A Highland Knight's Desire (A Highland Dynasty Book) (36 page)

“Duncan, we must talk,” Lady Margaret said.

“Aye, Mother.” He raised his tankard. “I’ve a great many plans to discuss with you.”

The lady gave him a smug nod.

Meg wished she could pull Duncan back up to his chamber for a quiet meal. The world had been so perfect when they were alone and shut away. She glanced across the table. The Highland Enforcers all grinned at her the same way Lady Margaret had.

I’ll be burned in the fires of hell for certain
. Meg hid behind her tankard.
And now that everyone knows I’m ruined, what will become of me?

Duncan carved a slice of pork and set it on her plate. “You must eat. The chicken we had was hardly enough to sustain you.”

She looked at the piece of meat and her stomach squelched.

At the far end of the table, Gyllis waved and grinned. At least
her
smile was more innocent and welcoming than the others.

Lady Margaret leaned close. “You might want to sleep with Gyllis tonight.”

“I’d love to spend time with Gyllis again. She’s so friendly.”

“Yes, she is.” Lady Margaret rested her eating knife on the table. “Where, pray tell, is the Earl of Angus? Is he aware of your presence here?”

Meg could have crawled under the table. “He’s in France on business.” Couldn’t the lady let sensitive matters rest until after the meal, and in a more private setting?

“I see.” Lady Margaret frowned. “And what of your marriage prospects? Or are you still thinking of taking up the veil?”

Meg pushed her piece of meat around her pewter plate with her knife. Honestly, she had no answer for Duncan’s mother. She dipped her chin and turned so that only Lady Margaret could hear. “I’ve not discussed my future with Arthur since I returned from Alnwick.” That wasn’t the complete truth, but after all, Arthur hadn’t announced her engagement. She forced a smile. “With any luck, my brother is concerned with too many other affairs to worry about me.”

Duncan leaned forward. “Come now, speak up so we can all hear.”

Lady Margaret reached for the bread. “I’m ever so glad to see you in acceptable health, son.” She gave Meg that knowing smile again. “Locked in your chamber all day, I’ve been worried you’ve been on the brink of death.”

“After being whipped and splashed with molten lead, followed by two days of hard riding, I believe a day of rest was not unwarranted.” He gestured across to his men. “I’d wager you all slept late.”

“Aye, past matins,” Eoin said.

Lady Margaret cut her pork. “That may be, but we’ve more to worry about than the king’s men.”

Duncan gave her a stern look. “Aye, and I shall meet with you in my solar at first light. Does that meet with your approval, m’lady?”

Under the table, he grasped Meg’s claw then touched his lips to her ear. “Do not let Ma worry you. Deep down she’s an angel. I shall set her straight on the morrow.”

The next morning, Duncan rose in a foul mood. His meddling mother had insisted Meg sleep with Gyllis, proffering the miserable excuse that the lassies got along so well. Never mind there were a half-dozen guest rooms in the main keep. Giggling, Gyllis took Meg up to her chamber shortly after the evening meal.
Blast meddlesome women
.

He splashed water on his face and gingerly ran a razor over the morning’s beard. His back itched and needled him. If he’d had his way, Lady Meg would be near enough to apply her ointment. After he’d dressed, a rap came at the door. Hoping it was Meg, he strode across the floor and opened it wide. His stomach sank. “Mother.”

She pushed past him. “We need to talk.” Ma had a maddening way of pretending she was in charge. She waltzed to the table and sat in
his
chair.

Duncan combed his fingers through his hair. The best way to handle Lady Margaret when she had a hair up her arse was to face it head-on. He sauntered over and took the seat across from her.

She frowned, which made her cheeks wrinkle against her grey wimple. “I’ll go straight to the point.”

“Please do.”

“What are your intentions with Lady Meg?”

“I—”

“I allowed your indiscretion to pass the first time she remained in your chamber and tended you, because your father convinced me you were unconscious and the headstrong lass would see it no other way. But when I learned you had been spirited into the castle yet again with unimaginable wounds.”

Duncan opened his mouth to speak, but Mother held forth, gesturing with wide arms.

“And the pair of you locked the chamber door. No one knew if you were dead or alive.”

“But—”

She shook her finger. “I had no doubt that you were conscious, and I can only imagine what went on in here.” She stood and paced. “Lady Meg is the daughter of an earl. She’s not some tart you brought home from the Taynuilt alehouse.”

He cringed. “You knew about that?”

She shook a threatening finger. “I know
everything
that happens in this keep.” She resumed her seat. “Now, as I see it, we have a grave problem.”

Duncan gulped back his response and resigned to let her talk.

“First of all, it appears Lady Meg’s brother has no idea she’s here. You must spirit her back to Tantallon forthwith before he returns from France. That is the only way we can cover up this mess without ruining the lass’s reputation, and to remain in the earl’s good graces.”

Duncan stared at Ma’s careworn face. “You’ve got it all figured out, I see.”

“Aye, well, someone must watch out for your reputation if you refuse to do so. For all that is holy, you were nearly killed in the Edinburgh dungeons.” She covered her mouth and blinked rapidly. “I couldn’t have borne it if I were to lose you, too.”

“Ah, Mother. My incarceration was a misunderstanding, and I did not confess. But I’m afraid your plan for Lady Meg will not work.”

She dropped her hand and feigned an exasperated expression. “Pardon me?”

“I love her.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Duncan, there are rules of etiquette which must be followed. You simply cannot ride off with a noblewoman and send a missive to her family telling them you’ve planned to wed.”

