Maiden of Inverness (11 page)

“As will Elginshire.” Brodie rose and walked to the pedestal table where the Covenant of the Maiden had rested for thirteen years. “What words of wisdom does the first Meridene offer on the subject?”

Brodie, too, was fond of the tales put down in the book by Meridene's namesake. “She was not so fortunate as we are. In her time, the clergy were untrustworthy and lecherous. When she wanted information, she sent a whore to loosen the priest's tongue.”

“Surely your Meridene cannot find fault with her namesake. There's one Scot she'll remember fondly.”

“She wants nothing to do with the Covenant.”

Brodie whistled. “What will you do?”

“Change her mind.”

Smiling crookedly, Brodie returned to his seat. “Pity her, then, for I've yet to see you target a lassie's heart and come away wanting.”

The compliment emboldened Revas. “She thinks I keep twenty women.”

As serious as sin on Sunday, Brodie said, “Do you?”

Revas leveled him a look reserved for the randy Summerlad Macqueen. Then he couldn't help laughing.

Brodie cleared his throat. “Who told her such a tale?”

“ 'Twas Ana, and I doubt her stories stopped there. She was angry at my taking Meridene in the dead of night.”

“Worry not, Revas. John Sutherland will control his daughter. But when will you tell Meridene about yours?”

Revas had sired an illegitimate daughter, and the lass Gibby lived in comfort with her maternal grandparents in the nearby village of Aberhorn. Her mother, Mary, died of a fever shortly after weaning Gibby, and the girl was the very joy of her grandparents' life.

Would Meridene grow angry when she learned of his by-blow? Lord, he hoped not, for Gibby was a fine lass. “I haven't decided when to tell her. 'Tis early yet, and she'll not find fault with dear Gibby.”

Brodie waved his hand in agreement. “Everyone loves the lass.”

Revas noticed new blisters on the sheriff's hand. Normally that palm was smooth. “Have you been wielding a sword with your left hand?”

“Aye, that young lad from Tain fights offhanded. Now tell me. What news of the parliament at Saint Andrews?”

The occasion had been a milestone in Scottish history, for it marked the first true Scottish parliament. “Nothing more surprising than the event itself. To Bruce's relief, the members voted to decline the French king's invitation to join him on Crusade.”

“Did Macgillivray take his seat there?”

“Aye. Cutberth strutted about like a ripe bull put to a pasture of seasoned cows.”

“Did he wear the sword of Chapling?”

Revas knotted his fists. “Aye. He took pleasure in taunting me with it.”

“You crossed words?”

The subject of Meridene's father troubled Revas to his soul. “Let's speak of cheery occasions.”

Brodie nodded in sad commiseration. “What has the king planned?”

“Our sovereign is so pleased to have a sitting parliament, he's decided to make a pilgrimage through Scotland this summer. A sweep of his kingdom, he proclaimed it. I've invited him for Midsummer's Eve.”

“He warned you about compelling Lady Meridene. Does he think she came willingly to Scotland?”

The lie troubled Revas, but he'd stretched the truth before, and he would do it again, if the fate of Highland unity hung in the balance. “Aye.”

Brodie chuckled, but his laughter was wrought with pain. “I'll take over the training of those ruffians you enjoy fostering. You'll be busy with matters of the heart.”

Revas eagerly awaited the challenge. “My thanks.”

“ 'Twill be entertaining, Revas, to see you try to woo an unwilling lass.”

“She'll come around.”

Someone pounded on the door. “Revas Macduff!”

Meridene's voice. Excitement buoyed his spirits again. “Did I not say 'twas so, Brodie? She seeks me out already.”

“Aye, you did. But she sounds angry.”

The door flew open. An outraged Meridene stood on the threshold. Her hair was still wet from the bath and trailed to her waist. She'd donned Serena's smock and bliaud.

An hour ago she had melted in Revas's arms and kissed him with the immature passion of a woman on the brink of falling in love.

Now she glared at the sheriff. “I must speak privately with Revas. Immediately.”

Revas stood. “Brodie, see what's keeping Munro and the luggage cart.”

