Dawn light had yet to touch the sky when Lindsey slipped from her bed and made her way to the adjoining room. Carrying a candle aloft, she opened the door to the sleeping chamber and beckoned the servant seated by the bedside to come to her. In the adjacent sitting chamber they spoke in hushed tones.
“He has not stirred?”
“Nay, my lady. All day and night he has slept.”
“The fever?”
“It has run its course. He sleeps as peacefully as a bairn.”
“His wounds?”
“The bleeding has stopped. The wounds appear clean.” The serving girl’s tone revealed her admiration for the stranger who was the object of much speculation among the household staff. “He is most strong, my lady. Never have I seen a man recover so quickly.”
“Next, Moira, you will tell me the saints are on his side,” Lindsey said with a trace of impatience. Then, seeing the weariness in the girl’s eyes, she said softly, “You have done well. Go to sleep now. I will keep watch until the dawn.”
“Aye, my lady.”
As the servant left, Lindsey picked up the candle and entered the sleeping chamber. For long moments she held the candle aloft, peering at the man in the bed. Then, placing the light on the table, she drew a blanket around her shoulders and settled herself into a chair beside the bed.
She glanced around the room with a little frown. Her father had demanded that this man be treated like a respected guest. The basin of water and bloody linens had been removed. The stranger’s blood-soaked breeches had been stripped off and tossed into the fire. They were beyond saving. His tunic and fine shirt had been washed and mended. They lay neatly atop a nearby chest. His boots had been polished to a high shine and placed beside the bed.
Jamie was sprawled on his back, his arms outstretched. Pristine bed linens covered him modestly to the waist. His chest rose and fell in peaceful slumber. Despite the fact that there should be nothing out of the ordinary about the man who lay sleeping, there remained about him a hint of danger, even mystery. In the candlelight his thick shaggy hair and beard glinted with russet strands, as did the mat of hair on his chest.
Lindsey clenched her hands at her sides to resist the sudden urge to touch him. She drew the blanket tighter around her shoulders, vexed at the way her thoughts were wandering. She had grown up in a world of men. With an earthy father and four callous brothers, men held no mysteries for her. She had nursed them through dozens of wounds and illnesses, and had seen them in various stages of undress. Yet the sight of this man did strange things to her.
Each time she had entered this room to check on the sleeping visitor, her throat had gone dry. Worst of all, whenever she allowed herself to think about his kiss, her heartbeat became wild and erratic, and her palms became damp. As they did now. She wiped her hands on the blanket and tried to look away. But the man in the bed was like a magnet, drawing her gaze even when she tried desperately to ignore him.
Annoyed at her weakness, Lindsey slid the blanket from her shoulders and crossed the room to poke the fire. A log smoldered, then exploded into flame, filling the room with a sudden burst of light. She added another log, then returned to the bedside. For a moment she paused, studying the man as he slept.
Some might call him handsome, though she thought his bearded jaw too strong, his brow too wide. Some would probably be amused by his roguish smile and teasing banter. She considered him arrogant. Some women might even be impressed with his wide shoulders and strong, callused hands. She knew him to be a brute.
She leaned closer, studying the firm lips beneath the growth of red beard. So this was the man who was legend among her people. The Heartless MacDonald.
“I take it you see something that interests you.”
Lindsey nearly jumped out of her skin at the sleep-roughened voice. Quickly she composed herself. “You are in error, my lord. I see nothing here of any interest.”
As she began to back away his hand snaked out, catching her firmly by the wrist. “My mistake, my lady.” His lids snapped open, revealing eyes of midnight blue. In their depths she could see a hint of the danger that lurked there.
She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and snatched her hand away, as if burned. “I merely wanted to ascertain that you were still breathing.”
“Beware, my lady. It is dangerous to get this close without my bidding, unless, of course, you do not fear my blade.”
“Your blade is no longer with you. It was removed, along with your clothing.” Despite that fact, Lindsey took another step back, determined to keep some distance between them. Though her breath felt lodged in her throat, she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing that he caused her the slightest discomfort. “Since you are feeling so bold, my lord, it would be best to leave you to your own care.”
“Nay.” He caught her hand and was stunned at the feelings that surged through him at the mere touch of her. “Forgive my rude behavior. I am not usually such a dolt. Lay the blame upon the strange circumstances that brought us together, my lady.”