“But that’s exactly what I must do . . . and forthwith.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I cannot take her back to North Berwick, especially not with the king’s men in pursuit. I shall send the Earl of Angus a missive at once.”

Lady Margaret sighed and sat back. “An alliance with the earl would do our family well—if he doesn’t have
your head
first.”

“Oh ye of little faith, Mother. I swear, no one will take my head.”

“I’m not happy about this state of affairs.” Mother watched him while he collected a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Duncan dipped his quill.
Now she asks?
“I’d be better with a fresh application of Lady Meg’s avens oil, but otherwise I am well.”

“I can apply the oil for you.”

Duncan glared from his writing with an arched brow.

“Never mind.” She stood and moved toward the door.

Duncan shook the quill. “I will appoint Lady Meg with her private chamber. Since she will be remaining here, she will require her own quarters.”

“Absolutely not. I do believe Gyllis and Lady Meg would prefer to share. They’ve grown such a fondness for one another.” Mother opened the door. “I shall send Alana to tend you.”

Duncan scrawled with a bold hand. Why must his mother meddle so?

Duncan sent the messenger on his way with two missives. One was addressed to King James, explaining his innocence and requesting a pardon. The second was for the Earl of Angus, and it proved much more difficult to write. Duncan ruined three sheets of parchment before he was satisfied with the contents.

He then met with his men in the solar. The six of them stood, staring at a map on the table.

“I doubt they’ll come by sea.” Duncan scratched his chin. “They’d most likely ride by way of Callander.”

Robert pointed. “Aye, but the king could commandeer the army at Dumbarton Castle and sail from there.”

Duncan knew he was right. They could expect an attack from east or west. “We must post lookouts at all inroads. There’s no getting around it.”

“I’ll see it done, m’lord,” Sean said.

“My thanks. If fortune smiles upon us, the king will receive my missive before his men set out.” Duncan turned to Eoin. “After what you said about Lord Percy slipping away when you and Lady Meg gave testimony, I’m in hopes the king will grant me a pardon forthwith.”

“One never knows,” Archie said from across the table. He was always the questioner of the group. “I reckon the accusation of the Earl of Mar using witchcraft was contrived in the first place.”

“It matters not. We must now do what we can to regain the king’s good graces and continue our work in the Highlands.”

“Hear, hear,” Eoin said.

Duncan rolled up the map. “And in the interim, I need to reclaim my fighting legs. I’m afraid the king’s hospitality sapped me of my strength.”

Eoin slapped him on the back. “We’ll see you set to rights.”

Duncan’s knees buckled, and he braced his hands on the table. Showing weakness to his men would be a great folly. One he doubted he would ever live down. He hissed through his gritted teeth. “I’ll remember this when we’re sparring, friend.”

Taking advantage of the sunshine, Meg strolled through the garden with Gyllis. After a few days of good food and care, Duncan was back to managing his affairs. Daffodils and tulips happily danced around them with the promise of more days of favorable weather.

“Do you think you will marry Duncan, or are you still intent on taking up the veil?” Gyllis asked.

Meg looked away and shrugged. She’d asked herself that same question a hundred times, but Duncan had yet to pose the question, and since his mother had insisted she stay with Gyllis, Meg hadn’t seen much of him. True, he had a great many things to organize and very little time. It seemed whenever he came around, Lady Margaret was nearby. “Marrying your brother isn’t up to me.”

“Aye, but I’m sure you have an opinion.”

“Well.” She smiled at Gyllis’s sweetly expressive face. “We shall see in time—how about you? Are you courting a handsome lad?”

“Not formally.”

“Formally? That does sound intriguing. Pray, do tell.”

Gyllis giggled and pulled Meg behind a tall hedge. “You mustn’t tell a soul, but I’ve noticed Sir Sean MacDougall look my way many times as of late.”

Meg whistled. “Oh my, he’s in line to inherit the lairdship, is he not?”

“Aye.”

After they’d fled the burning barn, Meg recalled Sean riding into their party as if he’d come from nowhere. “He’s quite adept on the trail. Duncan said he’s like a ghost.”

“Honestly?” Gyllis clapped her hands over her heart. “And he’s so skilled with a sword. I’ve watched him spar from the upper chamber window.”

“Have you now?” Meg knew exactly how giddy Gyllis must be feeling on the inside. The same fluttering sensation tickled her insides every time she saw Duncan wielding his claymore. “Perhaps I could say something to Sir Sean.”

“Oh, would you?” Gyllis waved her palms in front of her face and shook her head. “But you mustn’t. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“I could make it sound innocent . . .” Meg tapped a finger to her lips. “Perhaps encourage him to dance with you the next time minstrels come to play.”

Gyllis twirled in a circle. “Aye, I could dance with him all night.” Laughing, she spun around the corner of the hedge, straight into Duncan’s arms.

He grasped Gyllis’s shoulders. “With whom would you like to dance?”

Gyllis gasped like she’d been skewered. “N-no one.” She grimaced over her shoulder and winked at Meg.

Clasping a hand over her own racing heart, Meg winked back. Duncan had obviously been sparring. His tresses were damp and pushed away from his face, sweeping his collar. The laces on his shirt were spread open, giving her a view of a hard, masculine chest that glistened in the sunlight.

Duncan released his hold on Gyllis and bowed. “Lady Meg, please do the honor of dining with me in my solar this evening. We’ve a great many things to discuss.” He sounded unusually formal.