The sky to the east was still dark when Brenna awoke. With a light heart she climbed from her bed. At the first sound of her footsteps, old Morna, her maid, was at her side, helping her with her morning toilette.
“You be anxious, child.”
“Aye. The English soldiers are leaving us this morrow.”
“Thanks be to God. Their leader, Morgan Grey, is a fearsome man. He reminds me of the one who wed our dear Meredith.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Brenna studied the old woman’s reflection in her mirror. “Brice Campbell is a Scotsman. Morgan Grey is English.”
Old Morna shrugged. “Aye. But there is a look about him. A bit of a rogue. If I were fifty years younger...”
“Are you daft?” Brenna stood and smoothed her skirts. “The man owes his allegiance to the English queen. That makes him our enemy.”
“You spend an inordinate amount of time staring at your enemy when you think no one is watching.”
No one except this old woman would ever speak so bluntly to the mistress of MacAlpin Castle. Brenna flushed clear to her toes, then reached for the door pull. “I have no time for your silly prattle. I go below stairs to oversee the food for the English soldiers’ journey.”
As she flounced away, Brenna fretted over the old woman’s words. Perhaps she had spent a good deal of time staring at Morgan Grey. But it was only because he was a man who could not be trusted. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was indeed easy to look at.
Halfway down the stairs she turned and found Megan following her. The girl’s face was wreathed with smiles.
“’Tis a day for rejoicing,” she called, as she caught up with her sister and linked arms with her.
“Aye. Perhaps our lives can now return to normal.”
The girls came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs. Morgan Grey stood near the main entrance, calling orders to his men, who were already carrying supplies to the horses who stood saddled and waiting in the outer courtyard.
“My ladies.” He bowed and smiled charmingly.
Too charmingly, Brenna thought. This was a side to Morgan Grey that she had not previously witnessed.
“You are afoot early, my lord. It would appear that you are eager to be away.”
“Every soldier harbors a longing for home.”
“Aye. Then I will not delay your departure.” Brenna turned away. “I will see to your morning meal at once.”
He watched as she hurried away, followed by her sister. For a moment he stood very still as he went over his plan in his mind. Then, confident that he could carry it off, he returned his attention to the men and their supplies.
~ ~ ~
The meal was a lavish affair, and at last Brenna had found her appetite. With Morgan about to depart, she felt free to enjoy herself. He watched as she savored the thick slab of pork and bread warm from the oven. When she drank the hot mulled wine, she felt light-headed, and couldn’t decide if it was the wine or the knowledge that she would soon be rid of this troublesome man.
Across the room she noted that Duncan’s chair was vacant. She would speak with his wife, Mary, as soon as the guests were gone. The old man often had trouble getting out of bed these days. He had earned the right to his rest. Perhaps old Duncan could be persuaded to retire soon and turn over his duties to one of his sons. She hated to admit to herself that the Englishman had been right when he suggested that Duncan’s loyalty was not enough to keep her safe. Her old friend would give his life for her. But that might not be enough. She needed one younger, more agile, at her right hand.
She turned aside the troubling thoughts. She would find a way to handle the matter gracefully, with no slight on Duncan’s good name.
Hamish MacPherson was obviously delighted to be part of the festivities. Seated to the left of Brenna, he ate with relish and drank more than a little ale, until his face was flushed and his eyes a bit cloudy.
He paid special attention to his hostess, hanging on her every word. If the Englishman to her right was scowling, it mattered not to Hamish. Soon enough they would be rid of the scoundrel. And perhaps, if the fates were smiling, he could persuade Brenna MacAlpin to allow him to stay on another day or two.
When they had had their fill, Brenna and Megan led their guests to the courtyard, eager to bid them farewell.
“Safe journey, my lord,” Brenna said, her eyes dancing. “You may extend my warm wishes to your monarch.”
“You may extend those wishes yourself.”
She thought she heard a trace of laughter in his tone. But his words had her puzzled.
“I fear you make no sense.”
He crossed the distance between them and caught her by the arm. Surprised, she stared at the offending hand, then up into his dark eyes.
