Megan, shaking the raindrops from her cloak, paced about, curiosity causing her to peer into every nook. Satisfied, she perched on a mound of hay in the middle of the room and watched as Brice and Angus led the horses in out of the rain. She was clearly fascinated by this man who had stolen her sister, and then captured her heart.
As was her nature she blurted out what was on her mind, without regard to sensitivities.
“Why did you let Meredith undertake such a dangerous journey alone?”
Brice rubbed a rough cloth over his horse’s quivering flank, choosing to remain silent for several minutes while he completed his task. “Your sister gave me no choice. She slipped away after I had fallen asleep.”
“It seems to have taken you a good deal of time to catch up with her.”
“We had...” He glanced toward Angus. “An unexpected diversion.”
“What diversion?” Megan demanded.
If he found her questions impertinent he gave no indication. “Meredith was abducted by a Highland chief.”
He saw the girl’s mouth drop open. His words were clipped, his description sparse to save Meredith’s sisters from undue suffering. “When my men and I went to her aid, we found ourselves badly outnumbered.”
“Not for the first time,” Angus said dryly.
“Aye.” Brice chuckled. “It seems to be a habit with us of late, old friend.”
Brenna noted the affection between the two men. It warmed her to know that Brice Campbell could inspire such devotion. Perhaps there was something endearing about him. For her sister’s sake she hoped so.
As he worked Brenna noted the way Brice favored one arm. “Could that be where you were wounded, my lord?”
“What wound?” Megan asked.
Surprised, Brice glanced up. “You are very observant, Brenna. I thought I hid it rather well.” He touched a hand to the tunic that covered the dressing at his shoulder.
“You were wounded?” Megan studied him a moment, deciding that she liked the idea of a wounded man continuing on, in the face of pain. “But you managed to best your enemy.” Megan’s eyes danced with the thought of the battle. Like Meredith she would not hesitate to take up a sword. “If you were fighting to save Meredith, how did she manage to elude you?”
Brice’s smile grew. “Your sister seems to have become a master of disguise.”
At the incredulous look on the faces of the two young women he added, “She pretended to be a hunchbacked seamstress, and slipped past everyone.”
“Even you?” Megan asked.
“Aye. I confess I did not recognize her.”
“And now she is ahead of you again,” Brenna said thoughtfully.
“Not for long.” Brice strode to the door and peered at the darkened sky. “Already the clouds are breaking to the west. Within the hour we will be once more on the road to Edinburgh.”
“Do you make haste because you love Meredith?” Megan asked boldly. “Or are you merely angry that a woman has bested you?”
Brice stood by the door, illuminated by a flash of lightning. At that moment he looked as fearsome as any barbarian. “You have the right to know my feelings for your sister. And so I will tell you.” He turned toward the quiet, regal Brenna. “Both of you.” In a voice that managed to be both tender and fierce he said, “I love Meredith.”
“If you love her as you claim,” Megan demanded, “why did you not immediately return her to her home?”
“I did not trust Gareth MacKenzie. I feared for her safety here in the Lowlands.”
“And so you placed her in even more danger in your Highlands.”
“Sometimes, little one,” Brice said to Megan, “we are asked to choose between the lesser of evils. I thought that by keeping Meredith with me in the Highlands, I could be close enough to always come to her aid.” He turned to study the progress of the storm. His face was ruggedly handsome in profile. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I have learned that I cannot always be beside the woman I love, to protect her from every harm. I pray the Fates are there to guide her hand and her sword.”
“You are a patient man,” Brenna said with quiet conviction.
“Nay.” Brice almost laughed at the thought. “I am far from patient. But I have had to learn a valuable lesson. When we love someone we are sometimes called upon to make terrible decisions. Decisions that cause pain for one while offering great rewards for the other.”
“I do not understand,” Megan said.
“He means,” Brenna said softly, “that by allowing Meredith to return to the Lowlands to clear his name, he risks losing her.”
