Ruth Langan Highlanders Bundle

by Ruth Langan

  With a look of astonishment she watched him lick the honey from his finger.

  He gave her a mocking smile. “Your lips made the honey even sweeter.”

  “You are too bold, sir. This time you go too far.”

  She scraped back her chair, nearly knocking it over in her haste to escape his touch. Without a backward glance she lifted her skirts and hurried from the room.

  As she disappeared, Morgan’s lips curved into a lazy, satisfied smile. So, he had managed to ruffle the lady’s feathers. He just might enjoy his stay at MacAlpin Castle after all.

  From his place across the room, old Duncan MacAlpin watched through narrowed gaze.

  “Hamish.” Brenna and Megan launched themselves into the arms of the tall, handsome youth who came to call midmorning.

  Across the room, Morgan assumed a bored expression as he watched.

  “What brings you to MacAlpin Castle?”

  “Everyone knows that there are English soldiers camped about your lands. I could not sleep another night without knowing whether or not you were safe.”

  He took Brenna’s hands and studied her carefully. Too carefully, Morgan thought. Like a lover.

  “Have you or your sister been molested?”

  “We are safe enough. But I am grateful for your concern. Come,” Brenna said. “Meet the leader of the English soldiers.”

  As she led the youth toward him, Morgan noted the dull copper hair, and barely hidden beneath the plaid, the muscled arms and shoulders. The lad’s skin was kissed by the sun, and displayed not a whisker nor a blemish.

  “Hamish MacPherson,” Brenna said with a smile, “this is Morgan Grey, who carries a message of peace from his queen, Elizabeth.”

  The two men studied each other somberly, each taking the measure of the other.

  “Are you a messenger for your clan, lad?”

  Hamish pulled himself up to his full height. He knew of Morgan Grey, called the Queen’s Savage. All of Scotland did. But even his fierce reputation did not give him the right to be insulting. Especially in front of the MacAlpin women.

  “I am the eldest son of Blair, leader of the clan MacPherson. We are pledged to the protection of our neighbors, the MacAlpins, against any danger.”

  “How noble.” Morgan suddenly despised this youth, with his unlined face and ready smile. He’d bet a gold sovereign that the only MacAlpin this callow youth cared about was Brenna. “I assure you, I pose no threat to these good people.”

  Hamish smiled down at the woman beside him. “I am greatly relieved. I came prepared to do battle. You know I would die rather than see you harmed.”

  Brenna lifted her face to him and gave him a look of pure adoration. “I know, Hamish. That was good of you.”

  “Foolish, I would say.”

  All eyes turned toward Morgan.

  “If you came prepared to fight my soldiers, you should have brought half of Scotland with you. One puny man would hardly cause us to change our minds, if we had come on a mission of war instead of peace.”

  The smile was wiped from Hamish’s eyes. His hand went to the sword at his waist. Instantly Brenna caught his hand and twined her fingers in his.

  “Pay no attention to this man’s words, my friend. It is enough to know that you cared enough to risk your life for ours. My sister Megan and I are forever in your debt.”

  The youth caught her hand to his lips and stared deeply into her eyes. “Perhaps you and Megan could come to stay with my people until the English have gone.”

  Brenna turned in time to see the look of fury in Morgan’s dark eyes. What a sense of power it gave her to know that she could rouse the Englishman’s ire with such ease.

  “That is most kind of you. But of course I cannot leave my castle unattended. Nor my guests.” She gave what she hoped was her sweetest smile. “Come, Hamish. You must stay and visit a while. Perhaps you can sup with us this night and return to your own home on the morrow.”

  Hamish MacPherson was overjoyed. Never in his wildest dreams had he hoped for such tender treatment from Brenna MacAlpin. Always in the past, the young woman had treated him like a leper, holding him, like all the others, at arm’s length. Perhaps she was more afraid of this Englishman than she admitted. It would seem that he had arrived just in time.

