Highland Belle

by Patricia H. Grasso

  “Are ye feelin’ better?” he asked, holding her tightly.

  Feeling secure in her husband's embrace, Brigette nodded and relaxed against him.

  Iain kissed the top of her head and confessed, “I came so close to losin’ ye, hinny. I dinna know what I'd do wi'out ye. Yer my life, my reason for livin'."

  Brigette sighed. “Your words make almost being killed almost worthwhile."

  Iain chuckled. “I'm glad ye havena’ lost yer sense of humor.” He glanced at Magnus, saying, “Sit down, cuz, and tell me what ye were doin’ wi’ the MacDonalds."

  “The queen granted them amnesty, providin’ they willna’ pirate our Scots vessels."

  “Ye missed the excitement,” Iain told him. “Rizzio was assassinated and the queen held prisoner."

  “What!” Magnus leaped to his feet. “We must do somethin'!"

  “It's been done, ye dolt."

  Magnus sat down again. “What happened?"

  “The queen persuaded that mewling husband of hers that the conspirators would dispatch him next. Darnley helped her escape, and they joined wi’ Bothwell and others still loyal. The conspirators should be put to the horn, but Jamie Stewart is spoutin’ forgiveness and mercy."

  “Forgiveness is folly,” Magnus remarked, shaking his head.

  “I agree wi’ ye, but Jamie has his sister's ear. She canna see the danger in trustin’ her power-hungry brother."

  “What about me?” Brigette piped in.

  “If ye dinna mind,” Iain said to Magnus, smiling, “I'd like some privacy wi’ my puir, neglected wife."

  “Tell me what happened,” Iain said when Magnus had gone.

  “I rode to the loch,” Brigette began, then shivered recalling that frightening day. “A Menzies warrior ambushed me and left me to die on that rock in the sound. The tide kept rising and I kept screaming for help, but no one came. I was nearly submerged when the MacDonalds found me."

  “Yer certain the mon was a Menzies?"

  “He wore the black and white plaid."

  “I'll kill the bastard wi’ my bare hands!"

  “Don't bother,” Brigette announced matter-of-factly. “I've dispatched him already."

  “Ye what!” Iain was stunned.

  “While he was attempting to drown me,” she proudly informed her husband, “I drowned him."

  “Ye bloodthirsty wench,” Iain chuckled and caressed her cheek. “He didna’ touch ye? I mean—"

  “No, I frightened him."

  “I canna credit that, hinny.” Iain's voice mirrored his disbelief.

  “But it's true,” Brigette vowed. “He thought I was a witch.... The MacDonald's wife fed me herbs to dry my milk. How will I feed Dubh?"

  “Dinna worry about that. Moireach willna’ let the lad starve."

  “And Sly!” A sob caught in Brigette's throat. “My precious Sly is dead!"

  “Sly isna’ dead.” Iain laughed, thinking of the fox. “He's alive, albeit a mite bandaged. When I left Dunridge, Glenda was tormentin’ him; she and Lady Autumn are in charge of his convalescence."

  Early the next morning, Brigette sat alone in the cottage. Dressed in a borrowed skirt and blouse that had seen better days, she'd plaited her hair into one thick braid and then tidied the chamber. There had been nothing left to do except await her husband's return.

  “Are ye ready, hinny?” Iain asked, walking through the door.

  “Yes."

  Pulling her into his embrace, Iain lowered his lips to hers in a passionate, earth-shattering kiss. “I swear to guard yer safety with my life,” he vowed. “Ye'll never be frightened again, I promise ye."

  “Please, don't feel guilty,” Brigette begged, her heart wrenching at the desperate anguish in his voice. “The folly was mine. I'm sorry my careless behavior has caused you worry."

  “Thank ye for that, hinny,” Iain said. He kissed her again, then grabbed the borrowed woolen cloak off the cot and wrapped it tightly around her. “Keep that close aboot ye. I dinna want ye catchin’ another chill."

  Outside, Magnus and ten MacArthur warriors, including Brie's cousin's husband, Jamie, were mounted and waiting. Alasdair, his wife, and several of the MacDonalds stood in their midst. Taking Ina MacDonald's hands in hers, Brigette kissed the older woman's cheeks, then thanked Alasdair and his son, Rob, who'd swum to the rock and saved her life.

  Iain lifted Brigette onto his horse, then turned back to the pirate chieftain. He produced a hefty pouch from his plaid and handed it to Alasdair, then offered his hand, saying, “I pledge ye my friendship for all time."

