Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Ye ferget ’twas me who gave ye yer first sword, as well as yer first lesson,” Frederick rebuked.

  “Aye, ye did,” Ian agreed. “But ye seem to ferget that I be a verra fast learner,” he said as he feinted right, then left, and left yet again.

  Frederick had been teaching his brother to fight since he was three years old. Frederick was not nearly as distracted by his wife as he had allowed Ian to believe. True, he had stumbled and true, yet again, that was a first. Whether he stumbled because his mind was on his wife or not was of no importance. What mattered was the fact that he realized his error and did not let it get the best of him.

  Allowing Ian to think he was so distracted he could not hope to win worked in Frederick’s favor. In three swift moves, he had not only stolen Ian’s sword, he had kicked his feet out from under him and pinned him to the ground, his knees on Ian’s shoulders. The crowd around them cheered each man on.

  “Never believe yer opponent to be distracted, Ian,” Frederick said as he held both swords crisscrossed over Ian’s neck. “Could verra well be yer own undoin’.”

  Ian’s nostrils flared, angry that his brother had so easily read his mind. He was hopelessly pinned to the ground. Had this been a real battle, he would at this moment be bleeding to death.

  “Now,” Frederick said with a smile. “Let us talk of Rose.”

  Had he been able to, Ian would have kicked his brother in the ballocks and told him to go bugger himself. As it was, he was helpless.

  “She be a fine young woman, Ian. She is me wife’s only friend. I would hate to have to gut me own brother should he break her heart.”

  “I do no’ intend on breakin’ her heart!” Ian ground out. “And I do no’ intend discussin’ Rose with ye. Let me up.”

  Frederick shook his head. “Nay, we will be discussin’ Rose. I do no’ want to see her hurt.”

  “I said I have no plans to hurt Rose!”

  “Aye, I heard what ye said. But what are yer intentions?” Frederick demanded to know. If Rose hurt, Aggie would hurt. He had the hearts of two women he needed to protect.

  Ian would rather burn in hell than discuss his feelings for Rose. “None of yer bloody business.”

  “But ye see, it is me business. Ye ken I’d fight to me own death to protect ye, Ian. But I canna stand by and watch ye treat Rose as if she were nothin’ more than a common whore.”

  Ian had had quite enough of his brother’s interrogation. Shifting his weight ever so slightly, he was able to firmly plant one foot on the ground and knee Frederick in his left kidney. Frederick flinched long enough that Ian could grab the man’s wrists and roll him onto his back, reversing their roles in the span of three heartbeats. The men around them erupted into another cheer, offering encouragement to both men.

  “If ye ever call Rose a whore again, I’ll gut ye!” Ian warned.

  Frederick could not contain his laughter. “I didna call her a whore, ye eejit! I said I’ll no stand by and have ye treat her as one.”

  Ian growled disgustedly. “How can ye even suggest such a thing?”

  Frederick continued to laugh. “Ian, need I remind ye of yer own reputation?”

  Ian blinked and thought hard on it for a few moments. His shoulders sagged, deflated. Aye, he did, in fact, have a reputation as it pertained to women. He could not count the number of women he had bed over the years, for there were far too many. Were he a woman and had sold what he had given away, why, he’d be able to buy his own kingdom. Frederick was right. Ian was a bastard of the lowest sort. No wonder Rose wanted little to do with him. She was too good for him.

  “Ian, Rose cares fer ye, but she worries ye’ll end up breakin’ her heart.”

  Ian raised a curious brow. “How do ye ken she cares fer me?”

  “Let me up and we can discuss it,” Frederick offered.

  Ian sighed, stood up and held his hand out to his brother. The men around them looked heartily disappointed that no blood had been drawn. Frederick addressed the group. “I think we’ve all had enough fer one day. I be headin’ to the loch to bathe and I suggest ye do the same.”

  Frederick slapped Ian on the back and headed toward the loch. “It seems we each have women who vex us at the moment.”

  Ian nodded his agreement.

  “And,” Frederick went on. “I fear each of us will be spendin’ much of our future in the cold loch. Either to cool our tempers …” his words trailed off.