At her words Brice’s hands balled into fists by his side.
“My lord,” Brenna said softly.
He turned to her.
“Would you pay any price for my sister’s happiness?”
“Aye. Any price.” His tone was low, vibrating with feeling. “I would even risk losing her if it meant her happiness.”
Brenna shivered. The intensity of his words frightened her. She prayed that neither her beloved older sister nor this fierce Highland warrior would be forced to pay the ultimate price.
~ ~ ~
Dusk was settling over the city when Brice led his tired party through the streets of Edinburgh.
“It is too late to approach Holyroodhouse this evening. We will have to wait until the morrow to arrange an audience with the queen. For now I will see about lodging.”
Leading the way down a narrow lane near the Canongate, he stopped before a tidy inn. Leaving the women with Angus, Brice went inside. Within minutes he was back to help the women dismount. Lifting their supplies from the packhorse, he led the way to a suite of comfortable rooms.
“Angus and I have the rooms across the hall,” he explained. “The innkeeper will provide us with a meal. As soon as you have refreshed yourselves, you may join us below stairs to sup.”
Megan and Brenna were grateful for the chance to wash away the grime of the journey. Running a brush through their tangled curls, they smoothed their gowns and draped shawls of delicate lace about their shoulders. Then they made their way to the dining room.
Brice and Angus were standing before a roaring fire, enjoying tankards of ale. Their conversation was low, muted. They looked up as the two young women entered.
“We will sit here.” Brice led them to a table set with fine linen and china.
Under the direction of the innkeeper a serving wench offered goblets of wine to warm them. She passed around whole roasted goose, suet pudding and sweetbreads. With tea there were biscuits warm from the oven, spread with clotted cream and jam.
At last they sat back, content, replete.
“I do not remember when a meal tasted so lovely.” Brenna sighed.
“Aye. ’Twas a difficult journey. But you were true to your word,” Brice said, emptying his tankard. “You neither complained nor slowed us down.”
Megan voiced the fear that none of them had been willing to put into words. “What of Meredith? Do you think she is as fortunate as we are, Brice?”
He glanced at Megan, then at her sister, and read the fear on both their faces. “Aye. Somewhere in Edinburgh she is sitting before a roaring fire, enjoying a fine meal.” He could not allow himself to think about the alternative. He would not allow himself to think about his beloved Meredith prowling the darkened streets in search of decent lodging. And in the process, running into Gareth MacKenzie and his men.
~ ~ ~
Brice escorted the young women to their rooms, then returned to his own suite and reached for his sword and scabbard.
“Where do go you now, old friend?”
Brice turned to Angus. “Stay here and see to the safety of Meredith’s sisters.”
“And you?”
“I cannot sleep, knowing that Meredith is somewhere here in Edinburgh, possibly in grave danger.”
“The city is too large to find one lone woman.”
“Mayhaps. But I must try.”
Angus watched
as his friend stalked across the room. He listened as Brice’s footsteps faded on the stairs. There would be no rest for Brice Campbell this night. Or any night until he once again held the woman he loved in his arms.
~ ~ ~
“Now where have you hidden away that rogue Brice Campbell and his beautiful hostage, Meredith MacAlpin?”
At the familiar majestic tones Meredith sat up and rubbed her eyes. God in heaven. She had fallen asleep in the queen’s own chambers. How she must look with her hair in wild disarray and her clothes soiled from the long journey.
Her clothes. Meredith glanced down at the breeches and tunic and the faded cloak and let out a little gasp. This was not how she had planned on meeting the queen.
As she swung her legs to the floor the door was thrown open and the queen, followed by her-ever-present Maries, strode into the room.
“Now where is that rogue?”
“Brice Campbell was not with her,” Mary Fleming said gently. “Although the gatekeeper mentioned both names, the young woman was alone.”
“It is true then. Brice is dead.”
“Majesty.” Meredith curtsied and kept her head lowered as she explained, “Brice is not dead.”
