Highland Heather

"I adored my half-brother. As you and Richard did, Morgan."

  "Aye, Majesty." Morgan placed a hand over the queen's in a gesture of

  comfort and affection.

  "Richard and I taught him to ride. As we did you."

  She chuckled.

  "You were very impatient teachers. You allowed me to fall on my royal"

  She seemed to catch herself, remembering that there were strangers in

  the room.

  "I threatened to have you both whipped. Do you remember?"

  Morgan and Richard burst into laughter.

  "Aye. We hid in the wine cellar for hours to escape your punishment.

  And by the time we finally crawled out, we were both too drunk to

  remember anything."

  "You drank the royal wine?" The queen lifted an eyebrow in a haughty

  gesture, then dissolved into peals of laughter.

  "What else could we do in the wine cellar? We had to wait until your

  royal temper cooled."

  "Sometimes," the queen said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "I

  am amazed that the two of you lived to manhood."

  "Aye, Majesty. Sometimes we are amazed as well."

  "Do you recall how I begged the two of you to become my ministers?"

  "And we argued that we yearned for a life of adventure, away from the

  stifling rules of court."

  "Aye." The queen looked fondly at her two friends.

  Across the room Lord Windham watched with a look of fury. How he

  envied Morgan and Richard Grey their close friendship with the queen.

  Brenna sipped her tea and nibbled a morsel of cake, and lost herself in

  thought. It was strange to picture Morgan as a lad. Even living among

  royalty, it would seem, he managed to be himself, a teasing, fun-loving

  rogue, and to discover adventure. She smiled. Aye, it was strange to

  imagine Morgan playing pranks with Richard and a very young

  Elizabeth.

  She glanced at Richard. What must it be like to lose the ability to

  walk, run, fight? To a strong, virile man like Richard, it must be a

  nightmare from which he never woke. And yet, he seemed less affected

  by it than his brother.

  She saw the way Richard's gaze followed the young French woman. And

  she noted the lingering looks the girl gave Richard when she thought he

  was not looking. There was no pity in Adrianna's eyes; only admiration

  for the handsome rogue who sat beside the queen.

  Brenna realized for the first time since her arrival in England, she

  felt completely relaxed. Was it, she asked herself, because the queen

  had gone out of her way to be kind? Or was it because she was seeing

  Morgan Grey as a person, and not as her jailer? Usually, whenever he

  was around, there was a tension in her that she could not explain.

  "And what of your childhood in Scotland, Brenna? Was it so

  different?"

  Elizabeth asked.

  "I think not. I learned to ride as soon as I could walk. My earliest

  memories are of being astride my father's shaggy red stallion while he

  stood beside me, speaking words of encouragement in that deep,

  wonderful voice of his."

  Morgan listened with interest. It was rare to hear Brenna speak of her

  childhood.

  "And what of women's work?" Madeline asked.

  "My mother often despaired other daughters ever learning a skill with

  needle and thread, or in the kitchen. We adored our father and wanted

  to share his life." Brenna smiled.

  "But after my mother's death, the many duties of running a household

  were thrust upon me. Though I must admit that even now the adventure

  of the hunt is a great love of mine."

  "So the man who weds you will have the best of both teachers, the

  warrior and the wife." Cordell was gazing at Brenna with a look of

  pure adoration.

  Across the room Morgan felt a wave of annoyance and an instant dislike

  for the handsome youth who was devouring Brenna with his eyes. The

  elegantly attired Frenchman would look more at home at the queen's

  court than on a battlefield. It would seem that apple-cheeked boys

  whose hands were not as yet callused from holding a sword or earning

  their bread were always attracted to the beautiful Brenna.

  Seeing his scowl, Madeline asked, "What is wrong, mon cher? Are the

  cakes not sweet enough for your taste?"

  He shoved the plate aside.

  "I have had my fill of tea and cakes."

