Highland Barbarian (Highlander Series)

by Langan, Ruth Ryan

  “Visitors?”

  Fleming’s mouth curved into a mysterious smile. “I think you will be pleased. Now make haste.”

  Next door, in the queen’s chambers, Meredith could hear the sound of that familiar, haughty voice and the frantic activity of servants as they prepared their monarch.

  Like one in a daze Meredith allowed herself to be bundled into one of the queen’s own cut-velvet robes. Her hair was quickly brushed. Meredith was led into the queen’s sitting chamber, where Mary, surrounded by her Maries, was being hastily prepared to receive visitors.

  At least a dozen servants bustled about the room setting up a morning meal that could have fed an entire village.

  When the queen was properly coifed and gowned, she nodded to Mary Seton. “Show our visitors in.”

  With a puzzled frown Meredith turned toward the door. For a moment she could only stare at the two young women who stood nervously together clutching each other’s hands. Then with a shout, they rushed forward and fell into her arms.

  “Oh, Brenna. Megan.” With tears streaming down her cheeks Meredith caught them to her and hugged them fiercely.

  “How in the world did you two get to Edinburgh? And however did you talk your way inside the castle?”

  “We had help,” Brenna said softly.

  As she drew aside, Meredith became aware of the tall figure framed in the doorway. For a moment her heart forgot to beat.

  “Brice? Oh, is it truly you?” She started toward him, her arms outstretched. Then, remembering where she was, she stopped and clutched her hands together, drinking in the sight of him.

  “You look—fatigued. You should not have attempted so long a journey.”

  “I am fatigued because I spent the night searching for you, firebrand. And thinking you dead. Or worse.” For the first time he allowed himself to smile as he crossed to her in quick strides and brought his hand to her cheek.

  He studied the pallor of her skin, the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Are you truly all right, Meredith?”

  “Oh, now that I see you and my sisters—” she turned and caught their hands “—I feel wonderful.”

  “Would you care to greet your queen now, Brice Campbell, or do you intend to stand there all morn and devour that maiden with your eyes?”

  With a laugh Brice broke contact and crossed the room. With a deep bow he caught Mary’s hand and brought it to his lips. Then, with a laugh, he lifted her out of her chair, swung her around and kissed her on each cheek before setting her on her feet.

  “Rogue.” She sighed, touching a hand to her cheek. “You are the only man who would ever dare to do such a thing.”

  “The only man, Majesty?”

  Mary blushed furiously. “What have you heard?”

  “Rumors.” Brice’s voice lowered, for her ears only. “The Border Earl of Bothwell is a virile, amorous man, Mary. But beware. A kingdom is at stake here.”

  Mary became noticibly agitated. With high color she turned to meet the two beautiful young strangers. “Who are these lovely creatures? Come greet your queen.”

  Meredith performed the introductions. “Majesty, may I present my sister, Brenna.”

  The dark-haired beauty curtsied, keeping her gaze lowered.

  “And my youngest sister, Megan.”

  The blond imp curtsied as she had been taught, then boldly studied the queen.

  “So there are two more like you. I can see that they will soon be breaking hearts across Scotland. Welcome to Holyroodhouse.”

  “And you know my old friend, Angus Gordon,” Brice said, clapping a hand on Angus’s shoulder.

  “Of course. Welcome, Angus. Come,” Mary said, taking Brice’s hand and leading him to the table. “We will break our fast. And you will tell us why you have surprised us with this visit.”

  Though Brice managed to respond to all the queen’s questions, he could not keep his eyes off the beautiful woman who sat across the table. How he longed to carry her away from the noise and babble, away from prying eyes, and share with her all the love that was stored inside his heart. It was not enough to know that she was safe. He needed to touch her, to gather her to him, to hold her.

  “... several days?”

  Brice tore his gaze from Meredith and turned to find the queen looking at him with a knowing smile.

  “I am sorry, Majesty. I was—distracted.”