  He puffed up his chest and allowed himself to be led to the great room. Once there, however, he found himself left alone with the younger one, Megan, while Brenna went off to her chambers.

  It was not until midday, when everyone had gathered for a meal, that Brenna once more singled out Hamish for her attention.

  Beside her, Morgan Grey seethed. The ice maiden, it seemed, had a fondness for pink-cheeked boys with broad shoulders and little between their ears.

  “A rider approaches, my lady. He carries the standard of the English warrior, Morgan Grey.”

  Brenna looked up from her embroidery. Across the room, her sister and Hamish were enjoying a rousing game of cards. Though darkness had descended, the room was made bright by the light of the fire and the candles that burned in sconces along the walls.

  “Does he ride alone?”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  “Since he is a lone rider, allow him to enter.”

  The order was given. Scots soldiers lowered their weapons. The wooden staves were thrown, allowing the huge double doors to swing wide.

  Brenna watched as old Bancroft, the keeper of the door, accepted a scroll from the stranger.

  “He carries a message for his leader, Morgan Grey.”

  Brenna nodded and waited while a servant went in search of the man she had been avoiding all day. When Morgan appeared, she shot him a haughty glance before looking away.

  Morgan scanned the words of the scroll, then looked up with a frown. “Was there nothing more?”

  “Nay, my lord.”

  “Tell the men camped beyond the walls that we will leave at first light.”

  Brenna could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Though she carefully schooled her features to hide the excitement she felt, she could not help but give a sigh of relief as the soldier smartly saluted and turned away.

  “You are leaving, my lord?”

  He heard the note of eagerness in her tone and silently cursed her.

  “Aye.” He ignored Hamish, who had crossed the room to stand protectively beside Brenna. Morgan experienced such a rush of anger it puzzled him. Jealousy? That was impossible. How could he harbor such ridiculous feelings over a woman he didn’t even like? “It seems the queen has need of me.”

  “You are returning to England?” At his nod she added, “I will immediately instruct my servants to prepare food for your journey.”

  “You are too kind, my lady. You need not hurry. We do not leave until the morrow.”

  “But there is much to prepare. The day begins early.”

  As she turned away he saw the relief lurking just below the surface of her composed features. She was overjoyed to be rid of him. If she could, she would see him gone within the hour.

  Well, he thought, watching her retreating back, did he not feel the same way? He had resented this mission. Had resented wasting his time and his men on something so trivial as this Scotswoman. The time he had spent here could have been better spent subduing enemies of the Crown.

  He made his way to the men’s quarters and instructed them to prepare to leave at dawn. Then he made his way to his chambers and packed his few supplies.

  From the desk, he picked up a tankard of ale, then glanced at the notes he had written chronicling the MacAlpin holdings. The Scotswoman was unexpectedly wealthy even by English standards. Brenna MacAlpin would make a fine bride for one of England’s titled noblemen.

  He walked to the balcony and stared at the darkened hills below. Brenna understood what the queen had in mind. And from all that he had observed, she would rather die than allow herself to be wed to an Englishman.

  He swirled the contents of the tankard, deep in thought. She was an intellig
ent woman. More intelligent than most he had met. If she intended to thwart the queen’s plans, there was a simple enough solution. Before he had a chance to reach England and present his findings to the queen, the MacAlpin woman could easily persuade one of her own countrymen to marry her. The oaf below stairs would need no persuasion. He was already a poor dog, eating out of the lady’s hand.

  Once wed, even the Queen of England did not have the power to rule against such a union.

  God in heaven! In just the short time he had known her, he could already glimpse her devious little mind at work. It was what he would do in her place.

  He downed the ale and slammed the tankard onto the desk. As a loyal servant of Elizabeth, he knew what he had to do. With the decision firm in his mind, he felt more lighthearted than he had in days.

  This was not a personal feud, he assured himself. But that would not prevent him from enjoying a certain amount of personal satisfaction at the lady’s discomfort.

  To keep Lady Brenna MacAlpin from marrying another, he would have to force her to accompany him and his men to England.

