Chapter Twenty-Nine

She loved him above all else.

Abby tried not to think about Daniel’s favor with the queen a little later while he escorted her up a grand, ornately carved staircase leading to the queen’s private chamber.

She’d been summoned.

She took a few moments from her anxious thoughts to take in the sight of the palace around her. The walls were painted white with carved gold molding and smaller wrought iron balconies above the staircase. A giant chandelier, crafted in finely ground, high-karat gold over bronze, provided light in the spacious foyer.

“General?” She paused her steps and waited for him to stop. She was glad it was Daniel escorting her. She trusted him.

He turned to look at her and told her everything her heart wanted to know without speaking a single word. Och, how would he hide the expressiveness of his beautiful eyes from the wrong company? And who the hell was the wrong company?

Good lord, why did he have to look so extraordinarily handsome—and dangerous—dressed in full army regalia, including his red coat, lined in rich indigo and turned out at the lapels, cuffs, and collar. His lean legs were clad in snug black pants with polished boots reaching to his knees.

“I have a question, which if ye answer truthfully, will give me the courage I need to meet her.”

He moved a touch closer to her so she could hear his whisper. “You have the courage it takes to meet ten of her, Miss Campbell.”

Courageous enough to tell him she was in love him?

“What is your question, then, my lady, that I might answer it truthfully and convince you?”

She smiled at him. She couldn’t help it! They were doomed! Her family was doomed! Unless there was a chance of getting the queen on her side. Anne’s favor toward Daniel didn’t matter. Daniel’s favor toward the queen did. Abby trusted his judgment of character—despite the name he’d earned. He was an honorable man. A true knight of the Garter.

“Is the queen someone ye hold close in yer heart?”

He could have asked her what that had to do with anything, but he didn’t. He simply answered her. “Yes, I hold her close.”

A difficult spot to earn—close in his heart. Abby knew he didn’t give it lightly. It told her much about her aunt. Her smile widened while the rest of her relaxed.

She took the arm he offered and they passed through two other grand halls carpeted in lush crimson to match the velvet-curtained windows and upholstered benches. Huge paintings set in painted gold frames lined the walls. Images of stately men and women whom Abby suspected were her relatives stared back at her as she walked beneath them. Everything was done in grand design, from the thick, round wooden tables, carved and polished to a mirror finish, to the beautifully crafted blue and white vases sitting atop them.

All this could have been her mother’s. Hers, someday, if King James hadn’t hidden his firstborn in a Catholic abbey after her birth. If Abigail’s father hadn’t rescued her mother from the abbey as it burned down around her. But what was this beautifully chilling isolation compared to the warm, inviting arms of Camlochlin?

She didn’t want any of this, and neither did her mother.

She stopped upon coming to two great, wooden doors as something occurred to her.

“Every time anyone speaks of your relationship with Anne, they mention her loving ye like a son. Ye yerself said it. I ask ye now, are ye her son?”

He glanced down at the space between them and then drew in a deep breath. “Are you still expecting truthfulness?”

She resisted the urge to smile at him and nodded.

“Very well then, but I’d like to remind you that I just recently discovered the truth of my birth.”

“The truth?” she echoed quietly.

He nodded and knocked on the door. “My father was not who I thought.”

“Who was?” Abby asked him.

A woman’s voice called from the other side of the door bidding them entry.

Her escort pushed the doors open, then stepped aside, making room for Abby to enter.

“Miss Campbell, Your Majesty.”

Och, she would kill him! How could he begin to tell her his secret and usher her into the presence of the queen of Great Britain at the same time? What was he telling her? She couldn’t think clearly. Not when she’d just stepped into the same room as the queen.

Drawing in a deep breath, Abby looked up from the marble floor at the queen, who was sitting in a heavily cushioned chair of deep emerald and dark wood. She moved closer and curtsied like a supplicant angel when she reached the queen. Anne looked pleased even while she took in Abby’s crown of pale silver.

“Miss MacGregor.”

The queen’s voice snapped Abby out of the dreamlike state that had come over her, unable to believe that she was truly here, at Anne’s feet. She blinked, still staring at the queen. She had been taking in her aunt’s melancholy features and didn’t find any trace of her mother in them.

