Highland Heather

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Swimming? he wondered. Did she want him to swim? He could feel the

  water, all around him, warm, sticky. He gazed down at his arm and saw

  that the water of the Thames had turned to blood red.

  Blood. He was not in the water. He was bleeding. And though Brenna

  was frantically tearing strips of her gown to stem the flow, the blood

  was seeping through the dressings.

  He watched in horrified fascination as Brenna tightened a bandage on

  his arm until the blood slowed to a trickle. Working quickly, she

  applied another dressing, then moved to the wound in his chest.

  By the light of the candle she saw the glazed look in his eyes and knew

  that the pain was unbearable.

  "Fight, Morgan. You must fight the pain and stay alive. The queen

  needs you."

  The queen. He struggled to remember. As Brenna bound him tightly, he

  clamped his mouth down on the oath that sprang to his lips. With the

  pain came remembrance. Windham was on his way to kill the queen. He

  had to be stopped at all cost.

  "Help me to stand."

  "Aye." Brenna draped his arm around her shoulder, then slowly helped

  him to his feet.

  "My sword."

  She slipped it into the scabbard at his waist.

  With her help he walked to the stairs. Each step brought a knife

  thrust of pain, swift, sharp, cutting off his breath. But at last they

  had managed to descend the stairs. When he pulled himself into the

  saddle, Brenna saw the way his lips whitened. But he caught up the

  reins and led the way as she struggled into the saddle and urged her

  mount to follow.

  He noted that she held her arm at an odd angle.

  "You are wounded."

  "Aye. Windham thought he had killed us both." Her gaze met his.

  "It is what saved us. Else he would have stayed to finish the job."

  "My brave little Brenna. Forgive me for the pain I have caused you."

  She brought her horse close to his.

  "I pray you will forgive me for lending Windham your jewels and falling

  into his trap."

  "Hush, love. There is still work to be done. We must find the queen's

  party," Morgan rasped.

  "Aye. But they could be anywhere in the forest."

  "I know these woods. Richard and I have explored them all our lives. I

  will find her."

  Brenna saw the beads of sweat on Morgan's forehead as he urged his

  horse into a run.

  Ahead the forest loomed. And as they entered the thick wooded area,

  Brenna felt her heartbeat begin to race. Somewhere very near, the

  queen was being stalked by a vicious killer.

  "There, Majesty. A fine buck."

  "Aye, Lord Windham. I see him."

  The queen drew back her bow and took careful aim. The arrow sang

  through the air. At the last moment the buck lifted his head, as if

  sensing danger. But the arrow found its mark.

  Leaping high in the air, the buck executed a graceful death dance, then

  sank to its knees.

  "A perfect kill. Majesty."

  The queen acknowledged his compliment with a slight nod of her head.

  "If you hurry, you can have another trophy. Majesty. I spotted a

  second buck just slipping off to yonder woods."

  "I did not see it, Windham. Are you certain?"

  "Aye."

  The queen glanced around toward the rest of their party, who had fanned

  out on either side of them.

  "We will lose the others if we do not tell them where we are

  heading."

  "I will slip back and tell them which direction to take. You follow

  this trail around to the other side of those trees, Majesty. And I

  will show you where the buck is hiding."

  The queen hesitated.

  "My groom..."

  "He is tending to your kill, Majesty. Hurry. Else we will lose the

  finest buck I have ever seen."

  "Truly? How large?"

  Windham's voice took on a note of excitement.

  "At least ten points.

  Majesty. "

  "I must have him." The queen urged her mount forward.

  "Wait until Morgan sees what I have brought down."

  "Aye, Majesty. He will be impressed."

  "I do not care about impressing him. I want him to regret missing this

  perfect day."

  Windham turned away. On his face was a smug smile. He waited until

  the queen disappeared beyond the line of trees. Then he carefully

  studied the others to be certain that no one was watching. With a

  flick of the reins he urged his horse into a thicket. He pulled an

  arrow from the quiver he had stolen from Morgan's room. By the time

  the queen reached the appointed place, he intended to be ready for

  her.

  By sheer force of will Morgan was able to sit his horse. He could feel

  his strength ebb as he ducked in the saddle to escape low-hanging

  branches.

  A short distance away Brenna, unmindful of the briers that snagged at

  her hair and raked her flesh, peered through the brush.

  "I see a movement, Morgan." Her voice was a soft whisper.

  "Where?"

  She pointed. He brought his mount closer. There was a sudden flash of

  color, then it was gone. He nodded then took the lead.

  This had been his favorite part of the forest. Thickly wooded, it was

  strewn with boulders and pockmarked with small burrows where wild

  animals took shelter. He felt the sweat form a river along the small

  of his back at a sudden thought. It was the perfect place for a man to

  hide himself from view if he were stalking game.

  Signaling to Brenna to follow his lead, Morgan dismounted and tied his

  horse. Walking as quietly as a deer, he moved through the shadowy

  forest until a movement caught his eye.

  He stepped behind a tree and pointed. Brenna came up beside him and

  studied the area carefully, then nodded. Some distance away the figure

  of a man could be seen standing perfectly still behind a tree. His bow

  and arrow were at the ready, the bowstring drawn tautly. Following the

  direction of the man's gaze, Morgan caught his breath.

