“I speak for the queen.” With her hands at her hips she met his level look. “The words I spoke this day are already law.”
“There are ways around the law.” He spoke quickly, as though he had already given this some thought. “There are many countries that would welcome a man who can command armies.”
“You would ask your men to leave their homes and follow you?”
“They will go where I lead them.” He moved closer. “The French queen hates Mary Stuart. She would pay me handsomely to fight for her cause.”
“That would make you a traitor as well as a murderer.”
“You are a fool.” He studied the firm young body beneath the elegant gown. “Together we could have owned all of the Borderland.”
“Then you are the bigger fool. I would have rather died than permitted you to touch me.”
His hand snaked out, catching her roughly by the shoulder. “Then you shall have your wish.” His gaze pinned her, “From the beginning you were the problem. But you will be a problem no more.”
“What do you intend to do with me?”
His breath was hot against her temple as he dragged her toward the door. “I had hoped to kill you. But now you will be my assurance that I leave this prison. If any of the queen’s guards stop us, you will be as convincing as you were this day. You, little witch, will help me reach my men safely. And,” he added with a cruel laugh, “if you prove useful enough, I may even take you all the way to France with me.”
As he dragged her toward the outer door, the inner door between the sitting chamber and sleeping chamber was suddenly thrown open. Brice stood framed in the doorway. Beyond him stood the queen, her face aglow, her Maries surrounding her like fluttering birds.
At the sight of Meredith being held at knife point, Brice’s blood froze.
Gareth found himself staring at a ghost.
“You are dead. I killed you.”
“And I have come back to haunt you,” Brice said through gritted teeth.
“Nay. It cannot be. I plunged my sword through your heart. I watched the lifeblood spill from you. As my father did before me with your father.”
At his words everyone went deathly quiet.
It was Brice who broke the silence. “Was it also your father who spread lies about my father?”
Gareth gave an evil smile. “Aye. He coveted his wealth and titles. And he taught his sons well. Once a man’s name is muddied, it is never clean again.”
“And the lies spread about me in the French Court?”
Meredith suddenly realized what heartache Brice must have suffered in a foreign land, with enemies such as the MacKenzies.
“Aye.” Gareth laughed. “The queen mother felt that you were exerting too much influence on the young queen. It was my task to see that you were—encouraged to leave.”
“Release the woman.” Brice’s words were deadly soft. “This fight is between the two of us.”
Gareth tightened his grip on Meredith’s throat. “You will drop your weapon or my dirk will find the woman’s heart.”
The other women stood in stunned silence in the doorway. Their faces mirrored their shock as they watched and listened.
For a long moment Brice’s gaze held Meredith’s. He thought of all the battles he had fought, the victories he had savored. How simple life had been when he’d had nothing to lose except his own life. But it was Meredith’s life that hung in the balance. And he would gladly pay any price, even death, to save her.
He made a move to toss aside his sword.
As his hand moved to his scabbard Meredith gave a cry. “No, Brice. I cannot let him kill you.”
In a panic Gareth pressed the blade tightly to Meredith’s throat. She gave a sudden cry of pain. Blood spilled down her bodice.
At the sight of her blood Brice lost all reason. Like a man possessed he lunged, catching Meredith by the arm and yanking her free of Gareth’s grasp. With one fluid movement he plunged his sword through Gareth’s heart.
For a moment Gareth stared at his assailant, his eyes round and unblinking. Then, with a cry bubbling in his throat, he dropped to the floor.
As Meredith slumped to her knees Brice caught her and lifted her in his strong arms. With blood streaming from her wound she clung to him and whispered, “Oh, Brice, hold me.”
Before he could respond she sank into a sea of darkness.
~ ~ ~
Meredith drifted in and out of consciousness.
Through a blur of voices she heard Brice’s voice, low and troubled. “She should have responded to your physician’s potion by now.”
She thought she heard Brenna calmly stating, “It is exhaustion. She has been through too much these past months. She must be returned to MacAlpin Castle. There she will rest and grow strong.”
There was another voice, regal, haughty, “You will take my carriage and a company of my soldiers. She can be home by morning light.”
And Megan’s voice, high-pitched in agitation. “If anything will give her the will to live it is home.”
“Home.” Though Meredith’s mouth formed the word, no sound came out.
She felt Brice’s arms around her, cradling her against his chest. She breathed in the familiar scent of him and sighed as sleep once more overtook her.
~ ~ ~
Meredith lay very still, listening to the sound of birds on the sloping lawns of MacAlpin Castle. She snuggled deeper into the furs surrounding her and breathed in the fragrance of roses that wafted from the cultivated gardens below her window.
Opening her eyes she saw the figure in the chair beside her bed. Brice, his chin rough and unshaven, his eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep, sat watching her.
“At last you are awake.” He sat forward and caught her hand.
“Have I slept long?” Her words were wrenched from a throat that felt raw.
He nodded. “I feared you would never wake.” He smiled, causing her heart to tumble wildly. “I remembered that other world that once held me in its spell, and thought it had claimed you instead.”
“How long have I been home?”
