Lyon's Gift

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  “Lyon,” David urged him, “consider what you are saying!”

  “I’ll not wed her,” Lyon answered quietly, but tersely, and Meghan wasn’t certain who she was more incensed for—herself, or Alison! Did no man know to look behind a silly face!

  “The poor lass appeared as though she might cry did I simply breathe upon her,” Lyon said by way of explanation. “I cannot wed a girl who will not have me.”

  There was an immediate soberness between them as they stared at each other, seeming to be sparring without words.

  David’s expression was an unreadable mask but for his eyes, which flashed forbiddingly.

  “Do you recall,” Lyon said, “what you once claimed you would give to me upon a silver plate?”

  David turned away, his jaw tautening. “I do,” he replied.

  Lyon’s expression was every bit as firm. “This is not the way.”

  Meghan watched the two, considering their curious exchange. By the expression upon David’s face it became quite apparent that Lyon would hold his ground, that David would relent.

  What hold did Lyon have over this man?

  It was also apparent by the look in David’s eyes that he was unused to being opposed, and yet she knew instinctively he would yield.

  “If you will not, you will not,” David relented, “though I cannot and will not condone a marriage without consent. Christ, Lyon, but you have not even her brothers’ blessings in this!”

  Meghan held her breath.

  “I will have hers,” Lyon assured him.

  Meghan inhaled a breath. “Nay, you will not!” she swore, enraged by his arrogance.

  David peered at her then, looking suddenly annoyed with her presence. Well! Meghan didn’t care! This was her life! And she was certainly not going to stand idly by while two strangers decided her fate!

  He returned his gaze to Lyon and yielded, “Are you so certain of this, Lyon?”

  Lyon smiled. “What do you think, David?” He lifted a brow.

  In answer, David arched a brow as well. “I think if anyone can, you certainly may, but if you do not gain consent, I cannot, as I said, condone it.”

  Meghan could scarcely believe they were bartering the matter of her life right before her so arrogantly!

  “Very well,” David said, “I can give you a fortnight to convince her, after which you must agree to release her if she remains opposed.”

  Lyon was silent, unresponsive, and Meghan, knowing this was the best she was going to get from David of Scotia, lifted her chin and challenged Lyon, “Unless you are not so certain of your bluidy self, after all?”

  Lyon met her gaze and his lips curved softly, his uncanny blue eyes flashing with seductive interest.

  “I will agree if you will agree,” she boldly invited him.

  He turned abruptly to David, looking suddenly quite satisfied with the arrangement. A quiver raced down Meghan’s spine. Recalling the way he had left her upon his bed, ready to yield to him for want of a simple kiss, she wondered whether she had somehow made a mistake in challenging him so.

  “You were ever the negotiator,” he said to David.

  David gave him a look that told Meghan he was hardly feeling a victor in this settlement.

  “Fair enough,” Lyon said. “I shall agree to a fortnight, after which, if she does not agree to be my bride...” He peered at Meghan, and his smoldering blue eyes stole her breath. “I shall personally escort her home.”

  “Very well!” David announced, and Meghan had the immediate impression she had made a terrible mistake. Something in Lyon’s expression told her she had lost already. And somehow, she got the feeling she’d played directly into his hands.

  The image of him as he’d appeared standing in the doorway last night accosted her then, and her heart began to pound traitorously, thundering in her ears.

  Wasn’t it enough she had to vie with Lyon Montgomerie? Was she going to have to battle her own treacherous body, as well?

  She had never thought herself so susceptible to the wiles of any man, but there was little use in denying the way this one made her feel—despite that she knew him to be as shallow-minded as the rest of his gender!

  Well! She hadn’t lost as yet! she reminded herself. And she wasn’t very good at losing, besides! Lyon Montgomerie might win after all, Meghan resolved, but she was going to make certain he looked thrice at his bloody rotten prize!

