Highland Barbarian (Highlander Series) (23 page)

“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.

B
renna, 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.”

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.

Surely in the light of day the queen would see the folly of her plan. It was unthinkable that Mary would permit herself to be abducted by a nobleman for the sake of a romantic interlude. She must realize the risk to her reputation if her secret was discovered. Further, could not the queen see how impossible it was for an imposter to assume the throne? Even for one day?

Meredith’s head swam with questions as she turned to watch the flurry of activity. Several servants were busy laying out a gown of regal scarlet velvet, along with a tiara of diamonds and rubies, and a necklace of ornate gold filigree and matching rubies.

Meredith’s mouth rounded in an O of appreciation. “Oh, Majesty, it is breathtakingly beautiful. You will look magnificent.”

The queen smiled indulgently while her friends giggled like children.

“I will not be wearing it,” Mary said without a trace of regret. “The gown is for you, Meredith.”

“Majesty.” Meredith drew back. “I could not. It is too fine.”

“But you will be presiding over Court this day. You must look every inch the queen.”

Meredith crossed her arms over her middle, feeling her stomach churn. “Please, Majesty. I beg you. Forget this foolish dream. You must not do this thing you plan.”

“But I shall.” The queen stood and walked to her, grasping her cold hands and forcing her to meet her steady gaze. “For so long now I have dreamed of being, not the queen, but an ordinary woman. I want to experience what other women have, Meredith. I want to be loved like a woman. And you are going to make this dream possible.”

“Majesty,” Meredith whispered, forcing the words from a throat that had gone suddenly dry. “What will become of the people who come to the queen for solace, and find me instead? What of the pronouncements I make this day in your name? Are they all to be withdrawn on the morrow?”

“Nay, Meredith. Have no fear.” Mary brought her arm about the trembling woman and drew her close. “When you sit upon the throne this day, you speak for the queen. You are the queen. Whatever you declare, it is law. And whatever you rescind, it is rescinded for all time. Is that clear?”

A violent tremor rocked the young woman’s slender frame. “Oh, Majesty. That makes it even more difficult to bear. I am not worthy to pass judgment on others. I have not the right.”

“I give you the right,” the queen said sternly. “Am I not your queen?”

“Aye, Majesty.”

“Then kneel, Meredith, and accept the edict of your queen.”

Meredith knelt and the queen touched a hand to her shoulder. In regal tones she pronounced, “I, Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, do declare you, Meredith MacAlpin, the bearer of my name and seal this day. All that you proclaim on this day shall be law. Let no man rescind your orders.”

Meredith swallowed down the little knot of fear that rose in her throat. When the queen caught her hands and drew her to her feet, she was startled to see that the Maries were no longer laughing. For the first time they realized what a dangerous scheme had been set in motion.

“Now,” the queen said regally, “go to your sisters and the rogue who carries his heart on his sleeve. Confide in no one. And when it is time to dress for Court, you must do so without drawing undue attention to yourself.” As Meredith prepared to make further protest, the queen gave her a friendly shove. “Go. I command you to put aside your fears.”

Even though it was a royal command, Meredith knew it was impossible to obey. Her fears for what was to come could not be ignored.

~ ~ ~

The preparations for Court were a blur of activity. Meredith stood in the queen’s chambers, staring at her reflection in a looking glass, while servants dressed her hair and helped her into her gown and jewels. When the crown of diamonds and rubies was placed upon her head, she felt as if the weight of the entire world had suddenly been thrust upon her.

She turned to where Mary stood, surrounded by her Maries. Wearing a flowing gossamer gown of palest pink, with her hair loose and falling in soft waves to her waist, the queen looked for the first time like the young girl she was. Her cheeks were flushed with the thrill of her adventure. Her eyes sparkled. With a little laugh she crossed the room and took Meredith’s cold hands.

“Meredith MacAlpin. You have earned the undying gratitude of your queen.”

“Majesty.”

As Meredith began to curtsy Mary stopped her. “You will bow to no one this day. Remember. You are the queen.”

As tears misted Meredith’s eyes Mary called, “Flem, take Her Majesty to meet with Lord Aston.” To Meredith she said softly, “He will go over your appointments this day, which have already been scheduled. If there is time he will ask you to read the list of petitioners.”

So that the others could not hear, Meredith whispered, “Majesty, there is still time to end this charade.”

“Look at me,” the queen commanded.

Meredith stared into her eyes.

“Would you ask me to give up this one chance to live as others do?”

Meredith slowly shook her head. “I am unworthy to ask anything of you, Majesty.”

“God bless you,” the queen said with feeling. Then, hugging Meredith to her, she turned away.

Mary Fleming took Meredith’s arm and led her to a small council chamber where the queen met daily with her advisers.

~ ~ ~

The keeper of the gate at Holyroodhouse strode toward the crowd of elegantly dressed men and women who gathered at the entrance of the castle. Unrolling his scroll, he began to read the list of names who would be granted an audience.

From their position in an upper window, Brenna and Megan watched the spectacle with avid interest. When Meredith had told them that they would be permitted to attend Court this day, they nearly fainted. Had it not been for the strong arms of the men who accompanied them, they would not have been brave enough to walk through the hallowed halls and follow the gnarled old man who led the procession to the throne room.

As they were ushered into the elegant great hall, they stared at lush tapestries depicting the royal lineage from the time of the first great Scottish king. The floors were covered with rich carpets bearing the royal seal. Around the room were chairs covered in regal red velvet. And on a raised dais stood a throne, covered in rich scarlet brocade. Slightly behind the throne to either side were chairs for the queen’s advisers.