She did not see the look that crossed the queen’s face. A look of relief that slowly became a look of pleasure.
“I used Brice’s name because I knew you would not remember me.”
“Not remember the woman who pretended to be me at dinner?” The queen gave a musical laugh. “How could I ever forget you, Meredith MacAlpin?”
“I am honored, Majesty.” Meredith dared to lift her head and realized that the queen was studying her carefully.
“Such an extraordinary traveling costume, Meredith.”
“Aye, Majesty.” Meredith blushed clear to her toes. “The breeches and tunic are Brice’s. The cloak belonged to a wonderful seamstress who befriended me.”
“Surely you have not ridden all the way from the Highlands?”
“I have, Majesty, But first I made a stop at my home on the Border.”
“I have been hearing tales of murder along the Border,” the queen said, taking a seat and indicating a chair for Meredith.
“There have been many murders, Majesty.”
“’Tis said they are committed by the Highland Barbarian.”
“You know that cannot be true.” Meredith leaned forward, praying that the queen would allow her to speak frankly.
“And how would I know that?”
“You know Brice Campbell to be an honorable man.”
“Aye. I do. But I did not think you shared my opinion. The last time I saw you, you were begging to be saved from his clutches.”
Meredith saw the gleam of laughter in the queen’s eyes and smiled. “So much has changed since last I saw you, Majesty.”
“So it would seem.” The queen signaled for wine. When it was poured, she lifted a goblet and waited until Meredith and the Maries did the same. “You must tell me everything that has happened between you and Brice since I left.” The queen’s eyes glittered with a strange light. “And you must leave nothing out.”
“Oh, Majesty.” Meredith took a sip of the wine, allowing its warmth to soothe. “There is so much to tell.”
“We have all the time in the world.”
While Meredith began, the servants brought in a sumptuous meal.
“So,” the queen said as Meredith recounted the attack by Gareth MacKenzie and the resulting injury to Brice, “you found yourself fighting alongside Brice’s men for your very life.”
“Aye, Majesty. And when the battle was over, Kinloch House was burned and many of its inhabitants wounded. Among them Brice. We feared he would not live.”
“And that is how the rumor of his death came about?”
“Aye. Gareth and his men found no heartbeat. Nor did I upon first examination. But finally I found a pulse, weak, feeble, but a sign of life nevertheless.”
“And you bravely brought him through the crisis.”
Meredith glanced toward the queen to see if she were jesting. But there was no hint of a smile on her face.
“Aye. He survived. Thanks be to God.”
“Why did you leave him?”
“When I heard that Gareth MacKenzie intended to seek an audience with you and have me declared dead, I knew that I had to journey to Edinburgh and fight for my rights.”
“Once again you have proven your mettle, Meredith MacAlpin. You make all Scotswomen proud.” The queen allowed her gaze to linger a moment on Meredith’s face before she turned to Mary Fleming. “Is it not Divine Providence that has sent her to us?”
Fleming nodded and spoke rapidly in French to the others, who began laughing and nodding.
“What is it, Majesty?”
The queen stood, drawing herself up to her full height before staring down at Meredith. “You are privileged to write history, Meredith MacAlpin. Because of your strong resemblance to your queen, and the fact that you have been sent to me at my very hour of need, you will provide a great service to your queen.”
Meredith glanced uneasily around the table, puzzled by the tension she could feel.
“Tomorrow at Court, Meredith,” the queen said somberly, “you will be me.”
“You, Majesty? But where will you be?”
“I will be—indisposed,” the queen said enigmatically.
“But why?”
The queen clapped her hands and began to laugh. “I cannot keep this a secret from you, Meredith. Tomorrow I am to be kidnapped by a secret admirer.”
“Kidnapped.” Meredith was thunderstruck.