  “Yer a rare one, MacArthur,” Alasdair commented wryly. “Many a mon would've become my sworn enemy for savin’ his wife. The countess must be very special."

  “No,” Iain disagreed, mounting behind his wife. “When it's healthy, her tongue never rests.” Everyone but Brigette laughed. Turning their horses east, the MacArthurs began their journey to Dunridge.

  Leaning against her husband, Brigette relaxed and enjoyed the feel of his strength at her back. She peeked at Jamie, riding on their right, and wondered if he or Spring would ever speak to her again. “Jamie,” she apologized, “I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you."

  Jamie glanced sidelong at her and nodded. What else could he do? A mere warrior, angry though he was, could not throttle his laird's countess, foolish though she was.

  “And,” Brigette continued expansively, “I'm glad my husband refrained from sharpening his sword on your flesh."

  “I'm too even-tempered to act so rashly,” Iain insisted. Riding on their left, Magnus chortled, earning an admonishing glare from his “even-tempered” cousin.

  Several miles passed in silence. The steady motion of the horse lulled Brigette, and she closed her eyes. Sleep did not come, but rather the trancelike daze that bridges consciousness and sleep.

  “What did you give Alasdair?” Brigette asked drowsily.

  “Gold."

  “Gold?” She perked up at the word.

  “The rascal demanded a ransom for savin’ ye,” Iain told her.

  Brigette giggled at the man's audacity, then fell silent for a long, pensive moment. “Well?” she asked finally.

  “Well what?"

  “What is my worth in gold?"

  Iain smiled down at the top of her coppery crown. Accustomed to his wife's maneuverings, he knew her casual tone belied a burning curiosity. “The question's unfair, sweetie,” he replied evasively. “It was an uneven exchange."

  “Some of the best things in life are expensive,” she said. “Exactly how much did I cost you?"

  “Trust me, lovey. Yer nae bargain."

  Brigette frowned, uncertain if she'd been complimented or insulted. My price must have been great, she decided, a delighted smile gracing her lips. “I'm certain,” she said modestly, “your high opinion of me is based on love, not necessarily worth."

  Chuckling, Iain nuzzled the side of her neck. “I love ye,” he growled against her ear, “but I'd love ye better if ye cost less."

  “Oww! You're impossible."

  “But ye love me?"

  “As if you didn't know it."

  Their entourage arrived at Dunridge at dusk. Weakened by her illness, Brigette slept with her head nestled in the crook of Iain's neck.

  As they passed through the outer gate, the guards shouted a greeting. Brigette stirred, but did not awaken, and Iain nudged her gently when they halted inside the courtyard.

  “Shall I carry ye inside?” he asked.

  “No.” She yawned and stretched.

  Iain dismounted and reached to lift Brigette, whose eyes were sultry with sleep. Merciful Christ! he thought, feeling his manhood stir. I can hardly wait until supper's done and we're alone in our chamber.

  With her husband on one side and Magnus on the other, Brigette walked into the crowded great hall. Shrieking with joy, Glenda threw herself into Brigette's open arms.

  “I'm sorry I went away,” Brigette said, holding the little girl close. “I did not int
end—"

  “That bad mon snatched ye!"

  “Yes, you must thank Cousin Magnus, for he saved me from drowning."

  “What aboot Uncle Iain?” Glenda asked loudly. Uncle Iain frowned at the reminder that his cousin had a talent for rescuing his wife.

  “Uncle Iain brought me home,” Brigette added hastily.

  “Thanks for savin’ Lady Brie,” Glenda said to Magnus, then looked at Iain. “And thank ye, Uncle, for bringin’ her home.” She tugged at Brigette's sleeve, saying, “Come on. Sly's waitin’ for ye."

  Smiling at her husband, Brigette shrugged her shoulders and was led away.

  Thump! Thump! Thump! Sly's bushy tail whacked the floor in greeting when Brigette knelt beside him. She reached out to pat him, but the fox's tongue was quick, licking her hand.

  “My poor, poor Sly,” Brigette crooned, inspecting his bandage. The fox whined pitifully, gaining even more sympathy.

  Brigette stood to greet Moireach and Spring. “I'm sorry for causing trouble,” she apologized, hugging her cousin and then the housekeeper.

  “It wasna’ yer fault,” Moireach said.

  Spring nodded. “You don't look well, Brie."