“You will need to learn how to behave in public. Let me start you in the right direction. You will not look at me so boldly.”

Abby blinked and worried that she’d already found disfavor with the queen. “Fergive—”

“I know you Highlanders are a defiant bunch, but if I’m correct, your mother was raised in an abbey. I know she has taught you deference as well as defiance. Am I mistaken?”

“Nae, Yer Majesty.”

“Good. Because we don’t want anyone discovering who you truly are, do we?”

Did she mean a possible heir, or a Jacobite outlaw?

“Nae, Yer Majesty.”

The queen smiled at her, stilling Abigail with the fathomless shadows in her dark eyes. “Lovely, that’s better. Now come, sit with us.” She motioned to another chair by the hearth fire. “You know General Marlow, of course. He escorted you to England and insists on escorting you still.”

Her narrowed gaze settled on Daniel and he answered with a slow, subtle smile no woman with blood in her veins could resist. “I’m the only one she’s truly safe with. You said it yourself.”

“So I did,” Anne agreed without the slightest trace of humor and returned her attention to Abby.

“The general was telling me of your journey together,” the queen went on. “There were quite a lot of interesting moments between your family and my knight.”

Abby looked to Daniel for guidance. His slight smile was a beacon of light in the shadows of the court.

“He proved himself well, Yer Majesty.”

Anne smiled ever so slightly and Abby thought she saw the tiniest resemblance to her mother.

“May I ask ye a question?”

The queen nodded and glanced at Daniel while he sat opposite her.

“Do all the doors have locks on them, or just mine?”

Anne laughed softly, but there was nothing delicate in her dark gaze. At least, not unless one looked closer. “All, dear. A widowed queen, especially one with such relentless enemies as the Jacobites, can trust very few.”

After that, they spoke of everything, including finding Daniel’s soldiers dead and his getting stabbed at the inn. The queen asked her about her feelings for her stepbrother, James Stuart, and what she thought of the palace. The small talk was enjoyable, with her and Daniel almost answering together twice.

Abby discovered her aunt to be a pleasant woman, who found her pleasure in reading and playing chess with General Marlow.

The evening was going well, so it was even more shocking to Daniel when the queen dismissed him, wishing to speak to Abigail alone.

The chamber was silent save for a resounding snap of wood burning in the hearth. Then Daniel moved a step away from the queen’s chair. “I’ll be outside, Ma’am.”

“Now, do tell me,” the queen of Great Britain said, turning to Abby the instant Daniel was gone. “Tell me of your mother. Is she a Catholic?”

“Aye, she is.”

Anne looked relieved to hear it. Thanks to a law called the Act of Settlement, no Catholic heir could succeed to the throne. There were exceptions, though. Still, so far things were going very well. It seemed that Abby’s mother was correct in assuming that all the queen wanted was reassurances.

“Do you resemble her?”

“Some say I do,” Abby told her, truthfully.

The queen pinched her lips at her and arched her brow. “Well, it’s clear she got the looks in the family.”

“Ye’re verra’ bonny, Yer Majesty.”

Anne’s faint smile widened a bit as she drifted off into a more pleasant place and time. “I was. A long time ago.” She looked up, her smile intact but fading. “Enough about me. Tell me about Davina.”

Abby had some questions of her own before she answered. “Why do ye believe she is yer sister?”

Anne eyed her, then shrugged her shoulders, as if coming to a silent conclusion about her niece. “I heard my father speak of her to one of your uncles the night of his coronation. I wasn’t sure if she lived. It took me twenty years but I found her. I know I did.”

She was correct, Abby admitted to herself. Anne had found her sister.

“To what purpose?”

“You are bold, niece.”

“We speak of my mother, Yer Majesty. Let me assure ye, she doesna’ want the throne.”

“That’s nonsense, child.” The queen laughed without humor. “Who wouldn’t want this life?”

She was indeed rather bonny, Abby thought, looking at her, with chestnut locks coiled about her head and her alabaster skin, free of any powder. There was something about her expression when she wasn’t brooding that reminded Abby of her mother—the beautiful curve of her cheekbone and jaw, mayhap, and the confident tilt of her lips.

