Despite the implied warning, his face revealed little more than impatience, and Meghan clenched her teeth.
“Take it as you will,” she countered. “But I stand my ground. Tell him to let her ride.”
His eyes slitted, gleaming oddly. Meghan’s belly lurched. Mayhap it was a mistake for her not to fear him?
He was Henry’s infamous Lyon, after all, champion of the highest bidder—reputed to have spilled the blood of Englishman, Frenchman, Scotsman and Saracen alike.
And yet she didn’t seem to fear him at all.
In truth... he made her feel... curiously excited. Particularly now when they were face to face, so close . . . clashing wills.
She was acutely aware that his fingers remained tight about her arm, restraining her, lest she leap from his mount.
Meghan refused to cower before him. “Tell him to let her ride,” she persisted. “Or—”
“Or what?” He tightened his hold slightly upon her arm, not enough to injure, just enough to remind her of his superior strength.
Meghan thought about it an instant, well aware that they were near his manor, and that Baldwin approached them still.
“Ye say ye wish to wed me for the sake of peace? Is not that right?”
“Aye ’tis what I said.”
“Wouldn’t it be a pity for everyone to see you carry me across the threshold against my will—kicking and screaming? I wonder what my brothers would do did they discover you’d treated me so brutishly?”
“More threats?”
“Mayhap,” Meghan admitted.
He lifted one brow and cocked his head at her. “So, then, let me understand... are you saying you’ll agree to wed me... if I simply make Baldwin carry the beast in his arms?”
Meghan shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not... You’ll have to wait and see, will you not?”
He smiled wickedly, revealing gleaming white teeth, and Meghan felt her heart quicken within her breast. And yet she wasn’t about to relinquish her one advantage: the question of her will.
She returned his smile, hoping she appeared as merciless as he. And then she opened her mouth and began to scream.
“Judas!” he exclaimed, slapping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound.
Meghan didn’t bother to struggle, merely continued to scream at the top of her lungs, ceasing only when she needed a breath. He released her when she stopped abruptly, and she gulped in another breath and launched into an ear-piercing screech.
“All right, curse it all,” he relented. “Cease! Cease, already! Baldwin, put her grandmother on your horse.” he commanded.
Meghan stopped screaming and smiled.
Baldwin’s eyes widened. “I cannot mount with—”
“Do it,” Lyon demanded.
“Thank ye,” Meghan said sweetly, and tried not to laugh at the flustered expression upon Baldwin’s face. “Fia will appreciate it, I assure you … because you see, she has the—”
“Gout, I know,” Lyon replied.
Meghan fluttered her lashes at him, giving him her most ingenuous look.
Chapter 9
Alison fled the meadow in panic and sequestered herself within her bower for at least an hour’s time before realizing that she didn’t like herself very much for what she’d done. Meghan Brodie had been her very best friend since the day Meghan had discovered her spying on her and her grammie in the woods. From her father, Alison had heard naught but horrid things about the auld woman, and Alison had been watching like a coward from behind a big fat oak. Curiosity had kept her rooted to the spot. Meghan never exposed her to her grammie; instead she’d crawled over to Alison’s tree on her hands and knees and had peered around it at Alison, and said in such a dulcet tone, “She’ll not hurt you, I promise. She’s not really mad, she’s just my grammie.” And she’d said it with so much love and such hope that Alison had at once felt contrite for every tale she’d ever listened to about the auld woman.
Now she sat in Meghan’s brothers’ hall, waiting while they searched for Meghan. It was dusk now. Outside, the lavender sky darkened ominously. And with every passing minute the Brodie brothers were away, Alison’s unease intensified.
What was taking them so long?
She was beginning to have the most terrible, horrible feeling about it all.
Something had gone terribly awry, and once again it was all her fault. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly, though she straightened at once when Meghan’s eldest brother, Leith, entered the room.
“Did you find her?” Alison asked anxiously, and then she spied the expression on his face and her hopes fell.
