Instinctively, he stepped into the shadows. It wasn’t necessary. It was clear the couple that had just slipped out of the alcove at the opposite end of the corridor hadn’t noticed him. They were too busy doing God knows what, in the middle of the day, damn it, when anyone might happen upon them!

His teeth gritted. Was it his imagination or did that indecent gown look a bit rumpled? When she adjusted her bodice in apparent confirmation a moment later, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side.

That wasn’t all that was tight. His entire body seemed to have gone as rigid as stone.

Alex didn’t understand his reaction. The visceral, primitive response was utterly foreign to him. What was it about the lass that made him so . . . angry? Why should he care whose bed she slept in? It didn’t concern him. He barely even knew her. She was nothing to him.

But her mother had been.

Maybe that was it. Maybe this irrational anger he felt at seeing Joan Comyn dishonor herself had to do with Bella. Bella was, or had been, his friend, and it was because of the Guard—well, MacRuairi, at least—that she had been forced to leave Joan behind in the first place. There might have been no choice, but that didn’t make Alex feel any less responsible.

So when Joan left a moment later, Alex followed her. He was going to talk to her, that was all. It was his duty, he told himself. He owed it to her mother.

Joan was already having second thoughts. She’d been right to be wary of Sir Hugh. He was nothing like the young pups she’d targeted before. Keeping him at arm’s length was going to be a challenge.

Good gracious, he’d had her in that alcove before she’d even realized what was happening. Only the fact that she said her cousin was waiting for her had enabled her to leave with the “one kiss” he’d demanded as forfeit for letting her go.

Fortunately, he didn’t taste like herring, but even the swift press of his mouth had alerted her to the danger. Sir Hugh Despenser knew what he was doing; he was obviously practiced at seduction. It was a good thing she was immune.

The “until tomorrow” that he’d whispered as she left had the distinct feel of a promise, and she was half-tempted to plead illness for their ride. But she couldn’t waste the opportunity to gather information about the troops at Wark. It would be worth any difficulty, she told herself. Still, the cat was suddenly feeling very much like the mouse.