Highlander's Wicked Gamel (Wicked Highlanders Book 1)

by Fiona Faris

  “How lovely to meet you!” Marguerite said pleasantly. “We all loved your Queen Mary, but we were girls when she was here. That was seven years ago.”

  “Thank ye, we love her too.” Madeleine smiled in return.

  “I heard that her second husband just passed away in February. I’m so sorry.” Claudine gave Madeleine a sympathetic look. “It must be difficult to lose two husbands in so short a time.”

  Madeleine nodded. “It must be.”

  “How are you enjoying France?” Anne asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

  “It’s really beautiful. Much sunnier than ‘tis at home, and I’m enjoying it.” Madeleine felt their welcoming smiles begin to thaw the frozen nerves all over her body.

  “What do you like to do for fun?” Claudine asked interestedly. She had an intelligent air about her that made Madeleine feel as if she was speaking to someone who never missed anything going on around her.

  “Oh yes! Do you play any instruments? Do needlework? Do you sing? Oh, I love people who can sing beautifully!” Marie intoned dreamily, playing with the strands of pearls curved around her slender neck.

  Madeleine felt her stomach tighten. “I… ehm… no, I dinna really dae anything like that. I prefer to go hunting and fishing. I’m no’ bad at archery, and I ken well how to use a sword.”

  The four ladies before her blinked in astonishment.

  “Do you really?” Marguerite asked in an awed hush. “Know how to use a sword I mean!”

  Madeleine thought back to the two men by the creek who had attacked her, and the corners of her mouth turned upward. “I dae indeed.”

  “You go hunting and fishing?” Anne asked as a grin widened over her face. “Just like the men?”

  Madeleine nodded. “Quite often, to be truthful.”

  “Oh, I could never do any of that!” Marie looked horrified at the very idea of it. She snapped open her folded handheld fan and waved some air over her face as she batted her eyes.

  “I think it’s wonderful!” Claudine beamed as she slipped her arm through Madeleine’s, ignoring Marie’s dramatic response. “We don’t have any ladies here at court nearly as interesting as all that!”

  “What brought you here to court?” Marie tilted her perfectly coiffed head slightly. She looked as polished as a woman could possibly be, and it was obvious that she enjoyed it.

  “My mother sent me here to refine me into a lady,” Madeleine admitted somewhat grudgingly.

  Claudine gave Madeleine a sidelong glance and a slightly coquettish smile. “And perhaps to find a suitable husband as well?”

  Madeleine rolled her eyes. “Yes, I guess that, too. I’m no’ interested in finding one, though. I dinna ken why she thinks I need one!”

  Marguerite gave her a knowing grin. “Well, there are several eligible men here, and there are also some who are married and are only looking for a liaison, so be careful. You don’t want your reputation ruined by the wrong man. We’ll be glad to help you.”

  Madeleine wanted no help, and no husband, but she knew she shouldn’t say that. “Thank ye. I am grateful.”

  Aunt Margaret approached the group of young ladies at that moment with a stately looking woman at her side. “Lady Madeleine Campbell, this is Her Royal Highness, the Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici.”

  Madeleine bowed low, and the queen mother eyed her with a half-smile. “You’re quite a charming young lady. Margaret is a dear friend of mine. I’m happy to welcome you here.”

  “Thank ye, your royal highness.” Madeleine answered.

  “Your aunt tells me that you are seeking a suitable husband. My son is hosting a celebration at the lake in two days. There will be many eligible men in attendance there, and perhaps you may find one to your liking. Do come.” Queen Catherine gave her a look that told Madeleine that it wasn’t a suggestion.

  “Oh yes, of course. Thank ye, your royal highness.” Madeleine answered, feeling as if the voice was not her own at all. She wondered where the girl from the Highlands had gone, and who had taken her place and was standing there in strange shoes in front of the queen mother of France.

  Margaret and Catherine left the young girls, and Madeleine’s new friends grew excited for her. “Oh! I’m so glad that you’ll be there with us! We’re all going!” Claudine gushed happily.

  All of the other girls joined in talking about it with elation, and Madeleine felt as if she was living in a bizarre dream.

  * * *

  If Madeleine had felt out of place up to that point, it was fully eclipsed by her arrival at the royal celebration. The grounds around the lake were filled with nobles and esteemed guests. There were fire lights lit in so many places that the area fairly glowed. Musicians sent serene music out across the shimmering waters of the lake, and a big moon shone down upon it all.

  Margaret had put Madeleine into an exquisite dress; one the likes of which she had never imagined. Her hair had been expertly styled, as well, and a bit of color added to her face. She felt overdone, but her aunt insisted that she would easily be the belle of the ball. Madeleine didn’t bother telling her aunt that she didn’t want to stand out in the crowd; she preferred, instead, to blend into the shadows, or even better yet, to vanish from the event altogether; but she let the point go because she knew that her mother and her aunt were bent on finding a suitable husband for her, and that meant that she had to be in the spotlight, at least until they all agreed on someone, or until they gave up on her, and she could be allowed to return to Scotland without a man at her side. It was a secret hope she harbored, and it brought her comfort in times when her obligations in France tried her soul.