Home. The word caused a terrible pain around his heart. How long had he denied her the comfort of her home?
“For three days now you have slept in your own bed. But you were not here. You were somewhere else. I could not reach you. No one could.”
Meredith remembered the way she had suffered when Brice had lingered near death’s door. Seeking to comfort him she placed her hand over his. “You need worry no longer, my lord. I am home now. And I am here to stay.”
A look of pain crossed his handsome features and she longed to draw him close and ease his suffering. Instead she asked, “Why is my throat so constricted?”
“You do not remember?”
At her arched brow he said softly, “Gareth MacKenzie cut your throat.”
She touched a hand to the dressing that covered the wound. “And Gareth?”
“Dead.”
She seemed to take a long time to let that fact sink in. She remembered the horrified look on Brice’s face as he yanked her free of Gareth’s grasp. But nothing more. Neither the pain nor the panic. In a voice still softened by sleep she whispered, “Leave me, Brice, and take your rest. ’Tis over at last. Now we can all live in peace.”
Peace. He watched, tormented, as her lids fluttered, then closed. How could he have forgotten her position as leader of her clan? He had foolishly nurtured the dream of making her his bride and uniting their clans. But she was a Borderer, whose gentle, rolling countryside was a battleground that divided Scotland and England. And he was a Highlander, whose people depended upon his leadership for their very survival in a harsh environment. His father had been brutally taken from them. It would not be fair to leave them without a leader again.
Neither of them could go with the other and leave their people leaderless.
Brenna, who had paused in the doorway, reluctant to intrude, now walked to the bedside and touched a hand to her
sister’s forehead.
“Already the healing has begun. With rest she will soon be as strong as before.”
She was surprised to see the stricken look on Brice’s face. “I thought that would make you happy, my lord Campbell.”
“Aye. I am delighted that Meredith is regaining her strength.” He stood wearily. “But now that I know she will survive, I must leave.”
“Rest here a few days, my lord, until Meredith is strong enough to speak with you. From what I know of your time together in the Highlands, you have much to talk over.”
So she had confided in her sisters.
He shook his head and ran a hand over the beard that darkened his chin. “She has already spoken. She desires to live in her home in peace.”
“I heard her words,” Brenna said softly. “But when she is stronger...”
“When she is stronger,” Brice said firmly, “she will unite her people and rebuild that which Gareth MacKenzie sought to destroy. And I,” he said, strapping on his sword and tossing a cape over his shoulder, “have a clan depending upon me as well. I have left them leaderless long enough.”
“Meredith will wish to thank you, Brice.”
He took Brenna’s hands in his and kissed her cheek. “Thanks are not necessary. It is my fault that she has been denied her home for so long now. Tell her only that I...” He stopped abruptly as Angus and Megan walked into the room. With a wry smile he said, “Tell Meredith that I wish her every happiness.”
In a low voice the others could not hear Brenna asked, “Do you love her, Brice?”
“Aye. With all my heart. And for that reason I must leave her. She has a duty. As do I.”
“You once said that you would even risk losing her if it meant her happiness.”
He said nothing.
Brenna and Megan watched as Brice strode quickly from the room without a backward glance. Within minutes he and Angus could be seen urging their mounts into a gallop toward the river Tweed.
With a heavy heart Brenna draped an arm about her sister’s shoulder. The two sisters stood at the balcony window and watched until both figures disappeared into the Highland mists.
Chapter Twenty-five
Brice leaned a hip against the window of his balcony and watched as a falcon slowly circled, searching for prey.
From below stairs came the sad, sorrowful sounds of Jamie’s lute. For days now the lad’s music seemed to mirror Brice’s feelings.
What had he once told Meredith? That he had never felt lonely in his Highland fortress. He gave a bitter laugh and lifted his face to the sky, seeing the falcon’s mate suddenly appear. The two birds soared together, looking as though they could touch the sun. Then they suddenly swooped, skimming low to the ground before once more lifting, soaring, until they were lost from view.
He felt a terrible, aching sense of loss.
Ever since he had returned to Kinloch House he had felt restless and irritable. In his absence the great hall had been restored. The women had completed the new tapestries, relating the proud history of the Campbells. Tradesmen in the villages had made new chairs, tables, and settles. Weavers had provided fresh linens. The castle sparkled under the loving care of Mistress Snow and the servants, who filled it with the fresh scents of mint and evergreen.
It was so empty.
Though it resounded with the voices of the serving girls, and the laughter of Brice’s men, it no longer brought him joy to walk the halls of Kinloch House.
In every room he saw her. In the refectory, sitting beside Jamie, listening to the booming voices of his men while she quietly ate. In the great hall, warming herself before the fire. In his sleeping chamber, lying beside him. Thoughts of Meredith tormented him.
He had never dreamed it would be so painful to let go.
He had waged terrible, bitter arguments with himself. If he were half a man he would ride to the Borders and take her. It had always been the Highlanders’ way. But her plea, in her moment of pain, had touched him deeply. Home. For too long she had been denied the comfort of her home. Because of him. If he truly loved her, he had to give her what she most craved. And in that moment he had seen with perfect clarity. Meredith needed her home. He had no right to deny her her heart’s desire.