  “So you were.” She smiled. “If you are not careful, my friend, there will be rumors.”

  He chuckled. “But there is no kingdom at stake.”

  “No, my dear rogue. Merely a pair of hearts.” The queen stood, and everyone at table got to their feet.

  “I have a long and exhausting day ahead of me.” She could not stifle the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. “You will excuse me. Brice,” she added, “we will talk again on the morrow.”

  “As you wish.” Brice bowed over her hand, then signaled for Angus and the others to follow him. At the doorway Mary called, “Meredith, you will stay awhile. We have business to attend to.”

  Meredith kissed her sisters’ cheeks, then touched her hand to Brice’s. Instantly she felt the heat and yearned for some time alone with him. There was so much she needed to tell him. So much she wanted to ask.

  She watched as a servant led Brice and the others to a nearby chamber, where their every comfort would be taken care of.

  When the door dosed, Meredith turned toward the queen, who was issuing orders to her staff. “For the rest of the morning I shall be indisposed. There will be no exceptions.”

  The reality of what lay ahead caused Meredith’s stomach to churn.

  Surely in the light of day the queen would see the folly of her plan. It was unthinkable that Mary would permit herself to be abducted by a nobleman for the sake of a romantic interlude. She must realize the risk to her reputation if her secret was discovered. Further, could not the queen see how impossible it was for an imposter to assume the throne? Even for one day?

  Meredith’s head swam with questions as she turned to watch the flurry of activity. Several servants were busy laying out a gown of regal scarlet velvet, along with a tiara of diamonds and rubies, and a necklace of ornate gold filigree and matching rubies.

  Meredith’s mouth rounded in an O of appreciation. “Oh, Majesty, it is breathtakingly beautiful. You will look magnificent.”

  The queen smiled indulgently while her friends giggled like children.

  “I will not be wearing it,” Mary said without a trace of regret. “The gown is for you, Meredith.”

  “Majesty.” Meredith drew back. “I could not. It is too fine.”

  “But you will be presiding over Court this day. You must look every inch the queen.”

  Meredith crossed her arms over her middle, feeling her stomach churn. “Please, Majesty. I beg you. Forget this foolish dream. You must not do this thing you plan.”

  “But I shall.” The queen stood and walked to her, grasping her cold hands and forcing her to meet her steady gaze. “For so long now I have dreamed of being, not the queen, but an ordinary woman. I want to experience what other women have, Meredith. I want to be loved like a woman. And you are going to make this dream possible.”

  “Majesty,” Meredith whispered, forcing the words from a throat that had gone suddenly dry. “What will become of the people who come to the queen for solace, and find me instead? What of the pronouncements I make this day in your name? Are they all to be withdrawn on the morrow?”

  “Nay, Meredith. Have no fear.” Mary brought her arm about the trembling woman and drew her close. “When you sit upon the throne this day, you speak for the queen. You are the queen. Whatever you declare, it is law. And whatever you rescind, it is rescinded for all time. Is that clear?”

  A violent tremor rocked the young woman’s slender frame. “Oh, Majesty. That makes it even more difficult to bear. I am not worthy to pass judgment on others. I have not the right.”

  “I give you the right,” the queen said s
ternly. “Am I not your queen?”

  “Aye, Majesty.”

  “Then kneel, Meredith, and accept the edict of your queen.”

  Meredith knelt and the queen touched a hand to her shoulder. In regal tones she pronounced, “I, Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, do declare you, Meredith MacAlpin, the bearer of my name and seal this day. All that you proclaim on this day shall be law. Let no man rescind your orders.”

  Meredith swallowed down the little knot of fear that rose in her throat. When the queen caught her hands and drew her to her feet, she was startled to see that the Maries were no longer laughing. For the first time they realized what a dangerous scheme had been set in motion.

  “Now,” the queen said regally, “go to your sisters and the rogue who carries his heart on his sleeve. Confide in no one. And when it is time to dress for Court, you must do so without drawing undue attention to yourself.” As Meredith prepared to make further protest, the queen gave her a friendly shove. “Go. I command you to put aside your fears.”

