Highland Barbarian (Highlander Series) (15 page)

“You look rather pleased this morn, my lord.”

“Aye. How could I be less than pleased with the woman I love lying in my arms?”

She sighed and drew her arms around his neck. “I feared I would awake and discover it was all a dream.”

“It was no dream, my love,” he murmured against her lips. “Nor is this.”

His kiss was hot, hungry. His lips persuasive. And because he had spent the night learning all the secret, intimate places of her body, he was able to arouse her instantly.

“If it be a dream,” she breathed inside his mouth, “pray do not wake me till it is over.”

L
ocked in the arms of her love, Meredith drifted on a cloud of contentment. For days now they had closeted themselves in Brice’s chambers, leaving their private haven only occasionally to inspect the work being done on the great hall.

Though everyone at Kinloch House, servants and soldiers alike, whispered about the lovers, Brice and Meredith remained blissfully unaware of anything except each other. Wrapped in a safe cocoon of love, it mattered not to them that they were the object of much speculation.

When Mistress Snow realized what was happening, she instructed the servants to respect the privacy of the laird of the manor and his lady. Their meals were announced, then set up quickly in the sitting chamber. Fires were laid, tapers lit in sconces, linens replaced with as much haste as possible.

Even Angus conspired to keep young Jamie so busy with the carpentry work that the lad had almost no time to visit with Brice and Meredith. Or to disturb their bliss.

Through it all the young couple was so absorbed in their newly discovered love for each other, they never noticed what went on around them.

In the great hall Brice moved among his men, stopping often to admire the work being done. In the doorway Meredith paused to watch. It was so good to see Brice move without the stiffness that had marked his movements immediately after the battle with the MacKenzies. At last his health was completely restored. His full strength had returned.

At the clatter of arriving horses in the courtyard she turned and made her way to the door. Alston, the red-bearded warrior who had long fought beside Brice, dismounted and handed over his mount to a stable boy before striding across the courtyard.

Glancing at the lathered steed Meredith remarked, “You have ridden far, Alston.”

“Aye, my lady.” He shook the dust from his plumed hat and paused. “I come from the Lowlands.”

Home. The thought was poignant, fleeting. She quickly dismissed it.

“Was there a reason you rode so far from your Highlands?”

“Brice set for me the task of gathering information about the MacAlpins and the MacKenzies, my lady.”

She was oddly touched by Brice’s concern. “And how do my people fare without me?”

“They continue to be plagued by night riders and highwaymen who steal their sheep and cattle, and even murder those unfortunate enough to be out after dark.”

Her smile faded. “And Gareth MacKenzie?”

He seemed to hesitate for a fraction before saying softly, “Gareth MacKenzie rides to Holyroodhouse to have the queen declare you dead.”

“Dead!” Her eyes widened in shock. “But why would he do such a thing?”

“Since you have not been seen, he and his men are convinced that you perished in the Highland forests.” His voice softened when he saw the pain that crossed her features. “By declaring you officially dead, your next of kin will become the leader of your people.”

“My next of kin.”

Alston stepped past her with a bow. “My pardon, my lady. I must report my findings to Brice.”

As he strode down the long hall, Meredith suddenly leaned against the heavy door as the realization sank in. Her next of kin was her sister, sixteen-year-old Brenna. Sweet, shy Brenna. She would be no match against the charms of Gareth MacKenzie. He would convince her, as he had once convinced Meredith, that they must combine their land and forces if they would stand against the unseen Highland monsters who attacked in the night. The MacAlpins, old Duncan and his wife Mary, as well as all the others, would be so weary of the killings, they would urge poor Brenna to accept Gareth’s offer and unite their people against a common enemy. And once wed, Gareth would claim Brenna’s land and easily dispose of her, should she prove to be a burden.

And what of the youngest, Megan? Impulsive, headstrong Megan. Would the same fate befall her in time?

Meredith felt a sense of horror and revulsion. She shivered and realized that her hands were as cold as ice. While she was safety ensconced in the Highlands, secure in Brice’s love, her little sisters were in grave peril.

