by Ruth Langan
“Thank you for the dance, my lady.” He lifted his head. “Angus.” His voice was a low, angry growl.
Instantly his friend was on his feet and moving toward them. Meredith happened to glance over Brice’s shoulder toward the place where Holden Mackay was sitting. On his face was a look so dark, so filled with fury, she nearly trembled.
“Dance with the lady,” Brice said, handing her over to the surprised Angus.
Without another word Brice turned away and left the room.
Behind him, Meredith lifted her chin, determined not to watch his retreating back. But against her will her gaze locked on him, following his every move. In silence she endured the dance with Angus Gordon.
Jamie, too, watched as his hero retreated. There was nothing the man did that Jamie did not wish to imitate.
Across the room, the queen saw the way Brice stormed away. She saw also the way Meredith’s gaze fastened on him, following him until he was out of sight.
And while the queen watched with avid interest, a slow smile of understanding touched her lips.
By late afternoon the queen and her company prepared to depart. Before leaving, she sent a servant to fetch Meredith.
The queen received her guest in the cozy library and Meredith was reminded of her earlier embarrassment when she had fallen out of the armoire into Brice’s arms.
Her cheeks took on a becoming shade of pink. “You have decided to take me with you, Majesty?”
The queen shook her head. “I would not impose my will upon an old friend. Whatever Brice Campbell has in mind, I trust his judgment.”
She saw Meredith’s face fall at the news. “But at the table…”
“At the table, I was having fun at Brice’s expense.” To ease Meredith’s pain she added softly, “But know this. Though his quick temper and skill with a broadsword are legend, Brice is a fine and honorable man. Although he bears a grudge against the MacKenzies, he will see that no harm comes to you.”
No harm? What of the feelings he aroused in her? Feelings she had never even known existed within her? She trembled just thinking about the way she had nearly melted into his arms when they danced. And that kiss. It was no more than the brush of a butterfly’s wings. And yet it had caused her heart to pound so loudly in her chest she had feared the others must surely have heard. God in heaven, what was to become of her?
Meredith felt a sudden wave of despair. Was she to be left to languish in this prison forever?
“I wish to go home, Majesty.”
“Aye. Home.” Mary Stuart heard the plea with a woman’s heart. Did she not still think of France as her home? And did she not yearn to return to the opulence, the gaiety, of the French Court? The grim tone of Scotland since the popularity of John Knox was depressing to a woman like Mary. “I have no doubt that you will soon be returned to your home, Meredith. But until Brice makes that decision, I am loath to intervene. Your future lies in his hands.”
Mary stood, effectively dismissing Meredith. And although the young woman yearned to throw herself into the queen’s arms and beg for her intercession in this matter, her pride would not allow it. She stood, head held high, spine stiff, as the queen summoned Brice to escort her from the castle.
With her hand upon Brice’s arm, the queen swept along the hall and into the courtyard. Behind her trailed the men and women of her hunting party. And behind them Meredith walked between Angus and Jamie.
As Brice helped the queen into the saddle, she stared over the heads of the crowd until her gaze came to rest upon the young prisoner. “I think, Brice, that you have captured more than you bargained for. In that one, you may have a wildcat by the tail.”
She saw the thoughtfulness lurking in Brice’s eyes behind the smile, though he said nothing.
Queen Mary gave a knowing look. “Farewell, my friend. I hope to see you soon in Edinburgh.”
“The name of Campbell is not well received these days in the Lowlands.”
The queen’s eyes sparkled. “You are also the Earl of Kinloch. That makes you the queen’s protector and a member of her Council.”
“That title was my father’s,” Brice said softly. “It died with him. I am simply Brice Campbell.”
Her tone was soft. “You are—simply one of my dearest friends.” Her voice grew firm. “Despite what others say, a Campbell is always welcome in the home of the queen.” Mary urged her dancing steed into a trot.
