Page 68 of Beloved Enemy
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Reid’s boots pounded the earth as he made his way back to the keep, his mood as dark as the night. The chase had been swift but fruitless. His men had taken down two of the shadowy figures, both English, but they’d fought with such defiance that neither had been captured alive. Three men had escaped in to the night on their swift chargers. That left him with nothing—no information, no leads, just corpses and the knowledge that some plot was afoot and that it involved Kingswood, the English, and Charlotte.
It gnawed at him. How had they managed to get inside the vast expanse of Kingswood, so close to the village—and with horses!—without alerting the patrols? How had they known when to scatter? Reid himself hadn’t heard a sound from his men as he and a party of twenty had crept toward the clearing.
And Charlotte... His jaw clenched at the thought of her.
Charlotte’s presence couldn’t be a coincidence. She must have known about the meeting, perhaps had even been part of it. The very thought of her being in collusion with those English dogs made his blood boil. He had trusted her, albeit reluctantly, but now...
Reid quickened his pace, his fuming thoughts pushing him forward. He needed answers, and Charlotte was the only one left who could provide them. She was, after all, the only living party in his custody. He would discover the truth—what was afoot? What had she brought to Kingswood? What hadheunknowingly allowed under his roof?
Reid stormed through the keep’s courtyard, the faint glow of torches barely illuminating the simmering anger etched into his features. His stride was relentless, boots thumping on the stone path as he made for the tower. His men wisely kept their distance, sensing the fury radiating from their commander.
The tower loomed ahead, the place where traitors and spies were confined. The thought of Charlotte being held there stirred a conflict within him, but it was quickly swallowed by his rage. She had been with those men, or at least near enough to them to make it impossible to believe she wasn’t involved.
Reaching the door to the tower, Reid shoved it open with more force than necessary, the heavy wood groaning under his grip. Inside, the narrow spiral staircase twisted upward. His breath was steady but harsh, matching the fire in his chest as he took the steps two at a time, fists clenching and unclenching.
Reid arrived at the landing and turned the key in the lock, swinging open the door to the chamber. Charlotte was there, sitting on her knees in the middle of the floor, looking weary and startled even as she shot up at his abrupt entrance. Her eyes met his, at the same time wary and pleading, but it only fueled his anger further.
He set the torch he’d brought with him into the ring on the wall and faced her again.
“Ye’ve a lot to answer for,” Reid growled, his voice low but dangerous. He crossed the room in three long strides, looming over her as she stepped back, instinctively pulling the plaid he’d given her tighter around her narrow shoulders.
“I have nothing to answer for—” she started, but he cut her off sharply.
“Ye lie,” he snapped. “I want the truth, Charlotte. What are ye planning with those men? What was that meeting about? Who were they?”
“I wasn’t—”
“Give me the truth!” His voice thundered through the small chamber, making her flinch. “I saw ye with my own eyes, Charlotte. Ye were there. Ye canna deny it.”
“I’m not denying I was there,” she returned, her shout not as violent but just as loud. “I heard people talking and I went to investigate. Unless you heard what they were saying, then I know exactly what you know. I didn’t recognize anyone and couldn’t hear the conversation.”
“Then ye are the coordinator, the one who arranged the rendezvous,” he guessed, unwilling to believe she’d simply stumbled upon the group. “And ye acted as lookout.”
“Oh, my God,” she said, throwing up her hands. “You’re nuts—and giving me far more credit than I deserve. How could I, having just come from seven hundred years in the future, have arranged—”
“How did ye get them past the patrols?” He demanded to know.
“Me?” she parroted, her voice high. “Reid, think about what you’re suggesting. I don’t know how—” she stopped herself and stared at him, open-mouthed. Her eyes widened as if a sudden, staggering truth had struck her. Her breath hitched, and her hand instinctively flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God," she breathed raggedly, her voice barely a whisper, the weight of realization crashing down on her. She took a shaky step back, her gaze unfocused as her thoughts scrambled to piece everything together.
Reid watched her closely, his suspicion momentarily warring with the recognition that something had shifted in her expression. She wasn’t acting—she was genuinely stunned, as if some dark puzzle had suddenly started to make sense.
“Reid, that morning at the court,” she finally said, directing his thoughts. “Angus said there were others who’d met on your property before. He said he was sure that one of the men at that time was wearing a Nicholson plaid. Reid,” she continued, pausing to bite her lips, her expression pained. “One of your men must be in on it. They would know where your patrols are stationed. They would tell those men to steer clear of that area, to take a certain route, meet in a certain place, all to avoid the patrols. They were under a willow tree, an easy marker as almost every other tree around here is a pine.”
“Aye, and how do ye ken that? That there’s only one willow in all of Kingswood. Enough!” he roared, disgusted by her vehemence, by how genuine she seemed in what was supposed to be surprised revelation, and with himself, for having given it even a second’s consideration.
“It’s not enough,” she dared to challenge him. “Listen to me,” she hollered, stamping her foot, fisting her hands as she locked her elbows. “Listen. Reid, they’ve got someone on the inside, but it’s not—”
“Of course they bluidy have someone on the inside! Ye gave them the information! Ye told them where to—”
“I did no such thing! You know you don’t really believe that. You can’t,” she said plaintively. Her face paled when he remained unmoved, but she stood her ground. “I wasn’t with them!” She wailed. “I couldn’t sleep. I wanted fresh air and a long walk. I heard voices, I went to see who it was, but—”
“I said nae lies!” His fury was palpable, every word cutting through the air like a blade. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her, his dark eyes burning withaccusation. “You were seen with those men, and now two of them are dead. The others escaped. What are ye planning? An attack on the keep? Betrayal?”
“Reid, I don’t know anything about a plan,” she pleaded, her voice desperate, but his rage was deafening.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip tight but not cruel. “Ye will tell me everything, or so help me, I’ll drag the truth out of ye myself.”