  Margaret stayed with Madeleine long enough for her to find her friends, and then she advised the girls to introduce Madeleine to the best available men in attendance. They promised that they would. Madeleine scowled privately and sighed. It was the last place she wanted to be, but there was no real way out of it for her.

  “I know you aren’t interested in a husband, but don’t think on that,” Anne told her sympathetically. “Instead, let’s just have fun.”

  “We will have to introduce her to a few men,” Marie pointed out. “I’m not failing Margaret MacLeod Deschamps!”

  The other girls giggled and agreed, save for Madeleine who rolled her eyes.

  The girls pointed men out to Madeleine as the evening began to get busy, and they discussed the merits of each one as they went along, decidedly favoring some over others. Marguerite stopped short as they were nearing the royal boats on the lake and gasped.

  “Oh! He’s perfect! Look… that’s James II of Crussol! Oh, he’s ideal!” She looked as though a fire had been lit beneath her.

  “Why is he perfect?” Madeleine asked, wondering if the other three girls would agree.

  “He’s the Baron of Steel. He’s also wealthy, handsome, and as yet, unmarried.” Claudine answered knowingly.

  “He’s a real catch!” Marie pointed out.

  “He is. So many ladies are after him, but none more than Françoise Louise of Clermont. She desperately wants him!” Marguerite smiled, nodding subtly to a young blonde girl with pale skin and large blue eyes not far from the man. She was staring adoringly at him, and he seemed not to notice her at all. “But, I think he might like you instead.”

  “Why is that?” Madeleine asked, her stomach feeling as if it had dropped to her feet.

  “Because he keeps looking over here at you!” Anne gave Madeleine’s arm a squeeze.

  “Ladies, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I was compelled to come over and meet your lovely new friend,” a nasally voice sounded behind them, and all the ladies turned with a start.

  They faced a tall, thin man with little more than wisps of graying hair atop his head and poor teeth in his mouth. He was dressed in lavish attire and held his chin up proudly. “I am Pierre Beaumont, at your service,” he announced. “And who might this enchanting creature be?”

  Madeleine was certain she would either be sick or be
forced to run as fast as she could. The man before her made her nauseous.

  Anna cleared her throat and looked at Pierre directly. “This is Lady Madeleine Campbell of Scotland.”

  Pierre’s old eyes twinkled. “Do me the honor of accompanying me on a stroll, Lady Madeleine,” he insisted, rather than asked. Madeleine’s friends gave her sympathetic glances. Madeleine felt as if she had no choice. Pierre held his arm out for her, and Madeleine took it as he walked with her away from the group.

  “There’s a little rumor buzzing through the guests here tonight that you’re looking for a husband at court. Is that true?” He raised a bushy, graying brow at her and drew her closer to him. Every alarm in Madeleine was going off. She didn’t even want to be at Pierre’s side, let alone any closer to him than walking distance.

  She thought fast. “Rumors can be started so innocently, and then get so out of hand.” She told herself that at least it wasn’t a lie. It was more of an evasive maneuver. Possible options for escape from the older man began to play themselves out in her mind.

  Pierre paused in their casual stroll and faced Madeleine, giving her a hungry look. “If it is true, if you are looking for a husband, I could very well be tempted by you. My dear… you’d be quite a lovely little morsel to keep. I wonder if I might…” He leaned closer to her and his rank breath reeked all around his head. “…have a sample.”

  Just as he was about to kiss her, and a second before she could back up, Madeleine felt a strong hand close around her waist. “There ye are my darling, I was wondering where ye might have gotten off to. I see that I can no’ leave ye alone for even a minute!”

  Pierre and Madeleine both turned with surprise to the man standing beside her. He was just over six feet tall and seemed to be made of muscle on top of muscle over every inch of his body. His hair was as black as the night, slightly tousled and curled roguishly over his forehead, coming to his sky-blue eyes. His mouth formed a half-smile with a dimple in one cheek, and his squared jaw was set in determination.

  Madeleine only froze for a split second, but the feel of his strong arm around her and his broad hand on her waist warmed her quite a bit, to her great surprise. His eyes locked on hers, and for an instant, everything within her felt as though it were not tethered to the ground at all, but instead floated freely through the expanse of the universe.

  The man turned his intense gaze to Pierre then, and the older man seemed taken aback by it.

  “Have a fine evening, Sir,” he intoned seriously.

  Pierre nodded, unable to speak, and turned, leaving them alone. Madeleine gasped and faced the man beside her. She couldn’t even say that he was handsome; it was beyond that. He was beautiful. There was no other word for it.

  “I’m sorry to step in so suddenly, but ye looked truly trapped.” He grinned at her, and she discovered that he actually had a dimple in each cheek.

  “I… I was!” she stammered, trying to find her voice. “Thank ye! I haven’a been here at court verra long, and I wasn’a sure how to get out of it. If I was anywhere else, he’d never have gotten that close to me, but I’m at a loss here in this strange place.”