  "Ale, my lord?" Mistress Leems signaled a servant to fill his

  goblet.

  He gave her a grateful smile.

  "I have begun to think," Lord Windham said to the queen, "that the

  Scotswoman would indeed be a prize for a titled Englishman. She is

  easy to look at. She is quite charming. And she can manage a

  household."

  He stared pointedly at Brenna, and she felt the heat rise to her

  cheeks. Her eyes darkened with anger. The man was studying her,

  speaking about her, as if she were a prize sow.

  "Have you forgotten her temper, Windham?" The queen leaned back,

  enjoying herself.

  "Nay, Majesty. But I have found that a woman can be controlled much

  the same as a spirited mare--a firm hand, a tight rein, and," he added

  with a cruel smile, "a whip, when all else fails."

  Glancing at him, Brenna felt an icy chill at the smile that split his

  lips. In his eyes there was neither warmth nor humor. She had no

  doubt that the man was a tyrant who would derive pleasure from

  inflicting pain.

  Morgan's hand curled into a fist at his side. A whip, indeed! He had

  spotted the fear in Brenna's eyes before she blinked it away. He had

  an almost overpowering urge to go to her and offer his strength and

  comfort. Though he would derive more pleasure at the moment if he

  could hold a whip over Windham's head until he begged for mercy.

  Richard glanced from his brother to the woman who held his gaze.

  Clearing his throat he said, "I pray the tea and cakes have soothed you

  after your journey, Majesty. Mistress Leems has planned a special

  dinner. But first, I am certain you will wish to rest."

  "Aye. In a moment." Elizabeth pursed her lips in thought, then said,

  "I have been informed that a legion of Highland warriors is seeking an

  audience with me in London."

  Brenna's heart soared. Megan had reached the Highlands. Brice would

  take her from this place.

  Elizabeth went on, "It seems that they seek to deliver a petition from

  my cousin, Mary of Scotland, on behalf of Brice Campbell, to free his

  wife's sister."

  Everyone in the room glanced at Brenna, whose eyes were touched with

  sudden light.

  "I sent word with a messenger that I am unable to meet with them at

  this time. I urged them to return to Scotland secure in the knowledge

  that the woman they seek is in good hands." The queen stood, and the

  others followed suit.

  "I would sleep an hour or two before we sup."

  Morgan filled the awkward silence.

  "Then I bid you good rest, Majesty."

  Richard kissed her hand and Morgan did the same. When the queen and

  her company left the room, Brenna fled to the privacy of her

  chambers.

  But while the
others slept, she paced the floor, struggling to calm the

  storm that raged within. She had allowed herself to be lulled by this

  peaceful retreat. But she was not safe anywhere in England. The queen

  had no intention of freeing her. And her last hope, her countrymen,

  had abandoned her.

  At any moment, Brenna knew, the queen could decide her fate. A fate

  that could make her the wife of any Englishman who asked for her. Even

  a madman.

  Lord Windham's words had struck terror in her heart.

  "I tell you he intends to ask for the Lady Brenna." Richard's words

  were an urgent whisper.

  "What would you have me do?" Morgan stood by the window, staring

  bleakly at the sky.

  "God in heaven, man. I have seen the way you look at her. You are not

  immune to her charms."

  Morgan turned.

  "I cannot marry her."

  Richard's hands balled into fists.

  "If I had legs to carry me, I would wrestle you to the floor and fight

  you like I did when we were lads until you came to your senses."

  "It would do you no more good now than it did then."

  "Aye. You were always the most stubborn, obstinate lout in all of

  England."

  Usually such words would bring a wry smile to Morgan's lips. But his

  mood was so foul, not even a hint of laughter touched his eyes.

  Richard watched as Morgan squared his shoulders and began to walk

  toward the door.

  In his fury Richard grabbed a crystal goblet from the table beside him

  and hurled it. It shattered against the wall just above Morgan's

  shoulder, spraying him with shards of broken glass.