If she loved him, he thought with growing resentment, she would come to him. She would leave her people without a leader, without protection from the invaders to the south, and come to him. She would leave her gentle rolling hills behind and make her home with him. He studied the land, trying to see it from her eyes. Where he saw shady glens and waterfalls, she would see dark forests where the sun never penetrated. Where he saw wide, peaceful vistas she would see a harsh, primitive wilderness.
What foolishness. She had a duty to her people. And he had a duty to his.
He frowned, cursing the day he had seen her standing at the altar, looking like an angel from heaven. If he had never met her, had never allowed himself to love her, he would not now have this terrible aching void in his life.
He cursed himself for wallowing in self-pity like some lovesick lad. Pulling on his tunic he strode down the stairs and picked up an axe. There were trees to be felled. He would feel better after a day of punishing physical labor.
~ ~ ~
Darkness spread over the land. In his chambers Brice turned away from the balcony window and sprawled upon a low bench pulled in front of the fire. Below he could hear the sound of his men’s voices, low, muted, as they discussed the events of the day. He had no desire to join them. He heard the sad, haunting notes of Jamie’s lute and felt a wave of regret. The lad missed her. Almost as much as Brice did. Jamie had blurted the truth earlier today while they had worked together in the forest. He’d admitted that when Brice returned without Meredith, he had felt as if he’d lost his mother again.
It had been a blow to Brice. But he vowed to spend more time with the lad to ease him through this sense of loss. In time the pain would cease. For both of them.
He lifted a half-filled tankard and drank. At a knock on the door he called, “Enter.”
Angus entered, then beckoned for Mistress Snow to follow.
“Do we disturb you, old friend?”
“Nay.”
Brice stood and indicated the settle. The housekeeper took a seat but Angus preferred to stand.
Brice glanced from his friend to the woman. Both of them were grinning and looked as if they would burst if they did not soon share their news.
“Mistress Snow has consented to marry me,” Angus said.
Brice caught his friend in a great bear hug. “I am happy for you.” He turned to embrace the blushing woman. “For both of you.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Brice turned to Angus. “When will you wed?”
“We will speak to the rector on the morrow. I would prefer it yesterday.” He and Brice shared a laugh. “But my bride would like a fortnight to return to her cottage in yonder forest and prepare it properly for our dwelling.”
“The cottage.” Brice turned to Mistress Snow, then clapped a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “I do not think a humble cottage would be the proper dwelling for the leader of the Mackay clan.”
Angus stared at him without comprehending.
“With Holden Mackay dead, we must find a way to unite his clan with ours. I have been thinking that you would be the perfect clan leader, my friend. Though I was loath to send you away when I knew that your heart was here with Mistress Snow.” Brice gave them both a knowing smile. “But now that you are to be wed, you have solved my dilemma. Would you and your bride be willing to live in the Mackay fortress and help me bring peace to these Highlands?”
Angus stared at Brice for long minutes, then turned and lifted Mistress Snow into his arms. “What say you, lass? Would you be willing to give up your duties here at Kinloch House and live like the lady of the manor?”
“Oh, Angus.” As he lifted her high in the air she laughed in delight. “I cannot believe it.”
; “Nor can I.” He set her on her feet and, keeping one arm draped about her, extended his other arm toward his old friend. “I would like Alston as my right hand. He is good with people. Mackay’s men will take to him.”
“He is yours.”
“We must go below stairs and tell the others.” Angus turned to Brice. “Will you join us?”
“In a while.”
When they had left, Brice turned to stare thoughtfully into the flames of the fire. He would miss the company of Angus and Alston, the red-bearded giant. And the loss of Mistress Snow would surely be felt in Kinloch House. But he was happy for his friends.
If only he could shake off this heaviness around his heart.
The hounds set off a wild frenzy of barking. He heard the babble of voices and the sound of Jamie’s lute. They would no doubt celebrate long into the night. This sad place badly needed a celebration.
Picking up his tankard he drained it and set it on the mantel. At a sound from the doorway he turned.
His mind was playing tricks on him. He was seeing her again, looking far lovelier than she had ever looked before.
She wore a hooded cape of lush green velvet, lined with ermine. Her cheeks were flushed, and her green eyes sparkled with a light that he had seen before, on that first night they had loved. She slid the hood back to reveal a mane of mahogany hair that tumbled down her back in a riot of curls. Entwined in her hair were ivy and wildflowers, their sweet perfume filling the air.
He blinked. The vision did not vanish. Instead she took a step closer. Her lips parted in the sweetest smile.
“Meredith.” His heart stopped.
“Aye.”
He felt his throat go dry. “You are not a vision?”
“Nay, my lord.” She laughed and crossed the room until she was standing in front of him. “Touch me. I will not vanish.”
Touch her? He wanted to crush her to him. Instead he reached a hand to her and felt his fingertips gently brush her cheek.
“How did you get here?”
“I rode.”
“Alone?” His eyes narrowed.
“Nay, my lord. I brought a company of my men.”
Highland Barbarian (Highlander Series) Page 25