Lindsey felt the pressure of his hand on hers and stared into eyes that held the merest hint of laughter. She was not certain she liked this relaxed side of him. If anything, it made him appear even more dangerous. Like a sleek mountain cat drowsing in the sun.
“Stay awhile, my lady. There is much I need to learn.”
He released her hand and she hesitated a moment before returning to the chair beside the bed. She had promised her father to see to their guest’s comfort, after all. It would do no harm to answer his questions. She would never admit to herself that this man intrigued her.
“What day is this?”
“You have slept a day and a night, my lord.” Lindsey glanced at the balcony window. “It will soon be the dawn of the second day since you arrived.”
A look of annoyance crossed his face. “God in heaven. A day and a night.”
As he started to sit up, Lindsey pressed a hand to his shoulder. He lay back heavily, feeling the room spin in dizzying circles. “There is much to be done. I have no time for such weakness.”
“ ’Tis not weakness to give in to the exhaustion of the mind and body, my lord.”
“It is when the queen’s life is at stake.”
“Rest a while longer, my lord. Just until the household stirs.”
“Aye.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of her hand against his flesh. “My steed. Has he...?”
“A groom saw to him. At great peril, I might add.”
Jamie opened his eyes and arched a brow.
“A vicious hound kept circling and baring his fangs. But when the servants attempted to soothe him with food, the beast ran off. It would seem your hound is as dangerous as his master.”
Jamie’s lips curved into a smile. “He is not mine. Wolf sets his own course. And he has little use for humans.”
“Wolf?” Her hand paused in the act of smoothing his blankets.
“He resembles the wolves that roam the forests. I took him, half-starved, from a brute who had beaten him senseless. And though I set the animal free, he seems torn between his world and mine.”
“Might he harm the servants?”
“Only if they attempt to get too close to him.”
“Then they and Wolf are safe. I assure you, they have no desire to challenge the creature.”
“I am most grateful, my lady.” He lay very still. “If I should sleep,” he said, fighting to clear his mind, “wake me when the others wake.”
“Aye, my lord,” Lindsey said as she settled into the chair and drew the blanket around her. For long minutes she studied him as he slept. Then, lulled by the rain against the panes and the warmth of the fire, she closed her eyes and dozed.
* * *
A log blazed on the hearth and the morning sun slanted through the balcony windows, bathing the bed in a pool of warmth. Jamie’s eyes opened, and for one brief moment he struggled to recall where he was. Then, as reason returned, he glanced at the chair, only to find it empty. Momentary regret washed over him. The lass’s nighttime visit had been only a dream. A most pleasant dream.
A servant approached. “My lady Lindsey instructed me to awaken you as promised, my lord, and to invite you to join her family in the refectory when you are dressed.”
A smile touched his lips. It had not been a dream. “Thank you. Instruct my lord Gordon and his family that I will join them shortly.”
“Aye, my lord.” The servant poured fresh water into a basin, then crossed the room and left without another word.
Jamie watched as the door closed behind her. With a hiss of pain he sat up and felt the room spin for several moments. Slowly, as his vision cleared, he forced himself to stand. Setting his teeth against the pain, he walked to the basin of water and began to wash. He touched a hand to the wound at his shoulder. Though there was pain, the fire was gone.
It was the same as with his other wounds. He had suffered enough battle wounds to know that although he experienced much pain, the worst was over. Best of all, his mind was once more clear. The brain-numbing weariness had vanished. By the time he finished dressing, he had managed to push the pain to a distant corner of his mind. There were pressing matters to address. His discomfort was of little consequence.
He descended the stairs and followed the rumble of voices along the hallway. Pausing outside the open door, he listened for a moment to the chorus of voices raised in dissent.
“There is no way we can keep our departure a secret, Father.”
Jamie studied the bearded lad he knew to be the eldest son. Murray’s tone was low and intense.
“There are many in the Highlands who might take advantage of our departure to pillage our land and steal our wealth.”
“Aye,” echoed several other voices.
“Is our wealth at issue here? Must not our first concern be the safety of our beloved queen?”
“Aye. But is it necessary to sacrifice one for the other?” the tallest son asked.
“Perhaps we should ask our guest,” Douglas Gordon said, glancing up.
The others followed suit. Lindsey studied the man whose presence filled the room. If he suffered any effects from the last few days, he kept it well hidden. His shirt was woven of finest linen, and his elegant wool tunic stretched tautly across shoulders wider than any she had ever seen. His borrowed breeches revealed muscled thighs and a trim, flat stomach. Clean shaven, he was even more striking than she had expected, with a firm jaw and full, sensuous lips.
