From her position between Angus and Holden, Meredith was forced to watch as the queen and her friends taught Brice and the others the latest dances.
It was almost scandalous to see the way the women directed the men to hold them close while the music played. Their feet moved in perfect rhythm, their bodies swaying gently. One shocking new dance even ended with a kiss.
Meredith watched in stunned silence as the queen lifted her face to Brice. Their lips brushed. The men and women around them clapped their hands and called out encouragement.
Young Jamie MacDonald watched in stunned silence. Brice was actually kissing the queen.
“Ah,” Mary said, smiling. “You have not lost your touch, Brice. You are still able to make my heart leap to my throat with a single touch.”
“And you, Madame,” he said with a smile, “are still the most outrageous flirt, as well as the finest dancer in all of France or Scotland.”
“You flatter me.”
“Nay, Mary,” he said, offering his arm and leading her across the room. “Your love of the dance is obvious. You move like a leaf in the wind.”
“The heart of a poet beats in the breast of this warrior,” the queen said to the others with a laugh.
“I believe it is my dance, Majesty.”
The queen turned into the arms of one of the men from her hunting party and together they twirled away. Over her partner’s shoulder Mary called, “Dance with your hostage, Brice. I think it only fair that you teach her the dances of Paris.”
Brice’s smile remained in place until he turned away. At that moment Meredith saw the little frown of frustration that was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He held out his hand and Meredith was forced to accept it.
“I do not dance, my lord.”
“Your queen has commanded it.”
He saw her bite her lip as she moved into his embrace. As his arms encircled her the feeling was swift, immediate. It was not at all a pleasant sensation.
Against her temple he growled, “You might try smiling. Learning the dance is not quite as painful as a public flogging.”
“Are you so certain? I did not see you smiling a moment ago.” She tried to ignore the feeling that curled deep inside.
“I was thinking that I should first search your person to determine if you carried a knife.”
She gave him an exaggerated, beguiling smile. “If I did, my lord, it would not be in my hand. It would be in your back.”
She felt his hand tighten at her waist as he led her through the intricate movements of the dance. Their bodies moved together, stiffly at first. But as the music of the harp and lute washed over them, they began to relax in each other’s arms.
There was warmth along her flesh where his hand rested. Meredith could feel each of his fingers at her back, and was alarmed at the prickly sensation his touch aroused. His breath was warm against her temple. In the crush of dancers he drew her closer, until she could feel his lips pressed to a tangle of her hair. The hand holding hers was strong and firm as he led her with ease. She felt a trembling inside that had nothing to do with the fact that she was disobeying the law of the kirk by dancing. Nay, it was not the dance that was her undoing; it was the man holding her.
As Brice turned her, he was acutely aware of her breasts crushed against his chest. Her thigh brushed his and he felt the heat. Her hand, so small and soft in his, showed the bruises from his show of force the previous night. He felt a trace of remorse at the way he’d been forced to treat her.
“I had hoped to return to the Borders this day and finish this business between myself and Gareth MacKenzie. Then you could be restored to your people.”
“Instead you dance to the queen’s musicians.”
“It cannot be helped.”
“Aye. So many things, it seems, cannot be helped.” Her eyes grew stormy. “You could not help killing Desmond. You could not help taking me prisoner.”
There was heat now of a different kind as Brice held her in his arms. He was not proud of having mistakenly killed an innocent. Nor was he happy about having taken her hostage. She had hit a nerve. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to throttle her.
Meredith fought back the feelings that simmered inside her. She had hoped that by insulting him, by reminding herself who this man was, she could sweep aside this insidious reaction to his mere touch. But nothing, it seemed, could save her from her weakness.
“The dance is ending,” the queen called. “We must all kiss.”
Meredith pulled away but she was no match for Brice’s strength.
Brice bent, determined to casually touch his lips to hers. This was, after all, not really a kiss. It was nothing more than the latest silly fashion from Paris.
It was the merest touch of lips to lips. It lasted only the briefest moment in time. And yet, in that single second, she felt the fire and reacted as if she’d been burned. The moment his lips brushed hers, she flinched.
Brice felt it as well. He forced himself to absorb the shock with absolutely no expression on his face. The hands at her waist remained still as he commanded them not to draw her closer. But he could not control his pulsebeat. It throbbed at his temples, causing his blood to heat until it was a raging fire.
“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 de
pressing 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 res
pect.
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.”