  Even though it was a royal command, Meredith knew it was impossible to obey. Her fears for what was to come could not be ignored.

  ~ ~ ~

  The preparations for Court were a blur of activity. Meredith stood in the queen’s chambers, staring at her reflection in a looking glass, while servants dressed her hair and helped her into her gown and jewels. When the crown of diamonds and rubies was placed upon her head, she felt as if the weight of the entire world had suddenly been thrust upon her.

  She turned to where Mary stood, surrounded by her Maries. Wearing a flowing gossamer gown of palest pink, with her hair loose and falling in soft waves to her waist, the queen looked for the first time like the young girl she was. Her cheeks were flushed with the thrill of her adventure. Her eyes sparkled. With a little laugh she crossed the room and took Meredith’s cold hands.

  “Meredith MacAlpin. You have earned the undying gratitude of your queen.”

  “Majesty.”

  As Meredith began to curtsy Mary stopped her. “You will bow to no one this day. Remember. You are the queen.”

  As tears misted Meredith’s eyes Mary called, “Flem, take Her Majesty to meet with Lord Aston.” To Meredith she said softly, “He will go over your appointments this day, which have already been scheduled. If there is time he will ask you to read the list of petitioners.”

  So that the others could not hear, Meredith whispered, “Majesty, there is still time to end this charade.”

  “Look at me,” the queen commanded.

  Meredith stared into her eyes.

  “Would you ask me to give up this one chance to live as others do?”

  Meredith slowly shook her head. “I am unworthy to ask anything of you, Majesty.”

  “God bless you,” the queen said with feeling. Then, hugging Meredith to her, she turned away.

  Mary Fleming took Meredith’s arm and led her to a small council chamber where the queen met daily with her advisers.

  ~ ~ ~

  The keeper of the gate at Holyroodhouse strode toward the crowd of elegantly dressed men and women who gathered at the entrance of the castle. Unrolling his scroll, he began to read the list of names who would be granted an audience.

  From their position in an upper window, Brenna and Megan watched the spectacle with avid interest. When Meredith had told them that they would be permitted to attend Court this day, they nearly fainted. Had it not been for the strong arms of the men who accompanied them, they would not have been brave enough to walk through the hallowed halls and follow the gnarled old man who led the procession to the throne room.

  As they were ushered into the elegant great hall, they stared at lush tapestries depicting the royal lineage from the time of the first great Scottish king. The floors were covered with rich carpets bearing the royal seal. Around the room were chairs covered in regal red velvet. And on a raised dais stood a throne, covered in rich scarlet brocade. Slightly behind the throne to either side were chairs for the queen’s advisers.

  The petitioners were escorted to chairs in a gallery section set on either side of the throne. Brenna and Megan had hoped to find chairs in front, but most of the gallery was already filled. They were forced to take seats in the far corner of the gallery behind rows of spectators. Brice and Angus stood behind them.

  A flurry of trumpets heralded the arrival of the queen. Brenna and Megan strained to see over the heads of the spectators, but all they caught was a glimpse of scarlet velvet and the glint of rubies and diamonds that adorned the royal crown.

  For his part, Brice was completely disinterested in the pomp of the royal Court. He had had his fill of such things in his youth. His thoughts centered on only one. Meredith. To know that she was safe, and spending the day in the security of the queen’s palace, filled his heart with peace.

  Their brief meeting after morning meal had been unsatisfying. Though they had talked about her journey from the Highlands, and the perils they had both faced, there had been no time alone.

  Tonight, he thought with a rush of heat. Tonight he would go to Meredith’s chambers. And at last they would be reunited.

  When the queen ascended the throne, Brice glanced at the two young women who actually trembled with excitement. For all his disenchantment with royalty, he realized he would enjoy watching the proceedings through the eyes of Brenna and Megan. If only Meredith could have joined him. Or better, if they could have slipped away during these long hours. But she had insisted that there were pressing matters that she must attend for the sake of the queen.

