entire body was shaking. Her skin was like ice. Fear and panic had invaded her body like a snowstorm in the dead of winter and wouldn’t let go.

It’s all right. You are safe. It’s over. Nothing happened.

But it had been close. Too close.

She crept through the darkness of the corridor, winding her way down the stairs of the Captain’s Tower from Sir Richard’s third-floor chamber.

She felt clumsy . . . awkward . . . tentative. Her heart was still beating like a drum in her chest and ears. She couldn’t shake the moment of terror. God, she could still feel his hands on her, pinning her down, not letting her move. The memories had come hard and fast and for one horrible moment she had been paralyzed with fear. It had been too similar. She’d thought he was going to . . .

But then her plan worked and the threat had collapsed in a drugged heap. The panic, however, remained.

Good gracious, she’d been so shaken she’d almost forgotten to search his room! A search that had resulted in a missive with his orders and details regarding the ports and shipping routes for getting the necessary supplies into Scotland for the war. An army of the size Edward was gathering would require far more than they could carry, even in an extensive baggage train. Now she knew how it would get there.

There were probably only a handful of people who knew the information she had discovered, and soon one of them would be Robert the Bruce. Thanks to her.

It had been worth it, she told herself. But her frazzled nerves didn’t seem to realize that. The shadows seemed to jump out at her as she wound her way down the darkened corridors. At well past midnight, most of the lamps had already been extinguished for the night. She hurried down the stairs, going down faster than she should, trying to put as much distance between her and what had nearly happened back in that room, when her slippered foot landed awkwardly on one of the narrow stairs. The stairs were made of stone, and as they became worn with use, they could become slippery. She discovered this the painful way when her foot slid out from under her.