The Guardian

by Greyson, Maeve

  Duncan and Gretna stood near the front of the room, close to the dais holding the king’s chair.

  Straightening his clothes, Graham looked to Mercy. “Ready, love?”

  Graham sent up a silent prayer as they joined Duncan and Gretna at the head of the room and just in time. The door known as His Majesty’s private entrance opened, revealing the king.

  He entered the room, and the door closed behind him as though tended by a spirit. His long face was set in a dark scowl, and he marched to his chair.

  Graham’s instincts made him wish he’d tucked his faithful dagger into its hidden sheath at his back. But the king was alone. No servants. No lordlings. A private meeting was a bad sign.

  Releasing his arm, Mercy lowered herself into a deep curtsy.

  Giving Duncan and Gretna a sharp nod to do the same, Graham bowed, glancing to the side to ensure they had understood.

  “Rise,” King William snapped, his glare fixed on Graham. His Majesty stared at him overly long. His scowl shifted to Mercy, and everything about the king changed. There was sadness in his expression, genuine concern. “Are you able to come to us, child? Can you see anything at all?”

  Mercy lifted her chin and smiled. With the aid of her staff, she moved with the grace of a sure-footed deer walking through the heather. “I shall always see my way to you, Your Highness.” She paused when she reached him, frowned for a moment as she stared back and forth at the space in front of her, then held out her hand as she lowered herself into another curtsy. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I am unable to find your hand.”

  King William moved forward and took hold of Mercy’s hand, tears in his eyes. “Rise, child. Sit with us as you once did so long ago, when your troubles were farther away.”

  Graham widened his stance and clasped his hands at his back, unsure what to do or say. Best stay silent. He stole a glance at Duncan who rewarded him with a wide-eyed look.

  Holding tight to Mercy’s hand, King William slouched back in his chair, closed his eyes, and pressed shaking fingers to his temple. He pulled in several deep breaths and released them with loud sighs.

  Graham wished the man would get on with it and spare them the drawn-out dramatics. He understood the king had always been fond of Mercy, but apparently, he’d underestimated the depth of the king’s feelings for his only goddaughter.

  As though he’d heard Graham’s thoughts, King William opened his eyes, sat straighter in the chair, and glared at him. “We bade you to guide and protect our goddaughter through the Highlands. Did we not?”

  “Aye, Your Majesty, but—”

  King William held up a hand. “We are aware of the duke’s abominable actions. While we condoned testing your loyalty and that of Clan MacCoinnich’s, we did not approve of anything else. Is that clearly understood?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Graham tried to relax. He had to say more. He couldn’t resist. “Have ye truly been apprised of all Lady Mercy endured?”

  King William’s look hardened as he settled Mercy’s hand upon his knee and covered it with his own. “We are aware our goddaughter has endured unimaginable abuse. We are also aware she married you.”

  “Aye.” Graham took a step forward. “She is my wife.”

  King William shook his head. He turned to Mercy. “Did this man force himself upon you? Did you marry him to protect your honor?”

  Mercy rested her other hand on top of the king’s. “I love him, Your Majesty. He has cared for me in more ways than I can ever describe. He is a good man …” she paused, stole a glance in Graham’s direction, then turned an even brighter smile back on the king. “…even though he is a Scot.”

  King William nodded down at her. For the first time since he’d entered the room, he looked more at ease. Turning back to Graham, he pulled in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. Coldness settled across him. “You realize she has nothing.”

  “Beg ye’re pardon?” Confusion filled Graham. What did the man mean?

  “You murdered her father.” King William shrugged. “The man deserved it, but there are no assets. No inheritance. Lady Mercy is penniless thanks to her father’s debts. You can also forget whatever gold was promised as payment for her tour through the Highlands. We consider that a failed task, and we are not in the habit of compensating failure.”

  Graham grit his teeth, rage simmering hot and fierce at the insult. “I killed her father because he was a cruel bastard. I dinna give a damn about any inheritance or payment for my services.” Graham strode forward another step. “I married the woman because I love her. Nothing else. Ye can take yer insinuations and yer gold and rot in hell with them.”

  “Graham!” Mercy gripped the king’s hand. “Please forgive him, Your Majesty. I am afraid my husband is a very passionate man and speaks before he thinks.”

  King William smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face. The man was pleased. He nodded, then motioned for Crestshire and Marsden to come forward. “Please escort these two…” He motioned at Duncan and Gretna. “To our personal solar. We shall all enjoy some refreshments after we finish our private business with Lady Mercy and her husband.

  Crestshire and Marsden both sprang into action and led Duncan and Gretna from the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

  King William turned to Mercy. He kissed her fingers, then gently patted her hand. “I loved your mother very much,” he said softly, his voice filled with pain.

  Mercy’s lips parted, but she remained silent.

  Graham tensed. This sort of conversation made him more than a little uncomfortable. Such intimate knowledge about the king could end badly.

  King William released a deep sigh and smiled. “She was so much more to me than a mere mistress. In another world, another time, she would have been my cherished wife. She was my heart, dearest Mercy, and always will be.” King William scooted forward to the edge of his seat, slid a finger under Mercy’s chin, and tilted her face upward. “You are so like her.”

