her visit for weeks just to assure peace between her two friends."
Morgan joined in the laughter.
As a second carriage opened, a handsome young man stepped down. He
turned to assist a young woman. Madeline caught their hands and led
them toward her host.
"I have had a most pleasant surprise. My brother and sister have
journeyed from Paris to be with me. The queen insisted that I bring
them along."
"I am glad you brought them," Morgan assured her.
"You would have broken Brenna's heart if you had canceled your
visit."
Madeline wondered at his words. Could it be that Morgan Grey cared
about the condition of his prisoner's heart?
Motioning them closer, Madeline smoothly handled the introductions.
"Brenna MacAlpin. Morgan Grey. I would have you meet my brother,
Cordell, and my little sister, Ad- ri anna
Cordell was a suave, self-assured young man with the same angular face
and large almond eyes as Madeline. Sandy hair curled over the collar
of his beautifully tailored tunic. In the brilliant sunlight his hair
was touched with gold. He seemed aware that he cut a handsome figure.
It was obvious that he enjoyed charming the ladies.
"My lady." He stared at Brenna a long moment, as if captivated by her
beauty.
His admiration of the lady was not lost on Morgan, who stood to one
side and watched the exchange. Jealousy was an alien feeling for
Morgan. And yet he found himself battling just such an emotion now.
Was it possible that he was experiencing jealousy of this callow youth?
He cursed himself for such childish behavior and brushed aside his
feelings.
Yet he remembered how Hamish MacPherson had fawned over Brenna at her
home in Scotland. And how she had returned his interest.
Cordell bowed low over Brenna's hand and brushed- his lips over her
knuckles. When he lifted his head there was the slightest flush to his
cheeks.
He turned to Morgan.
"I suggested to my sister that our visit was inconvenient. We are,
after all, foreigners in your land. But Madeline insisted that we
accompany her. And now that I have met the Lady Brenna, I am most
grateful for your hospitality."
"My home is open to my queen and all her company," Morgan said. But
his voice lacked its usual warmth.
"Adrianna." Brenna took the younger woman's hand, sensing her unease
at being among so many strangers.
"How wonderful that you can visit with your sister. It will ease her
loneliness in this land."
"Your speech is not English," Adrianna said softly.
"I am from Scotland."
Adrianna smiled shyly.
"It greatly relieves my mind that I will not be the only foreign guest
in this fine home."
"If you are Madeline's sister," Morgan said, bending gallantly over her
hand, "you are more than a guest in my home. You are with friends."
"You are most kind." When she lifted her gaze to her stern host's face
her cheeks had turned a becoming shade of pink.
Adrianna was small and slender, with hair more red than brown. It fell
in long ringlets to her waist. She wore a gown of green satin that
caught the green glints in her amber eyes. There was a sweetness about
her that added to her artless beauty.
"I am most grateful for your hospitality, my lord."
From the corner of his eye Morgan saw another figure emerge from one of
the queen's carriages. Though he felt the anger surge through him, the
only sign he gave was a slight narrowing of his eyes.
Lord Windham made a great ceremony of greeting Brenna. Lifting her
hand to his lips, he grazed her flesh and pressed her fingers between
his.
"You look lovely, my lady." His gaze raked her and Brenna felt a
shiver of revulsion at his intimate look.
From the earliest days of his manhood, Windham had known how to play
the parlor games that enticed the women at Court. This one, he told
himself, was no different; merely more clever at masking her
feelings.
"What a delight," Lord Windham said, turning to include the others.
"Traveling with so many beautiful women has my blood eager for the
hunt."
"Ah, but we will be hunting four-legged creatures," the queen said with
a laugh.
"Perhaps so, Majesty. But I see no harm in adding a few other lovely
creatures to the hunt. Do you. Grey?"
Morgan turned a cool look on Windham, then said to the queen, "If you
will allow me, Majesty, I will escort you into my home."
Stung by Morgan's snub, Windham offered his arm to Brenna, who
pretended not to notice. Instead she caught Madeline's hand and the
two women followed Morgan and the queen through the open portal.
Brenna tried to shake off the trembles that went through her at the
thought of Windham. Why had the queen brought him along?
"What a treat this will be, Brenna," Madeline whispered.
"I have so longed for a visit to Morgan's home."
Madeline's sister and brother joined the ladies and the others who
trailed the queen into the house. Charles strolled leisurely behind
them, joined by a scowling Lord Windham, while Mistress Leems stayed
behind, issuing orders to the servants to deal with the baggage.
When they entered the house, Lord Windham glanced about admiringly at
the tapestries that adorned the walls. Beneath their feet a fine rug
cushioned their steps.
"So this is Grey stone Abbey. I wonder, since it is so beautiful, why
Grey has refused to entertain guests in his manor house?"
A voice from across the room startled him.
"Perhaps my brother did it to protect my privacy."
"Brother?" After the bright sunlight, the guests had to strain to see
the figure seated before the fire.
"Aye." At a curt command a servant pushed the wheeled chair closer.
