Seeming to understand the sentiment, Sir Adam put his hand on his back. “If it’s any consolation, it isn’t just you. They suspect most of us.” Alex knew what he meant by “us”: Scots in the English army. “Except maybe young Comyn,” Sir Adam added wryly.

Aye, it would be a snowy day in hell before young John Comyn spied for the man who’d killed—many said murdered—his father before the altar at Greyfriars, the act that had launched Bruce’s bid for the crown eight years earlier.

The English distrust of the Scots in their ranks wasn’t new. The opinions and advice of the Scots were often given short shrift by their compatriots. It was one of the many—many—frustrations that Alex had had to deal with since joining the English.

But if the English thought he was the spy, they definitely weren’t going to listen to anything he said.

All the sacrifices Alex had made to put himself in this position to try to end the war wouldn’t mean a damned thing. He thought of the looks on his former brethren’s faces the last time he’d seen them and knew what he had to do.

“I appreciate the warning,” Alex told the other man. “But I intend to prove that it isn’t me.”

Sir Adam arched a brow. “And how do you plan to do that?”

It was simple. “I’ll find the damned spy myself.”

Chapter 6

6

PEMBROKE WAS SURPRISED by Alex’s offer but accepted it nonetheless. He had no reason not to. If Alex was successful, the English would have their spy, and if he was unsuccessful, they would be no worse off.

Pembroke undoubtedly thought that Alex would be in a better position to find a Scot spy being a Scot himself. Alex knew better than to think his offer would deflect suspicion from him, but as he had nothing to hide, he wasn’t worried.

As he came out of the lord’s solar where he’d met with Pembroke, Alex glanced around the Hall, seeing only a handful of people still lingering over the meal—or more specifically, the wine. The dais and high table, however, were deserted. He was glad of it. What Joan Comyn did and whom she did it with were no business of his, but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch it.

He spoke too soon. No sooner had he stepped out of the Hall into the corridor that led to the west postern than he heard a husky laugh that sent a bolt of lust straight to his bollocks. It shouldn’t be familiar, and he had no reason to recognize it, but he did.