Her first thought was to run tearfully to Brice and plead with him to go to their assistance. Then she recalled the extreme hatred Gareth nurtured for Brice. For now, Brice was safe only because Gareth thought him dead. As long as Brice stayed in his Highland forest, he could not be harmed.

The same was true for her. But there was a difference. This was her personal battle. She could not possibly stay here, safe and warm, while her family was in grave danger. She must show herself to her people. And she must unmask Gareth MacKenzie as the lying murderer she knew him to be.

The MacAlpins would rally round her. Though it would be a bloody battle, they were warriors. Had they not held back the English invaders along the Border for centuries?

The decision was made instantly, with no thought to her own peril. She would return to the Lowlands. She would assemble her people. They would drive Gareth MacKenzie from their land and wrest back control of their own destinies.

With quick strides she hurried to Brice’s chambers. Before he returned from his inspection of the great hall, she had much to prepare.

~ ~ ~

Brice was in a festive mood. The work in the great hall was moving swiftly. In no time it would be restored to its former elegance. Even now, as the charred beams were replaced, and the windows scrubbed of smoke and soot, carpenters labored to make new settles, tables and chairs. Hunters returned with animal hides to replace the ones that had gone up in smoke. And although many of the tapestries had been burned beyond repair, the women of the clan had already begun work on new ones, depicting the Campbell ancestors, their victories, their lineage. These new ones, Mistress Snow had informed him, would also include his own life history, and any wife and children to follow.

So they knew, he thought with a smile. The entire household knew that he and Meredith were lovers. And if the household staff knew, and his men knew, then the entire clan, sequestered in the surrounding forests, had been informed as well.

That thought pleased him. He wanted everyone to know that he loved Meredith MacAlpin. He wanted his friends to rejoice with him. And as soon as the work on the great hall was completed, they would join him in a feast to celebrate his marriage to the beautiful Meredith.

He was also pleased by the news Alston had brought this day. If Gareth MacKenzie believed that Meredith was dead, she would be safe from any further attempts on her life. At least, he reasoned, until such time as she proved to the Lowlanders that she was indeed alive. It would take time for Gareth to travel to Holyroodhouse and seek an audience with the queen. By that time Brice and Meredith would be wed. Together they would lead his men to the Lowlands to secure Meredith’s birthright. By the sheer numbers of MacAlpin and Campbell soldiers, they would thwart any further attempt by Gareth MacKenzie to take by force what was not his.

Peace. Love. Brice had never dared hope that either would be experienced in his lifetime. And now both were within his grasp.

He gave Mistress Snow his request for a very special meal, then made his way to his chambers. Tonight, if the time proved right, he would reveal his plans to her. And he would ask her hand in marriage.

Meredith looked up from the wardrobe. On her cheeks were two bright spots of color. When she saw him she gave a little cry and ran to his arms.

The kiss she gave him sent his pulse rate soaring.

“Firebrand,” he murmured against her lips. “Have you missed me so much?”

“Aye.”

He marveled at the way she clung to him, as if they had been apart for days instead of mere hours.

Leading him to a long covered bench pulled up in front of the fire, she curled up beside him, still clinging to him as if to a lifeline.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

“Not nearly as much as I love you, my lady. I would die for you,” he murmured against her temple.

Instantly she touched a finger to his lips to silence him. “Never say that again. I do not wish you dead, my lord. Not even for me.”

“But what good would it do to live if you were not here to live with me?”

“You are important to your people,” she said, pulling away slightly. “So many people depend upon you. You have a duty to be here for them.”

“And so I shall, little firebrand.” He pulled her into his arms and rained kisses across her forehead. “We shall both be here for them.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And we will spend our days having wee bairns and taking them for picnics in the forest.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.

His words tormented her. She allowed herself to savor the kiss for long moments before whispering, “Such a lovely dream, my lord.”

“It is no dream. We shall live it. We shall have it all.”

“Oh, Brice. If only it could be.” With tears burning her eyes she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, burying her face against his throat.

“Trust me,” he murmured against her temple. “There is so much I want to tell you. So much I want to share with you.”

“Hush, my lord.” She blinked away the tears and drew his face down for her kiss. “Not now. I cannot bear to hear mere words. Show me.”

With a tenderness he had never known before, he lifted her in his arms and set her on the fur throw spread before the fire.

