Highland Belle

by Patricia Grasso

  His companion was at least ten years older than Iain. Not powerfully built, he exuded an air of quiet authority.

  Iain nodded deferentially to the older man. Good day, my Lord Stewart.

  MacArthur. Stewarts eyes wandered speculatively to Brigette.

  May I make known to ye my wife, Lady Brigette, Iain introduced them. Brie, this is the Earl of Moray, the queens brother.

  My lord. Brigette smiled, then glanced at Morays companion.

  This is Lord Menzies, Iain said. Brigette nodded, her expression remaining impassive. She recognized the hated Menzies name from bits and pieces of overheard conversations.

  Lady MacArthur. His smile did not quite reach his cold, black eyes. With that, Stewart and Menzies politely stepped aside.

  Moray and Menzies together, Iain mused aloud as he sat down beside Brigette in the coach. How interestin.

  Will there be trouble?

  No. Leaning closer, he brushed her lips with his. Would ye be interested, lovey, in beddin a newly paupered mon?

  Brigettes hand dipped to his groin. With pleasure.

  What could be keepin her? Percy asked, pacing the foyer impatiently. The three of them had been waiting thirty minutes for Brigette to emerge from her chamber.

  Relax, Magnus advised. Women always take longer to dress. Its a universal truth and small revenge against us men for rulin the world.

  Ill get her. Iain crossed to the bottom of the stairs.

  It willna do ye any good, his cousin predicted.

  Well see aboot that. Iain started up the stairs, but halted abruptly when he saw the vision poised at the top. His chest swelled with pride.

  Brigette had chosen a gown of forest-green satin. Its neckline was squared and cut low to reveal the swell of her breasts, emphasized by the gold torque with which Iain had gifted her that day. Her shining copper hair had been drawn back and woven into an intricate love-knot at the nape of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her emerald eyes sparkled like jewels. Brigette was a woman any man would be proud to possess.

  As women have been known to do, Brigette seized the moment, making a grand entrance for the benefit of her masculine audience. Slowly and gracefully, she glided down the stairs, but nearing the bottom, swayed, a sudden dizziness sweeping over her. Iains hand was there to steady her.

  Are ye well?

  Yes, she answered softly, only giddy with excitement.

  Ye look divine, he whispered.

  Magnus rushed over and kissed her hand. Ye remind me of a fairy princess.

  Yes, Percy agreed. Well worth the wait.

  Brigette positively glowed with happiness. I believe the great clan Campbell has the handsomest, most gallant men in all of Christendom.

  The queen of Scotland was in love, and the court that swirled around her was gay. Dangerous undercurrents and bitter rivalries still abounded, but were not apparent. When the Campbell-MacArthur party entered the noisy chamber, Brigette gazed in wide-eyed wonder at the sea of vibrant colors adorning the many courtiers.

  A richly garbed, middle-aged man swooped down on them as soon as they entered. Magnus introduced him as the Earl of Lennox. Youre also a visitor from the English court? he asked Brigette.

  No, my lord, she answered honestly, making Iain smile. This is my very first time attending any court.

  I mean, you are a fellow countryman, Lennox explained. An ally of sorts.

  Brigette blushed at her own stupidity. My brother is the Earl of Basildon.

  And now youre wed to young MacArthur, Lennox continued. Its an excellent blending, the English and the Scots. Wouldnt you say?

  A superior blending, Brigette agreed, but not without its frictions.

  Iain chuckled, but the Earl of Lennox lost his smile. He wanted his son to wed the Scots queen and considered such frictions unsuitable for discussion at court.

  Damn, Magnus swore. Huntlys here and headed this way. Ill avoid him by payin my respects to the queen.

  Ill join ye, Percy said.

  Lady MacArthur. Lord James Stewart appeared from nowhere. Its a pleasure to see yer fair face again.

  My Lord Earl. Brigette curtsyed to the queens half brother.

  Stewart shook Iains hand, then smiled coldly at Lennox. I believe Ill steal the honor of presentin Lady MacArthur to the queen. He turned to Brigette. Would ye care to meet her now?

  Yes, but Im quite nervous.

  Theres nothing to be nervous aboot. Stewart captured Brigettes arm and led her away from a disgruntled Lennox. My sister is young and enjoys meetin potential friends. Presently, shes thoroughly enchanted wi the English.