With a clatter of hooves the queen’s hunting party followed their monarch across the courtyard and along the forest path. When they were no longer visible, Brice turned to find Meredith watching their departure with a look of naked hunger in her eyes. He felt her pain, sharp and swift, for he knew what it was to miss his home.
“Come,” he said in a tone softer than he’d intended. “They could be the last visitors we shall entertain for a long time.”
“Do you not find it lonely here in the Highlands?”
Brice offered his arm and she placed her hand upon it. Instantly he felt the rush of heat and marveled that this woman could be the cause of such discomfort.
“I have never felt lonely here.”
He led her to the library and instructed a servant to bring two goblets of wine. Pulling the settle close to the fire he indicated that she should sit, while he chose to stand beside the fireplace. His arm rested along the mantel.
“Have you never known loneliness?” Meredith asked.
“Aye.” He accepted a goblet of wine and sipped. “I accompanied the queen to France. Those were the loneliest days of my life.”
“Why did you go?”
“My father feared for the safety of the young queen. He wanted her to be surrounded by friends who would remain loyal. Also, he argued that I could get a better education in France than I could here in Scotland.” Brice gave a bitter laugh. “I did receive a fine education at the French Court. I learned that not all animals stalk the woods. Some dress in fine clothes and pass themselves off as aristocrats. And wait for a chance to attack unknowing prey.”
Meredith heard the venom in his tone and wondered about it. What had happened to him in France to make him so bitter?
For long minutes he stared broodingly into the flames, before pulling himself from his dark thoughts. He set down the goblet on a low table and summoned a servant.
“Accompany the lady to my chambers,” he said. “And fetch Angus and Holden to stand guard over her until I return.”
Meredith turned, about to protest his latest order. But one glance at the tight set of his mouth convinced her to hold her tongue. Brice Campbell was in no mood to answer to her. Or to anyone.
The aroma of wood smoke mingled with the lingering scent of roasted meat. Two men lounged outside the door of Brice’s chambers.
“’Twas truly a banquet fit for the queen,” Holden Mackay said thoughtfully.
“Aye.”
“Plovers and partridges by the dozen,” Holden taunted, watching his friend’s mouth water. “Not to mention rabbits, geese, venison. But the plump partridges were my favorite.”
“I wonder if Mistress Snow has any partridge left,” Angus said, stretching out his long legs.
“You cannot be thinking of food after all we ate this day.” Holden grinned. It was common knowledge that Angus Gordon, thin as a rail, was always hungry. The mere mention of food made him salivate. Besides, the young widow Snow, who worked in the kitchens along with Cara’s mother, was as appetizing a little morsel as the food she prepared. Angus spent an inordinate amount of time in her presence.
“I could eat a bite or two. But Brice wants us here until he returns.”
“Brice will probably be gone until dawn. You saw the look on his face. When those black moods come upon him, he rides the woods for hours.”
“Aye.” Angus stood and began pacing. “But I intend to be here when he returns. I have faced his anger before when his orders were disobeyed.”
Holden leaned back on the bench, stretching his hands above his head. �
�Mistress Snow makes a fine pudding. And her scones are the envy of every woman in the Highlands.”
“Stop talking about food.” Angus turned and paced the other way.
“If you wish, I will stay here and keep watch.” Holden glanced at the closed doors. “There has been no sound from within for an hour. I’ll wager the girl has fallen asleep.”
“Aye.” Angus stifled a yawn. “’Tis late enough. If I do not eat something soon, I’ll not be able to stay awake.”
“Go then.” Holden was on his feet and turning his friend in the direction of the stairs. “Coax some food from Mistress Snow. And when you’ve had your fill—” he gave an evil leer “—of both partridge and Mistress Snow, come back here and we’ll keep watch together.”
“You do not mind?” Angus paused at the head of the stairs.
Holden shook his head and waved him on. “Nay. Go, old friend.”
With a laugh Angus was gone.