The figure in the chair bowed his head to the queen.
"Welcome, Majesty."
Elizabeth greeted her old friend, then turned to the others.
"This is Lord Richard Grey, Morgan's brother."
Many in the crowd shifted uncomfortably. Several of the ladies turned
their heads away, unwilling to be caught staring at the man who could
not stand and bow before the queen.
A fierce sense of protection welled up inside Brenna. She hurried
forward to stand beside Richard, placing her hand upon his shoulder in
a proprietary manner.
Her reaction was not lost on Morgan, who stood in the doorway
watching.
"Ah. I have often heard about Morgan's handsome brother," Madeline
said quickly, to fill the sudden silence.
"But I did not know you resided at Greystone Abbey. A pity to hide
such good looks away' from the world."
Richard gave her a warm smile, easily dismissing her compliment as an
act of kindness by a gentle woman.
"You are too kind, my lady."
As she offered her hand, Richard brought it to his lips.
Madeline lifted an arm to indicate the two who moved to stand beside
her.
"This is my brother, Cordell, and my sister,
Adrianna."
Cordell and Richard exchanged greetings. When Richard took Adrianna's
hand, he felt the jolt, sudden, unexpected. It had been a long time
since he had felt that rush of sexual excitement. Taken by surprise,
he studied the young woman for long moments.
There was about this French girl such youth, such innocence, he felt as
if a stray sunbeam had suddenly found its way into the room.
As Richard held her hand he thought about the ease with which he had
once charmed all women. There had been a time when women young and old
had flocked around him, eager to be a part of his teasing manner, his
roguish laughter. But that had been a lifetime ago, when he was whole
and his future had been as bright as the morning star.
He reminded himself that that part of his life was over. Any chance he
had with women was as dead as the lifeless limbs that could no longer
support his weight. He would not be the object of a lady's pitying
glances.
With studied casualness he lifted Adrianna's hand to his lips.
"Welcome to Greystone Abbey, my lady." Summoning all his willpower he
forced himself not to react to the flare of heat.
"Merci." From beneath a fringe of lashes the Frenchwoman watched
him.
At the mere brush of his lips over her hand she felt a little pulse
flutter in the pit of her stomach. She chided herself for her
foolishness. It was obvious that he had not felt anything.
Adrianna's cheeks, Brenna noted, were flushed when Richard released her
hand. She studied the way the two looked at each other when they
thought no one was looking.
"You will wish to refresh yourselves after your journey," Morgan
said.
"We will show you to your chambers."
He offered his arm and the queen placed her hand upon it, moving by his
side.
Madeline linked her arm through Brenna's. Together they climbed the
stairs to the guest chambers. The others followed, while Richard
stayed behind, staring after them.
An entire wing of the house on the second and third floors had been
prepared for the guests. The finest rugs had been aired and positioned
on the floor of the sitting chamber. Several chaises, covered in
softest velvet, flanked the fireplace. A fire crackled on the grate.
Masses of flowers stood in vases on the mantel as well as on several
tables around the room. Their fragrance perfumed the air. "Man cher."
Madeline turned a smiling face toward Morgan.
"Your home is so beautiful. And your hospitality overwhelms me."
"Greystone Abbey is lovely," the queen murmured.
"But never have I seen the rooms so fresh, or so tastefully
arranged."
"Brenna is the one who drove the servants unmercifully until Greystone
Abbey was suitable for royalty."
Brenna flushed with pleasure. To cover her embarrassment she said,
"Perhaps you would like to see your sleeping chambers, Majesty."
A fire crackled invitingly in the sleeping chambers on either side of
the sitting chamber. The massive beds were swathed in delicate linen
draperies that offered warmth as well as privacy. Thick, ornate rugs
covered every inch of floor. Tall vases of roses stood on either side
of the fireplace. The air was sweet with their perfume.
"There is ample room for all of your servants," Brenna said, indicating
several doors that led to smaller servants' chambers.
The queen gazed around, then fixed Brenna with a look.
"I am impressed."
Brenna flushed with pleasure. It would take much to impress a queen
who was accustomed to only the best.
Lord Windham remarked dryly, "Perhaps we should all petition you,
Majesty, for a prisoner such as this one. My home could use the lady's
touch, as well."
Feeling all the attention focused on her, Brenna's cheeks burned. It
was Morgan who came to her rescue.
"When you have refreshed yourselves," he said, "we will await you in
the great room below."
As he and Brenna walked down the hall he noted the flush on her cheeks.
His tone was tender.
"Your work was not in vain, my lady.
Everyone was overwhelmed by your care. "
He offered his arm as they descended the stairs. When she placed her
hand on his sleeve, he steeled himself for the jolt that always came at
her simplest touch.
"I am glad, for Madeline's sake. I wanted her first visit to be
perfect."
He savored the breathless quality of her voice. It was rare when they
could speak to each other without rancor.
"Did you always take such pains with your guests in your home in
Scotland?"
Home. She felt the pain, swift, sharp. Would it always be so?