  Ian raised a brow. “Or?”

  Frederick let out a heavy sigh. “To cool desires we canna hope to quell with these women who vex us.”

  Ian agreed with a nod. “Mayhap we should just start campin’ near the loch. ’Twould save us much time.”

  Frederick threw back his head and laughed. “Aye, I think ye be right.”

  AFTER COOLING OFF in the loch, Frederick reluctantly returned to his bedchamber. He couldn’t very well avoid his wife for the rest of his life. Hoping Aggie would not bring up the subject of her offered kiss, he threw his shoulders back and stepped into the room.

  Aggie was sitting at his desk looking at one of his books with her forefinger slowly trailing along the paper as if she were reading. She had changed and now wore her favorite gown, the yellow damask. It was quickly becoming Frederick’s favorite as well.

  Lost in thought as she was, she did not hear Frederick until he cleared his throat. She jumped to her feet, knocking the chair over in the process. She had the same look on her face now as she had when she first saw Frederick on the rooftop hours earlier. Like someone who had just been caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing. God’s teeth how he hated that look!

  “I didna hurt it!” she blurted out as she took a step back.

  “’Tis alright, Aggie. There be nothin’ wrong with curiosity.” He smiled at her, hoping his smile would put her at ease.

  She tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowed, but made no response.

  Frederick rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He righted the chair and sat down in front of his desk. “Aggie, ye can look at any of me books any time ye wish,” he said as he turned to look at her.

  A look of wonder blended with uncertainty washed over her face as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

  He huffed and let loose a heavy sigh. She still feared him.

  “Come,” he said as he held out his hand for hers. She stared at his outstretched hand as if it were an asp. “Aggie, please?”

  Long moments passed before she hesitantly took his offered hand. Frederick guided her to stand beside him as he looked down at the open book. “This is called The Lay of Havelok the Dane,” he informed her. “Have ye heard of the story?”

  Aggie gave a slight shake of her head.

  “’Tis a verra exciting story,” he told her as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. He turned back to the book, turning back a page to the beginning and began to read aloud. “Hearken to me, good men, wives, maidens, and all men, of a tale that I will tell you, whoso will hear it, and thereto give heed.”

  “I r-read that already,” Aggie told him.

  Stunned, Frederick looked up at her. “Ye said ye didna ken how to read,” he said, more than surprised.

  “Nay, I d-didna s-say that,” she told him. “Da said I d-didna read, n-no’ that I couldna read.”

  His wife was full of surprises. He wondered what other secrets she might have hidden away.

  “I c-canna read verra good,” she told him. “’Tis been so verra long since I’ve seen a b-book. M-many of the words I d-do no’ remember.”

  Bemused, he asked with a smile, “What other secrets do ye hold lass?”

  Her face turned ashen and he watched as she swallowed hard. He could see that she was mulling over his question. He chuckled softly and without thinking, he drew her down to sit on his lap. “Aggie, ye dunna have to tell me all yer secrets this day,” he told her. “But I hope that over time, ye’ll learn to trust me enough to share them.”

  She swallowed hard again a
s she stared into his eyes, looking quite relieved that he wouldn’t press her for more than she could give. They looked at one another for a long while before Frederick spoke again.

  “Aggie, do ye think ye’d be up to dinin’ in the gatherin’ room this night? I believe we’ve hidden away long enough. I think it be time to show us united, to yer people.”

  Wide and bewildered eyes stared back at him. “I canna do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I b-be no’ allowed in the gatherin’ room, at least no’ to eat. Da does no’ allow it,” she explained with a most panicked expression. “N-neither Ailrig nor m-me can sup with the r-rest of the clan.”

  Frederick rubbed the back of his neck again with his only free hand. He was growing more and more tired of all of Mermadak’s rules, especially those that pertained to Aggie and Ailrig.

  “Pray tell, wife, why does yer da no allow ye or Ailrig to sup with the rest of the clan?”

  Aggie gave a quick shake of her head. “The s-same reason he has f-for n-no lettin’ me speak or have me h-herbs or t-to read,” she said as if that answered all questions.