When the sound of footsteps died, Holden peered about, then walked to the door of Brice’s chambers. With his ear to the door he listened intently for several minutes. Then, taking a last glance around, he pressed a shoulder to the door and entered without a sound.
Meredith had decided to take matters into her own hands. Since Brice had seen to it that guards were posted outside the door of the chambers where she was being held, she would simply have to find another way out of her prison.
She knelt on the floor tying strips of linen together. Because there were still servants moving about the courtyard below from time to time, she was unable to drop the rope of linens from the window of her upper room to test its length. But she had determined that when these last three strips were attached, she would have enough to at least get her close to the ground. Under cover of darkness, with the servants snugly in their beds, she would slip from the window to the courtyard. If the rope was too short she was prepared to drop the rest of the way and pray that she broke no bones in her fall.
In preparation for her escape she had removed her soiled wedding gown and, having rummaged through Brice’s wardrobe, had donned tight breeches and a shirt of lawn. On the floor beside her lay a tunic and warm cloak, which she intended to pull on just before she made good her escape.
As she knotted the linen strips her hair swirled forward in a wild tangle of curls. There was no time to plait it. With one hand she brushed the tangles aside and continued working.
The only sound in the room was the occasional hiss and snap of the burning logs on the grate. It was not until a shadow fell across her that she looked up in surprise.
“So. What is this?” Holden reached down and snatched the linen from her hands. Studying the knotted rope he arched a brow and looked down at her with sudden respect.
Meredith sprang to her feet with the agility of a cat. Another chance for escape was slipping through her fingers.
“Give it to me,” she cried, her voice low and husky. As she made a grab for it his fingers closed around her wrist, holding her still.
“Brice’s anger will be a fearsome thing when he sees this.”
He studied the way her hair streamed down her shoulders and across her bodice. His gaze fastened on Brice’s saffron shirt fastened snugly against her high, firm breasts. Even if he had not been sufficiently aroused, the strange sight of a woman in tight breeches was more than he could endure.
“By all that is holy you are the most beguiling woman I have ever seen.”
At the look of hunger in his eyes she was gripped by a sudden, paralyzing fear. She tried to step back but he kept his hand firmly around her wrist.
“Perhaps,” he said in a voice meant to seduce, “Brice need never know what you had planned.”
“You would keep this from him?”
In one quick movement he looped the linen rope about her neck and drew her roughly toward him, until their faces were nearly touching. “I could be persuaded.”
Meredith’s heart lurched. There was no mistaking Holden’s meaning.
While he held the rope with one hand, his other hand moved to the fasteners of her shirt. When she resisted, he caught at the collar and pulled. With a ripping sound the fabric gave way and tore open, exposing a delicate lace chemise beneath.
“Please. I’ve…” She swallowed down the hard lump of fear. She must not scream. That would bring the entire staff of servants down upon her. And there was still a chance that she could break free and escape. “I’ve never been with a man.”
She saw the light that came into his eyes as he regarded her. “All the better.” He twisted the rope until he heard her sudden intake of breath. With mock seriousness he whispered, “Forgive me, my lady. Am I choking you?”
Her hands clawed at the rope but he only twisted it more until her eyes swam with tears.
“Please.” She struggled for a breath. “I cannot breathe.”
“Would you like me to loosen it, my lady?”
She nodded her head and clutched at his hands but he only laughed and gave the rope a final vicious twist. “Do not fight me, Meredith MacAlpin. Soon you will lose consciousness. And when you awaken, you will find out what it is that men have enjoyed from the beginning of time.”
“Nay.” She felt the floor tilt and the room begin to spin and still he would not relent. Though she kicked and fought and clawed at his hands he never loosened his hold on the rope.
She heard a strange buzzing in her ears, and tiny black specks seemed to float through the air. Though she fought the feeling, she was slipping, slipping. Her hands went limp and she felt her knees buckle.
As she slid to the floor he knelt over her and loosened the rope, then reached both hands to her torn shirt.