  "Of the two of us, you are the cripple," Richard shouted.

  "Even after all these years you have never allowed yourself to heal."

  Without emotion, Morgan brushed the glass from his tunic and opened the

  door. When it closed behind him, Richard looked at it for long, silent

  minutes before turning to stare broodingly into the fire.

  Dinner was to be a formal affair. All the guests were assembled when a

  servant announced the arrival of the queen. When the doors were

  opened, Elizabeth stood beside Morgan. She was arrayed in a scarlet

  gown; he in a scarlet tunic. Both of them looked very grave, their

  heads bent in intimate conversation. Everyone curtsied. Elizabeth

  acknowledged their greeting, then accepted a goblet from one of the

  serving wenches.

  "Dinner is served," Mistress Leems intoned.

  "I am ravenous," the queen said.

  "After your excellent confections earlier, Mistress Leems, I am anxious

  to see what other surprises you have for me."

  "The Lady Brenna has been most helpful in choosing the menu,

  Majesty."

  Elizabeth shot a glance at the young woman who stood beside Madeline.

  "Then we shall all have a chance to judge your skill in the kitchen,

  Brenna.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Brenna saw Lord Windham cross the room

  toward her. Just then Cordell offered her his arm.

  "May I accompany you in to sup, my lady?"

  "Thank you." She placed her hand on the young Frenchman's arm and

  together they swept past Windham, who stood scowling after them.

  Quickly recovering, he offered his arm to Madeline, who cheerfully

  accepted. The others fell into line behind them. A servant pushed

  Richard's chair. Seeing him, Adrianna slowed her steps until she was

  moving along beside him.

  Richard glanced at the lovely young French woman, then away. It galled

  him that he could not stride gallantly along beside her. Each time he

  thought he had made his peace with his infirmity, something came along

  to challenge him. Something or--someone.

  "You have a most lovely home, my lord," Adrianna said softly.

  He loved the accent that softened all her words.

  "Thank you. In truth, it is my brother's, since Morgan is the

  eldest."

  "But you live here."

  "Aye. I find life in London too fast for my taste."

  "I have visited my sister in London."

  "Do you like it?"

  She shrugged.

  "It is like Paris. As you said, very fast. But here..."

  She glanced around as they entered the large, airy refectory.

  "Here there is time to think, to feel, to breathe."

  "Aye. To breathe. The air is sweeter here than anywhere on earth."

  She smiled shyly.

  "I noticed. From my chambers I can smell the roses from the garden.

  They are so lovely."

  "Do you like roses?"

  "Oui. They are my favorite, I think."

  His smile grew.

  "Then I shall have to show you my mother's rose garden."

  "I would like that."

  "Tomorrow," he whispered as they took their places at table.

  "After we break our fast."

  She nodded, then looked up as Morgan offered a toast to the queen.

  Beside her, Richard found himself almost trembling with anticipation.

  He felt as he had when he was a young apprentice, about to enter his

  first joust.

  "A finer meal I have never eaten, Mistress Leems." The queen sat back,

  content, replete. She was a woman accustomed to the best. But this

  time, Morgan's housekeeper had outdone herself.

  "I took the liberty," the queen said to Morgan, "of inviting my

  musicians to accompany me."

  "You are too kind."

  "If I need not be at court, I intend to enjoy myself. I wish to dance,

  to laugh, to forget the troubles of the Crown for a little while."

  "Then we shall dance, Majesty."

  Morgan offered his arm and the queen stood. Around the table the

  others stood and followed Elizabeth and her escort to the great room,

  where the musicians were assembled.

  At the queen's signal, they began to play. The men and women who had

  accompanied the queen from Richmond Palace took up their positions for

  the dance.

  Brenna stood to one side and drank in the view. With their long, stiff

  skirts billowing around their feet, the women in their colorful gowns

  seemed to float across the floor in the arms of their partners.

