an assignment, suggesting that it was beneath your dignity as a
warrior, and fit merely for a lackey. Yet this simple task has taken
you away from me for too long. Did you not miss the sight of your
queen?"
Morgan stepped closer, leaving Brenna encircled by his men. His voice
warmed.
"Aye, Majesty. I have missed not only your beauty, but your sharp
tongue as well. There are few who can match words as my queen."
Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed.
"I, too, have missed our duel of wits, my Lord Grey. I am truly
pleased that you have returned.
Now tell me the outcome of your journey to Scotland. "
"The people are still mistrustful of the English, Majesty. And though
I assured them that we came in peace, I could sense that they did not
believe me."
"They had the word of your queen."
Morgan smiled at Elizabeth's sudden flash of anger.
"Aye, Majesty. But I think you were wise in your decision to bind the
two countries through an arrangement of marriages. We have lost many a
good Englishman on the Scottish border."
"The Highland chiefs," Elizabeth said dryly, "have already pledged
their loyalty to me through the Treaty of Edinburgh."
"Aye. There is that. But our borders continue to be plagued by
outbreaks of fighting, Majesty."
"So, Morgan, you suddenly approve of these arranged marriages."
Elizabeth held out her hand and drew him close. Many women in the room
watched the scene with interest. Morgan Grey was a handsome devil who
caused more than a few female hearts to flutter. And the queen was as
yet unwed.
"Tell me about this Scotswoman who leads her clan."
"I will do better than that, Majesty. I will present her to you."
He turned. At his command his men moved aside, revealing Brenna.
"Majesty, may I present Brenna MacAlpin, leader of the clan MacAlpin of
Scotland."
Many in the crowd gasped. At their reaction, Brenna lifted her head
defiantly.
The queen appeared stunned for a moment before regaining her
composure.
"Can this truly be the leader of her people? In such a state of
disarray?"
Brenna's cheeks went bright red, but she continued to meet Elizabeth's
direct look.
The queen lifted a bejeweled hand.
"Look at her. Her hair tumbles wildly around her cheeks and shoulders
and spills down her back in a tangle of curls. Her traveling gown and
cloak are dusty and wrinkled.
And is that blood upon her gown, Morgan? "
He flushed uncomfortably.
"Aye, Majesty."
"Her blood?"
"Mine."
"You subdued her with your sword?"
"She attacked me with a knife."
The queen looked more closely at the woman who stood before her.
Arching an eyebrow she said, "She more resembles an orphaned waif than
a leader." She turned toward Morgan.
"Is she truly the MacAlpin, my Lord Grey, or are you rivaling the Court
jester?"
"I do not jest, Majesty."
"But why have you brought her here like a common prisoner?"
"Because she attempted to evade your wishes, Majesty. The Lady Brenna
vowed she would marry a man of her own choosing."
"She did?" The queen's look changed suddenly, from one of disdain to
one of sharp interest.
"Aye, Majesty. I was forced to track her to the Highlands. Once
there, I decided it was in your Majesty's best interest to keep her
with me until your Majesty decided her fate."
"She ran from you?" The queen studied the young woman before her.
"This one small female managed to elude Morgan Grey? And to wound him
in the fray?" The queen's eyes danced with unconcealed humor.
"Oh, this is a fine joke. Can it be that the man who subdues entire
armies cannot control one woman?"
Morgan's eyes grew steely.
"And you were forced to follow her to the dangerous Highlands?"
He nodded.
"How very interesting." The queen studied the way the two refused to
look at one another. The emotions flowing between them were raw and
savage.
"And so you have brought her here against her will." The queen smiled
slowly.
"A very--wise decision, my Lord Grey, although my cousin Mary of
Scotland would perhaps not agree."
Elizabeth addressed the woman.
"You would choose your own husband?"
"It is the way of the MacAlpin."
At Brenna's harsh tone, there was a distinct silence in the room.
Every eye was on the woman who sat upon the throne. Though small in
stature, Elizabeth was every inch the queen. She tolerated no show of
disrespect in her presence. Especially not from one who swore
allegiance to another.
The queen turned toward the gallery of robed men who sat to one side.
Brenna's voice carried through the suddenly quiet crowd.
"In my country, women are not chattel, to be bargained for. Nor
jewels, to be worn for adornment. We are valued for ourselves. And
since our lives are so deeply affected by the choice of partner, our
voices are heard."
Though the queen's eyes flashed, her lips softened into a smile. There
was an audible sigh through the crowd. Once more the queen's anger had
been diffused.
"I would ask the council to pay heed to this Scotswoman. Your queen is
not the only one who wishes to choose her own husband."
Morgan chuckled, low and deep in his throat. Beside him, Alden laughed
aloud. Gradually others around the room did the same. The atmosphere
became more relaxed.
Turning back to Brenna, the queen said, "What am I to do with you,
Brenna MacAlpin? Shall I parade every titled Englishman past you,
until you choose the one who piques your interest?"
"Nay, Majesty. The Englishman is not born who will win my heart."
