Sir Adam looked at him with amusement. “So there is no reason why you are staring at Despenser like you want to sink a dagger between his pretty ribs?” His gaze slid to the woman beside King Edward’s new favorite. “Who is the woman?”

Alex must have given away more than he realized. The lass must have gotten under his skin for him to betray his thoughts so easily. Why the hell should he care whom she bedded? “Joan Comyn.”

Sir Adam’s brow shot up. “Buchan’s daughter?”

Alex nodded. “Aye, although some might argue that point.”

The older knight’s frown showed his distaste. “The way they have treated the lass is shameful. She has the stamp of Buchan all over her.” His mouth quirked with a half-smile. “Although she is much more beautiful.”

Alex didn’t miss the question in the other man’s gaze, but he didn’t bite. “I think it has more to do with her mother than with her sire. That and giving de Beaumont a reason to fight in Scotland.”

“Do you know the lass?”

“Nay.” Alex paused. “I knew her mother.”

And he knew how much Bella had loved her daughter. It would kill her to see what had become of her. From what he’d learned the past month, Sir Richard wasn’t the first man Joan Comyn had been linked to, nor apparently—if the looks being exchanged between her and Despenser were any indication—would he be the last. The lass couldn’t be making her interest more clear. And bloody hell, just look at that dress! It was a walking invitation, cut so low across the bodice that he was sure Despenser was holding his breath waiting for her to cough or sneeze. God knew, Alex did so every time she laughed or took a deep breath.

Sir Adam glanced around, although none of the other men who had come from Wark with them to report to Pembroke were listening. “Have care, lad. Your recent place in Bruce’s army has made you suspect enough; a connection to one of Scotland’s more notorious rebels isn’t something I’d remind people of.”

There was something about the warning that didn’t sit right. Alex’s brows drew together in a hard frown. “Am I being accused of something? I’ve given Edward no cause to doubt my loyalty.”

“You are a Scot,” the older man said. “That is reason enough for some.”

Alex wished someone could have told that to Boyd. To his former partner, being born in England made him English—no matter that he’d lived in Scotland his whole life and considered himself a Scot.

Still Alex sensed there was something more Sir Adam was trying to tell him. “But . . . ?”