“Join us, Jamie MacDonald,” Douglas Gordon said “Though you have been with us for a day and a night, you have yet to be properly introduced to my family. I am Douglas Gordon.”
Jamie bowed slightly before the old man, then offered his hand.
“Murray is my eldest son,” the old man said, indicating the bearded lad to his left.
Jamie extended his hand and felt the strength in Murray’s grip. The two men assessed each other in silence. “This is my second son, Donald.”
Jamie offered his hand to the raven-haired lad who had passed him in the rain. Close up Jamie could see why the lasses were attracted to this darkly handsome youth.
“Robbie is our poet and dreamer,” Douglas said, indicating the golden-haired lad who smiled shyly at Jamie before extending his hand.
“And our youngest is Neal.”
The lad was slender as a sapling, with arms and legs that seemed too long for his body. But there was strength in his grip and the beginnings of muscles in his arms. And his smile was genuine when he offered his hand to Jamie.
“You have already met my daughter, Lindsey.”
“Aye.” Jamie bowed over her hand and saw the heat that stained her cheeks when he lifted her hand to his lips.
This day she was gowned in pale ivory wool that hugged her high firm breasts and revealed a tiny waist. He thought of the way he had hauled her roughly into his arms, pressing her lithe young body against his, and once again he felt the rush of heat. Her waist-long hair had been brushed and tied back with ribbons, but already several strands had managed to spring free, falling in an oddly appealing way across her eye.
“Sit,” Douglas said, indicating the place beside his daughter.
As he took his seat Jamie felt his thigh brush Lindsey’s and he chanced to look in her direction. She studiously avoided meeting his gaze.
“I see my mission has caused a conflict, my lord,” Jamie said as he filled his plate.
“Everything creates a conflict in this clan,” Douglas Gordon said dryly. “ ’Tis the nature of the Gordons. At the moment we are discussing the danger of leaving our lands and people unprotected.”
“Aye. ’Tis a risk. Mayhap I should take my leave quickly, so that you might discuss your family business in private.”
Unknowingly Lindsey’s voice took on a note of soft persuasion. “ ’Twould be folly.” Seeing the way her brothers’ heads came up, she added quickly, “To leave without accomplishing your mission, my lord. You do not yet know if the Gordons will take up your banner.”
“How can you not?” His gaze left her to study those around the table. “If you love your queen, you have no choice.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
“Mayhap.” Neal, the youngest, met his even look. “But we would go at great sacrifice, my lord.”
Jamie knew the truth of his words. This clan prospered because of the strength of its lairds. Without these leaders to defend against invasion, all could be lost to invading clans within a fortnight. Still, the queen’s safety must be their first consideration.
“There must be a nobler aim than defending your people, or protecting your wealth.” Jamie drained his goblet and felt his strength slowly return. The fire was back in his blood. And in his voice. “I have come to beg you, in the name of our queen, to take up arms against those who would shamelessly attack one who, though queen of this great land, is helpless against her enemies.”
Robbie’s fair hair glinted in the morning sunlight. “Does the queen not have an army to command?”
“Nay,” Jamie said, his eyes flashing. “The lady is at the mercy of those who plot and scheme against her. We must be her army.”
“But she is queen,” Neal interrupted. “How would anyone dare to harm her?”
“Aye, she is a queen. She is also a woman. A woman,” Jamie added softly, “who is heavy with child.”
At that everyone fell silent. It was the handsome Donald who broke the uncomfortable silence. “How do we know that this attack was truly meant for the queen? Did you not say she lives?”
“Aye. But her secretary, Riccio, is dead. And Brice Campbell lies near death because he went to Mary’s aid. And even now, while Brice fights for his own life, he is concerned only for Mary. He is convinced that she was the intended victim.”
“There are many,” Murray remarked to those around the table, “who would see your laird, the Highland Barbarian, dead. He has crossed swords with many men of influence.”
Beneath the table Jamie’s hands clenched into fists as he struggled to keep the anger from his voice. “Is there one among us who has not made enemies?” He studied the faces of the Gordon men, who stared back at him without emotion. “But I tell you that Brice Campbell is not a fool. His instincts about men are shrewd. If he believes that the queen’s life is in danger, I believe it also. And I am willing to lay down my life for my queen.”
Douglas Gordon studied the solemn faces around the table. “Murray. What say you?”
