by Merry Farmer
Charlotte glanced at the large hearth, the colorful tapestries, and the table laden with fruits and cheeses, and decided she would have preferred this chamber as well, were she the queen.
The woman in question was seated in a fine tall-backed chair, her hands clasped on her lap, and her expression composed. The King, her husband, seemed to be ignoring them all, his grey-salted head bent over a scroll by the window. They were alone in the room, save for three of the Queen’s ladies, two of whom were sitting on a bench, bent over embroidery hoops.
“Lady Charlotte MacLeod.” Queen Elizabeth’s voice rang with command.
Liam squeezed her hand once, and Charlotte pulled away to sink into a deep curtsey before the Queen. “Aye, Yer Majesty. As ordered.”
When she rose, Elizabeth was frowning, her regal head cocked to one side thoughtfully. “You do not seem concerned to be ordered before your liege lord.”
Charlotte glanced at the King, who was still ignoring them, then back to the Queen. “Liam assures me ye see the honor in my actions, even if they were unorthodox. I trust him.”
When she shrugged, the other woman’s brows rose.
“And did Liam tell you aught else?”
It was Liam himself who answered, stepping up beside Charlotte and taking her hand once more. “Aye, Yer Majesty. My betrothed kens yer offer of a pardon is conditioned on her taking a position at yer court.”
A position at court.
Would she be one of Elizabeth’s ladies, relegated to sitting on a bench, perfecting her stitches, like those women over there?
It would be a boring existence, but better than a traitor’s death, and at least she’d be with Liam. His role as guard to the Queen meant she’d be able to see him often, and they’d be able to hold one another each evening.
Aye, sitting about embroidering wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured her future with her love, but if that’s what it took to marry him and keep her head atop her shoulders where it belonged, she’d do it.
Elizabeth’s eyes dropped to their clasped hands, and her English-tinted voice grew speculative. “ ’Tis that all your betrothed knows?”
It was Charlotte’s turn to frown.
The Queen didn’t trust Liam?
She was about to stand up for him, when he cleared his throat.
She whirled to face him, her hand tightening around his, as he shifted his weight. He didn’t look at her, but kept his attention on the Queen, when he said, “Aye, Yer Majesty.”
Now Charlotte’s heart began to pound.
What hadn’t he told her?
“Did she agree in order to save her head, Liam?” the Queen asked, her tone low and dangerous.
Charlotte hated the fact that particular tone was directed at the man she loved. “Agree to what?” she snapped, as she moved to press her shoulder against his. Side by side. “What are ye accusing Liam of?”
Queen Elizabeth’s eyes turned cold as she glared at Charlotte. Beside her, Liam sighed.
He turned to face Charlotte, tugging her to look up at him. “Char,” he said quietly, “Elizabeth plans to order us to marry. An alliance with the Bruces—and the King’s kinsman—would appease yer father, who will be clamoring to have ye back, once he learns of MacDonald’s death.”
Order us to marry.
Charlotte frowned.
Was that why he’d offered for her?
Nay, he’d said long ago he wanted her for a wife. But still…
“And ye kenned her plan?”
Liam’s nod was quick, decisive. “Aye, and I kenned ye’d balk if it was a command. I had to woo ye.”
“Woo?” She frowned, not liking the implication.
But when he lifted her hand, their fingers still entwined, she flushed slightly, remembering how he’d been inside her when he’d asked her to become his wife.
As he brushed his lips across the back of her hand, he hummed low, and she felt that same delicious warmth spread through her.
“Aye,” he murmured. “I had to convince ye I wanted to marry ye, and that ye wanted to marry me, before it was part of yer pardon.”
“Ye do still, right?” she whispered, hating how weak she sounded.
His blue eyes bore into hers. “Always, my love.”
When the Queen cleared her throat haughtily, they both turned, and Charlotte frowned.
“Ye think I would agree to marry a man just to save my head, Yer Majesty? Luckily, I didnae have to make that decision. I’d marry Liam in any circumstance ye threw me in. I love him.”