  “I've been ill, but I'm much better now,” she told them. “In fact, I'm famished."

  “Sit down,” the housekeeper said, “and I'll bring supper."

  “Fetch Dubh, please,” Brigette said to Spring, then held out her hand to Glenda. “Sit with me while I eat.” Sly hobbled after them.

  Brigette sat between Iain and Magnus at the high table. Glenda was glued to her side until Iain lifted her onto his lap and ordered her to stay. Sly's whines for attention bothered Brigette. She lifted him onto her lap, and he licked her chin, making the others laugh. Magnus took the fox when Dubh arrived.

  “My son,” Brigette cried, reaching for him. Dubh's tiny arms and legs flailed about, making it difficult for her to snuggle him close. “He remembers me."

  Iain laughed. “Did ye think he'd forget his own mother?"

  Brigette kissed Dubh's cheeks. “I missed you, my son."

  “What aboot me?” Glenda asked pettishly.

  “I missed you terribly,” Brigette answered. Sly whined. “And I also missed you, my pet."

  “What aboot me?” Iain mimicked Glenda.

  Brigette cocked a brow at her husband. “Especially you, my love. Tonight, you'll know exactly how much.” She turned to Moireach, and asked, “Did you hire a wet nurse for Dubh?"

  The housekeeper grinned and shook her head. “He's been drinkin’ warmed goat's milk from a wineskin."

  Lady Antonia arrived then and cast a blatantly insincere smile at Brigette. “Yer back—how wonderful!"

  Refusing to let her homecoming be spoiled, Brigette ignored her.

  “Cousin Magnus,” Antonia said, “it's grand seein’ ye again. Ye've a talent for rescuin’ my dear sister-in-law."

  Magnus grinned. “It's grand seein’ ye also, Lady Antonia. Yer always of such good cheer. As for the other...” He shrugged. “Let's say it was fate."

  “Tell us what happened,” Antonia urged.

  “Let me say first,” Brigette began, “what happened was my own fault, not Jamie's. I was foolish to ride unescorted. Anyway, when I rode to the loch, a Menzies warrior shot Sly and knocked me unconscious. He left me to die on a rock in the Sound of Mull. Fortunately, the MacDonalds happened by and rescued me."

  “Were ye frightened?” Glenda asked, wide-eyed.

  “Would you have been frightened?” Brigette countered, and the little girl nodded. “So was I."

  “Do ye intend to let Menzies get away wi’ this?” Antonia asked Iain.

  “Ye know better than that."

  “What of the warrior, Brie?” Antonia asked, her tone casual. “Can ye describe him?"

  “There's nae need for descriptions,” Iain said loudly. “My fearless wife dispatched the bastard.” Thunderous cheering shook the rafters.

  Antonia paled. Finlay! The Sassenach murdered my brother! Nobody noticed when she slipped away.

  The conversation at the high table turned to other, more pleasant subjects. Dubh was passed from mother to father to godfather and then back to his mother.

  “It's bedtime,” Brigette announced, “for wee children and convalescing beasts.” With Glenda glued to her side, Brigette carried Dubh out of the hall. Sly limped after them.

  “Dugie! Jamie!” Iain called, and when the brothers stood before him, ordered, “First thin’ in the mornin', prepare the men for war."

  “Aye,” Dugie grinned.

  “Wi’ pleasure,” Jamie added, then walked away with his brother.

  “Ye've a happy family,” Magnus commented, stretching his legs out. “It makes me yearn for Inverary."

  “Who would've guessed a Sassenach twit could make me happy? How's Avril?"

  “I havena’ seen her these past two months,” Magnus replied, “but after I report to the queen, I'm for Inverary. It's past time I settled down and gave Argyll a few grandsons to coo over."

  Iain laughed. “I canna imagine Argyll cooin'. Would ye care to troth yer firstborn lassie to my Dubh? Eventually, she'd become a countess."

  “It's a deal.” Magnus smiled and shook his cousin's hand, then changed the subject. “How will ye flush Menzies out of Weem Castle?"

  Iain grinned broadly. “Percy's the one who'll do the flushin'."

  “Percy?” Magnus echoed doubtfully. “That blockhead?"

  “When ye see him in Edinburgh, give the lad a message from me."

  “Which is?"

  “Swoop."

  18

  Edinburgh Castle

  “Ye dinna mind takin’ my duty wi’ the queen?"

  “I'll say yer unwell today."