“Aye. Is it not the most romantic thing you have ever heard of? Ever since I heard your story, I have yearned to experience such a thing. And now it has come to pass. A certain—nobleman desires to be alone with me. And since the queen can never be alone with a gentleman, I must arrange to be kidnapped. But, of course, if I were not to appear at Court, there would have to be a reasonable explanation. We had thought that I would plead one of my famous headaches. But now that you are here, I need not be absent from Court at all. Is this not truly exciting?”
“But, Majesty, there are affairs of state to be determined each day at Court. How can I handle such issues?”
“Simple. Whatever you decree, it is the decree of the queen.”
“Majesty!” Meredith felt a sense of hysteria bubbling dangerously close to the surface. But the queen blithely went on making her plans.
“Flem will help you with names and faces. And Seton and Beaton will sit on either side of you for assistance. Because of you, your queen will experience a day of freedom, Meredith.”
Feeling desperately alone, Meredith glanced about the room. Candles flickered in sconces along walls hung with rich French tapestries and gilt-framed mirrors. On the floor were elegant carpets. The table, the chairs, nearly all the furniture in the queen’s sitting chamber, had been brought from France. The women seated around the queen giggled and made comments in French, and Mary responded rapidly in the same language.
As she sat in their midst, watching, listening, it occurred to Meredith that they could just as easily have been in the French Court. In fact, she realized with sudden knowledge, that was what Mary had created here in Edinburgh. Dismissing the somber landscape beyond the walls of Holyroodhouse, denying the tension created by John Knox against her, Mary had created a pale imitation of the Court in France, which she so desperately missed. The man she planned to meet secretly would take the place, for a while, of the husband she still mourned. And the women around her, wishing to see to her happiness, were part of the game.
It was all a game, Meredith thought with a sense of panic. The palace, the Court, the petitioners who awaited the verdict of their queen. All a terrible, awe-inspiring game. And on the morrow, she would become a key player in this deadly game. A game that as yet seemed to have no rules.
Chapter Twenty-three
Brenna, Megan and Angus looked up from their early-morning meal as
the door to the inn was thrown open. When Brice stepped inside Angus hurried to him. There was no need to ask the question that sprang to his lips. One look at the tight, hard set of Brice’s mouth told Angus all he wanted to know.
“You did not find her.”
“Not a trace.” Brice ran a hand over the stubble of dark beard that covered his chin. “I inquired at every inn and stable. There has been no sign of her.”
“Perhaps she was delayed along the way.”
Brice’s eyes were bleak. “Or ran into Gareth MacKenzie’s company.”
“Come, old friend,” Angus said gently. “Break your fast with us.”
“Nay. We must hurry to Holyroodhouse and demand a private audience with the queen.” He brushed past Angus. “I will make myself presentable and then we ride.”
Brenna and Megan turned to each other with a growing sense of dread. They had not known until this moment that Brice had stayed out all night searching for Meredith. They pushed away from the table, feeling a hard knot of fear in the pit of their stomachs. What had happened to their beloved Meredith?
Within the hour the four were riding through the city to the queen’s residence. The keeper of the gate of Holyroodhouse accepted a message from Brice, then withdrew. After what seemed an eternity he returned, along with a soldier who rolled the heavy gate open. The gatekeeper motioned for the four visitors to follow him.
Brice’s look was impassive, his fears carefully hidden behind the mask of a proper nobleman. Behind him, Brenna and Megan could hardly contain their excitement. Despite their fears for their sister, one thought was uppermost in their minds. The palace. They were actually inside the palace and were going to meet the queen.
~ ~ ~
A servant drew open the heavy draperies, allowing the morning sunlight to stream into the room. In the ornate bed Meredith awoke from sleep as one drugged. After her exhausting journey from the Highlands, her body had begged for rest. And despite the fears that plagued her upon the queen’s announcement the previous night, sleep had claimed her the moment she had lain her head upon the pillow.
“Meredith. Meredith.” A hand tugged at her shoulder. The voice of Mary Fleming sounded urgent. “You must wake and dress quickly. You have visitors.”
Highland Barbarian (Highlander Series) Page 22