The eldest son spoke to his father, ignoring the man seated beside his sister. “I do not relish leaving our lands and people unprotected. And I am not convinced that Queen Mary is in danger. Still...” He glanced at his brothers. “If the others vote to go to Edinburgh, I ride with them.”
“Donald,” the old man prodded. “What say you?”
The handsome lad studied the giant who sat beside his sister. He resented this messenger of bad tidings. But his love for adventure far outweighed his misgivings. Besides, he had heard that some of the women at court in Edinburgh were some of the most beautiful in the world. “If we could summon our clan to stand watch until we return, I say we ride to Edinburgh.”
“Robbie?” Douglas Gordon turned his gaze on the quiet, studious son who much preferred his books to a life of action.
Robbie thought about his well-ordered life and felt a welling of resentment at this intruder. But Jamie’s reminder that the queen was a woman in distress had found its mark. The poet’s tender heart could not be denied. “Aye. I would ride to the queen’s defense.”
“Neal?” The old man smiled gently at his youngest son.
“Aye, Father.” The lad was twitching with eagerness at this unexpected chance for adventure. He had never before had the opportunity to see what lay beyond his beloved Highlands. “How can we refuse?”
Jamie sat back, relieved that there had been no objection raised. He was surprised when Douglas Gordon turned to his daughter. “And you, Lindsey? What say you?”
Lindsey saw the way the man beside her stiffened. It gave her a rush of pleasure to know that Jamie MacDonald had once again been caught unawares. He had not expected a Highland laird to respect a lowly woman’s views.
“My first impulse was to agree with Murray,” she said, enjoying the way Jamie’s eyes narrowed at her words. “We cannot, after all, journey all the way to Edinburgh without being observed. There are those who will take advantage of our absence to steal and plunder. But, like the others, I am not willing to risk my queen’s safety for the sake of wealth and comfort.” She paused to moisten her dry lips, then said with a rush of words, “And, as Donald said, we can summon our clan to defend our home. But there is a question no one else has voiced.”
She turned to meet Jamie’s look, and he could read the challenge in her gaze. “How do we know that this man’s word is true? How do we even know that he is the man he claims to be?”
The others turned to their father, who sat silently regarding his daughter and the giant beside her.
In a solemn tone Douglas said, “I know of no other who could masquerade as a man as... unique as Jamie MacDonald.” A hint of a smile touched the older man’s lips. “But, to put your fears to rest, I will tell you that I have seen this man before, standing with Brice Campbell in the court of Mary. Their friendship and loyalty to our queen are well documented.” He turned to his daughter. “Does that ease your mind, Lindsey?”
She tore her gaze from the man beside her and nodded. “Then the matter, for me, is settled. I vote to ride to Edinburgh, no matter what the cost.”
Douglas glanced around the table. “You have all spoken. We are in agreement then? We are all willing to see to the queen’s safety?”
Murray, as eldest son, spoke for all. “Aye, Father.”
“It is done, then.” Douglas Gordon turned to Jamie with a smile. “The Gordons will ride with you to Edinburgh, my lord. Our hearts and swords are pledged to our queen.”
“Thank you.” Jamie extended his hand to the old man, then to each of the sons. “Thank you, one and all.”
When he turned to Lindsey, he lifted her hand to his lips. “And my thanks to you, my lady, for your eloquent words.”
“They were not mere words, my lord. Like my brothers’, mine was a solemn promise. I have pledged my heart and sword to my queen. And now, if you will excuse me, there is much to prepare before we ride.”
“We?” Jamie glanced from Lindsey to her father, then back to Lindsey. “Surely you do not intend to ride with us all the way to Edinburgh?”
“Did you not hear my father’s words?”
Jamie saw the smiles on their lips as the others pushed away from the table and exited the refectory.
Alone, Lindsey stood facing Jamie, her eyes flashing fire. “The Gordons will ride with you to Edinburgh, my lord.” Her tone of voice, her eyes, dared him to challenge her father’s pronouncement. “All the Gordons.”
“Including you?”
“Aye, my lord. Including me.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “We shall see about that, my lady.”
Her look was equally defiant. “Aye. You shall see, my lord.” With a swish of skirts, she was gone.
As the servants began clearing the table, Jamie walked to the window and stood, deep in thought. He had his wish. The Gordons were pledged to the queen’s safety. But he had not anticipated this turn of events. One among them might prove more a curse than a blessing.