  He turned and looked at Graham. A weariness settled back in place, pulling a deep sigh from his lungs. “When Yumiko placed this precious child in my arms for the first time, our very own baby, I was filled with such indescribable joy.” He shook his head. “And sadness. You see…I held my daughter, the beloved child I could never claim as my own.”

  He lifted Mercy’s hand to his mouth, pressed another kiss to her fingers, then bowed his head. “It is I who must ask forgiveness, my daughter, for allowing all this misfortune to befall you. I promised your mother you would always be under my protection. I failed both her and you.”

  His Majesty lifted his head and leveled his gaze on Graham. “You and your clan are safe as long as you care for Lady Mercy and treat her as the cherished woman she is. But know this, if any more harm befalls her, I shall see that Clan MacCoinnich are wiped from the face of this earth. Is that understood?”

  “Aye.” Graham stepped forward and rested a hand on Mercy’s shoulder. She’d grown pale, and he feared she was about to swoon. “Are ye all right, love?”

  Mercy clutched her hands to her chest, took in a deep breath, and eased it out with a nod. “I had heard rumors,” she said as she turned back to the king. “And Mama always spoke so fondly of you.”

  King William leaned forward, his lowered voice weak and filled with pain. “I still miss her terribly.”

  “So do I,” Mercy whispered.

  Graham suddenly felt very much the outsider. He shouldn’t be here right now. Mercy needed this chance to come to terms with her truths. She needed to speak with the father who had always loved her. “By your leave, Your Majesty, shall I wait in the solar for yourself and Lady Mercy to join us? I feel ye have much to talk about. Alone.”

  “You see? A good man.” Mercy smiled up at the king.

  “A good man,” the king repeated. “A rare thing these days.” He nodded. “We would be most grateful if you would do so, Master MacCoinnich, but we must bid you keep the particulars of this conversation secret for reasons we
are certain you understand.”

  “Aye, Your Majesty.” Graham gave the man the polite bow he’d earned. “I shall take this secret to my grave. I swear it.”

  *

  The curved banister surrounding the balcony held Mercy steady. She upturned her face to the sun, closed her eyes, and sent a silent prayer. I will be all right now, Mama. Rest in peace.

  And she truly believed it. Life had not gone the direction she’d thought it would, but she would take it, relish it, and be thankful.

  Illegitimate daughter to the king. Blind wife to an unruly Scot. Mercy pressed a hand to her stomach, still smooth and flat, but according to Madame Zhou, not for long. She had earned many titles in what seemed like the blink of an eye and also rid herself of many burdens. Life was now filled with promise.

  “Mercy?”

  She smiled at the loving concern she always heard in Graham’s voice. “Here. On the balcony.”

  “Sunning again, are ye?” Graham’s arms slipped around her from behind, and he hugged her back against him. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he nuzzled a kiss to her ear. “Ye’re warm as a bannock straight from the oven. Are ye feeling better after your wee nap?”

  “Much better.” The meeting with the king had drained her. She had begged to be excused after their talk, feeling too sick to speak to anyone. The many revelations had left her emotionally drained. The quiet rest had done her good. “When do we return to Tor Ruadh?”

  “Tomorrow.” Graham chuckled as he hugged her tight, kissed her ear again, then shifted to stand beside her at the banister, his arm still curled about her waist. “Gretna and Duncan are seeing to the packing of the wagons. ’Tis my understanding that ye’ve four trunks of clothing? Is that no’ a bit excessive?” He leaned in close and whispered, his breath tickling her ear, “Even for a king’s daughter?”

  Mercy smiled. Wait until he understood why. Perhaps clothing trunks were the best way to introduce Graham to the subject. “Madame Zhou prepared a complete wardrobe for me now, one for later when I am much larger, and a christening gown, as well as the first few months of swaddling and wraps for the baby.”

  Graham’s arm dropped from around her waist. He took hold of her and turned her toward him. His hands trembled. Oh, how she wished she could see his face. Unable to resist, she reached up and felt his features. Satisfaction filled her. He had taken the news well.

  “A b-bairn?”

  “Yes.” She took his hand and pressed it to her stomach. “According to Madame Zhou, we await our first child.”

  Graham roared, gathered her hard against his chest, then jerked a step back, still holding her by the shoulders. “Lord. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Did I hurt ye?”

  Laughter spilled from her. What a fine father Graham would be. “No. You most certainly did not hurt me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I am not a fragile flower.”

  He tucked his face into the curve of her neck and rumbled against her in a growling whisper, “Nay. Ye’re no’ a fragile flower. Ye’re a rare, fearless woman, and ye’re all mine.”

  Epilogue

  Tor Ruadh

  Summer 1694

  The sight of Mercy cradling their son in her arms nearly brought him to his knees in gratitude each and every time. Her laughter paired with their son’s contented cooing was the sweetest song he’d ever heard. Aye, life was good, and he’d been blessed a damn sight more than he deserved.