  Brice’s eyes narrowed. When he and Mary Stuart were alone on the morrow, he would confide his fears about Meredith’s safety. And he would officially ask the queen to look into the mysterious murders taking place along the Border. It had never mattered to him before. Let others think what they wanted about him. But now it was time to clear his name. So that he could ask Meredith MacAlpin to share it.

  ~ ~ ~

  Meredith’s heart swelled as she walked up the aisle and lifted her hand to the masses of people who bowed and curtsied as she passed. She was experiencing her first taste of what it was like to be loved and revered by so many. And yet the nagging thought persisted. How could it be that none of them noticed that she was an imposter? Even Lord Aston, the queen’s aide, had gone over the list of activities without so much as a pause to glance directly into her face. Did she dare to hope that she could get through the entire day without being found out?

  As she took her seat upon the throne, she cast a benevolent smile over the crowd.

  Lord Aston began reading the first petition. As he read from the scroll, Meredith allowed her gaze to scan the spectators. They were staring at her with such awe, she felt her throat go dry. What was she doing here? God in heaven. This was not some silly game being played out so that the queen could experience romance. This was, for many of the people seated before her, a matter of life and death.

  As Lord Aston’s voice droned on she lost her sense of concentration. It no longer mattered what the petitioner was requesting of his queen. She was an imposter. An ordinary woman who was being asked to make decisions that would affect the lives of the people she loved.

  As Lord Aston finished his speech, Meredith waited for the voice of doom. Surely God would strike her down for such arrogance. She waited for the sound of thunder. Instead there was an ominous silence.

  Meredith felt Flem’s hand upon her arm and gave a guilty start, bringing her out of her reverie. What had just been requested of her? She couldn’t think. Could not even recall the words that had just been spoken.

  The crowd shifted uneasily as Lord Aston repeated the petition a second time. Forcing herself to pay attention, Meredith spoke in halting tones.

  “I shall take the petitioner’s request under advisement. Proceed with the next, Lord Aston.”

  The crowd gave a murmur of disapproval. They had come here to watch the high- and lowborn among them spar with the queen. They did not wish to have any cont
roversial topics set aside.

  Her aide seemed perplexed as he uncurled the second scroll and began to read. This one was easier. A petitioner requested that his neighbor’s land be given to him because the neighbor had allowed the land to go fallow.

  “What would you do with the land if I were to give it to you?” Meredith asked.

  The portly man stood and bowed his head respectfully. Beside him, his wife beamed with pride at her husband’s moment of glory.

  “I would plant it with crops, Majesty. I have a fine, healthy herd and they have need of more food.”

  “And who would do this planting?”

  “I have four strapping sons.”

  “You are truly blessed,” Meredith said. She looked into the crowd. “Who owns this land?”

  A plump woman, her gray hair pulled into an untidy knot, stood. “I do, Majesty.”

  “Do you have a husband?” Meredith asked.

  “He died a year ago.” The woman fingered a sash at her waist, too humble to look at the regal figure on the throne.

  “Are there any sons who can work the land?”

  “I have a son, Majesty. A bonnie lad he is. But he is off fighting the English who raided our Border.”

  “No other children?”

  “There is a daughter, Majesty. Her husband was killed by the English, and she and her three bairns are now living with me. She and I have tried to till the soil but it is more than we can manage.”

  Meredith studied the woman, then glanced at the neighbor who desired her land. If only, she thought, life could always be equitable. But some were born with health, or acquired wealth, while others seemed always beaten down by the trials of this life.

  “Until this woman’s son returns and is able to work the land I will grant you permission to plant your crops on her land.”

  The man smiled, enormously pleased at his good fortune.

  “Provided you give half your crops to your neighbor in payment for the use of such land.”

  The man’s mouth dropped open. “But it is my labor, Majesty, that produces the crops.”