Highland Barbarian

  Leading the way down a narrow lane near the Canongate, he stopped before a tidy inn. Leaving the women with Angus, Brice went inside. Within minutes he was back to help the women dismount. Lifting their supplies from the packhorse, he led the way to a suite of comfortable rooms.

  “Angus and I have the rooms across the hall,” he explained. “The innkeeper will provide us with a meal. As soon as you have refreshed yourselves, you may join us below stairs to sup.”

  Megan and Brenna were grateful for the chance to wash away the grime of the journey. Running a brush through their tangled curls, they smoothed their gowns and draped shawls of delicate lace about their shoulders. Then they made their way to the dining room.

  Brice and Angus were standing before a roaring fire, enjoying tankards of ale. Their conversation was low, muted. They looked up as the two young women entered.

  “We will sit here.” Brice led them to a table set with fine linen and china.

  Under the direction of the innkeeper a serving wench offered goblets of wine to warm them. She passed around whole roasted goose, suet pudding and sweetbreads. With tea there were biscuits warm from the oven, spread with clotted cream and jam.

  At last they sat back, content, replete.

  “I do not remember when a meal tasted so lovely.” Brenna sighed.

  “Aye. ’Twas a difficult journey. But you were true to your word,” Brice said, emptying his tankard. “You neither complained nor slowed us down.”

  Megan voiced the fear that none of them had been willing to put into words. “What of Meredith? Do you think she is as fortunate as we are, Brice?”

  He glanced at Megan, then at her sister, and read the fear on both their faces. “Aye. Somewhere in Edinburgh she is sitting before a roaring fire, enjoying a fine meal.” He could not allow himself to think about the alternative. He would not allow himself to think about his beloved Meredith prowling the darkened streets in search of decent lodging. And in the process, running into Gareth MacKenzie and his men.

  ~ ~ ~

  Brice escorted the young women to their rooms, then returned to his own suite and reached for his sword and scabbard.

  “Where do go you now, old friend?”

  Brice turned to Angus. “Stay here and see to the safety of Meredith’s sisters.”

  “And you?”

  “I cannot sleep, knowing that Meredith is somewhere here in Edinburgh, possibly in grave danger.”

  “The city is too large to find one lone woman.”

  “Mayhaps. But I must try.”

  Angus watched as his friend stalked across the room. He listened as Brice’s footsteps faded on the stairs. There would be no rest for Brice Campbell this night. Or any night until he once again held the woman he loved in his arms.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Now where have you hidden away that rogue Brice Campbell and his beautiful hostage, Meredith MacAlpin?”

  At the familiar majestic tones Meredith sat up and rubbed her eyes. God in heaven. She had fallen asleep in the queen’s own chambers. How she must look with her hair in wild disarray and her clothes soiled from the long journey.

  Her clothes. Meredith glanced down at the breeches and tunic and the faded cloak and let out a little gasp. This was not how she had planned on meeting the queen.

  As she swung her legs to the floor the door was thrown open and the queen, followed by her-ever-present Maries, strode into the room.

  “Now where is that rogue?”

  “Brice Campbell was not with her,” Mary Fleming said gently. “Although the gatekeeper mentioned both names, the young woman was alone.”

  “It is true then. Brice is dead.”

  “Majesty.” Meredith curtsied and kept her head lowered as she explained, “Brice is not dead.”

  She did not see the look that crossed the queen’s face. A look of relief that slowly became a look of pleasure.

  “I used Brice’s name because I knew you would not remember me.”

  “Not remember the woman who pretended to be me at dinner?” The queen gave a musical laugh. “How could I ever forget you, Meredith MacAlpin?”

  “I am honored, Majesty.” Meredith dared to lift her head and realized that the queen was studying her carefully.

  “Such an extraordinary traveling costume, Meredith.”

  “Aye, Majesty.” Meredith blushed clear to her toes. “The breeches and tunic are Brice’s. The cloak belonged to a wonderful seamstress who befriended me.”

  “Surely you have not ridden all the way from the Highlands?”

  “I have, Majesty, But first I made a stop at my home on the Border.”

  “I have been hearing tales of murder along the Border,” the queen said, taking a seat and indicating a chair for Meredith.

  “There have been many murders, Majesty.”

  “’Tis said they are committed by the Highland Barbarian.”

  “You know that cannot be true.” Meredith leaned forward, praying that the queen would allow her to speak frankly.

  “And how would I know that?”

  “You know Brice Campbell to be an honorable man.”

  “Aye. I do. But I did not think you shared my opinion. The last time I saw you, you were begging to be saved from his clutches.”

  Meredith saw the gleam of laughter in the queen’s eyes and smiled. “So much has changed since last I saw you, Majesty.”

  “So it would seem.” The queen signaled for wine. When it was poured, she lifted a goblet and waited until Meredith and the Maries did the same. “You must tell me everything that has happened between you and Brice since I left.” The queen’s eyes glittered with a strange light. “And you must leave nothing out.”

  “Oh, Majesty.” Meredith took a sip of the wine, allowing its warmth to soothe. “There is so much to tell.”

  “We have all the time in the world.”

  While Meredith began, the servants brought in a sumptuous meal.

  “So,” the queen said as Meredith recounted the attack by Gareth MacKenzie and the resulting injury to Brice, “you found yourself fighting alongside Brice’s men for your very life.”

  “Aye, Majesty. And when the battle was over, Kinloch House was burned and many of its inhabitants wounded. Among them Brice. We feared he would not live.”

  “And that is how the rumor of his death came about?”

  “Aye. Gareth and his men found no heartbeat. Nor did I upon first examination. But finally I found a pulse, weak, feeble, but a sign of life nevertheless.”