  Frederick stared blankly at her, waiting for further explanation. Aggie let loose a frustrated breath when she saw he did not fully understand. “B-because he hates m-me.”

  That made as much sense as anything. The fact that he kept Aggie from speaking or reading or doing anything, was enough proof that Mermadak did not care for her. And the merciless beatings he had meted out over the years were further proof of the hatred the man felt toward this bonny young woman. But just why Mermadak hated Aggie so, was anyone’s guess. Frederick could not think of a thing—short of an act of treason or murder—that would cause a father to hate his child as much as Mermadak hated Aggie. None of it made any sense. He decided to save that particular conversation for another time.

  “Aggie, there will come a time when I will be chief of this clan. Ye are me wife. I will no’ keep ye hidden away as if I were ashamed of ye. No’ now, no’ then, no’ ever.”

  Tears welled, her brown eyes darkening. She gulped, fighting back the urge to cry. “Ye are no’ ashamed of me?” she asked rather cautiously.

  Frederick looked appalled by her question. “Nay, of course no’!” he exclaimed. “I be verra proud to call ye wife.”

  She could no longer restrain the tears. They quietly slid down her cheeks as she looked away, shaking her head as if she doubted his sincerity.

  Tenderly, he placed his index finger on her chin and coaxed her to look at him. “Aggie, I promised ye before that I’d no’ ever lie to ye. I tell ye true, lass. I am verra proud to call ye wife. And I want the rest of the world to ken it. I promise I’ll no’ leave yer side this night. Yer da will no’ try anythin’ foolish with me beside ye and the gatherin’ room filled with me men.”

  Aggie considered his words for several long moments. “Ye p-promise ye’ll n-no leave me?”

  Nodding his head, he answered. “I do so promise. No’ now, no’ ever.”

  “I’ll g-go b-but on one condition,” she said.

  He quirked a brow. “And what condition would that be?”

  She took a deep breath before answering. “C-can I have a sgian dubh?”

  Frederick threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Aye, ye can. In fact, I’ll give ye two.”

  Twenty

  IT HAD BEEN many years since Aggie had stepped foot in the gathering room to sup with her clan. It had been just as many years since she’d last seen it so full. She had learned from Rose that extra tables had been brought in to help accommodate Frederick and his men.

  No matter how firmly she held onto Frederick’s arm, her fingers still trembled and her stomach was so knotted with worry that she doubted she’d be able to eat. Still, as her husband had asked, she held her head high as they descended the staircase and walked into the gathering room.

  The only revelry she could find was with the tables filled with Frederick’s men. The rest of the guests sat subdued with their heads bent over their trenchers. As they walked slowly toward the dais, Aggie caught a few of those people casting curious glances at Frederick’s men. But when they caught sight of Aggie, their expressions turned to surprise.

  Frederick patted the hand she had placed in the crook of his arm. “No worries, Aggie. I’m right here.” Aggie glanced up at him and attempted to smile.

  “I fergot to tell ye that ye look mightily pretty this night,” he said as he gave her a sideways glance. “Blue is a good color on ye. But then, so is yellow and green. In fact, I think I’ve yet to see you in a color that ye do no’ outshine.”

  Aggie felt her skin grow warm as a deep blush washed over her neck and face. Her stomach fluttered excitedly from his compliment, even though she believed he was only being kind.

  Frederick chuckled slightly when he heard her sharp intake of breath and watched as her skin burned with embarrassment. “I also like ye in that particular shade of red,” he teased playfully.

  She knew he was attempting to make her feel better, less worried, but his words did very little to curb the nervousness or to unwind the knots in her belly. Something told her this night would not end well.

  Together, they walked down the center aisle toward the dais. Mermadak sat at the center of the table, with the ever present Donnel sitting to his left. Clair sat to Mermadak’s immediate right. Seeing Clair there, in what had once been Lila McLaren’s seat, made Aggie’s skin crawl. For the life of her, she could not figure out why Clair was in that seat. By rights, it should be Aggie sitting there.