His fingers tightened around hers, lending her strength. She straightened, lifting her chin, and met the Queen’s glare boldly.
It was Elizabeth who looked away first, blowing out a breath and relaxing back against the chair, as she glanced at her husband. “ ’Tis glad I am to hear that, Lady Charlotte. I’ve heard Liam speak of you as his angel, and I would hate to think you were anything less.”
Charlotte snorted softly.
An angel?
Angels were pure and guileless and perfect.
Beside her, Liam chuckled softly. “An avenging angel, mayhap. When I saw ye coming at me with that blade…”
From his place by the window, Robert glanced at them all, his smile subdued, but his eyes twinkling merrily, proving he’d been listening all along.
“Angels come in many forms. Some we recognize, others we do not. Some we need, some we fear.” Placing her hands on the arms of the chair, the Queen pushed herself to her feet. “Are you ready to hear your fate, Lady Charlotte MacLeod?”
With Liam’s hand in hers, Charlotte knew she could face anything. She nodded.
The Queen’s voice became regal, imperious. “You are crafty and intelligent, Charlotte. You approached the matter of the traitor in an unorthodox way, mayhap, but one guaranteed to gain our royal attention.”
Nodding, Robert moved to stand beside his wife, the scroll clapped in his hands behind his back. He didn’t speak, but waited for Elizabeth to continue.
“You’ve proven a knowledge of the martial arts, and of the home arts as well. And you’ve proven your ability to think quickly, to plan. I have need of someone like you.”
Her lips tugging into a frown, Charlotte glanced at the Bruce.
Robert shook his head. “My cousin Liam has agreed to stay here at Scone, to continue leading my guard and protect my lady wife. I have my men, Lady Charlotte.”
“And I have my women,” his wife finished. “Robert has spies and agents and bodyguards all over Scotland, but they are all men. I envision something…more.”
When she nodded to the three women, Charlotte truly studied them for the first time.
The youngest sat straight, her gown a modest green, her hands folded atop her embroidery, watching the proceedings from beneath lowered lashes. She seemed young, but was paying very close attention to everything going on around her. The look of piercing intelligence belied her youthful appearance.
Seemingly just as intelligent was the lady sitting beside her: A dark-haired beauty, with flashing eyes, and a red gown cut low enough to show off more than a little skin. She lounged, where her companion sat properly. This woman was eyeing Liam speculatively, one long finger idly tracing the upper curve of her breast, as if imagining it was him touching her.
Frowning, Charlotte turned her attention to the third—and most ill-at-ease—woman. Charlotte would’ve thought her a servant, based on her dull gown and simple coiffure. But the fact she stood with her arms crossed in front of her, scowling at the assembly as she braced herself against the wall, told Charlotte she was there for a reason. The unstrung bow at her side, and the thief’s brand on the back of her left hand, were even more intriguing.
The Queen’s voice was low when she explained. “Rosalind, Melisende, and Courtney have agreed to join this little…experiment. Some took a little more prodding than others.”
The dark-haired one smiled languidly, while the standing woman’s scowl deepened.
“All that’s
missing, Charlotte MacLeod, is a leader.”
Charlotte’s attention swung to the Queen once more. Elizabeth was looking at her expectantly. “Me, Yer Majesty?”
“I know you to be intelligent and unorthodox. You have connections at court, and connections—somehow, and please do not explain, for I do not wish to know—to pirates. I believe you and I to be kindred spirits, and I want you to have the leading role of this new endeavor.”
Glancing at Liam, Charlotte saw the pride in his expression.
He was proud of her? Proud she’d gained this attention?
Nay, she realized. Proud she’d been offered such a role.
I can help shape Scotland’s future.
The realization slammed into her so hard, Charlotte’s head jerked upward. Only Liam’s grip on her hand kept her attention where it needed to be, and she used that touch, that warmth, to force herself to breathe deeply.
The chance to shape her country’s future. The chance to make history. The chance to do more than spend her days as a fine lady in the MacDonald keep.