  Mary Stuart would have been regal, even had she not been born a queen. Tall and gracefully slim, she possessed auburn hair, amber eyes, and pale, flawless skin. Personally charismatic, the queens radiant smile drew people to her like iron to a magnet.

  Iain MacArthur, the queen greeted them.

  Smiling, Iain stepped forward and bowed low over her hand. Yer Majesty, Ive brought ye a marvelous surprise. He turned to James Stewart, saying, I believe Ill steal the honor, my lord. Stewart nodded, and Iain drew Brigette forward. Your Majesty, I present my wife, Lady Brigette. Taking her cue, Brigette curtsyed deeply.

  Thats the most graceful curtsy Ive ever seen, the queen complimented.

  How kind of your Majesty to say so, Brigette gushed, especially since Ive spent the whole day practicing.

  The queen laughed, then flicked a quick glance at the handsome courtier standing beside her chair. Youre English, Im told.

  Yes, your Majesty. Realizing the courtier was Darnley, Brigette grabbed the chance to strengthen her husbands position with the queen. I find the blending of the English and the Scots a superior match, she confided, casting blatant cow-eyes at Iain. Perfectly complementary in every way. The queens smile grew more radiant.

  What a wily witch, Iain thought, staring hard at his wife. Brigette could have been an exceedingly talented stage player; she slips so effortlessly from Gypsy princess to tavern wench to politics-playing countess.

  Come closer and sit by me, the queen was saying.

  Im honored, your Majesty. Pleased with herself, Brigette stepped forward and perched on a stool.

  Tell me truthfully, the queen bade, how does my court compare with the heretics?

  A loyal Englishwoman, Brigette suppressed a frown. Forgive me, but I am unable to compare the two. Ive never attended Queen Elizabeths court.

  Your father was an earl, was he not?

  Yes, your Majesty, but he only attended the court on rare occasions.

  Why?

  Being French and a Catholic, Brigette told her, my mother was not welcomed there.

  How much alike we are! the queen exclaimed. My mother was also French. Did not their different religions create problems for your parents?

  My parents believed that all problems could be solved with love and compromise.

  The queen sent her brother a meaningful look, then smiled at Brigette. You arrived recently from London?

  We have, your Majesty. Brigette was amazed by how quickly news traveled. She peered at her husband, who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  Iains unease was not lost on James Stewart. What, Stewart asked, was yer business in London, Lady MacArthur?

  Ive talked too much, Brigette realized. It is of a highly personal nature, my lord. She looked back at the queen, who was obviously unhappy with her reply. Better to be thought a fool, Brigette decided, than something more dangerous. No one had ever been axed for being a blockhead.

  Its extremely embarrassing, Brigette confessed, and I admit I was at fault. You see, I quarreled with Iain and ran home to England. Naturally, my husband followed me, and as you can see, were now the happiest of couples.

  You journeyed alone? The queen was shocked.

  I traveled incognito.

  Incognito?

  I wore my oldest clothes. Brigette peeked at Iain, who was staring hard at her, unhappy with the conversation. In London,
I secured a position as a serving wench in a tavern.

  Usually grim, James Stewart shouted with laughter, drawing the surprised attention of most of the courtiers.

  I applaud your courage. The queens amber eyes gleamed with good humor. Lady Brigette is a delightful creature, Iain. You will bring her to court often?

  As ye wish, your Majesty.

  On the far side of the crowded chamber, Magnus had finally been cornered by the powerful, persistent Earl of Huntly. Lord George Gordon was not as easily ignored or outwitted as Magnus had assumed.

  Magnus, lad — Huntlys voice was friendly enough — Ive been tryin to speak wi ye since ye arrived.

  Magnus smiled insincerely and lied. I wasna aware ye were even in Edinburgh.

  Of course, lad. Huntlys smile was equally insincere. If yed known, ye certainly wouldve sought me out. Weve much to discuss, ye know.

  We do? Magnus feigned ignorance.

  Ill put it to ye bluntly. Are ye willin to wed Avril?

  Avril? Magnuss bewilderment was genuine.

  My daughter, Avril Gordon, Huntly supplied, cocking a brow at the younger man. Yer betrothed.