  It probably wasn’t the wisest thing Alison had ever done, but she had to speak with Leith. She had to tell him how much she appreciated what he was willing to sacrifice for her sake, but she had begun to feel the weight of her conscience ever since he’d taken his leave the other night. She knew he couldn’t possibly love her, and she couldn’t allow him to surrender his own chance for happiness with some other woman of his choice.

  She found him in the courtyard with both Colin and Gavin, their heads together in solemn discussion. Gavin and Colin had evidently only just returned from yet another search, for Gavin still held the reins of his mount firmly within his hand. Colin had abandoned his own mount entirely, and it stood dutifully by, as Colin listened to whatever it was Leith was saying to him. Her heart twisted a little at the sight of him, but she told herself she was a fool. He had never shown her the least regard! Why should she care so much for a man who refused even to look her in the eyes?

  Alison had to know, too, whether they had word of Meghan, as she was tormented with worry for her friend’s sake. She couldn’t bear the wait any longer; she had to know.

  And yet, she waited still, unable to face Colin.

  When both Gavin and Colin had taken their leave, and Leith turned to go as well, she ran after him, calling his name.

  He turned to face her at once, his brows lifting in surprise. “Alison!” He reached out and seized her hand when it seemed she would stumble into his arms.

  “Och! Forgive me for intruding!” she beseeched him a bit breathlessly. “But I had to know! I had to know of Meghan! Please dinna be angry with me for coming yet again!”

  “Dinna be silly!” Leith said. “I understand, Alison!” And he seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

  Alison clutched his arm hopefully. “Is there news?”

  He shook his head. “None at all, I am afraid.”

  Alison frowned. “I am so worried!”

  “So are we, lass, so are we. But dinna ye fret. We will find her soon.”

  “I do hope,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Leith,” she began, peering up at him bravely. “I also came for another reason.”

  His brows lifted. “What is it, Alison?” he said with a look of concern.

  Alison suddenly could not find the words to speak. “I... I... wished to say... well, you see,” she stammered, “I feel a bit that you were forced to ask my father... ”

  He clasped her hands gently, seeming to understand what she was trying to say. “Alison sweeting, I was not forced to do anything at all, dinna ye see?”

  Alison shook her head. “I cannot believe you would wish to wed with me,” she told him. “I know that you feel sorry for me, and I wanted you to know that I will not be crushed if you dinna wish to take me as your wife. I do not need a man to feel sorry for me, and I dinna wish to make you unhappy.”

  He smiled down at her. “Look at me, Alison MacLean... Does the prospect of wedding you seem to distress me?”

  “Well, nay, but—”

  “Nay, but naught,” he said, hushing her. “Come with me a moment.” And then he drew her aside for privacy behind a horse and cart. “Will you do me a favor?” he asked her.

  Alison nodded, so grateful to him that she would have fallen at his feet and kissed them with her lips.

  “Listen to me with your heart just now, Alison,” he said, and then drew her into his arms.

  Alison gasped in surprise. Her heart began to hammer within her breast as he turned her face up to his and bent to touch his lips to her own.

  She felt dizzy with shock as he kissed he
r sweetly, gently upon the mouth—just a tender kiss, but it was the first kiss Alison had ever had in her entire life.

  No man had ever, ever done such a thing to her.

  No man had ever even expressed the desire to do so.

  It confused her, startled her so that she merely stared up at him in bewilderment as he lifted his face to peer down at her. She blinked in surprise.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked her, his voice tender.

  Alison could not find her voice to speak, nor did she find the will even to nod.

  “Listen to me, and listen to me well, Alison MacLean,” Leith told her with certainty. “I want you to go home now,” he directed her, “and think on what I have just said to you with my heart. Think about what you desire. Consider carefully whether you would have me as your mon. My offer stands as it was made, but I dinna wish to force you, either, lass. Go home, then, and think of this, and decide, and if you will have me as your husband, because I would be honored to take you as my bride.”

  Alison shook her head and opened her mouth to speak.