  Graham leaned back against the low, stone wall of the inner courtyard, contentment filling his heart. He nodded toward the women, Mercy, Catriona, and Gretna, enjoying the warm spring sunshine of the garden with all the bairns. “This happiness could be yours, brother.”

  Duncan shifted in place, then elbowed Sutherland leaning against the wall as well. “He’s talking to ye.”

  “I think not,” Sutherland said with a pointed look at Gretna. “She’s widowed six months now, has three young ones to feed, and the two of ye have always been close.” Sutherland graced Duncan with a knowing smirk and poked him in the chest. “He’s speaking to yourself.”

  Graham caught Mercy’s head barely turning in their direction. She’d bade him speak to Duncan about Gretna, and he’d agreed to do it to keep the peace, knowing full well it would more than likely not go as she wished.

  “Besides, I leave for Skye tomorrow,” Duncan said. “The MacDonald pays a fair price for a good smuggler able to slip past the excise man, and I need some coin.” He pushed away from the wall and rolled his shoulders, his eagerness apparent. His tone faltered as his gaze followed the women moving about the garden. “Gretna’s a fine woman. Deserves better than me. I’m no’ the sort to sit about and bounce bairns on my knee. I could never keep her happy.”

  “Alexander and I felt the same way before our wives changed us,” Graham said with the wisdom of time and experience forcing a smile he couldn’t wipe off his face if he tried. “Fate had other plans for me.”

  Duncan clapped a hand to his shoulder. “My fate is to be the favorite uncle of all my brothers’ bairns, ye ken? I’ll regale them with stories of my exciting adventures. Just ye wait and see.”

  Graham laughed, and Sutherland rolled his eyes.

  “Godspeed to ye, brother,” Graham said as Duncan sauntered away. “May God and fate, both, have mercy on your soul,” he added under his breath.

  “I’m off before the lovely Lady Mercy decides I’m next to be fitted with a wife.” Sutherland strode from the garden at the quickened pace of a man running for his life.

  Graham shook his head and huffed out a silent laugh. Fools, his brothers. The both of them. Someday, they’d long for the contentment he’d found. He joined the trio of women herding the children. Coming up behind Mercy, he wrapped his arms around her waist and propped his chin atop her shoulder. “We shall have to look elsewhere for a match for Gretna, dear one,” he whispered as he nuzzled a kiss to her neck, then smiled down at his son. “Duncan and Sutherland are fools.”

  “I heard.” Mercy lifted the babe to her shoulder and kissed his chubby cheek. The child let out a gurgling laugh, hands grabbing for Graham’s nose. Mercy laughed. “Little Ramsay loves the garden. It always puts him in the best of moods.”

  Graham took Ramsay out of Mercy’s arms and lifted him high until the child squealed with delight. “That’s because he’s an adventurous wee lad who love his Highlands.” He cradled the child in the crook of one arm, took hold of Mercy, and led her a few steps away from the others. “I have news I think will please ye.”

  “What?” Mercy leaned closer, hugging his arm to her side.

  “Alexander has asked we stay here. Permanently.” Graham watched Mercy closely. She feared herself a burden on those at Tor Ruadh, especially since Ramsay’s birth. But she worried about managing a home should they build a keep of their own. “Alexander needs my help with the running of the clan. The Neal-MacCoinnich union has been prosperous and grown.”

  Mercy rested her cheek against his shoulder, caught hold of the baby’s hand. “You are certain it’s not charity? Pity?”

  “Nay,” Graham reassured. He glanced back at the others at the far edge of the garden. “He and Catriona both said they need us here, and since Gretna lost her husband, she needs ye as well. Helping ye gives her comfort.” He pressed a kiss to her furrowed brow, praying the news would ease her worries. “They both said the entire third level of the keep is ours to fill with our bairns.”

  Ramsay squealed and kicked his tiny feet back and forth, rubbing his heels together as though dancing.

  Mercy brightened. “Your son appears pleased with the news that he’ll live here and grow up with his cousins.”

  “And what of his mother?”

  Mercy’s peace and happiness meant more to him than anything. Graham watched the emotions play across her face.

  Mercy’s brow smoothed and she smiled. “Yes. I am pleased too.” She tickled her fingers across the babe’s tummy and leaned close enough so he could pat her face. She laugh
ed and cocked her head as though listening. “What’s that, my son? What’s that you say?”

  Ramsay gurgled and cooed and kicked his feet even faster.

  Mercy straightened and gave Graham a pointed look. “Ramsay says he wishes he had a sister.”

  Graham laughed and pulled Mercy into a hug as he looked down at the wee lad. “I shall do my best to grant that wish, my son—as soon as ye take a nap.”

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  Read on for a Sneak Peek at The Warrior!

  Chapter One

  Northwest Highlands, Scotland

  Outside the town of Inverness

  Spring 1694

  Smuggling.

  The very word shot a charge of crackling anticipation through him.

  Duncan MacCoinnich worried the worn leather reins between finger and thumb, hungering for this latest adventure like a man starved for weeks. Aye, this would be quite the change not only from fighting as a warrior for hire but also from helping his brother Alexander adapt to his new role as chieftain of the newly formed Clan MacCoinnich.