  Chapter Four

  The sky to the east was still dark when Brenna awoke. With a light heart she climbed from her bed. At the first sound of her footsteps, old Morna, her maid, was at her side, helping her with her morning toilette.

  “You be anxious, child.”

  “Aye. The English soldiers are leaving us this morrow.”

  “Thanks be to God. Their leader, Morgan Grey, is a fearsome man. He reminds me of the one who wed our dear Meredith.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” Brenna studied the old woman’s reflection in her mirror. “Brice Campbell is a Scotsman. Morgan Grey is English.”

  Old Morna shrugged. “Aye. But there is a look about him. A bit of a rogue. If I were fifty years younger…”

  “Are you daft?” Brenna stood and smoothed her skirts. “The man owes his allegiance to the English queen. That makes him our enemy.”

  “You spend an inordinate amount of time staring at your enemy when you think no one is watching.”

  No one except this old woman would ever speak so bluntly to the mistress of MacAlpin Castle. Brenna flushed clear to her toes, then reached for the door pull. “I have no time for your silly prattle. I go below stairs to oversee the food for the English soldiers’ journey.”

  As she flounced away, Brenna fretted over the old woman’s words. Perhaps she had spent a good deal of time staring at Morgan Grey. But it was only because he was a man who could not be trusted. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was indeed easy to look at.

  Halfway down the stairs she turned and found Megan following her. The girl’s face was wreathed with smiles.

  “’Tis a day for rejoicing,” she called, as she caught up with her sister and linked arms with her.

  “Aye. Perhaps our lives can now return to normal.”

  The girls came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs. Morgan Grey stood near the main entrance, calling orders to his men, who were already carrying supplies to the horses who stood saddled and waiting in the outer courtyard.

  “My ladies.” He bowed and smiled charmingly.

  Too charmingly, Brenna thought. This was a side to Morgan Grey that she had not previously witnessed.

  “You are afoot early, my lord. It would appear that you are eager to be away.”

  “Every soldier harbors a longing for home.”

  “Aye. Then I will not delay your departure.” Brenna turned away. “I will see to your morning meal at once.”

  He watched as she hurried away, followed by her sister. For a moment he stood very still as he went over his plan in his mind. Then, confident that he could carry it off, he returned his attention to the men and their supplies.

  The meal was a lavish affair, and at last Brenna had found her appetite. With Morgan about to depart, she felt free to enjoy herself. He watched as she savored the thick slab of pork and bread warm from the oven. When she drank the hot mulled wine, she felt light-headed, and couldn’t decide if it was the wine or the knowledge that she would soon be rid of this troublesome man.

  Across the room she noted that Duncan’s chair was vacant. She would speak with his wife, Mary, as soon as the guests were gone. The old man often had trouble getting out of bed these days. He had earned the right to his rest. Perhaps old Duncan could be persuaded to retire soon and turn over his duties to one of his sons. She hated to admit to herself that the Englishman had been right when he suggested that Duncan’s loyalty was not enough to keep her safe. Her old friend would give his life for her. But that might not be enough. She needed one younger, more agile, at her right hand.

  She turned aside the troubling thoughts. She would find a way to handle the matter gracefully, with no slight on Duncan’s good name.

  Hamish MacPherson was obviously delighted to be part of the festivities. Seated to the left of Brenna, he ate with relish and drank more than a little ale, until his face was flushed and his eyes a bit cloudy.

  He paid special attention to his hostess, hanging on her every word. If the Englishman to her right was scowling, it mattered not to Hamish. Soon enough they would be rid of the scoundrel. And perhaps, if the fates were smiling, he could persuade Brenna MacAlpin to allow him to stay on another day or two.

  When they had had their fill, Brenna and Megan led their guests to the courtyard, eager to bid them farewell.

  “Safe journey, my lord,” Brenna said, her eyes dancing. “You may extend my warm wishes to your monarch.”

  “You may extend those wishes yourself.”

  She thought she heard a trace of laughter in his tone. But his words had her puzzled.