"Is there, perhaps, a Scotsman who holds your heart?"
Morgan waited a moment, unaware that he was holding his breath.
"There is not. But I will not be bartered like a fatted calf."
The queen's smile suddenly faded.
"I would advise you, woman, to beware of your sharp tongue. There is
only one here who will decide your fate."
The queen saw the flash of fire in Brenna's eyes before she lowered her
head. And though Elizabeth admired her courage, she would tolerate no
show of disrespect.
"What of you, Morgan Grey?" The queen saw the way he watched the woman
beside him.
"Would you be willing to take on the unpleasant task of marriage to the
unwilling lady?"
"Majesty." Morgan's tone was patient.
"You are aware of my feelings toward the unholy sacrament of misery."
Many in the room laughed at his words.
"Aye. You are, I believe, the man who swore that marriage was the
lowest form of slavery."
Alden swallowed his laughter and pointedly stared at a spot on the
floor rather than face his friend.
In her agitation, Elizabeth got up from her throne and walked forward
until she came to a halt beside Morgan and the wom
an. In a low voice
she said, "I am more than a little surprised, my Lord Grey. And, I
might add, disappointed. Since you dared to risk the fragile peace
between our two countries and bring this--ragged woman here against her
will, I declare that you are responsible for her until I find someone
willing to wed her."
Morgan frowned.
"I was merely following my instincts as a soldier.
Majesty. I am convinced that this woman would surely have married one
of her own countrymen before your plans could be implemented. "
The queen sighed.
"If you were not such a rogue, I would insist that you take your duty a
step farther and wed this baggage." Elizabeth flashed one of her most
brilliant smiles.
"Of course, since you are descended from royalty, I had always thought
you to be one of my suitors."
Morgan's eyes twinkled with teasing laughter.
"If I thought I had a chance to win your heart, Majesty, you know I
would pledge my own. But though we are true friends, I fear your heart
lies elsewhere."
The young queen looked up into his handsome face and felt the familiar
twinge. He was indeed a man who could start a fire in her blood, as he
did, it seemed, in the blood of every woman in the kingdom. But they
both knew that he was far too lusty a man to spend the rest of his life
observing rules of protocol while his wife governed. Life at court had
always been the part of royal life that Morgan Grey least enjoyed.
Which was probably why he sought the battlefield.
Elizabeth looked from Brenna to Morgan. "" Tis said the Scots will
need a firm hand if they are to be won over. And there is no firmer
hand in all of England than yours. Also, there is no doubt as to your
loyalty, my friend. But I suppose I cannot ask this truly supreme
sacrifice.
Marriage. " She chuckled as if it were a great joke.
"To this--untidy foreigner."
"I would rather face a horde of invaders without a weapon." Morgan's
tone was crisp.
"But ne'er fear. Majesty. You will find a solution to the problem. I
agree that the woman will not be easy to marry off, especially when a
suitable partner learns how difficult she is to subdue. She is
devious, shrewd and cunning." He touched a hand to his wound.
"Not to mention skilled with a knife."
Even while she shared a laugh with Morgan, the queen saw the look of
anguish in Brenna's eyes and fought to ignore it. Did she not
understand the lady's desire to choose her own destiny? But how many
could afford such a luxury? She lifted her head regally. Not even one
born to the Crown.
"You know I can refuse you no request, Morgan Grey. I am indebted to
you a hundredfold for your loyalty. And so I will not command you to
marry your prisoner. But, though I see the wisdom of bringing her here
until a decision is reached regarding her future, I cannot ask another
to be responsible for the lady. And since she is a woman of noble
birth, I am reluctant to consign her to a prison cell until her future
is decided."
"Aye. The Tower would be too harsh."
Brenna stood rooted to the floor, hearing their words echoing in her
head. This could not be happening. While a hundred strangers watched
with disinterest, her fate was coldly being decided without any regard
for her feelings.
She clenched her hands tightly at her sides and bit her lip to keep
from crying out at the unfairness of it.
Morgan glanced at Brenna. He chose to ignore the anger and fury in her
gaze. Was there not enough anger in his own heart? He was a soldier,
not a nurse. He had seen to his duty, and had brought the Scotswoman
to England. Now he wished to be finished with her. He turned to the
queen.
"I cannot take responsibility for the lady. It is enough that I have
brought her here to you."
The queen watched his eyes, reading the frustration he could not
hide.
"The lady is your prisoner--you are her jailer. Where you go, she
follows. You bear sole responsibility for her."
"And if I go to battle?"
"Your battlefield lies here in England, for now."
"Then I pray. Majesty, that you decide the lady's fate quickly."
The queen could not resist a quick smile.
"All in good time, my lord."
"You mean" -- Brenna's voice was choked with rage "--I have no voice in
my own destiny? I cannot return to my home? I must remain this man's
captive?"
Morgan gave her an indulgent smile.
"It seems you are fated to remain under my--protected care."
"Aye," the queen said quickly.
