Chapter Thirty-Two

This wasn’t really happening. Daniel looked at both women and ran his hand down his face. Davina MacGregor was a Stuart? Anne’s eldest sister… Hell, no, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. It meant that he’d been deceived by a woman yet again. And not about anything minor. No, falling in love with an enemy was one thing, with an heir to the British throne was quite another.

“You’re not the true queen?”

“Aye, aye! She is!” Abby answered for her. “My mother wants nothing to do with—”

“Enough!” he shouted, quieting her. He needed to leave. To think. First Anne. Now Abby.

He left the room and walked the halls of St. James’s Palace not really knowing where he was going. How could everything change in one moment? More lies! God help him, he’d known Abby wasn’t telling him something. But this? Her mother was Anne’s sister? He shook his head, hoping the movement would jar him awake from this dream. It had to be a dream. James II didn’t have three living daughters. He had two, Mary and Anne. Davina MacGregor was a Highland Jacobite, not the true queen of Great Britain! This was madness!

He stormed down the stairs. Someone was deceiving them. He was going to find out who. What if it was Abby? Dear God, don’t let it be Abby! Perhaps it wasn’t, he tried to convince himself. Perhaps her family had lied to her.

He laughed at the madness of it, but even as he did, he recalled the secrets she’d almost exposed, like the name of her home. What was it? Ah, yes, Camlochlin. She’d begged him, after that name slipped from her lips, not to use anything she told him against her family. Did the true heir to the throne live at Camlochlin?

And when she was half asleep and told him her mother didn’t want to be queen. He’d thought she was dreaming. Why would her mother ever consider being or not being queen?

Hell.

He recalled how she’d grown so stiff and tense in his arms when he’d asked her about her maternal grandfather. Was that because her grandfather was King James II?

No.

His gut twisted into a knot that produced a bitter taste in his mouth. He shook his head, trying again to clear his thoughts. She’d lied to him.

That’s why she was so adamant about knowing James Francis Stuart was the king’s true son. Did her family know him personally?

No. It would all mean that Anne wasn’t…

What if Rob MacGregor wrote to Anne claiming he was wed to her long-lost sister and Anne had fallen for it and sent for her? What if it was all a plan to plant a spy in the queen’s midst? The Jacobites would have succeeded.

He turned around and looked back up the stairs.

Was Abby sent to get close to the queen and perhaps… kill Anne? The MacGregors were, after all, likely in England already, just waiting…

He bolted up the staircase, taking the steps three at a time. It was a brilliant plan and it could be taking place this very moment while Abby was alone with the queen, trusted and unguarded.

He sprinted to the solar door and pushed it open when he reached it. He didn’t know what he expected when he plunged inside. He was relieved to see the queen sitting where he’d left her, alive and scowling at him.

He let his gaze slide to Abigail, his sour insides showing in his expression. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“To prison if I had any sense!”

She blinked at him, then glanced at the queen, who immediately took up for her.

“Daniel, why are you talking about prison with Miss MacGregor? She couldn’t tell you who she was.”

He stopped and turned to her. His queen. “And you couldn’t tell me either.”

“I did tonight,” Anne defended herself.

Daniel wanted to shout at her. He wanted to demand an explanation about his own genealogy. But the truth about him would have to wait. First, he wanted the truth about Abby.

“I wish to question Miss MacGregor about why she’s really here.”

“Then go right ahead,” the queen allowed.

“Alone.”

“Yer Majesty,” Abby beseeched. “Let me go with him and explain before he believes me to be yer enemy.”

“Nonsense.” Anne threw up her hands. “Daniel, leave my niece to me.”

He laughed without any mirth and shook his head. “No one in this woman’s family shares your blood.”

Abby finally rose from her chair, her eyes cooling to a frosty blue. “Why are ye so sure aboot that, General?”

Odd that she didn’t ask him how he was sure. But then he understood her question when she spoke again.

“We’re outlaws and outcasts with no right to a place close to the throne. Is that not correct?”

“It may be,” he told her, unfazed by her unforgiving tone. “You’re also a supporter of James Francis Stuart. Killing the queen would make room for him—or for your mother, who claims to be the rightful heir.”

He should have expected Abby to react poorly to his words. It was a hurtful thing to say, but possibly true. Still, he hadn’t quite expected the strike of her palm to sting so sharply and split his lip.

He also should have known that Anne wouldn’t tolerate it. Immediately, she shouted for the guards and ordered them to escort Miss Campbell to her room. She cut him off when Daniel protested, ready to dismiss his men and escort Abby himself.

“You will remain here with me, Daniel,” she demanded. “Judith will see to your lip. There are things I would have you know.”

Now? he thought angrily. What would she explain? Abby’s secret or her own? Whatever it was could wait. What was another day or two?

He moved to go toward Abby, but she stopped him, her gaze hard and shadowed by hurt and insult. He met her angry glare with one of his own. She was the queen’s niece! Her mother was King James’s true firstborn! A thought flashed across his mind and made him break out in a cold sweat. If all this was true it would mean his loyalties had been given to the wrong person.

What would he do?

“I want an explanation!” he demanded, taking Abby’s arm.

She settled her murderous glance on his fingers holding her, and then yanked away from him. “Unless ye want me to smash something over yer head on the way to my room—and get me hanged—’tis safer fer both of us if Captain Lewis accompanies me from now on.”