  Just stepping into the man's line of fire was the queen astride her

  horse.

  Morgan and Brenna assessed the situation and realized that they were

  moments too late. Before Morgan could cross the space that separated

  him from Windham, the arrow would be fired.

  If they were to shout a warning, the queen would hesitate, allowing

  Windham the time he needed to get her into his sight and release the

  fatal arrow.

  Though they spoke not a word, they were of one mind. Morgan raced

  toward Windham while Brenna sped toward the queen.

  Lifting her skirts Brenna dodged fallen logs and the sharp edges of

  half-buried rocks. As she ran she blessed the training she had

  received in the company of her father's men. With a last burst of

  speed she leaped high into the air and caught the queen in a great hug,

  knocking her cleanly from the saddle. Both women fell in a tangle of

  arms and legs and billowing skirts.

  Elizabeth was outraged.

  "How dare you!" As she struggled to sit up, her famous temper boiled

  over.

 
"Scotswoman, you have sealed your fate.

  It is not marriage to which I condemn you--'tis the hangman, for

  causing bodily harm to the queen. "

  "Forgive me, Majesty."

  Brenna regained her feet, then offered a hand to the queen. Elizabeth

  refused to accept her offer. Instead, she slapped away the offending

  hand and lumbered to her feet.

  "Hanging is too good for you. I should have you..." The queen's gaze

  was arrested by the arrow imbedded in the tree. She glanced at Brenna,

  then back to the arrow. She guessed that it was just about where her

  head had been when she was on her horse.

  "Was that intended for me?"

  "Aye, Majesty."

  "Who..." Turning, she saw two men locked in a desperate struggle.

  "Morgan? Lord Windham?"

  "Aye, Majesty. Morgan and I discovered Windham's plot to kill you. We

  feared we would not find you in time."

  As they watched, Morgan's sword slipped from his hands and clattered

  among the rocks. With a valiant effort he lunged at Windham. But the

  wounds suffered at the inn had taken their toll. Windham evaded his

  grasp and with a vicious kick sent Morgan stumbling to his knees.

  Windham seized Morgan's mount and pulled himself into the saddle. As

  he disappeared among the trees, Brenna and the queen hurried to

  Morgan's side.

  "You are safe, Majesty?"

  "Aye. Thanks to you and Brenna. But you are badly wounded, my

  friend."

  "My wounds will heal. But we must find Windham."

  "Let your soldiers find him. We must get you back to Greystone Abbey

  and have those wounds tended."

  "Greystone Abbey." As a sudden, terrible thought struck, Brenna turned

  to the queen.

  "Who is left at Greystone Abbey?"

  Elizabeth thought for a moment.

  "Besides the servants, only Richard and Adrianna."

  "God in heaven." Brenna stared down at Morgan, who had come to the

  same conclusion and was already struggling to his feet.

  "We must mount and ride. And pray we make it in time."

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Q<$2^ps^ )

  -tvichard sat alone in the rose garden, snipping ruthlessly at the

  thorny stalks. When he had finished pruning he realized that he had

  cut away too much of the stem. Poor flower, he thought with a trace of

  remorse. This was not a day for delicate work. He was far too

  agitated. He let the pruning shears drop to his lap.

  He had ordered a servant to bring him out here where he could sort out

  his thoughts. But the more he thought, the more confused he became.

  He had been without a woman too long. In his loneliness he had begun

  to spin fantasies. All of that was well and good, as long as he could

  distinguish fantasy from reality. But ever since Adrianna had arrived,

  he had begun to believe in miracles.

  She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. She was quick of

  mind, sweet-natured and a delight to be around. Despite her natural

  shyness there was a vitality about her that lit up a room. And though

  she appeared docile, she had learned to stand alone against her

  overbearing brother and sister. Aye, she was all he could desire. But

  what about her desires?

  His hands curled into fists and he slammed them against the arms of the

  chair. This hated chair. When Morgan had devised it, it had offered

  Richard freedom. The freedom to move from room to room, and even out

  into the garden. But it had also become his prison. It teased him and

  tantalized him into thinking that he could be free once more. But he

  was free only to watch. He could no longer participate in life. In

  this chair he could only sit and stare at the world passing by.

  His thoughts returned to last night. Adrianna had come unbidden to his

  sleeping chamber. She had stood beside the bed, wearing a night shift

  of gossamer and lace, looking as beautiful as any bride. Gazing at her

  from his bed he had felt his passions rise and knew that what she

  offered was the sweetest, most generous gift anyone had ever offered

  him.

  How much courage must it have taken, for the shy, virginal Adrianna to

  come to him? Could he show any less courage? Though his basest

  instincts were to take what she offered and feast on what he had so

  long been starved for, he knew that she deserved better. If he gave in

  to his desires, she would be forever sullied in the eyes of other

  men.

  Who would marry a girl who had given her virtue to another?