“Nay.” He frowned. “Colin and Gavin are still searching, lass.” He approached the table where Alison sat, and perched himself upon it, his expression tense but his demeanor remained composed and deliberate. He crossed his arms, and seemed to be considering the situation. With his tall, lanky frame, he appeared no more than a boy, but in his face, Alison could see the wisdom of his years... and more.
She had never spoken much with Leith, for she’d always been cowed by his sober intensity. It had always been difficult to tell whether he approved or disapproved of her friendship with Meghan. Although Alison couldn’t think of a single reason he should disapprove, neither had he ever been entirely friendly to her—cordial certainly, but never particularly warm. Today, however, she appreciated his staid demeanor, for while he didn’t seem particularly pleased with the circumstances, neither did he seem to blame her. Of course, she hadn’t precisely revealed everything as yet, and she feared now she was going to have to. She wished with all her might that she didn’t have to confess under such circumstances, and then reproached herself for being such a selfish dolt that she would consider her own wellbeing over that of Meghan’s.
Where could Meghan possibly have gone off to?
It wasn’t like her to simply wander away.
Well... perhaps it was, though not for long. Besides, they were usually together, she and Alison. But this time, she was out there alone…
Gavin entered the hall, looking graver still. Leith peered up at him, but Gavin shook his head. “Naught,” he announced.
“Did you search the chapel?” Leith asked. “Colin said she was there this morn, fretting over some bird.”
Gavin continued to shake his head. He peered down thoughtfully at the floor, looking troubled.
Alison listened to their conversation with growing trepidation and no small measure of guilt.
“’Twas the first and again the last place I looked,” Gavin disclosed. “She’s not there, Leith.”
A few oaths fell from Leith’s mouth. “Where could she be?” There was a note of panic in his voice now.
“I’ve said before that if she spent more time at prayer, and less at—”
Leith raised his hand, silencing him. “Cease, Gavin. I cannot hear this now.”
Gavin seemed determined to make his point. “Now is when you must hear it, Leith. If not now, when?”
“This has naught to do with your perceived notions of Meggie’s irreverence, Gavin.”
Colin entered the room in that moment. “Meghan has a right to believe whatever she will.” His expression was angry. He didn’t acknowledge Alison, though he rarely did straightaway.
“It has everything to do with Meghan’s irreverence,” Gavin persisted, igniting Colin’s anger.
“Shut your mouth, Gavin, unless you can open it to help instead of making things worse with your sermonizing. You’re gettin’ on my nerves.”
Alison had never seen him so furious.
Gavin glared at Colin. “Why, you—” His body tensed though he remained seated.
Alison held her breath at the sight of the brothers sparring. She had never seen them so at odds before. They were usually the most mild-tempered men, and she had always envied Meghan’s easy relationship with them.
“Why me, what?” Colin fired back, standing with his fists clenched at his sides. “Say it like a mon, Gavin, or d
inna say aught at all.”
“Shut your mouths, both of you,” Leith commanded.
Gavin and Colin obeyed at once, although both of them were physically bigger than their eldest brother. Leith was tall, certainly, but Gavin, though he was youngest, was taller yet. And Colin, though he was of goodly height, was by far the most muscular.
“This is no time to be locking horns. This is about Meghan, remember?” He cast a pointed glance at Colin.
Colin’s jaw tautened, but he nodded.
“Gavin?” Leith prompted.
Gavin nodded as well.
“We are all concerned here,” Leith added. “It will serve no one to battle each other.”
“I should never have let her go,” Colin lamented. “I knew not to let her go. I had this feeling, Leith.”
“This is not the time for regrets either, Colin,” Leith said. “I would have forbade her myself, but you and I know perfectly well that Meghan would have done what she pleased.”
“That’s precisely the point I was trying to make,” Gavin interjected.
“Make it another time, Gavin,” Leith commanded. “Not now, I said.”