Damn her for being angry with him when he was angry with her. He wanted answers, but he would let her go and wait. Perhaps he should return to Spain and forget this lifetime.

He couldn’t.

He was in love with a fiery Jacobite princess who was in more danger now than ever before.

He wiped the blood from his mouth and released her. For now.

“Sit down,” Anne said when they were alone.

He flicked his gaze to her, then returned to his cup. “I’d rather not.”

“I could command it,” the queen threatened haughtily.

“Yes, you could,” he said, pouring himself another drink. “You could also have told me the truth about many things, one being this drivel, when the MacGregors first contacted you. I could have ended this earlier.”

“They didn’t contact me. It was I who found them.”

She told him everything then, from hearing her father’s confession to a MacGregor, who later became her father’s closest friend, to tracking her sister down through various, unsuspecting sources, like her cousin Admiral Connor Stuart. She didn’t know where exactly on Skye her sister lived. The MacGregors kept to themselves and preferred to keep it that way.

Daniel knew where exactly.

“This is difficult to believe.” What else could he say but the truth? “You say Davina was raised in a Catholic abbey, so she’s no threat to the throne.”

The queen worried her brow and shook her head. “I would agree if I had an heir. But like my sister Mary, I am going to die without a child. Miss MacGregor assures me that my sister wants no part of the throne. She claims her mother is very happy with her husband on Skye, but what am I to believe?”

For a moment, Daniel imagined what it would be like to be wed to a woman who would give up the throne for him. No wonder Rob MacGregor fought death for his wife and won. A love so true and loyal was not easy to find, and was something Daniel highly valued.

“I believe the MacGregor chief and his wife still share much love,” he said. “But what if he wants to rule with his wife? If they succeed in a Jacobite revolution, the Act of Settlement will mean nothing.”

Anne smiled at him. “That’s what I have you for, Daniel. You won’t let the Jacobites have their revolution.”

He didn’t return her smile but looked away, into the fire. “It would be easy for her to kill you.”

“Do you honestly think she would try?”

He drew in a gusty breath, then guzzled his drink. “No, but I’ve learned that even the ones we think we know the best are capable of deceiving us.”

She caught his meaning that he meant her. Would she finally tell him? “Oh, so you think I deceived you because I didn’t tell you who she was?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Why do you feel entitled to know the truth about her? Has she become more meaningful to you?”

He looked toward the door, then pinned Anne with a hard look. “What she means to me is not a topic for concern. What is, though, is why you think it’s all right to keep the truth from me? You’re supposed to trust me, Anne… with your life.”

“I do,” she insisted, sounding insulted. And no matter what Anne Stuart had gone through in her life, she wouldn’t be insulted. “But that doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything,” she told him haughtily.

“You’re quite correct, it doesn’t.” He rose from his seat and smoothed the wrinkles from his uniform. He bowed and the headed for the door. When he reached it, he turned to her again. “But you should have told me that your husband, the prince, was also my father.”

He left her and shut the door behind him. He hoped Anne would consider telling him everything after having a few hours to think it over. Right now, he was eager to speak with Abigail and headed for her room. What was he going to say to her? She was a princess! She’d known it all along. Every time he called her an outlaw, she knew. When he refused to sleep in a barn and she was perfectly happy to do so, she knew. Everything she accused him of before she left the solar with Captain Lewis tonight was true. He’d looked down on her and on her family as if they were truly the savages they were rumored to be. He was angry with himself because of it, but he was angry with her too for deceiving him.

What would he do if she had come here to hurt Anne and make room for her mother? Would he throw her in prison? Could he? He needed to talk to her and find out her purpose. He would decide what to do later.

When he reached her door, he knocked and waited to hear her quiet voice before he entered.

She was sitting on her bed, alone in her room, with her pillow clutched in her arms. When she saw him, she shoved it away and sprang to her feet.

“If ye’re not here to beg my forgiveness, get out.”

He ignored her outburst and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He wasn’t going anywhere until he found out the truth.

But hell, she looked so damned beautiful standing there, her pale tresses falling over her shoulders, loose tendrils eclipsing eyes as welcoming as glaciers, ready to go toe-to-toe with him in battle.

“Why did you come here?” he asked her in a wooden tone and with a cold look to match hers.

“I was invited.”

“What’s your purpose in befriending Anne?”

She raised a sharp brow. “Should I consider her my enemy?”

“Abby,” he said, sounding annoyed. She didn’t blink. “What did you hope to gain by answering her invitation?”

Instead of answering his question, she folded her arms across her chest and continued to stare at him with fury in her eyes. “That doesna’ concern ye. I dinna’ know why the queen told ye aboot my mother. Her identity has nothing to do with ye.”

“It has everything to do with me,” he argued. “I’m to keep the queen safe—”

“From Jacobites!”

“From whoever poses a threat to her well-being!”

“That isna’ me.” She glared at him.

He noted a sheen of moisture making her eyes sparkle like jewels. Damn it all to hell, were those… tears? He’d made her cry? He wasn’t a fool. He knew some women and the wily tactics they used to get what they wanted, but Abby wasn’t one of them—and knowing it made him feel worse.

“I came here to protect my mother,” she told him defiantly.

“Protect her from what?”

Finally a tear slipped down her face. She swiped it away angrily. “From men like ye.”