  Adrianna had pleaded with him to reconsider. She swore she loved him

  and wanted only to stay with him. How his heart had soared at her

  words. Dear God, how he wanted her. But he knew that her good and

  generous nature was blinding her to the truth. How could she possibly

  love him for a lifetime? When their passion cooled, she would realize

  what a difficult path she had chosen. A man who could not walk would

  become, in time, a burden. And so, though she thought Richard had

  chosen a nobler route, the truth was, he was saving her from herself.

  Holding his passion in check, he had sent her away and told her to save

  herself for someone who would truly deserve her.

  He felt the pain, sharp and swift. On the morrow Adrianna would leave

  with Madeline and Cordell. His life would be as before, only worse.

  From this day on he would be tormented by what he had been forced to

  give up. Even in his dreams he would see her, breathe her in the

  perfume of the roses, taste her in every drop of honey that passed his

  lips.

  With a scowl he looked up to see the object of his thoughts moving

  toward him along the garden path. As always the desire rose in him,

  swamping him with need. He carefully banked his feelings and composed

  his features.

  "Mistress Leems said you were out here." Adrianna continued walking

  until she was standing directly in front of him.

  He shifted uncomfortably. "Aye. I have much work to do. I have been

  neglecting my roses."

  He picked up the shears and made an attempt at a stalk. He snipped off

  a perfect bloom. It fluttered to the ground. Taking no notice he

  snipped another and another, until an entire row of rose bushes had

  been shorn of their blooms.

  "Perhaps I should leave you," she said softly, "before you destroy your

  beautiful rose garden."

  "Aye. I believe we said everything we had to say last night."

  "About last night..." Adrianna saw the way he flinched at her words

  and paused. Then, licking her lips, she forced herself to go on.

  "I do not regret what I did, my lord. I know it was brazen of me, and

  I know that I have shocked you. But I do not regret it. My only

  regret is that you refused me."

  He wondered if she could hear the wild thundering of his heart. God in

  heaven, how much should a man have to take? In a voice trembling with

  passion he said, "We will speak no more of this."

  "Oui. We will never again speak of it. And I will go back to France

  only because you will not permit me to stay with you. But know this,

  my Lord R
ichard. You cannot command my heart. That stays here with

  you. I love you. I will always love you."

  "That is the child in you speaking. You think you love me out of some

  noble need to help the less fortunate. But when you return to your

  home, you will be grateful to me for setting you free to love the way

  you deserve to love."

  For a moment the fire inside her raged out of control.

  "The child in me? Nay, my lord. It is the woman in me who speaks. I

  will be grateful for having known you, my lord."

  Her voice caught in her throat.

  "But I will never thank you for sending me away."

  She turned, but not before he saw the tears that filled her eyes.

  Without thinking he caught her hand and folded it between both of

  his.

  In a voice filled with pain he whispered, "For God's sake, Adrianna,

  leave me. Now. Before I weaken."

  "How--touching."

  Richard and Adrianna looked up in surprise at the sound of Lord

  Windham's caustic tones.

  Seeing his torn and bloody tunic, his dirty breeches, Richard

  commented, "It would seem you've taken another nasty fall, Windham."

  "Aye." Windham's lips twisted into a cruel smile.

  "A fall from grace."

  "I do not..."

  Windham took his sword from the scabbard and studied it.

  "All my life in my climb to power I have been thwarted by one man." He

  looked up and fixed his gaze on Richard.

  "Your brother."

  "Morgan? What are you talking about, Windham?"

  Lord Windham took a step closer. His eyes narrowed.

  "Morgan Grey thinks I am a beaten man. But he has not yet won. There

  are still some things I can do to hurt him."

  Instinctively Richard shoved Adrianna roughly aside. In a sharp

  commanding tone she had never heard before he said curtly, "You will go

  inside at once, Adrianna. And you will not look back."

  Windham's cruel smile grew.

  "You would spare this sweet child the sight of your death at my

  hands?"

  Adrianna sucked in her breath.

  "What are you saying?"

  "Go, Adrianna." Richard caught at the wheels of his chair, turning it

  so that he placed himself between the woman and Windham.

  "I command you. Go now."

  "Nay, my lord." Though her face had gone pale and her voice trembled,

  she did not move.

  "I obeyed you last night. And I was wrong. I should have disobeyed

  you and stayed as I wanted. But now you cannot command.

  If you must die at this man's hand, I would rather die beside you than

  live without you. "

  "There is little enough challenge here," Windham said, lifting his

  sword.

  "One with no legs, the other with no courage."

  Richard recalled the way his blood had always heated just before the

  battle. His heart would race, his palms would sweat, and he would feel

  the kicking, churning juices deep inside begin to pump as the battle

  began. He felt that way now. It was as if he had never been away from

  it.

  He glanced down at the shears in his lap. They were his only weapon.

  But he would do what he had to. Adrianna's life depended upon it. As

  for his own, it mattered not.

  As Windham thrust the sword, Richard ducked and waited until his

  opponent moved in closer. Then, slashing out, he managed to cut

  Windham's arm. With a savage oath Windham dropped his sword and

  clutched at his bloody arm.

  "For every wound you inflict on me, I shall inflict a dozen upon you

  and the woman. Before I finish with you, you will beg me to kill