As he reached for the buttons of her gown, she caught his hand and stared up into his eyes.

“I want you to know this,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “No matter what happens, I love you, Brice Campbell. For all time. And wherever I am, you are there with me.”

He was moved, as much by the intensity of her words as the words themselves. Though this serious little woman often made him laugh, there was now no hint of laughter in his words.

“And I love you, little one. I will love you for a lifetime and beyond.”

Bathed in the glow of the fire, they lost themselves in the wonder of their love. Brice marveled at the depth of her passion. Never before had she shown her love so intensely. Never had their love burned brighter, or ignited such fire between them.

~ ~ ~

Meredith looked down at the sleeping form of her love. It took all her willpower to keep from crying. She must not weep. She must be strong, not only for Brice, but for her sisters who needed her.

“Please understand,” she whispered as she scrawled a message on a parchment scroll and set it on a table near the bed.

From his wardrobe she withdrew the things she had prepared earlier. Shedding her delicately embroidered night shift, she pulled on a pair of Brice’s breeches, tucking them into tall boots. Over the saffron shirt, a symbol of the Highlander, and dark tunic, she secured a heavy cape. At her waist dangled a sword. Tucked into her waistband was a small, sharp dirk. She tucked her hair beneath a plumed hat and draped a fur throw over her arm. In a small pouch she had stuffed the remains of their supper.

She paused beside Brice’s bed and cast a last loving glance at him as he slept. He had whispered love words to her all the while they had savored Mistress Snow’s wonderful meal. And while they had sipped wine, he had smiled and hinted that he had important plans to share with her. Plans that would change both their lives.

How she loved him. How she would miss him in the days and weeks to come.

But her home beckoned her. Her clan needed her. She had no choice.

In the doorway to the sitting chamber she paused and peered through the dim light. No one stirred. Satisfied, she closed the door and strode quickly down the stairs.

She avoided the courtyard, choosing instead to leave by a rear door in the scullery. Crossing around to the stables, she chose a great black stallion. Ignoring the sidesaddles, she tossed a man’s saddle over the animal’s back and rolled and tied the fur behind it.

Because she knew Brice’s men patrolled the paths leading to the castle, she led the horse through brambles and dense undergrowth. When she was certain she was far enough away to ride undetected, she pulled herself into the saddle and spurred her mount on. By the time Brice awoke and alerted his men to what she had done, she promised herself, she would be miles away.

~ ~ ~

Brice drifted on a misty cloud, half awake, half asleep.

What a beautiful night he and Meredith had shared. What a wonderful surprise she was. That fiery, innocent lass he had brought to Kinloch House was a constant delight. Each time he peeled away a layer he discovered an even more exciting creature beneath.

The child in her brought out all his fierce protective instincts. The imp in her made him laugh. The woman in her made him ache.

He rolled to his side and reached for her. He had been too distracted last night by her beauty, by her almost desperate lovemaking, to share his plans with her. Today he would officially ask for her hand in marriage. And then, when she accepted, he would tell her of his plans for their future.

The rest of the bed was empty.

From beneath half-closed lids he noted that the sun was already streaming through the windows. Why did she have to be up and about when he was feeling lazy, and more than a little eager to hold her, to love her as he had last night?

With a sigh he moved to her side of the bed and breathed in her fragrance. Within minutes she would return, mayhaps with a tray laden with Mistress Snow’s warm biscuits. They would have a lazy morning of lovemaking, and then he would take her into his confidence.

The bed was cold where she had lain.

Suddenly alarmed, Brice sat up and looked around. The fire had long ago burned to ashes. No one had tended it. Few remains of their supper lay on a tray near the fireplace.

Meredith’s night shift lay on the floor. In the open wardrobe her gowns could be seen, hanging neatly on pegs beside his tunics. None of the gowns appeared to be missing.

Crossing the room Brice lifted her night shift. it was unlike Meredith to leave it there. Draping it over his arm he turned and spotted the scroll. In quick strides he walked to the small table and read the message.

Dearest Brice, I go to my sisters who need me. You must not follow. Gareth thinks you dead. Your secret is safe with me. Know always that I love you. M.