  Magnus had the good grace to flush. After so many years of referring to her as Huntlys chit, hed forgotten her name. Well, sir, he hedged, I — I havena thought aboot it, bein busy wi the queens errands and all. Is she ripe for marriage? I dinna recall she was the last time I saw her.

  That was ten years ago, Huntly snorted. She was seven years old.

  Good God! Ten years, ye say? Magnus looked suitably surprised. Nae wonder she wasna ripe!

  Well, shes ripe now, Huntly replied, and I need to know yer intentions. Menzies has offered for her, but out of respect for yer father and the long-standin betrothal, Im givin ye first choice. Therell be nae hard feelins if ye dinna want her.

  Magnus frowned. Menzies?

  Aye.

  The two men stood in silence for a time. Huntly, that expert angler from the North, had dangled his line provocatively. Deeming the information digested, he produced a miniature of his daughter and pressed it into the younger mans hands. This is Avril. When Magnus looked at the miniature, he was hooked neater than any fish.

  Avril Gordon was an uncommon beauty. Her fiery tresses were reminiscent of Brigettes, but her eyes were as crisply blue as a Highland autumn sky. She had a heart-shaped face, stubborn, pointed chin, and small nose.

  How bonnie shes become.

  Shes also meek, modest, and biddable.

  Im nae fool, Huntly, Magnus scoffed. I willna believe that angels face is meek or biddable.

  Huntly shrugged. Life can be verra dull wiout a bit of spice.

  I agree wi ye. Magnus extended his hand. Argyll will adore her.

  Are ye sayin yell wed wi Avril?

  Was there ever any doubt? Magnus grinned. How aboot after the harvest raidin? Can Avril be ready by then?

  She will if I order it.

  In another part of the chamber, Percy stood with one of the courtiers. David Rizzio was an Italian court singer whom Queen Mary had favored by appointing as her private secretary, much to the angry consternation of several court factions.

  So, Rizzio was saying, are you enjoying your first evening at court?

  How enchantin! Percys voice sounded dreamy. Standing a few paces away was the most beautiful woman hed ever seen.

  She was appealingly petite. Her skin was ivory silk with a hint of roses upon her cheeks, contrasting sharply with her ebony hair and dark eyes. She was an exquisite wood nymph whose very existence was a sirens song to Percy.

  I beg your pardon? Rizzio was puzzled by the younger mans strange behavior.

  Over there, Percy whispered. Who is the dark-haired beauty?

  Which one?

  Percys eyes darted to Rizzio, who was poking fun at him. The younger MacArthur laughed at himself. Who is she?

  Sheena Menzies, Rizzio replied, and newly arrived at court.

  Menzies? Percy felt utterly deflated.

  Is there a problem?

  Yes, the MacArthurs and Menzies are sworn enemies.

  So?

  So Im a MacArthur, Percy explained, and shes a Menzies who willna even speak wi me, never mind anythin else.

  Ill introduce you. If you refrain from exchanging surnames, romance will bloom. Once a woman loves a man, she wouldnt care if he was the son of Satan himself. Any Italian can tell you that. The queens secretary drew Percy forward. Lady Sheena?

  Good evenin, my Lord Rizzio, she greeted the Italian in a soft, melodious voice.

  This is Lord Percy, whos been admiring your beauty.

  Sheena blushed. Her eyes drifted to Percy, who became caught in their mysterious, black depths. Recovering himself, Percy bowed, saying, My lady.

  Sheena smiled shyly. Having lived so long with her brother Murdacs harsh intensity, she was instantly attracted to Percys devil-may-care stance and easy smile. My Lord . . .?

  Call me Percy, he said as Rizzio slipped away. All my friends do.

  She smiled winsomely. In that case, call me Sheena.

  All yer friends do?

  They would if I had any.

  Come now, Percy scoffed gently. A lady such as yerself must have a mob of friends.

  No, Sheena told him. Im newly arrived from my home, Weem Castle. And where is yer home?

  Would ye care to dance? Percy asked, ignoring her question.

  Yes. Hand in hand, they joined the dancers.

  Lords James Stewart and Murdac Menzies were deep in conversation in a shadowed corner of the chamber. As usual, ye were wrong, Stewart sneered. There was nothin clandestine aboot MacArthur visitin England.

  Angry disappointment whitened the scar on Menziess face. What business did he have there?