  The queen accepted Morgan's outstretched hand. Madeline's husband

  kissed her fondly before offering her his arm. Cordell bowed before

  his sister and was surprised when she demurred.

  "You will not dance?"

  "Not now," she said softly.

  "I would prefer to stay here and watch."

  She took a seat beside Richard, all the while keeping her shy gaze

  averted.

  Richard's smile grew until it was dazzling.

  Cordell approached Brenna.

  "Will you dance, my lady?"

  She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his. With a

  laugh he twirled her around. And then they were caught up in Ue crush

  of laughing, dancing couples.

  When the dance ended, Cordell returned Brenna to the side of the room,

  where servants had set up tables and chairs.

  Before she could catch her breath Morgan was standing before her. She

  placed her hand in his and he led her to the dance floor. Without a

  word he drew her into his arms and began to move. And as if in a

  trance she moved with
him, following his lead as easily as if they had

  always danced together.

  "You have not forgotten." His breath was warm against her temple.

  "I have forgotten nothing, my lord." Neither the way his strong arms

  held her as gently as if she were made of crystal, nor the way her

  heart raced each time they came together. If only he were not

  English.

  If only they had met at some other time, some other place. She could

  have so easily loved him, she thought.

  Love.

  Her eyes widened and she glanced up at him as if fearful that he could

  somehow read her mind.

  "What is it, my lady?"

  Her throat was so dry she could hot speak.

  "Is something amiss, Brenna?"

  "Aye." Something was terribly amiss. She felt tears very close to the

  surface and blinked them away. What had come over her? What in the

  world was happening to her?

  "Tell me." His voice was rough.

  "What has caused you such discomfort?"

  You, she thought. You have been the cause of all my pain,

  all my fears, all my disquieting dreams. And you do not even know the

  power you wield over me.

  Without realizing it, her look softened. Her eyes had the look of a

  woman in love. Her lips parted in invitation.

  "I do not know, my lord. There are times when I feel- lost,

  confused."

  "You are not lost. Ice Maiden." He drew her close. His hand

  tightened over hers. If he had it in his power, he would keep her safe

  with him forever.

  Forever. What a strange thought when he knew that there was no such

  thing. Forever was a foolish dream, a silly child's concept that had

  no place in his world. Still, though he knew better, he yearned for

  that which was unattainable. Forever.

  The music ended all too soon. Both Brenna and Morgan were reluctant to

  step apart. When Brenna walked from the dance floor, her cheeks were

  flushed, and on her face was a glow that had not been there earlier.

  But before she could accept a goblet of wine from Morgan's hand, Lord

  Windham caught her in a firm grasp.

  "Would you do me the honor, my lady?"

  "I fear I must take a few moments to catch my breath, my lord." She

  tried to pull her hand away, but he held her fast.

  "There will be ample time for that." He placed a hand at her shoulder

  and propelled her into the circle of dancers.

  Brenna felt his hand at her waist and forced herself to show no

  emotion. It was, she reminded herself, merely a dance. But she could

  not forget his cruel words, his evil threats.

  "You are turning many heads," he muttered as he swept her in a graceful

  arc.

  "You flatter me, my lord."

  "I desire you, my lady. As I know you desire me."

  The color on her cheeks deepened. Her eyes rounded in surprise at his

  boldness.

  He stared down at her, his gaze piercing.

  "There are many rooms here in Grey's home where a man and woman can

  hide from prying eyes."

  At his sinister tone she felt her blood go cold. Never again would she

  permit this man to force her into a compromising situation as he had at

  the queen's banquet. With an unexpected shove, she managed to dislodge

  herself from his arms. As he reached out she evaded his touch and took

  another step back.

  "You must excuse me. Lord Windham. I fear I must rest a moment from

  the rigors of dancing."

  Lifting her skirts, she nearly ran in her haste to escape him. As she

  reached Morgan's side, Windham caught up with her.