Page 6 of Kilty Until Proven Innocent
The man could use his tongue.
And his fingers.
And his cock.
He was, not to be too blunt about it, a fookingamazinglover, one who cared about her pleasure. Often he made certain she found release two or three times before thinking of his own pleasure, and Brigit had never been with a man like him before.
A man who gained pleasure fromherpleasure.
But the results were impossible to deny, and she was certain his responses to her own seductions were honest and true.
So, aye, ‘twas heartbreaking to think all these months there’d been something lurking beneath Drummond’s surface that she hadn’t been able to see. Something dark, something twisted. Anger, bitterness, greed? Why would he turn traitor?
But…
Had he turned traitor?
The Queen seemed certain he had, but until they could find evidence against him, the King was reluctant to punish the man he’d trusted.
So Brigit had taken it upon herself to find said evidence…and been unlucky so far. Her interlude with Drummond the other evening had felt…wrong. Sullied.
She’d gone to his office—the office of the head of the King’s Hunters—looking for evidence, but found a drunk Drummond instead. Thinking she could use his state to pump him for information, she’d beensurprised when he seemed to notice the direction of her questions.
Hecould notknow who she really was, who she really worked for.
So she’d distracted him, and it had worked. Italwaysworked.
And the dear man had brought her to climaxtwicewith only his tongue, before falling asleep holding her. She’d stroked his hair as he snored, pillowed on her breasts, and wondered how many other men in the world were caring enough to forego their own pleasure like that.
Or had he suspected her, thanks to her questions, and was trying to waylay suspicion?
But Avaline was right: there were a limited number of people who not only had access to weaponry like that, but knew how to use it.Andknew the King’s schedule.
It had to be one of the King’s Hunters, and Drummond was the only one left in Scone right now.
“My Angels,” the Queen began quietly, and Brigit startled, realizing she’d been staring unseeing at her embroidery. “I need you.”
Brigit straightened at the same time Avaline lowered her own stitching. Her partner always managed to look calm and composed, and now was no different; Avaline’s scars only twitched slightly as she settled her expression into one of slight interest.
The Queen held their gazes, one after the other as she straightened. “My husband has no one to trust at this moment. He has requested help from the guards, but the investigations are turning up naught. He wantsme—and by extension you—to find who is responsible for this. He knows I trust my Angels.”
As Avaline nodded, Brigit took a deep breath, readying herself for what she had to do. “I’ll do it,” she announced quietly. “I…ken Drummond. I’ll find the evidence we need to execute him.”
Just saying the words sent a spike of sorrow and helplessness through her chest, and something must’ve shown in her eyes or in her voice, because the Queen’s voice turned pitying.
“Oh, Brigit. I am sorry.”
Avaline, on the other hand, seemed excited. “He’s one of yer ruffians? Of course he is—ye alwaysdidhave a soft spot for a tall, braw warrior with fine forearms.”
And one who smiled softly when he was alone, and who cared about his lover’s pleasure.
It wasn’t enough to base a relationship on, but Brigit would always remember Drummond Kennedy as the man she’d first fallen for.
“Dinnae ye see?” Avaline was still speaking. “Ye can go to his bed, find the evidence we need. Bring it here, and we can tell the King we’ve found the traitor. Mayhap set a trap. Ye must seduce him, Brigit. ‘Tis the best way to get close to him.”
It was the Queen who spoke in her defense. “Let us not whore out our fellow Angelstoooften, Avaline.”
The tall and slender woman rolled her eyes and picked up her embroidery. “Brigit needs none of my help.”