"Take her and good riddance. Set her up in one of your households,
Morgan, until I am able to arrange a suitable marriage."
Brenna heard no more. She felt the blood rush from her head, leaving
her ashen. The queen's words faded until they were only a slight
buzzing in her ears. The room began to spin in a dizzying rush. And
as she slid to the floor, a soothing black mantle settled over her.
Chapter Seven
q^ztqts^q t
eat during her journey to England? "
Brenna felt the press of a cool, damp cloth against her forehead and
struggled to open her eyes.
Morgan's voice, deep with concern, was very near.
"I tried to feed her. The damned female refused all offers of food."
"And did you allow her to rest, mon cher?"
"Rest? I am a soldier, on a mission for my queen. I expected her to
keep up."
Brenna heard the queen's voice, low, regal.
"Was she not given even a moment's privacy?"
"I foolishly offered her privacy. But only once. She bolted and tried
to run home to Scotland. My men and I were forced to waste precious
time chasing after her again. I tell you, the woman needs a firm
hand."
"Be careful, Morgan Grey," the gentle French voice said, "that your
firm hand does not break her into little pieces."
"I do not break easily." Brenna's throat felt parched. Her lids
fluttered. Into her line of vision swam an unusual woman's face.
Large, sensuous lips parted in a friendly smile. Almond eyes studied
Brenna with concern.
"Ah. You are awake. You fainted, cherie."
Brenna struggled to sit up.
"Impossible. I have never
The queen could not resist a quick smile.
"All in good time, my lord."
"You mean" -- Brenna's voice was choked with rage "--I have no voice in
my own destiny? I cannot return to my home? I must remain this man's
captive?"
Morgan gave her an indulgent smile.
"It seems you are fated to remain under my--protected care."
"Aye," the queen said quickly.
"Take her and good riddance. Set her up in one of your households,
Morgan, until I am able to arrange a suitable marriage."
Brenna heard no more. She felt the blood rush from her head, leaving
her ashen. The queen's words faded until they were only a slight
&
nbsp; buzzing in her ears. The room began to spin in a dizzying rush. And
as she slid to the floor, a soothing black mantle settled over her.
Chapter Seven
JVlon Dieu. Did you not give this poor child anything to eat during
her journey to England? "
Brenna felt the press of a cool, damp cloth against her forehead and
struggled to open her eyes.
Morgan's voice, deep with concern, was very near.
"I tried to feed her. The damned female refused all offers of food."
"And did you allow her to rest, mon cher?"
"Rest? I am a soldier, on a mission for my queen. I expected her to
keep up."
Brenna heard the queen's voice, low, regal.
"Was she not given even a moment's privacy?"
"I foolishly offered her privacy. But only once. She bolted and tried
to run home to Scotland. My men and I were forced to waste precious
time chasing after her again. I tell you, the woman needs a firm
hand."
"Be careful, Morgan Grey," the gentle French voice said, "that your
firm hand does not break her into little pieces."
"I do not break easily." Brenna's throat felt parched. Her lids
fluttered. Into her line of vision swam an unusual woman's face.
Large, sensuous lips parted in a friendly smile. Almond eyes studied
Brenna with concern.
"Ah. You are awake. You fainted, cherie."
Brenna struggled to sit up.
"Impossible. I have never fainted." The very thought of such a
weakness was repugnant to her.
The woman placed her hand gently on Brenna's shoulder and forced her to
lie still.
"That may be so. But I have known a great many people who react
violently to strange circumstances. Even the strongest woman must give
in to the demands of her body, cherie."
"Who are you?"
"I am Madeline d'Arbeville, Duchess of Eton. And I am told that you
are Brenna MacAlpin, leader of a Borderer clan in Scotland."
"Aye." Brenna gave her a grateful smile.
"Thank you for your kindness.
Where am I? " She glanced around at the sumptuous bed hangings.
"You are in my chambers." The queen leaned close.
In the queen's own bed!
"Majesty, I did not mean to create such a disturbance. Forgive me for
my weakness," Brenna whispered.
Again she struggled to sit up. This time it was Morgan who restrained
her.
"Rest a while longer." His tone was gentler than he'd intended.
"Aye." The queen gave a conspiratorial smile.
"Your little spell gave me the perfect opportunity to dismiss the court
and free myself of all duties for the rest of the day. A rare thing
indeed. Now," she said, linking her arm through Morgan's, "perhaps I
can spend some time with you, dear rogue. We have much to discuss."
Morgan turned toward the figure in the bed. His eyes narrowed as he
studied her carefully, noting with satisfaction that the color was
returning to her cheeks.
"You will stay with Brenna, Madeline?"
"Oui. It will give us a chance to become acquainted."
Brenna watched as Morgan and the queen retired to a small| alcove.
Instantly a servant approached the two with goblets;? of wine. When
the servant left, the queen and her loyal soldier bent their heads
close in intimate conversation. Thougha they kept their voices low,
Brenna was aware of the tension'.
in their tones. Whatever was being discussed, it was obviously of