“My mother wouldna’ want it.”

“Do you expect me to believe that your mother would prefer the life of an outlaw, who is likely living in a hovel at the cold edge of the world, over all this?”

Abby kept her hands folded in her lap and nodded her head. “ ’Tis the truth. If ye knew my faither—all my kin—ye would believe me. She is happy with her life.”

“She is loved?” the queen asked, sounding a bit distant, like she was somewhere else in the palace.

Abby wondered where. “Aye, she’s loved verra’ much, and by many.”

The queen didn’t speak for a moment, and then, still looking off but now with a creased brow, she said in a soft, stifled voice, as if what she was about to say crushed her heart, her soul, “My husband, George, died more than a year ago. Of his love, I was certain. He is greatly missed. There were times when I believed my sister Mary loved me.”

Abby smiled and swiped moisture away from her eyes when the queen returned her attention to her.

“I would like some time to get to know you and learn more about my sister in Scotland.”

“Whatever Yer Majesty wishes.” Abby curtsied.

“You will act as my handmaiden during your stay. It is the story I told General Marlow, and I wouldn’t have him think me dishonest.”

Aye, Abby remembered him telling her that the queen had deceived him. She’d seen the result of that deceit. How would he take it when she told her who she really was? If she told him?

“Do you understand the duties of a handmaiden, Abigail?”

“Aye, Yer Majesty. I am to remain at yer side as yer companion.”

“Correct.” Anne examined her from foot to crown, then smiled. “You’re not dimwitted, as I was told Highlanders were.”

Abby gritted her teeth but managed a smirk and bowed her head to show her thanks. “I’m sure whoever told ye that has never met a Highlander.”

“General Marlow has met many. He’s killed many too. The Jacobite ones, I mean. Are you aware of this?”

Abby felt sick. “Aye, Yer Majesty. Why do ye bring it up?”

“Your affection for him is apparent.”

Abby’s heart halted in her chest. No! “Yer Majesty, I—”

The queen held up her hand to stop her. “I understand that he is a good, honorable man, and handsome as well. Desirable to many. But it will end today. If Lady Blackburn discovers these feelings, she’ll be quite jealous.”

“Then why dinna’ ye toss her out and strip her of her title? Why do ye allow her to make Daniel’s life miserable? Why, the poor man denies himself love because he too fears Lady Blackburn will take action against any woman in his life.”

“Miss MacGregor, you forget yourself,” the queen warned.

Abby lowered her eyes and cursed herself for letting her emotions rule her. “Fergive me, Yer Majesty.”

Her aunt was quiet for another moment or two, giving Abby enough time to realize she’d just implied that Anne feared Lady Blackburn.

“I see that he shared much with you, Abigail,” the queen said, her dark eyes sharp and fathomless in the lamplight.

Abby immediately recognized her error. Before she could think of how to react, Anne continued.

“Does he deny his love for you?”

Abby’s heart pounded in her chest. She somehow sensed that much rode on her reply. Anne favored him above all others. She’d heard it from everyone.

Dear God, Abby thought suddenly, feeling sick to her stomach, the queen couldn’t know. She couldn’t. Abby had to do better here or she’d ruin everything. “He has nae love fer me, dear Aunt. I am a Jacobite. We traveled fer many days with no one else to speak to but each other. So aye, he told me much.”

Anne sized her up and then gave her a resigned nod. “I don’t know why he continues to even speak to Lady Blackburn.”

“Mayhap,” Abby offered boldly, “he suspects that pushing her away while continuing his loyalty to ye might put ye in danger from her jealousy.”

The queen shook her head. “Lady Blackburn can sometimes be a vindictive wretch, but she wouldn’t bring harm to me.”

Abby hoped it was true. Anne was her kin. She might be queen, but she didn’t seem so bad. Of course, Abby still believed that James Francis should be king, but that didn’t mean she wanted her aunt dead to usher him in.

She wasn’t a fool to think the danger of her task was over because her aunt appeared civil. She was in England, in a palace far from home. It didn’t matter where her father was. He couldn’t do anything to help her without starting a war.