"Aye.
There were so many visitors. Our doors were open to all. I remember
our home always filled with the sound of voices raised in laughter. "
He opened the door to the great room and felt the press of her body as
she moved past him. The fragrance of wildflowers still clung to her
hair and clothes.
"I would like you to treat Greystone Abbey as your own home, my lady.
For the next few days I pray that you can relax with Madeline and the
others and enjoy this happy time."
"Shall I think of it as a reprieve, my lord?" She turned and he saw
the way her eyes suddenly darkened, as she remembered who and what she
was.
"Before the queen sentences me to a lifetime of slavery?"
"Damn you, woman." Without thinking he caught her roughly by the
arm.
The moment he touched her, he realized his mistake. The heat that
flowed between them was a shocking reminder that it was impossible to
touch her and feel nothing.
His voice lowered to a hiss of anger.
"Must everything with you be a contest of wills?" His grip
tightened.
"Can you not forget for a little while that you are Scots and I am
English? Can we not simply be two people who enjoy the company of good
friends?"
At her gasp of pain he realized that he was hurting her. | Immediately
his touch gentled, and he unwittingly ran his | thumbs in circles over
the bruised flesh of her upper arms. ] She struggled to ignore the
little fist that tightened deep | inside her. Why did this man's touch
have the power to affect I her so? Why, even now, in the full heat of
anger, did she react so violently to the nearness of him?
"Would you have me forget that I am your prisoner, my lord?" I
Prisoner. Aye. One of them was a prisoner. But he was no longer
certain which one. He stared down into her eyes and saw himself
reflected there. The urge to kiss her was so strong he had to call on
all of his willpower to resist.
"I will summon Mistress Leems. Our guests will need sustenance." As
he turned away he was aware that his hand was none too steady. And the
sweat on his brow had nothing to do with the heat of the fire. It was
was caused by the damnably cool woman beside him.
Chapter Fifteen
Q^rys^Q
JVlistress Leems flut
tered around the great room, seeing to the
placement of the silver tea service and trays of cakes and scones and
clotted cream, as well as little pots of fruit conserve.
A fire crackled invitingly in the fireplace. Though it was still early
afternoon, candles burned in sconces along the walls, adding a soft
glow to the room.
When they had removed the dust of their journey, the guests began
descending the staircase in clusters of twos and threes. Soon the
tinkle of fine crystal and the hum of conversation filled the great
room.
All conversation ceased when the queen entered. Elizabeth was
resplendent in a gown of scarlet satin shot with gold thread. Gold and
silver had been worked into scrolls on the sleeves and bodice. A cap
of gold and silver filigree set with precious stones nestled in her red
hair. She wore a necklace made of dozens of rubies surrounded by
diamonds, and matching diamond and ruby earrings.
Everyone in the room curtsied. A servant positioned an elegant,
ermine-covered chair in front of the fireplace, beside Richard's. The
queen sank down gratefully. Mistress Leems handed Lord Quigley a cup
of tea and a plate of freshly baked scones. After he had tasted, he
handed them to a servant,
who offered them to the queen. With one taste, she arched an eyebrow
in surprise.
"Your scones are the finest I have ever tasted, Mistress Leems. Please
teach my cook how to make these fine biscuits."
The housekeeper beamed with pleasure.
"Ah." Elizabeth sighed in contentment, then turned to Richard.
"I have yearned for the peace, the solitude of Grey- stone Abbey."
"Aye, Majesty. I know the feeling."
She glanced at him.
"There are times I envy you, Richard."
Envy. He stifled a laugh.
"There are so many people tugging at me, wishing my ear. I am never
alone, with time to collect my thoughts. Solitude is a luxury a
monarch cannot afford."
"Perhaps, when your consort is chosen," Madeline said innocently, "your
husband will lift some of the burden from your shoulders."
The queen's eyes flashed.
"Husband. It does not seem fair that I should have no choice in the
matter." Her gaze fastened on Brenna.
"But then, as you have learned, life has never been fair to those of
our sex, has it?"
Brenna's lips curved into a smile.
"As a child I used to wonder what it would be like to be born queen of
the land. Now I realize that life is life. Whether in a palace or a
hovel, there is birth and death, love and hate, and obligations, no
matter how distasteful, to be met."
"Then you are indeed wise for your age, Brenna MacAlpin." The queen
gave her an odd little smile.
"But I have always enjoyed a challenge."
Elizabeth turned to Madeline.
"It is good to have your sister and brother with you, is it not?"
Brenna glanced at Adrianna, who sat primly beside her brother, her eyes
downcast. Every so often she glanced at the man in the wheeled chair.
But each time he looked at her, she flushed and stared at the floor.
"Aye, Majesty. I miss them so much when we are apart. Ours is a
large, happy family."
"Family." The queen spoke the word softly.
"I have no family left.
"Twas my fondest wish that Edward could have lived."
Brenna detected the note of pain in Elizabeth's tone as she spoke the
name of the young prince who had died of tuberculosis at the tender age
of sixteen.