Highland Barbarian Part 63

To the two young women, it was to be a grand adventure. To Brice, it was a race against time.

Meredith sat astride her horse and drank in the sights of the capital city of Scotland. She had traveled across High Street, surely the cleanest in the world. Channels had been dug on either side to drain off the rain. There were stone houses with their wooden galleries, and farther on, the grand houses and gardens of the Canongate, which led to Holyroodhouse. In Market Cross, with its stocks and pillories, men and women in somber dress bustled about. People gathered to talk, to shop, to discuss the events at Court. Goldsmith apprentices from Elphinstone Court and tinsmiths from West Bow were here, along with stall holders from Lawnmarket. And while they discoursed about the queen, they also discussed the one who ruled Edinburgh and all of Scotland with even more power and persuasion than the queen. John Knox, leader of the Kirk, had spoken openly about his contempt for petticoat government. He waited and watched and vowed that this Catholic queen would feel the wrath of G.o.d, as had her mother, as had her young French husband.

Meredith studied the dark, menacing fortress that was home to the queen. Its towers and battlements were not unlike Brice's Highland fortress. And yet it lacked the warm setting and opulence of a Highland castle.

Brice, she thought as she made her way to Holyrood- house. If only Brice were here with her. She resented the heat she felt at the mere thought of him. She resented the way her body betrayed her, going all weak and soft when she needed to be strong. She would put aside all thought of Brice Campbell. For now she needed a clear head, a steady heartbeat.

She straightened her spine and urged her mount on, past Tolbooth Prison. How many were incarcerated there, she wondered, whose only crimes were gaiety and laughter? She thought of the love, the laughter, she had discovered at Kinloch House. How far away seemed the Highlands. How far away her love.

With every clatter of her horse's hooves she drew nearer and nearer to Holyroodhouse. And farther away from any chance to escape Gareth MacKenzie. For surely Gareth was already here in the capital city, awaiting an audience with the queen.

With fear and trepidation she approached the gates of the palace.

There were perhaps two dozen people milling about, awaiting notification of an appointment with the queen. Many of them grumbled that they had been forced to return each day for more than two weeks.

Meredith's heart fell. Two weeks. She had not thought about where she would stay in Edinburgh if the queen would not see her immediately.

And what of Gareth MacKenzie? Would he not also be here, or one of his men? Unless, she thought with a jolt, he had been granted an audience immediately. Then, of course, she would already have been declared dead.

She studied the faces in the crowd. There were men and women in their finest clothing, looking extremely uncomfortable. There were clan chiefs, n.o.blemen and a few common citizens who had matters of interest to discuss with the queen. But there was no sign of MacKenzie men.

Meredith gave a sigh of relief when she did not see Gareth. So far, her luck was holding.

As the gatekeeper approached, she made a sudden decision. With so many important people waiting for an audience, the queen could not be expected to remember one insignificant Highland wench. But there was one whose name would open doors.

As the gatekeeper asked her name and the purpose of her visit she replied in a clear voice,

"Meredith MacAlpin to see the queen. At the request of Brice Campbell."

Her words were recorded and the gatekeeper withdrew. Slipping from the saddle she led her horse to a trough where he drank.

Within a matter of minutes the gatekeeper returned and in a loud voice called,

"Meredith MacAlpin."

She was aware of the sudden interest of the crowd. Men who had hardly glanced her way now studied her with open curiosity. Women, aghast at the sight of a woman wearing men's breeches and tunic, and flaunting the Highland saffron s.h.i.+rt, watched her with looks that ranged from contempt to amazement.

As she pushed her way to the front of the crowd, the gatekeeper opened the gates and waited until she and her mount were safely inside.

As the heavy gates were closing he bowed slightly and said,

"Welcome to Holyroodhouse, my lady. The queen will see you now."

Chapter Twenty-Two

I he sky was an angry black cauldron that boiled and bubbled. And when at last the billowing black clouds opened up, the downpour was sudden and drenching.

Seeking shelter for the women, Brice found a small hay barn. Inside they inhaled the sweet moist fragrance of dry hay.

Brenna drew her cape about her and found a spot in the corner where she could sit and observe. From what she had seen, this man who had won her sister's undying love was nothing more than a tough, demanding warrior who drove himself and everyone around him to the point of exhaustion. What was it about him that endeared him to Meredith?

Megan, shaking the raindrops from her cloak, paced about, curiosity causing her to peer into every nook. Satisfied, she perched on a mound of hay in the middle of the room and watched as Brice and Angus led the horses in out of the rain. She was clearly fascinated by this man who had stolen her sister, and then captured her heart.

As was her nature she blurted out what was on her mind, without regard to sensitivities.

"Why did you let Meredith undertake such a dangerous journey alone?"

Brice rubbed a rough cloth over his horse's quivering flank, choosing to remain silent for several minutes while he completed his task.

"Your sister gave me no choice. She slipped away after I had fallen asleep."

"It seems to have taken you a good deal of time to catch up with her."

"We had..." He glanced toward Angus.

"An unexpected diversion."

"What diversion?" Megan demanded.

If he found her questions impertinent he gave no indication.

"Meredith was abducted by a Highland chief."

He saw the girl's mouth drop open. His words were clipped, his description spa.r.s.e to save Meredith's sisters from undue suffering.

"When my men and I went to her aid, we found ourselves badly outnumbered."

"Not for the first time," Angus said dryly.

"Aye." Brice chuckled.

"It seems to be a habit with us of late, old friend."

Brenna noted the affection between the two men. It warmed her to know that Brice Campbell could inspire such devotion. Perhaps there was something endearing about him. For her sister's sake she hoped so.

As he worked Brenna noted the way Brice favored one arm.

"Could that be where you were wounded, my lord?"

"What wound?" Megan asked.

Surprised, Brice glanced up.

"You are very observant, Brenna. I thought I hid it rather well." He touched a hand to the tunic that covered the dressing at his shoulder.

"You were wounded?" Megan studied him a moment, deciding that she liked the idea of a wounded man continuing on, in the face of pain.

"But you managed to best your enemy." Megan's eyes danced with the thought of the battle. Like Meredith she would not hesitate to take up a sword.