“I’ll have you escorted to the Banqueting Hall,” the queen told her. “But after we do something about that gown.”

Abby blushed. “I didna’ have time to get the wrinkles out.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely without the wrinkles,” her aunt said, kindly not mentioning that its style and cut were no longer in fashion. She called for Daniel to fetch Jane and Judith and then see himself to the hall without them.

The queen of Great Britain was going to help dress her. She should be hopping on both feet at the thought of fine silks and satins against her skin.

Instead, she couldn’t stop thinking about what the queen would do if she lost the man she considered like a son to her niece.

She was here, representing her clan, her mother. She would honor them and not bring them trouble.

Daniel didn’t belong to Charlotte Adler. He belonged to the queen. And that was worse.

Charlotte strode through the halls without an escort. Daniel should have been here but Anne had called him away. Oh, how she hated when Anne stole Daniel from her. Despite her hands wringing her handkerchief at her chest, her gait wasn’t hurried or frantic, but always determined wherever she went, whether inside the palace or out.

She tried not to let too many things rattle her. But what was she to think of Anne’s new handmaiden? What in damnation did Anne want with a Highlander? Charlotte had seen a few of them before. Guarded, brooding, terrifying men, with whom she never wanted any part. But the girl, Abigail Campbell, was more like a radiant star than a dark threat. She hardly seemed important enough to warrant Daniel’s protection, so who was she that the queen would bring her into the palace? The girl could bring danger to Anne, so why had Daniel agreed to bring her here? Heaven forbid any danger should come to his queen. Why, he’d even warned her on a few occasions to watch her step with Anne. Charlotte had merely laughed, but he was serious. He was always serious when it came to Anne.

She wondered what Daniel would do when he discovered that his dear queen had lied to him all his life? Oh, she’d see that he found out the truth. But the timing had to be flawless. And then, while grieving the loss of his father and the trust of his friend, she would comfort him in her bed.

She scanned the faces in the large Banqueting Hall when she reached it. Where was Daniel? Where was Miss Campbell? Were they together? They’d been together for many days, and dear lord, Abigail Campbell was beautiful enough to tempt any man. Even one who swore to hate her.

No. Not Daniel. Miss Campbell might enchant other men, but not Daniel. He was a rock. A man of solid strength and honor and integrity. He couldn’t be moved. She knew firsthand, after months of failing to move him. Of course, she hadn’t suspected the damned queen to be the one warning him not to sleep with her.

She took her seat, two chairs to the right of the queen’s, who would sit at the head, and looked around. When she finally spotted him talking to his friends, the Embrys, she waved her hand to him like one stricken, arrested by the sight of him standing at the entrance, dressed in his high-ranking attire. She hated that he embodied the very essence of masculinity, for it weakened her, and that was not only a pathetic flaw, but a dangerous one as well.

She watched him while he moved toward his chair, the first at Anne’s right, a seat of honor; the first at her left was the other. The queen didn’t hide her favor toward him, the son she did not bear.

“Where were you?” Charlotte asked him, trying to sound unfazed and unshaken by his absence. “Had I known you were going for a walk, I would have joined you.”

He barely looked at her, but reached for his cup. “I was not alone.”

“Oh?” She tried not to let him hear the tremor in her voice. “Miss Campbell?”

He shook his head. “I had many questions to put to Captain Lewis about Montagu and Captain Andrews.”

“Oh.” She let her smile fall on him full force. “You should have asked me about Montagu. I knew he was in Edinburgh. Instead I sat here worried that you had abandoned me for that little trollop.”

Daniel flicked his gaze to hers and something scalding hot passed over her. “I thought my lady might be safer without me near.”

She blushed. “Feeling amorous General?”

“You could say that,” he answered in a low murmur, almost a growl.

He smiled at her and she caught her breath. She understood why Anne didn’t hide her feelings. Charlotte was having a hard time concealing hers. He wove a spell with his large, soulful eyes and dashing grin.

“But passionate is a better way to put it.”

A tight spell. She didn’t intend to let go. Ever.