She breezed into the room, ignoring the sheriff's exit.

“Why are you wearing Serena's clothing?” Revas asked.

If wrath were a mantle, she was cloaked in it from head to toe. “She took mine to the laundry. Did you order her to take my clothes away?”

“Nay. It never crossed my mind.”

She slammed her hands on her hips and began pacing the carpeted floor. “You must have been too busy reading my property and spreading tales from here to there. How dare you tell Ellen that my grandmother bathed with my grandfather.”

She referred to one of Revas's favorite entries in the Covenant. He had shared the story with all who would listen. “You didn't tell me not to read the book. You said I was to keep it from enemy hands.”

Halting, she whirled and pointed a finger at his chest. “You
are
the enemy! You told these people that you would find me.”

Her feet were bare, and her toes were beautiful. “I did find you.”

“You've been telling them that for over ten years!”

Hoping to quell her irritation, he gave her a lopsided grin. “I'm a stalwart lambkin.”

She clenched her teeth and marched up to him. The fragrant smell of heather filled his nose. “Hear this, Revas Macduff. I would stab you with my dirk had Ellen not taken it to the cutler.”

The tension in the air between them grew as thick as Montfichet's porridge. “ 'Tis my good fortune, then, that you've been disarmed.”

Through gritted teeth, she said, “Do not mock me.”

He held out his hands, palms up, in surrender. “My apologies, Meridene, for whatever wrongs I've done you.”

“Now he begs my pardon,” she said to the ceiling. “You've had these people saying prayers for me every Sabbath. They don't even know me.”

He thought it best to tell her all of it. “They also honor you twice on Hogmanay in observance of your birthday. They abide by the Covenant.”

Bracing her hands on the table, she leaned toward him. Her eyes glowed with contempt, and her sweet breath fanned his face. “You have a twisted mind.”

Serena's yellow smock fitted Meridene too tightly, and the fabric strained across her breasts, which were heaving with the force of her anger. He wanted to kiss her fury away.

As if burned, she moved back. “You're leering at me. Stop it!”

A lame denial came to mind. Too late he saw her spy the tray of food and the knife. In a flash, she snatched up the dull blade.

She wasn't like other women; she was self-reliant, and she'd been wronged. Flattery was a mistake. Cajolery proved a worse error. Revas wisely backed away. “You have a knife in your hand, Meridene. Please, put it down.”

Ignoring his polite request, she began pacing again. “How could you give these people false hopes year after year?”

The garments were too short and her ankles too distracting. Was she naked beneath the borrowed clothes?

“I could have been dead.”

Revas tried to shelve his unseemly thoughts, but he couldn't, for the simple fact that she was here, in his life at last. And he wanted her with a yearning that burned in his gut and lower.

“How could you?” Her knuckles gleamed white from clutching the knife.

He took a deep, calming breath. “They needed hope, Meridene.”

Her shoulders slumped. She walked to the hearth and stared into the flames. “How considerate of you.”

He hadn't intended to say it that way, but he had always believed he'd find her. Wretched as Edward I had been, he did not hang the daughters of his enemies. He gave them into the keeping of the church.

As he observed Meridene now, garbed in a too small smock, her hair a concealing black blanket, she looked small and childlike. A deception, his manly heart argued, for she was a woman to her soul.

“I will not stay.” She shook the knife at him. “I'll take the veil first.”

No, she wouldn't, but she was too angry for him to broach that argument just now. “ 'Tis a drastic move.”

She threw her arms in the air and sent the knife sailing across the room. Droplets of water rained from her hair and landed, hissing, upon the hearth. The knife fell harmlessly on the floor. “Drastic? Kidnapping me was not? By God, Revas, I'll go to King Edward.”

If Edward II knew that Revas had taken her against her will, he could use her abduction as an excuse to continue his father's war on Scotland. Alone, Revas could not hope to prevail. The combined armies of Revas and Robert Bruce were too great for the English, but Bruce would not commit his forces until Revas possessed the sword of Chapling. Cutberth Macgillivray would not yield it; only Meridene could take the sword from him.