A chance not to be executed as a traitor.
Her lips tugged upward.
Put like that, how could she refuse?
“What—” When her voice cracked, Charlotte shook her head ruefully and cleared her throat. “What exactly would ye have me do, Yer Majesty?”
Elizabeth’s sharp gaze jumped from her, to the women, to her husband, to Liam, then back to Charlotte. “Charlotte, my dear…I would have you make them into Angels.”
Angels?
Charlotte caught Liam’s gaze, and when he began to smile, she joined him. “Angels, hmm? Beautiful, dangerous, hidden creatures?”
“The angels no one expects,” Liam offered.
“The angels who work for good, but are willing to do whatever it takes,” the Queen commanded.
And these “Angels” would be the Queen’s? Not the King’s?
Charlotte’s gaze darted to the Bruce, who seemed to understand, because he shook his head.
“Yer loyalty no longer lies with me, lass. Ye’ll swear fealty to the Queen, and take yer commands from her.”
It was a novel idea, to be sure, but Charlotte’s heart pounded in excitement. She could change history. She could make a place for herself at court.
She could lead the Queen’s Angels.
“However, your first mission, Charlotte, will be without the Angels. You and…” The Queen nodded to Liam. “You, and your betrothed, will journey to Finlaggan and avenge yourself.”
Charlotte’s gaze flicked to the three women, not sure how much the royal couple had shared with them. She would keep her questions general.
“Avenge myself, Yer Majesty? So this isnae an official mission?”
“This is not a mission officially sanctioned by the crown, Charlotte. ‘Tis a secret mission, delivering justice to a traitor who deserves it, although we are unable to condemn him.”
The Queen’s gaze was steady, and her meaning very clear: John MacDonald would die, but not on the King’s orders. He would die in secret, in the dark…
Condemned by an angel.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte released Liam’s hand and stepped toward the Queen, her fist over her heart. Instead of a curtsey, this time she bowed; a symbol of fealty and obedience.
“Yer Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, I swear my pledge to serve ye as ye see fit.”
Was it her imagination, or did the Queen breathe out a sigh of relief at her pledge?
Liam stepped up beside her once more, and as Charlotte straightened, offered his own bow.
“I swear it as well, my Queen.”
After straightening, Liam snaked his arm around Charlotte’s middle, and she—nigh overwhelmed by the last minutes—sagged against him.
Queen Elizabeth exchanged pleased glances with her husband, then turned to them with a soft smile. “Well then, Charlotte MacLeod, welcome to court. To the both of you, welcome to your future.”
“Aye,” Liam drawled, turning Charlotte in his arms. When she was facing him, he lifted her chin with one callused finger. “Welcome to yer future, my love,” he murmured, right before his lips met hers.
Epilogue
“Have ye ever been on a pirate’s boat before, Liam?”
Tav’s teasing question jerked Liam’s attention away from their distant prize. He glanced over at Charlotte, who stood beside him at the rail. She leaned forward slightly, as if she could hurry the birlinn toward the MacDonald boat, but he saw her lips twitch.
Was she remembering the last time she’d been a pirate? Or was she recalling that night a year ago, when they’d made love on this very deck?
Liam knew which memory he preferred, and he allowed some of his smug satisfaction to show as he twitched a brow in Tav’s direction.
“Aye,” he drawled. “Once or twice.”
His friend blinked. “Really? One as nice as this one?”
Pressing his lips together to hide his smug grin, Liam merely nodded.
Tav shrugged. “Well, it might be yer last time. I have a fondness for this birlinn, but she’s no’ as fast as some of the southern ships.”
Char leaned toward them, lowering her voice in a mock whisper. “My brother fancies a cog for himself, and means to take one afore the year is out.”
“By next summer, at the latest,” Tavish said with an eager nod. “Nae ship in the Isles will be able to match us then!”
“As a representative of the Crown, and therefore law and order in the Kingdom, I donae think ye should be telling me this.” Liam managed with a straight face.