In some dark corner of her mind she heard the ripping sound as the shirt was torn from her.
Chapter Seven
Though she was barely conscious, Meredith continued to fight her attacker. She felt a sense of outrage as strong hands tore at her breeches. With no weapon, she used her fingernails to scratch and gouge at the offending hands. And when Holden ignored her feeble attempts, she sank her teeth into his hand, drawing a spurt of blood.
He was stunned by her determination. Though he had seen traces of her fire and spirit, he had convinced himself that this female would be cowed by his superior strength.
“Stupid wench.”
He slapped her so hard her head was snapped to one side. Pain danced through a haze of bright stars before she fell back defeated.
As Holden’s hands reached for her, a voice from the doorway caused him to pause in midair.
“Step away from the woman.”
Holden turned to see Brice facing him. By the flickering flames of the fire, Holden could see the glint of a knife in Brice’s hand.
Meredith’s attacker felt a trickle of sweat mingle with the blood that oozed from his wounds. He recognized the look of fury that darkened Brice’s features. There were many men he would fight for a beauty such as this one. But never would he wish to fight Brice Campbell. Especially in a temper like this.
Thinking quickly he said, “The wench called out to me. And when I entered your chamber she acted the part of a temptress. Look how she is dressed.”
He scrambled quickly to his feet, stepping a little away from Meredith. Brice saw, for the first time, the tight breeches, the gaping shirt.
Meredith opened her eyes and felt her head swim as she tried to sit up. At a glance she took in Brice, dagger in hand, facing Holden. She felt a momentary rush of relief. Safe. Now she would be safe from her vicious attacker. It was Holden’s words that sent her hopes plummeting.
“The wench thought if she could seduce me I would be persuaded not to tell you that she was trying to escape. But I remembered your orders, Brice. Though she put up a fierce struggle, I was able to keep her from slipping out the window.”
Meredith thought about protesting. But why would Brice Campbell accept her word against that of one of his own men? With a feeling of desperation she lay back, prepared for eve
n more punishment from the man who should have been her protector.
Brice took a step closer. “Aye. I see the tunic and warm cloak folded atop a fur throw in preparation for travel. Woman, there is no denying that you intended once more to attempt an escape.”
His gaze locked on the knotted rope of linen that trailed the floor. “You are a clever lass. You even prepared your escape from a dangerous height.”
Suddenly his gaze followed the trail of linen rope from the window, to where it was still coiled loosely about her throat. Dark purple welts were already forming on her flesh. From the way her shirt fell open he knew that it had not been merely unfastened by a woman about to seduce. It was rent nearly in two. And the torn breeches were further indictment.
His gaze lifted to Meredith’s face. He saw the dull pain that glazed her eyes. And something else. Terror. Sheer terror.
His fury bubbled dangerously close to the surface. He felt the warmth of the dirk in his hand and fought a surging desire to bury it in Holden’s massive chest. What chance did a fragile, unarmed woman have against an animal like Holden Mackay?
In the blink of an eye the anger and guilt transferred from Holden to Brice himself. Who had left the lass in this brute’s hands? Who had foolishly thought that a man, far from the comfort of his own clan, could be trusted with the care of a prisoner as beautiful as Meredith MacAlpin?
Had it not been for his own complicity in this, Brice would have killed Holden Mackay for this ugly deed.
In a tightly controlled voice he rasped, “Mackay, you will leave us. You have violated someone under my protection. Return to your people. You are no longer welcome in Kinloch House.”
Holden experienced a wild surge of relief. He had feared, from the savage look in Brice’s eyes, that he would have to battle him to the death. But just as quickly the relief disappeared, to be replaced by a growing sense of wrath.
“Aye.” Holden’s eyes glinted with sudden anger. “Turn on your old friends from the north for the sake of a wench who has bewitched you. But the day will come when you will regret this. On that day, when you need the might of the Mackay armies, we will remember this night and take up arms with your enemy.”