“You have but a moment to see to a wardrobe suitable for traveling.”
“I do not...”
Her eyes widened. He saw the confusion, then the sudden, terrible knowledge at his next words.
“I fear I cannot bear to be parted from you. I insist that you accompany me to London, my lady.”
She swallowed. “You cannot be serious.”
“My queen has already petitioned her cousin in Edinburgh, my lady. She intends to have you wed to an Englishman. To that end I am sworn to obey.”
“You cannot take me from my own home, my own land, against my will.”
“You are wrong, my lady. I fully intend to do just that.”
At Morgan’s announcement, Hamish MacPherson unsheathed his sword. But before he could brandish it, Morgan’s words stopped him. “Look around you, boy. If you but lift that sword against me, a dozen men will step forward to stop you. And the lady will see you lying at her feet in little pieces.”
“At least I will have the pleasure of wounding you or perhaps even killing you first.”
Morgan shrugged carelessly. “If you wish.”
As Hamish lifted his sword, Morgan unsheathed his own weapon and moved so quickly the lad had no chance to defend himself. The tip of Morgan’s sword pierced his shoulder. Blood spurted as Hamish’s sword clattered to the stones of the courtyard.
“That is but a warning, nothing more,” Morgan said between clenched teeth. “Know that if I had wanted to kill you, you would already lie dead at my feet.”
Megan and Brenna rushed to assist the wounded lad.
Morgan Grey looked beyond them to old Morna, who stood on the steps just inside the castle doors, wringing her hands.
“Take your mistress upstairs and see that she is dressed in something warm and comfortable for the journey.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Brenna looked up from her place beside Hamish. “My men will never...”
“Your men will do as I command.” He called out to Alden, his second in command, who came forward leading Duncan MacAlpin, still dressed in his nightclothes. The old man’s face was flushed with embarrassment.
“Forgive me, my lady. The villains invaded my sleeping chamber. They are holding my Mary prisoner.”
Brenna glanced up and saw the old woman standing stiffly on her balcony. An English soldier stood behind her. Morning sunlight glinted on the knife at her throat.
“So this is your mission of peace.”
At Brenna’s angry words, Megan pulled the dirk from her waistband and leaped at Morgan Grey. Instantly Brenna wrapped her arms around Megan, pinning her arms at her sides. It took all of Brenna’s strength to contain the fury in the girl.
“He humiliates us, degrades us and threatens to take you by force. Why do you stop me?”
“Because I love you,” Brenna whispered furiously. “Because I cannot allow my foolish trust of the man to cost the life of the sister I love more than life itself.”
“If you love me, let me kill him.”
“Nay.” Brenna continued to hold her sister until the knife dropped from her fingers. Then she turned her into her arms and allowed her to weep out all her fears and frustration. Morgan watched without emotion. When the girl’s tears had been stemmed, he said quietly, “Go with your nurse. Dress quickly. We have wasted enough time.”
With a last hateful look at her enemy, Brenna turned, keeping her arms firmly around her younger sister as the two followed Morna up the stairs.
When they were safely in her chambers, Brenna released Megan. Instantly the young girl flew into a rage.
“Why did you not permit me to attack that villain?”
“Megan.” Brenna caught her sister by the hand. “I implore you to listen to me. You are a very brave lass. And I love you dearly. But you and I are no match for a man like Morgan Grey.”
“How can you calmly allow him to take you away from all you love?”
“I have no intention of giving in to that madman.”
“But why...”
Brenna touched a finger to her lips. Both Megan and old Morna gave her their complete attention.
“Do you remember how we used to climb the castle walls when we were children?”
Megan nodded. “Mother used to say her heart stopped each time she discovered our little prank.”
Brenna turned to her old nurse. “You must delay for as long as you can. When Morgan Grey finally loses patience, stand back and force him to break down the door. That should give us enough time to climb down and cross the River Tweed. Once across, we will make our way to the Highlands.”
“And the safety of Brice Campbell’s protection,” Megan said with sudden understanding.
