When Arran finally quit the room, it was well past midnight. He felt exhaustion beyond his years—it seemed impossible to believe that only a week ago, he’d felt confident in his life and the things he’d built here, confident in the long-term prosperity of Balhaire.

Now he felt wildly vulnerable, his flanks open to attack from all sides. He was anxious and devastated, with so many conflicting ideas building in his chest, pounding away at his ribs and his heart, beating him down.

God help him, he should never have married her. He should have heeded Jock’s warning from the beginning—what good could come from aligning with the English? It had been a doomed union from the start, but Arran had been too blind to see it. And yet...he still loved Margot. In some misshapen, ill-begotten way, he still loved her. He despised her for what she’d done, of course, and was gravely disappointed that she had. But Margot had not conceived this deceit. She was simply a fool.

Damn him if he would ever trust her. And without trust, what was left to them?

It was with trepidation that he walked into the master’s chambers. As he knew she would be, Margot was there. She was wearing a chemise, and a wrap around her shoulders. She’d brushed her hair from its coif, silken waves of auburn shimmering in the light of his hearth. Her eyes were wide and fixed warily on him, like those of a baby owl. Did she mean to seduce him now?

Arran didn’t know what to say or where to begin. He closed the door and stood there, simply looking at her, the beautiful face that had haunted his thoughts for years. Such a treacherous beauty, splitting him in two with equal parts desire and disgust.

“How you must hate me,” she said softly, morosely.

His disappointment was strangling him, but he didn’t hate her.

“You can’t possibly hate me as I hate myself,” she said.

“Why?” he asked plaintively. “Why did you open the cabinet—how did you open it?”

“A hat pin. My brother taught me when we were children. I opened the cabinet because I had to know, Arran.”

“You thought that I would risk all that I’ve built here to betray the queen and my own countrymen?”

Her cheeks colored with her guilt. “I never believed it. I swear I didn’t. But I had to remove all doubt. You’ve been gone every day, and then there was the urgent meeting...” she said, sounding helpless.

He’d gone, all right. To avoid her. To defend her. To learn the truth about her.

“My father said he would hang if you conspired against the queen. He said he was in terrible jeopardy and I was his only hope. Arran, please believe me—everything I told you was the truth.”