  “I am pleased to help,” he replied pleasantly, gazing at her as if he was looking right through her. Her seeming transparency to him gave her a bit of unease.

  “You’re Scottish?” she asked, knowing by his accent that he was.

  “Aye, I am, and so are ye,” he answered, his hand still on her waist. He hadn’t taken it back when Pierre had left.

  “I… I am.” She tried to recover herself, feeling somehow lost and found all at once. “I’m Lady Madeleine Campbell.” She managed a smile, and realized as she did it, that it was genuine. She’d been giving so many manufactured smiles to strangers that it felt unusual to offer a real one.

  He raised a brow slightly, though his reaction was masked by a stoic face. “Campbell?”

  “Yes. And ye are?” Curiosity bubbled through her mind.

  He hesitated for a long moment, studying her face and her eyes. “Ye can call me Fyn.”

  She felt as if the air had gone out of her lungs. “Well, Fyn. Thank ye for stepping in when ye did. ‘Tis certain ye saved my whole night.”

  “Did I? Perhaps ye might gift me with a wee bit o’ it then.” His blue eyes twinkled as he took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, brushing his warm lips over the back of her fingers and lingering there a long moment as his eye held hers before he let her hand go.

  Chapter Three

  Madeleine stared at Fyn as he pressed his lips to her fingers and then raised his eyes to meet hers again. Everything in her felt as tight as a sail on a ship in the wind. She could hardly breathe, and somehow, everything around them seemed to fade away, almost as if the two of them were no longer standing near a lake at a party hosted by French royalty.

  His words filtered slowly through her mind. “Gift you with some of my… night?” she asked, trying to force her brain to start working. It had somehow come to a complete halt.

  A wide smile spread over Fyn’s face as he gazed at Madeleine. “As much of it as you might have to spare for a new friend. I would consider myself the luckiest man at this party if you did.”

  Blinking a few times in disbelief, Madeleine felt herself nodding. “Aye, that I can dae for ye, at least for a short while, if ye like. I dae have to get back to my friends soon, however.”

  Fyn gave her a nod of acquiescence as the music echoed around them like an embrace. “Then I shall take ye back to your friends, but forgive me if I walk slowly, to keep ye at my side as long as I may.”

  Madeleine’s heart began to race, as if she had been running far and fast, and she couldn’t begin to imagine why. She had never reacted to any man the way that she was involuntarily reacting to Fyn. Struggling within herself, she managed to voice one of the dozens of questions that tumbled through her thoughts just then.

  “What clan are ye from?” she tried to force her voice to sound as strong and even as she wished that it was at that moment.

  Fyn turned his head to look at her, studying her face for a time before he looked away, and then after a long minute, he answered her. “Stewart.”

  Madeleine smiled. “The Stewart clan are friends of the Campbells. I’m pleased to have met one, especially so far from home, and just when I needed a bit o’ help.”

  Fyn returned her sweetness and rested his hand on hers for a moment, where it was tucked into his arm. “I can no’ have a lady o’ my own homeland in distress at the hands of an old Frenchman, now can I?” He chuckled then. “Besides… how else would I have gotten to get so close to ye on our very first night together?”

  With a humored gasp, Madeleine raised a brow. “Our first night? Dae ye intend that there will be more nights when we are together?”

  He looked into her eyes, and somehow right through her again. “Aye, lassie. As sure as the moon and the stars are watching over us right now; they will be watching over us on many other nights to come.”

  Madeleine was stunned by his assuredness, and it left her speechless. She could only stare at him for a moment in total surprise. Before she could find her tongue to reply to him, he tipped his head toward a group of people not far away from them.

  “We’ve come to your friends, I believe. They’ve a taste for fine company, it seems. They’re with my friend. Come, I’ll walk with ye, though I’m sorry to bring you back to them so soon. I’d have kept ye to myself the whole night if I could have.” Fyn turned his attention to the small group a few steps from them as Madeleine walked beside him, everything in her spinning at the boldness of Fyn Stewart, and the honesty he’d astounded her with.

  Men of different ages had been keenly interested in Madeleine since she’d blossomed into a young woman, and many of them had tried different tacks to win her attention and, ultimately, her affections. None of them had even so much as interested her beyond friendship. She had never been at a loss around any of them; to the contrary, she was always the one i
n the lead, the one telling them that they could remain as a companion, but not a partner. She was always in control, of herself, her emotions and reactions, and of the course of direction that her relationship with every one of the men interested in her took. There had never been a time when she had not been in control; never a time when she had experienced the slightest imbalance or loss of possession of any faculty within herself.

  Her mind spun wildly as she tried to figure out what it was about Fyn that had faltered her composure and left her feeling instability in place of her usual self-assuredness. Nothing came to her mind. All that she knew for certain was that there was something about him, or perhaps there were many things about him, that caught her completely off guard; and worse than that, she couldn’t decide if being caught so off guard was something that she liked or not. If she’d felt unsafe, she wouldn’t have liked it, and she’d have been able to react accordingly, but she did feel safe around him, and so she was confused, safe and totally uncertain all at the same time. It was cold fire and hot ice, and she could make no sense of it.