  Mermadak and Donnel were huddled together engaged in conversation and not otherwise paying attention to anything else in the room. Clair was leaning in over Mermadak’s shoulder, hanging on every word. Donnel looked quite serious as he listened intently to something Mermadak was telling him. Whatever Mermadak said next made the trio break out in raucous laughter.

  Clair was the first to catch sight of Frederick leading Aggie up the steps. Her jaw fell open and her eyes widened in astonishment, but only briefly. Pursing her lips together, she glared at Aggie as if she were a Norse invader.

  Aggie swallowed hard and for the first time in many years, she did not shrink in fear nor did she look away. Momentarily stunned by the feeling of empowerment she was certain she owed to her husband, Aggie stood taller and lifted her chin. Giving a curt nod toward Clair, Aggie returned the cold woman’s glare with one of her own.

  Frederick and Aggie were climbing the steps up to the dais when Mermadak caught sight of them. His smile fell away and fury took its place. “What the bloody hell is she doin’ here?” he bellowed.

  Aggie wanted to turn and run from the room but Frederick would not allow it. His steps never faltered as he led her up the steps. “Why, we’re here to sup with ye, Mermadak,” Frederick said, his tone joyful. Aggie sensed he was anything but as he guided her around the table with a hand on the small of her back.

  Mermadak shot to his feet. Ignoring Frederick, he directed his words at Aggie. “Ye ken ye no’ be welcome here!”

  The knots in Aggie’s stomach stretched and drew themselves around her heart. There was no mistaking his ire or his loathing. She did her best to keep her head high and her shoulders back. Certainly her father would not do anything to harm her while Frederick was beside her.

  Aggie could feel the tension pulsating from Frederick. He pushed his shoulders back and stood his ground. “Pray, tell me McLaren, why ye do no’ wish to have yer daughter here.”

  “’Tis none of yer bloody business, Mackintosh!” Mermadak growled. His face was growing red with anger.

  “I beg to differ. Aggie be me wife and I would like an explanation as to why I canna have me wife join us here, in the gatherin’ room with the rest of the clan. What offense has the lass committed that would bar her from joinin’ us?” His voice was a low rumble, firm and demanding, yet he somehow managed to sound calm.

  Flustered, Mermadak struggled to speak. He was apparently unaccustomed to peopl
e questioning his motives or reasons. Frederick didn’t care if that were the case or not. He would not back down from this poor excuse of a father and chief.

  “Need I remind ye, Mackintosh, that I be the chief of this clan? I do no’ need give ye or anyone else a reason fer any decision I make!” he shouted, slamming his hand down on the table.

  Both Aggie and Clair jumped at the loud bang his hand made. Aggie wished she could flee to the safety of her room or hide herself in the comfort of Frederick’s arms but when she saw the glimmer of satisfaction reflected in Clair’s eyes, her strength to stand firm renewed.

  “I ken verra well who ye be, McLaren. Ye be chief of Clan McLaren, no’ the King of Scotland,” Frederick challenged.

  Mermadak was about to say something else when he was distracted by movement coming from below. Frederick followed Mermadak’s gaze and found he had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. Frederick’s men had stood, fully prepared to defend their future chief and his wife. Ailrig stood too, in front of Findal, with his hand on the hilt of his wooden sword. Ailrig looked like a miniature version of Findal, proud, resolute and very angry.

  “What the bloody hell is he doin’ here?” Mermadak demanded as he glowered at Ailrig. The boy did not so much as flinch.

  Aggie gasped and dug her fingers into Frederick’s arm when she saw Ailrig. She thought he was dining out of doors with Rose. Aggie scanned the room, and found Rose at the next table. Her heart sank with worry for both Rose and Ailrig. Would Frederick and his men fight to protect these two people that she loved most in the world? Suddenly, she found herself praying that a brawl would not break out for she would not be able to protect them both.

  Mermadak turned to Aggie then. “Ye ken the bastard is no’ allowed here either!”

  “Bastard?” Findal asked from his spot below the dais. “Ye’ll have to be more specific, McLaren.”

  Mermadak looked confused. “What the bloody hell are ye goin’ on about?”

  “Which bastard be ye referrin’ to?” Findal asked wryly. “Fer there be more than one here.”