  “I fear you make no sense.”

  He crossed the distance between them and caught her by the arm. Surprised, she stared at the offending hand, then up into his dark eyes.

  “You have but a moment to see to a wardrobe suitable for traveling.”

  “I do not…”

  Her eyes widened. He saw the confusion, then the sudden, terrible knowledge at his next words.

  “I fear I cannot bear to be parted from you. I insist that you accompany me to London, my lady.”

  She swallowed. “You cannot be serious.”

  “My queen has already petitioned her cousin in Edinburgh, my lady. She intends to have you wed to an Englishman. To that end I am sworn to obey.”

  “You cannot take me from my own home, my own land, against my will.”

  “You are wrong, my lady. I fully intend to do just that.”

  At Morgan’s announcement, Hamish MacPherson unsheathed his sword. But before he could brandish it, Morgan’s words stopped him. “Look around you, boy. If you but lift that sword against me, a dozen men will step forward to stop you. And the lady will see you lying at her feet in little pieces.”

  “At least I will have the pleasure of wounding you or perhaps even killing you first.”

  Morgan shrugged carelessly. “If you wish.”

  As Hamish lifted his sword, Morgan unsheathed his own weapon and moved so quickly the lad had no chance to defend himself. The tip of Morgan’s sword pierced his shoulder. Blood spurted as Hamish’s sword clattered to the stones of the courtyard.

  “That is but a warning, nothing more,” Morgan said between clenched teeth. “Know that if I had wanted to kill you, you would already lie dead at my feet.”

  Megan and Brenna rushed to assist the wounded lad.

  Morgan Grey looked beyond them to old Morna, who stood on the steps just inside the castle doors, wringing her hands.

  “Take your mistress upstairs and see that she is dressed in something warm and comfortable for the journey.”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Brenna looked up from her place beside Hamish. “My men will never…”

  “Your men will do as I command.” He called out to Alden, his second in command, who came forward leading Duncan MacAlpin, still dressed in his nightclothes. The old man’s face wa
s flushed with embarrassment.

  “Forgive me, my lady. The villains invaded my sleeping chamber. They are holding my Mary prisoner.”

  Brenna glanced up and saw the old woman standing stiffly on her balcony. An English soldier stood behind her. Morning sunlight glinted on the knife at her throat.

  “So this is your mission of peace.”

  At Brenna’s angry words, Megan pulled the dirk from her waistband and leaped at Morgan Grey. Instantly Brenna wrapped her arms around Megan, pinning her arms at her sides. It took all of Brenna’s strength to contain the fury in the girl.

  “He humiliates us, degrades us and threatens to take you by force. Why do you stop me?”

  “Because I love you,” Brenna whispered furiously. “Because I cannot allow my foolish trust of the man to cost the life of the sister I love more than life itself.”

  “If you love me, let me kill him.”

  “Nay.” Brenna continued to hold her sister until the knife dropped from her fingers. Then she turned her into her arms and allowed her to weep out all her fears and frustration.

  Morgan watched without emotion. When the girl’s tears had been stemmed, he said quietly, “Go with your nurse. Dress quickly. We have wasted enough time.”

  With a last hateful look at her enemy, Brenna turned, keeping her arms firmly around her younger sister as the two followed Morna up the stairs.

  When they were safely in her chambers, Brenna released Megan. Instantly the young girl flew into a rage.

  “Why did you not permit me to attack that villain?”

  “Megan.” Brenna caught her sister by the hand. “I implore you to listen to me. You are a very brave lass. And I love you dearly. But you and I are no match for a man like Morgan Grey.”

  “How can you calmly allow him to take you away from all you love?”

  “I have no intention of giving in to that madman.”

  “But why…”

  Brenna touched a finger to her lips. Both Megan and old Morna gave her their complete attention.

  “Do you remember how we used to climb the castle walls when we were children?”

  Megan nodded. “Mother used to say her heart stopped each time she discovered our little prank.”