  “Shhh,” he bade her. “Dinna say a word until you have passed the night in thought. Do me the favor of that. Will you?”

  Taking in a breath, before she should swoon at his feet with the shock of it all, she nodded.

  “Good, then,” he said, and drew her out from behind the cart into open view once more.

  He had to drag her out behind him because she would have remained there, so shocked was she by what he had said and done. She placed her fingers in bewilderment to her lips.

  The messenger came as she stood there staring up at Leith Mac Brodie in bewilderment. Alison was scarcely aware of him, even, for he handed the missive to Leith and practically turned and fled whilst she stood there contemplating what had only just happened between them.

  Leith broke the seal, and stared at the parchment. He turned it sideways, and then his face colored a bit. “Alison,” he said. “Gavin is not here, and I cannot read this. Will you do me the honor?”

  Alison nodded, taking the parchment from his hands at once. She gazed at the paper without seeing the words for an instant, and then blinked and read.

  “Lyon Montgomerie has her,” she said, stunned. “He has Meghan.”

  “The hell you say!” he thundered, and tore the parchment from her hands.

  She peered up at him, blinking. “It says only that he holds her in custody for the charge of thievery!”

  Behind the protective barrier of rails, Meghan stood looking down upon Lyon’s hall.

  Her vantage point along the tiny open corridor offered her a clear view of all who came and went, and she needed only step back into the shadows if Lyon entered the hall below. Neither did she fear anyone would come upon her here, as only Lyon’s room could be accessed by the corridor, and no one seemed to dare climb his stairs, so Megan was able to observe her gaolers and make a plan.

  The hall was empty now but for a few laggards who seemed disinclined to work whilst their master’s eyes were not upon them.

  King David had remained rather than continue along his journey to Edinburgh, and he and Lyon had closeted themselves to discuss matters of consequence. She wondered what those topics might be, as David’s visits to the Highlands were rare. She was certain, however, their discussion did not concern her, as it was clear that her situation had been addressed and decided upon.

  And she was hardly pleased with the outcome.

  Yet neither could she argue it, as she had agreed to his bloody bargain, and to admit she had been outwitted only made her feel foolish.

  Nay, she wanted to make him regret his shallow-minded covetousness!

  More than that, she needed to go home.

  The only way she knew that Lyon had come to his bed at all last night was because she’d awakened to his warmth upon the bed beside her. His body was gone, but his scent had remained, and Meghan, her heart pounding fiercely, had dared to turn over upon the warm sheets, embracing it. It was a brazen thing to do, but Meghan, having slept within his bed for the second night in a row, was having the most peculiar thoughts.

  She couldn’t seem to eradicate him from her brain—not that it was at all possible in her situation, she realized. How could she when she was occupying his chamber, contemplating wedding with him for the sake of her kinsmen, and reading his most personal thoughts?

  She was really growing quite desperate.

  Studying the hall, she noticed for the first time that it bore a similar ceiling to the one Gavin had had constructed within their chapel. Only this one was older and not domed. It was flat, as there were rooms above the enormous hall, but it was braced along the walls with the same sort of beams that supported the ceiling of the chapel.

  The same sort from which that silly raven had peered down at her.

  She had felt so helpless to reach it.

  Meghan stared at the beam closest to her, the craziest notion entering her head, and then she peered down at the hall below.

  One would have to be truly mad to perch oneself upon such a place on high, she thought, and noted the placement of the nearest beam...

  If she could but reach it—and she thought she could—she could pull herself up onto it...

  The thought of him looking up at her from below brought a cunning smile to her face. Well, perhaps she could convince him that she was mad after all. Determining that it was worthy of the effort, and certain she could see her grandmother doing the very same thing, Meghan went to the far end of the rail and reached out, trying to touch the beam. Stretching, stretching, she lifted herself up on tiptoes and giggled with mischievous delight when she was able to wrap her fingers about the board.