  The queen's youngest ladies-in-waiting were like a mixed-matched pair of dolls, opposites yet complementary. Both were petite, but Sheena Menzies's dark hair and eyes contrasted sharply with Dorothea Drummond's flaxen locks and pale blue eyes. They were like magnificent jewels, beautiful when solitary but startlingly exquisite when placed in the perfect setting of the other's company.

  “It's sooo romantic,” Dorothea gushed, her youthful imagination taking flight. “Lord MacArthur and ye sharin’ a forbidden love ... a secret rendezvous.... Ohhh! I wish it were I!"

  “We're only sharin’ a picnic lunch,” Sheena laughed. “Ye make it sound illicit."

  “Stolen moments of forbidden ecstasy,” Dorothea sighed.

  “Yer correct aboot that,” Sheena agreed. “If Murdac were at court, we wouldna’ be boldly paradin’ around Edinburgh."

  “Highlanders are wild—nae offense meant to ye, Sheena. Perhaps Lord MacArthur will carry ye off to his castle."

  “Nae offense taken, Dorothea.” Sheena's dark eyes shone with mirth. “Percy doesna’ have a castle. His brother is the Earl and master of Dunridge."

  “But what would ye do,” Dorothea asked, “if he spirited ye away to his brother's castle?"

  “Why, I'd call for a priest,” Sheena quipped, making her friend laugh. “I'll return before supper and take yer duty tonight."

  Leaving her chamber, Sheena walked down the long corridor to the stairs. Outside, she hurried to the stables where, having sent word earlier, her horse was saddled and waiting. She gifted the freckle-faced stableboy with a smile and pressed a coin into his hand.

  Percy waited in the castle esplanade. As usual, Sheena thrilled to the sight of him. His laughing blue eyes and easy smile were vastly different from her brother's grim intensity.

  “Where are ye leadin’ me?” Sheena asked, shyly peeking at him from beneath dark lashes.

  “It's a fair enough day,” Percy commented as they rode up High Street. “I thought we'd ride outside the town. Are ye game, lass?"

  “Only if ye remembered to bring the food."

  “How could ye think,” he asked, feigning dismay, “I'd forget anythin’ as important as the food?"

  Although the sun was not shining, the cloud cover was a pale
shade of gray, and the day was unseasonably mild. Edinburgh was soon left behind.

  “It's grand ridin’ out and no’ carin’ who sees us,” Sheena said, enjoying the unexpected pleasure of being alone with the man she loved. “If only Murdac would remain at Weem permanently, every day could be like this for us."

  “Life is filled wi’ if onlys,” Percy remarked. “People who succeed dinna rely on fate; they make their own luck."

  Leaving the road, they cut through the woods and stopped beside a stream. Percy dismounted and then assisted Sheena. After the horses had drunk from the stream, Percy tethered them and placed feed bags around their necks.

  “I see ye've thought of everythin',” Sheena said, grinning.

  “Of course.” He winked at her, saying, “And now for our lunch."

  Percy produced a blanket from one of his saddlebags and tossed it to Sheena. While she spread it beneath a tree, he brought their lunch of bread, cheese, sweet ham, and wine.

  After they'd eaten, Percy lay back on the blanket while Sheena packed up the remains of their meal. He reached out to touch her back, and smiling, Sheena turned around.

  Percy pulled her down onto his chest and kissed her lingeringly. She sighed and he groaned, then gently rolled her onto her back. His mouth covered hers, branding her with his searing, earth-shattering kiss.

  Drawing back, Percy gazed longingly into Sheena's shining, dark eyes. “I love ye,” he whispered.

  “And I love ye. If only—"

  “Damn ‘if only'!” he swore. “Will ye marry me, Sheena?"

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation, and he smiled. “But how will we ever convince Murdac to give his permission? Perhaps the queen..."

  “Damn our brothers and the queen,” Percy growled, his smile vanishing. “I can wait nae longer."

  “W-what do ye mean?” Sheena asked, suddenly apprehensive. Risking her brother's anger was madness, not to mention suicidal.

  “I mean, we arena’ returnin’ to Edinburgh. We'll be married at Dunridge."

  "No!"

  Grim-faced, Percy stood without a word and walked toward his horse. Puzzled, Sheena sat up and watched.

  Percy pulled a cord of rope and a length of cloth from his saddlebag, then strode purposefully back to her. “Do ye come willin'ly,” he asked, “or do I carry ye off?"