Colin’s eyes met Alison’s suddenly, and they were full of rancor. It was clear to her that he blamed her more than anyone.
What would he think of her once she told them everything?
“I ought never have told her that Alison awaited her in the meadow,” Colin persisted.
Alison lowered her head. “’Tis my fault, I know,” she offered.
“Nay, lass,” Leith assured her. “It is not. Colin is simply angry with himself.”
As much as it pained her to confess it, she knew she must. “Aye,” Alison insisted. “It is my fault.” She met Leith’s gaze, not daring to face Gavin or Colin. Somehow, it was easier to do this if she pretended those two were not listening.
“Nay, lass,” Leith argued.
“Aye, but it is,” Alison asserted, straightening her spine. “Because I stole the goat.”
Leith’s brows collided. His expression clearly revealed his confusion. He uncrossed his arms. “What the devil are you talking about, lass? What goat? What has a goat to do with Meggie’s disappearance?”
Alison’s lower lip began to tremble, but she faced Leith bravely. “Montgomerie’s goat.”
“Montgomerie’s goat?” Leith was clearly stunned by her proclamation.
“You mean the goat?” Colin asked, his tone one of disbelief.
Alison nodded and kept her gaze fixed on Leith. “Aye,” she replied.
“The goat?” Colin repeated, his temper obviously rising. Alison cringed, though she didn’t dare look at him, for fear of what she would see in his eyes.
“Montgomerie’s goat?” Gavin asked again, as though to be certain they were all hearing correctly. Alison turned to face him and nodded, still avoiding Colin’s gaze.
“What would make you go and do a thing like that?” Leith sounded dumbfounded.
Gavin exploded, and both Leith and Colin looked at him in surprise.
Alison couldn’t help it; tears pricked at her eyes, as she’d never heard Gavin curse—not ever.
“Explain,” Leith demanded, turning once more to face her.
Alison’s eyes welled with tears. “I dinna intend for Montgomerie to blame you. I meant only to keep from wedding him, you see.”
“By stealing his goat?” Colin asked, aghast.
Alison faced Colin then, and wished at once that she had not. His expression was undeniably full of disgust.
And fury.
“I simply did not want—”
“You should be pleased to wed any mon at all,” he told her cruelly, shouting now.
Alison flinched at the tone of his voice. “I dinna mean to... I only thought that if he and my da could be at odds... I dinna mean for him to believe—”
“I do not want you, Alison MacLean! I do not know how to make it plainer than that,” Colin announced.
Tears spilled over Alison’s lashes and streamed down her cheeks. “But… it’s not that—I only did not wish to wed with him,” she explained once more, pleading with Colin to understand. He had to understand how she felt about him. “I cannot love him, don’t you see?”
His eyes glittered with anger. “If anything happens to my sister because of your foolish little-girl notions, I will never forgive you,” Colin swore, and the contempt in his tone, more than his words, cut like a blade to her heart. “I will not forgive you, Alison MacLean.”
Alison gasped for breath; she couldn’t seem to catch one.
“Enough,” Leith demanded.
“Leave her be, Colin,” Gavin entreated. “She dinna mean to.”
“I’ll leave her be all right,” Colin announced. “I’m going out to look for my sister. The two of you can stay and play nursemaid if it please you.” And with that, he pivoted on his heels and stalked angrily from the hall. Alison kept her eyes on his back until he was gone from the door. All the while, tears streamed from her eyes.
She loved him madly.
He hated her truly.
Leith came about the table to where she sat. Alison watched his approach with hazy vision. She peered at Gavin and saw the pity in his gaze. She couldn’t bear it, and, leaning forward, she rested her head upon the table and cried even harder.
She felt Leith’s hand upon her back, soothing her. “Colin does not mean it,” he swore.
“I’m going to look for Meghan as well,” Gavin said. “Mayhap she merely lost track of the hours.”
“Go on,” Leith agreed as he knelt beside Alison. “Be certain to check the shortcut from the meadow. I know she favors it though I’ve asked her not to take it.”