  “And you bravely brought him through the crisis.”

  Meredith glanced toward the queen to see if she were jesting. But there was no hint of a smile on her face.

  “Aye. He survived. Thanks be to God.”

  “Why did you leave him?”

  “When I heard that Gareth MacKenzie intended to seek an audience with you and have me declared dead, I knew that I had to journey to Edinburgh and fight for my rights.”

  “Once again you have proven your mettle, Meredith MacAlpin. You make all Scotswomen proud.” The queen allowed her gaze to linger a moment on Meredith’s face before she turned to Mary Fleming. “Is it not Divine Providence that has sent her to us?”

  Fleming nodded and spoke rapidly in French to the others, who began laughing and nodding.

  “What is it, Majesty?”

  The queen stood, drawing herself up to her full height before staring down at Meredith. “You are privileged to write history, Meredith MacAlpin. Because of your strong resemblance to your queen, and the fact that you have been sent to me at my very hour of need, you will provide a great service to your queen.”

  Meredith glanced uneasily around the table, puzzled by the tension she could feel.

  “Tomorrow at Court, Meredith,” the queen said somberly, “you will be me.”

  “You, Majesty? But where will you be?”

  “I will be—indisposed,” the queen said enigmatically.

  “But why?”

  The queen clappe
d her hands and began to laugh. “I cannot keep this a secret from you, Meredith. Tomorrow I am to be kidnapped by a secret admirer.”

  “Kidnapped.” Meredith was thunderstruck.

  “Aye. Is it not the most romantic thing you have ever heard of? Ever since I heard your story, I have yearned to experience such a thing. And now it has come to pass. A certain—nobleman desires to be alone with me. And since the queen can never be alone with a gentleman, I must arrange to be kidnapped. But, of course, if I were not to appear at Court, there would have to be a reasonable explanation. We had thought that I would plead one of my famous headaches. But now that you are here, I need not be absent from Court at all. Is this not truly exciting?”

  “But, Majesty, there are affairs of state to be determined each day at Court. How can I handle such issues?”

  “Simple. Whatever you decree, it is the decree of the queen.”

  “Majesty!” Meredith felt a sense of hysteria bubbling dangerously close to the surface. But the queen blithely went on making her plans.

  “Flem will help you with names and faces. And Seton and Beaton will sit on either side of you for assistance. Because of you, your queen will experience a day of freedom, Meredith.”

  Feeling desperately alone, Meredith glanced about the room. Candles flickered in sconces along walls hung with rich French tapestries and gilt-framed mirrors. On the floor were elegant carpets. The table, the chairs, nearly all the furniture in the queen’s sitting chamber, had been brought from France. The women seated around the queen giggled and made comments in French, and Mary responded rapidly in the same language.

  As she sat in their midst, watching, listening, it occurred to Meredith that they could just as easily have been in the French Court. In fact, she realized with sudden knowledge, that was what Mary had created here in Edinburgh. Dismissing the somber landscape beyond the walls of Holyroodhouse, denying the tension created by John Knox against her, Mary had created a pale imitation of the Court in France, which she so desperately missed. The man she planned to meet secretly would take the place, for a while, of the husband she still mourned. And the women around her, wishing to see to her happiness, were part of the game.

  It was all a game, Meredith thought with a sense of panic. The palace, the Court, the petitioners who awaited the verdict of their queen. All a terrible, awe-inspiring game. And on the morrow, she would become a key player in this deadly game. A game that as yet seemed to have no rules.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Brenna, Megan and Angus looked up from their early-morning meal as the door to the inn was thrown open. When Brice stepped inside Angus hurried to him. There was no need to ask the question that sprang to his lips. One look at the tight, hard set of Brice’s mouth told Angus all he wanted to know.

  “You did not find her.”

  “Not a trace.” Brice ran a hand over the stubble of dark beard that covered his chin. “I inquired at every inn and stable. There has been no sign of her.”

  “Perhaps she was delayed along the way.”

  Brice’s eyes were bleak. “Or ran into Gareth MacKenzie’s company.”

  “Come, old friend,” Angus said gently. “Break your fast with us.”

  “Nay. We must hurry to Holyroodhouse and demand a private audience with the queen.” He brushed past Angus. “I will make myself presentable and then we ride.”

  Brenna and Megan turned to each other with a growing sense of dread. They had not known until this moment that Brice had stayed out all night searching for Meredith. They pushed away from the table, feeling a hard knot of fear in the pit of their stomachs. What had happened to their beloved Meredith?

  Within the hour the four were riding through the city to the queen’s residence. The keeper of the gate of Holyroodhouse accepted a message from Brice, then withdrew. After what seemed an eternity he returned, along with a soldier who rolled the heavy gate open. The gatekeeper motioned for the four visitors to follow him.

  Brice’s look was impassive, his fears carefully hidden behind the mask of a proper nobleman. Behind him, Brenna and Megan could hardly contain their excitement. Despite their fears for their sister, one thought was uppermost in their minds. The palace. They were actually inside the palace and were going to meet the queen.

  ~ ~ ~

  A servant drew open the heavy draperies, allowing the morning sunlight to stream into the room. In the ornate bed Meredith awoke from sleep as one drugged. After her exhausting journey from the Highlands, her body had begged for rest. And despite the fears that plagued her upon the queen’s announcement the previous night, sleep had claimed her the moment she had lain her head upon the pillow.

  “Meredith. Meredith.” A hand tugged at her shoulder. The voice of Mary Fleming sounded urgent. “You must wake and dress quickly. You have visitors.”

  “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.”
br />   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.