  She tested it, tugging it to make certain it was secure, and then smiled and stepped up onto the rail, humming a merry tune...

  “Lyon!” came a bark from beyond his closed doors, and was followed at once by a sharp rap. “Lyon!”

  Lyon removed his booted feet from the table and peered at David, knowing instinctively that the news would not be good. The two of them had been discussing Iain MacKinnon, and the best course of action to take with him. Lyon had suggested that David consider returning to discuss the matter with Iain directly. Iain, as Lyon understood it, was a fair man, and Lyon believed in direct personal confrontation. At any rate, sequestered as he was with Scotia’s king, none would be so bold as to interrupt him here, lest the message be of grave import. Or…

  “Enter!” he said, and braced himself as the door swung open to reveal a wan-looking Baldwin.

  “Lyon?” Baldwin said apprehensively. “If I may beg pardon, I think you should come.”

  Lyon cast a glance at David to find his old friend eyeing him curiously, brows raised. Rising from his chair, Lyon knew instinctively by the look upon Baldwin’s face that his interruption was about none other than Meghan.

  What the devil was she up to now?

  “I shall return,” he said to David, and then asked as cordially as possible, “Have you perchance had the opportunity to sample the wine I sent you from Auvergne? I have some hoarded away for myself, I must confess. Perhaps you should like to try it now?”

  David’s brows lifted higher. “In other words, you would like me to occupy myself here alone whilst you go and deal with your guest?”

  Lyon’s lips curved upward. “You were ever a shrewd bastard.”

  “As were you, of course,” David returned, flashing a cunning smile. He sighed. “Very well, Lyon, go and deal with your wench. I will wait.”

  Lyon laughed. “I shall be quick,” he promised, and abandoned David to his own devices. Preceding Baldwin out the door, he demanded of him, “What now?”

  “Uh... I think you need to see this for yourself,” Baldwin answered, and said not a word more.

  Lyon grimaced. He suddenly wasn’t certain he wished to know what she was up to, as he was certain Meghan was determined to make him pay in blood.

  As he entered the hall, he heard her singing in the most
god-awful voice, but didn’t see her straightaway for the audience that had gathered at the sound. Christ, but the noise was as hideous as that of some ghoul from the black woods! And her lyrics were none the better!

  “I must go walk the wood so wild,” she wailed,

  ‘‘And wander here and there in dread and deadly fear I Alas, where I trusted, I am beguiled. And all for one! All for one!’’

  He didn’t have to search long for her. He merely followed the gazes of his men to find her perched, of all places, upon a ceiling beam like some bird in a bloody tree. He halted abruptly at the sight of her. She was crouched upon a high beam with her hand braced upon the ceiling for support—singing at the top of her lungs, totally unaware of her audience, or so it seemed!

  “My bed shall be under the grenwood tree,” she carried on. “A tuft of brakes under my head!”

  God’s truth, he didn’t for one instant believe her mad, but he had to admit that she had to be just a little daft to perch herself up so high.

  Damned lunatic wench!

  “Meghan Brodie!” he shouted up at her, his voice thundering through the hall. He didn’t wish to startle her, lest she fall, but her very position was frightening him. “Come down at once!” he hollered, but he worried for naught, as she didn’t seem the least bit disconcerted by his presence.

  She stopped singing and cocked her head as she peered down at him. “You cannot make me, Sassenach!” she shouted. “And you cannot order me about! You are not my husband yet, nor are you my da, and I dinna have to listen to a bluidy word you say!”

  “If I were your da,” he assured her, “I vow I would lay you over my knee and give you the strapping you well deserve!”

  “Och,” she answered, unconcerned. “My da didna ever do such a thing, and neither will you! Besides, Sassenach, I like it up here,” she announced, and with that she giggled, a sweet childlike titter that made him uncertain whether to laugh or scold her.

  Damn!

  With the deftness of one who might have been climbing trees for all of her life, she surged forward to straddle the beam with her hand still balanced upon the ceiling.