Tav just shrugged, jerking his chin toward the distant ship, carrying their quarry. “The two of ye—and Char’s new Angels—will have to get used to unorthodox methods, Bruce. I doubt this will be the last time ye’ll need the Black Banner’s help.”
Liam had to concede that point. With a grunt of agreement, he turned back to Char.
“Ye’re sure that’s the correct birlinn?”
She nodded. “He’s there. John MacDonald is on that ship, and has nae idea his hours on earth are limited.”
Tav moved up on Liam’s other side, holding a bundle of black material. “Trust her, Liam. She’s brilliant at bribes and research.”
“Aye,” Char agreed, eyes sparkling as she reached across Liam to snag one of the scarfs Tav offered. “ ’Tis how I learned the location of the Queen’s birlinn, remember?”
“ ’Tis easy when ye command the royal seal, and can ensure yer quarry’s route,” Liam shot back.
It had been Char’s idea to have John MacDonald summoned to court, knowing which route he’d be likely to take. From then, it had simply been a matter of bribes and messages, until she knew exactly which boat carried him.
She bumped her hip against his. “Aye, but no’ so different from watching for a MacLeod birlinn, crewed by my MacLeods, carrying a royal entourage.”
Liam snorted, even as he took the last scarf and began to wrap it around his head the way his friend was doing. “Ye’re bragging about what a piss-poor bodyguard I am, are ye no’?”
With a chuckle, Char pushed herself up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Nay, my love. I cannae help it if I outsmarted—”
Her words were cut off with a gasp when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him, capturing those sassy lips in a kiss.
For a moment, Tav and the MacDonald boat, and even the impending battle, all became irrelevant. All that mattered was the feel of his betrothed in his arms.
She hummed low in her throat as her arms snaked around his neck, and he smiled against her lips when their swords, hanging in their scabbards, clanged against one another.
He loved this woman, with everything he was and would be. And thanks to God—and Queen Elizabeth—he’d have a forever with her.
It was Tav’s muttered curse which finally broke them apart, and as Liam placed a small, reverent kiss at the corner of her lips, he heard his friend huff in exasperation.
“For the love of God, man, do ye no’ ken ‘tis rude to ravish a man’s sister in front of him?”
Her arms still around him, Char leaned sideways to smirk at her brother. “Mayhap ye should turn around then, brother.”
Liam snorted with laughter, just as a cry came down from Wee Robbie atop the cross-spar. “They’re turning!”
Just like that, Charlotte’s jovial manner turned serious, and she whipped the scarf up and around her head. Liam took her cue and finished tucking his in, even as Tav turned and called commands to his men.
Before she could tuck the last length of black material around her face, Liam reached out and touched her chin. “I love ye, Char. I want ye to remember that.”
One dark red brow twitched. “Why? Ye think I’ll do something reckless, otherwise?”
He hesitated, not sure how to explain his feelings. “What MacDonald did to ye was unforgivable, and I ken ye’ve made him pay already. What we do today is punishment for his treason.”
She nodded, expression serious. “I’ve ordered the lads no’ to kill indiscriminately. We’re here to take John’s life, but cannae make it look deliberate. Tav will ensure the birlinn is looted to make the attack seem ordinary.”
Or as ordinary as a pirate attack could be.
“This will be one more death laid at the feet of the dreaded Black Banner, but…” He shook his head. “I cannae ask yer brother to kill him.”
“I’ve already had to talk Tav out of killing John twice. I think my brother is looking forward to the opportunity.” Her tone sounded curious almost, as if she were waiting to hear his reaction.
Slowly, he nodded, letting her know he understood. “I promise ye he doesnae want to slay John MacDonald any less than I do. The man abused the woman I love and deserves death. But…”
“But?” Her brow twitched in challenge.
“But ye have more reason to wish revenge than either of us. If ye have the chance to take it, and ye’re comfortable with it, I’ll no’ stand in yer way.”
Although he was constantly surprised by her determination, intelligence and ability, he had no idea how she’d react if called upon to kill a man. That had been what Elizabeth had asked her, and her response—