  He was chasin his recalcitrant wife. Stewart snorted derisively. Her stubbornness willna be a good example for my sister.

  Menzies opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out; across the chamber Sheena was dancing with the younger MacArthur. Without a word, Menzies started forward, intending to separate the two, who by the look of it had eyes only for each other.

  Stewarts hand shot out and stayed him. Dinna create a scandal in the queens presence, he warned, then added silkily, If a MacArthur can partner a Menzies, why no a Menzies wi a MacArthur? Murdac looked blankly at him.

  Claim Lady MacArthurs next dance, Stewart suggested. Theres nothin her husband can do while his brother partners yer sister.

  The cruelest of smiles spread across Murdac Menziess face, and an unholy light glowed from the depths of his black eyes. He nodded to Stewart, then left to entrap his prey.

  As the music ended, Brigette smiled wanly at the Earl of Lennox and scanned the hall for Iain. Her stomach was revolting queasily against the days excitement, and her aching head felt strangely light. The chamber was much too crowded and noisy, and Brigette was almost desperate for a breath of fresh air, an alarming sensation of suffocating nearly overwhelming her.

  Lady MacArthur? Menzies touched her arm lightly. Id be honored if yed dance wi me.

  In spite of her woozily functioning brain, Brigette recognized the scar-faced man from MacDonalds Tavern. I — I, she stammered, uncertain what she should do. I dont think —

  Come now, Menzies interrupted. A dance could go a long way in kindlin renewed friendship between our clans.

  Against her better judgment, Brigette nodded and accepted his hand. However, her wildly churning stomach had a will of its own, and she gulped, fighting the sickness back.

  As they danced, Menzies studied her through veiled eyes. Her green eyes, flaming hair, and enticing breasts combined in the most delightful manner. Lady MacArthur is lovely, he concluded, much better than her husband deserves. If only she wasnt so pale.

  I heard ye recently traveled to England, Menzies commented, trying to detect a covert reason for the trip.

  Yes. Brigettes voice was no louder than a whisper.

  A visit to yer family?

  In a manner of speaking. Purpos
efully evasive, Brigette was as uncomfortable with his questioning as she was with the airless chamber.

  He arched a brow at her. A cryptic statement if I ever heard one.

  In the next instant, the chamber became unbearable. Desperate to escape it, Brigette whirled away from Menzies, who misunderstood her reason for flight. His hand snaked out, grabbed her upper arm and twirled her about, none too gently.

  Oh! Brigette cried out and collapsed. Well honed for battle, Menziess reflexes were sharp, and he caught his swooning partner before she hit the floor.

  What did ye do to my wife? Iain demanded, materializing at the sound of Brigettes cry.

  Nothin!

  This is no time for accusations. The queens voice was heard. My own physician will attend her.

  Iain carried Brigette through the antechamber into the royal privy chamber. As the queen and several of her ladies looked on, he set her gingerly on the couch.

  Lord Ramsey, the queens personal physician, rushed in. Ye must wait outside wi yer kin, he said to Iain, who bristled silently at the order.

  This is all Menziess doin, Iain growled as he passed the queen on his way out.

  Lord Ramsey wafted a vial beneath Brigettes nose. It twitched at the sharp, reviving smell. Her eyes fluttered open and mirrored her confusion.

  How do ye feel?

  Ghastly.

  Im goin to examine ye, the physician explained, and ask a few questions. Brigette nodded.

  Iain paced back and forth in the antechamber while Magnus, Percy, and James Stewart grew tired watching him. This is Menziess doin, he snarled at the queens brother.

  The words had no sooner slipped from his tongue when the door opened. The queen and Lord Ramsey walked into the antechamber.

  Well? Iain asked.

  I sincerely hope what ails yer wife isna Menziess doin, the physician remarked.

  Do not tease the man, Ramsey, the queen chided, her amber eyes sparkling with merriment. Tell him what her malady is. Baffled, Iain looked from one to the other.

  Lady Brigette is pregnant, Ramsey announced baldly.

  Pregnant? Iain was stunned. He glanced at the grinning faces of Percy and Magnus, then turned to the queen. By yer leave, Id like to take my wife home to Dunridge.

  No, MacArthur, Lord Ramsey cautioned. Wait until the second trimester. Travelin willna be so dangerous for the bairn.