“Aye.” Brenna began stripping away the filmy gown she had worn to celebrate the retreat of the English. “Hurry, Megan. We must dress quickly and be on our way.”
“You have no horses, lass,” Morna moaned. “How can you go all that distance on foot?”
“Once in the forest we can enlist the aid of the Highlanders. They know of our relationship to Brice Campbell. They will come to our aid.”
“They are a strange breed, lass. They would just as leave kill you as help you.”
“Not if we explain that we are running from the English. They do not forget old grudges. Besides,” Brenna said as she pulled on a heavy woolen cloak lined with ermine, “I would rather die in Scotland at the hands of the Highlanders than in England at the hands of Morgan Grey.”
“He would not kill you, lass, only hand you over to his queen.”
“Aye. To be wed to some hated Englishman. That would be worse than death.”
When at last the two young women climbed over the balcony and began making their way down the uneven stone wall of the castle, old Morna stood watching, her lips moving in prayer.
“Godspeed,” she called. She lifted tear-clouded eyes to scan the forested peaks in the distance. Safety was so far away. And yet it was their only chance to elude the man who waited below to steal away her beloved mistress.
~ ~ ~
The English soldiers allowed old Duncan to assist Hamish in stemming the flow of blood from his shoulder. While they worked, Morgan Grey paced the courtyard. He had originally intended to go with Brenna and see to her hasty arrangements. But after witnessing the emotional outburst of her younger sister, he had changed his plans. He would allow them a few minutes alone. There was much they would have to say to one another.
His men stood beside their horses as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
Morgan cursed this peculiar trait in women that caused them to take hours to do what a man could do in only minutes. What was the damnable woman doing? Packing the entire contents of her wardrobe? He glanced around. How many additional beasts would it take to transport all that she was bringing?
He would be firm. He would personally inspect every trunk and insist that she leave behind all except the most necessary items. Like all women, she would weep and wail and beg to be allowed to take all her silly frills to England. But in the end he would prevail.
He paced again, the length of the courtyard and back. He had been patient long enough. Exasperated, he charged through the doorway and up the stairs.
“I can give you no more time, my lady,” he called through the closed door. “We must leave before the sun grows any higher in the sky.”
He paused and listened. There was no sound from within.
He pounded a fist on the door. “My lady. We must leave.”
Once again there was only silence.
He frowned. What trickery was afoot?
“Old woman,” he shouted. “Are you inside?”
He placed his ear to the door and listened. No sound issued from within.
“Alden.” Alarmed, Morgan ran to the top of the stairs and shouted for his second in command. “Bring your strongest men. And a log with which to batter down this door.”
Hamish and old Duncan watched with sudden interest as several of the English soldiers hurried inside. The rest of Morgan’s men grew tense. They listened to the sounds of pounding as the log was thrust again and again until the massive door gave way.
Morgan strode through the open doorway and stared at the old woman who huddled against the far wall.
“Where is your mistress?”
The old woman trembled.
He strode across the room until he towered over her. His voice was low with rage. “You will answer me. At once.”
In a quavering voice Morna croaked, “She has gone to the Highlands, where she will be safe.”
“The Highlands. How did she escape this room?”
The old woman pointed to the balcony. Astonished, Morgan stalked to the railing and stared down.
“How can this be? There is no rope.”
“My girls never needed a rope,” the old woman said with a surge of pride. “From the time they were wee lasses, they were able to climb the castle walls by placing their feet and hands into the notches made by missing stones.”
Morgan swore savagely, then turned to his second in command. “Alden, choose five of your fastest horses and riders. They will accompany me to the Highlands. You will lead the rest of the men back to England.”
In a low tone, so the other soldiers couldn’t hear, Alden whispered, “You dare not follow the woman to the Highlands, Morgan. You’ve heard the rumors. An English soldier would never survive those savages.”
Morgan’s mouth was set in a hard, tight line. The tone of his voice left no doubt of his intentions. “I go to the Highlands. Or to hell and beyond. It matters not to me. But this I know. I shall return to England. And when I do, the woman will be with me.”