Alison was acutely aware of Gavin’s heavy footsteps as he left them, but she continued to sob, unable to face even Leith in her shame.
Leith continued to soothe her. “Now, now,” he said tenderly. “I know you dinna mean to, Alison.”
He leaned awkwardly toward her, and Alison, desperate as she was, turned into his arms, grateful that he was here to reassure her. Colin hated her. Gavin pitied her. And her very best friend was in trouble—and it was all her fault, she just knew it.
“We will find her,” Leith reassured, and Alison wanted so desperately to believe him. She clutched at his tunic, sobbing against his shoulder.
“We both know our Meggie... she’ll turn up on the doorstep, I’m certain. If not on her own,” he said with a faint smile, “then whoever has taken her will dump her there directly—wicked tongue and all.”
Alison gave a reluctant chuckle. Och, but it was true; Meghan certainly spoke her mind well enough.
“That’s it, now,” Leith crooned. “Wipe the tears from your eyes, lass. We must work together in this.”
Alison did as he bade her and stopped weeping. She peered up at him, sniffling. He was right, she knew. And she had to be strong. For Meghan’s sake.
“Now,” he proposed, “why don’t you tell me everything, lass... start from the beginning...”
Chapter 10
“Get off the horse, lass.”
“Nay,” Meghan replied. “I’ll not. Ye canna tell me what to do.”
He stood before her with his hands upon his hips, looking at her much as though she were a wayward child he’d like to toss over his knee and spank. To his credit, he did no such brutish thing. He merely raised a brow at her.
“We had a bargain, do you not recall?”
Meghan shook her head. “You perhaps had a bargain,” she reminded him. “I merely suggested it would be a pity for everyone to see ye carry me in against my will.”
Meghan was well aware that they were drawing an audience, but she didn’t care. Let them watch. They should see that their new lord was naught more than a ruthless barbarian.
“Have it your way,” he said, and reached out to pluck her off the horse. Meghan squealed in surprise, and she expected him to toss her over his shoulder, but he surprised her by cradling her within his arms lik
e a wee bairn. It flustered her so much that she forgot to scream. “What are you doing?”
“What does it seem I am doing? I’m carrying you over the threshold.” He had the audacity to wink at her. “A loving husband and his blushing bride.”
Meghan glared up at him. So much for her plan to show him for the barbarian he was. “You’re not my loving husband,” she assured. “Nor I your blushing bride.”
He lifted her up to whisper into her ear, his breath warm and sweet against her face. It sent gooseflesh down her arms and legs. “Perhaps not, but that’s what my people will see.” He drew away and grinned down at her and Meghan suddenly ceased to breathe.
She couldn’t find her thoughts suddenly, so discomposed was she by the intimacy of his embrace... his whisper... his tone...
What was happening? Her body was reacting curiously. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
He seemed to realize what having his arms around her did to her, because his eyes were twinkling. “Go ahead, scream if you like,” he dared her.
The rat—he’d understood her intent, and had thwarted her so easily. Meghan wished she could scream. But truth to tell, she couldn’t. She could only stare at his lips, vaguely aware that he bore her through the courtyard past the prying eyes of his people and over the threshold of his door. He carried her up the stairs then, and into his chamber. There he dumped her unceremoniously upon the bed and walked away.
The cad. He intended, she surmised, to remind her of her place. Well, she hadn’t wed him as yet, and neither was she going to. Let him think so, if it pleased him. Her brothers would come for her soon enough, and then she’d have the last word. Rotten misbegotten knave. Until then, she was perfectly content to play his little game.
“You cannot simply lock me away, ye know,” Meghan announced, before he could close the door behind him.
He stopped and turned to peer within. “Of course I can,” he replied and smiled coolly at her.
His arrogance both infuriated and intrigued her. But how could that be so?
He grinned. “Watch me.”
Meghan: A Sweet Scottish Medieval Romance Page 8