“I cannot allow you to bring King Edward into our marriage.”

“You have a queer notion of marriage. I'm your prisoner.”

“Only if you force me to play the tyrant. Come, Meridene, let us not fight all of our battles today. Montfichet has prepared pheasant and barley cakes. You cannot deny 'tis your favorite.”

“Ana told you that. What else did the gossiping fool tell you?”

She had given him an opening to lighten the mood. Revas grasped it. “She also told me about the time you donned that chastity belt.”

Color blossomed on her cheeks. “She was not there at the time.”

“Nay, but I fear the tale has grown with the telling. I cannot imagine you marching to the smithy and having good Kentish iron forged into a spoon.”

She smiled. “A trivet was commissioned of it.”

“Montfichet once said he couldn't acquire a chastity belt for Sibeal because they'd have to mine half of England to get enough iron.”

“I doubt she likes being so large.”

Revas rejoiced, for she had exhausted her anger.

Distracted, she said, “Where is the Covenant?”

He glanced beyond her to the pedestal table in the corner. A lamp illuminated the ancient book. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with the legend.”

She followed his line of vision. “That's still true.” Making a lie of the declaration, she padded across the room and touched the book. “But it's my property.”

“It belongs to the Maiden. Are you she?”

She looked up, her eyes a lush green in the lamplight. “The Maiden is no more.”

“Then reacquainting yourself with the contents of the book shouldn't interest you.” He suspected it did, and very much. He took heart, for he'd found an even spot of ground in the rutted road their lives had taken. Casually he said, “ 'Tis only rules and tenets for the survival of Highland unity.”

All righteous and wronged woman, she lifted her chin. “It was written by my mother and her ancestors. By right, their words are mine.”

In truth, her mother hadn't added a word to the legacy of the Maiden. Not all of the women had taken up a quill. Had they, no one volume could have contained the words.

Revas had laughed and cried while reading the chronicles of a few of those brave and entertaining women. Not even if he lived five lifetimes, with a dozen wives in each, could he learn more about the workings of the female mind and the craving of their hearts than he had in that tome. He would not give up their precious legacy, not to one who impugned their honor.

He strove for a reasonable tone. “Their words belong to all of the people of the Highlands.”

She tried to hide her feelings, but her hand shook as she traced the symbols on the bindings. With the tapered nail of her index finger, she lifted the front binding. Her eyes were alight with interest, and she sighed with what he knew was relieved longing. How could he use the book to his advantage? He did not know.

Noise from the castle yard drifted through the open window. The luggage cart had returned. While Meridene was preoccupied, Revas walked to the door. “Excuse me while I speak with young Munro.”

She drew the book to her breast. “I must go.”

He hadn't expected to broach the subject of the matter so quickly. But he had no choice. “The Covenant must stay here, unless you'd like to discuss a trade.”

Her gaze sharpened. “What trade?”

He girded himself for another battle. Thank goodness she'd tossed the knife away. “The sword of Chapling for that book.”

Interest turned to disbelief. Then she threw back her head and laughed. “You wretched Scot.”

He hadn't expected her to agree, but the insult stirred his ire. “I cannot allow you to take the book.”

“Pray tell why not? It's mine.”

“Yours to cherish or to destroy?”

In her typical queenly fashion, she stiffened her graceful neck. “To do with as I please.”

She'd lose this battle, for Revas treasured the chronicle. Munro would wait. Revas would prevail.

He held out his arm to indicate the chairs by the hearth. “Then sit. We shall enjoy the Covenant together.”

“I hate you.”

“Ah, well, you've said that before.” She was also cradling the book as if it were precious to her. “Do you wish to peruse the Covenant or not?”

She glowered at him. “What I wish is to see your head on a pike at London Bridge.”

Revas couldn't stop a shiver.

She smiled wickedly. “And your heart and liver pitched to hungry eels.”

Enough was enough. Determined to subjugate her, he took a powerful stance. “If you harm that book, I will beat you.” He wouldn't, of course, but she needn't know that. “I will lock you in the dungeon and visit my lust on you until you give me a daughter who will honor the women in that book.”