The queen lifted a bejeweled hand.
"Look at her. Her hair tumbles wildly around her cheeks and shoulders and spills down her back in a tangle of curls. Her traveling gown and cloak are dusty and wrinkled.
And is that blood upon her gown, Morgan? "
He flushed uncomfortably.
"Aye, Majesty."
"Her blood?"
"Mine."
"You subdued her with your sword?"
"She attacked me with a knife."
The queen looked more closely at the woman who stood before her.
Arching an eyebrow she said, "She more resembles an orphaned waif than a leader." She turned toward Morgan.
"Is she truly the MacAlpin, my Lord Grey, or are you rivaling the Court jester?"
"I do not jest, Majesty."
"But why have you brought her here like a common prisoner?"
"Because she attempted to evade your wishes, Majesty. The Lady Brenna vowed she would marry a man of her own choosing."
"She did?" The queen's look changed suddenly, from one of disdain to one of sharp interest.
"Aye, Majesty. I was forced to track her to the Highlands. Once there, I decided it was in your Majesty's best interest to keep her with me until your Majesty decided her fate."
"She ran from you?" The queen studied the young woman before her.
"This one small female managed to elude Morgan Grey? And to wound him in the fray?" The queen's eyes danced with unconcealed humor.
"Oh, this is a fine joke. Can it be that the man who subdues entire armies cannot control one woman?"
Morgan's eyes grew steely.
"And you were forced to follow her to the dangerous Highlands?"
He nodded.
"How very interesting." The queen studied the way the two refused to look at one another. The emotions flowing between them were raw and savage.
"And so you have brought her here against her will." The queen smiled slowly.
"A very--wise decision, my Lord Grey, although my cousin Mary of Scotland would perhaps not agree."
Elizabeth addressed the woman.
"You would choose your own husband?"
"It is the way of the MacAlpin."
At Brenna's harsh tone, there was a distinct silence in the room.
Every eye was on the woman who sat upon the throne. Though small in stature, Elizabeth was every inch the queen. She tolerated no show of disrespect in her presence. Especially not from one who swore allegiance to another.
The queen turned toward the gallery of robed men who sat to one side.
Brenna's voice carried through the suddenly quiet crowd.
"In my country, women are not chattel, to be bargained for. Nor jewels, to be worn for adornment. We are valued for ourselves. And since our lives are so deeply affected by the choice of partner, our voices are heard."
Though the queen's eyes flashed, her lips softened into a smile. There was an audible sigh through the crowd. Once more the queen's anger had been diffused.
"I would ask the council to pay heed to this Scotswoman. Your queen is not the only one who wishes to choose her own husband."
Morgan chuckled, low and deep in his throat. Beside him, Alden laughed aloud. Gradually others around the room did the same. The atmosphere became more relaxed.
Turning back to Brenna, the queen said, "What am I to do with you, Brenna MacAlpin? Shall I parade every titled Englishman past you, until you choose the one who piques your interest?"
"Nay, Majesty. The Englishman is not born who will win my heart."
"Is there, perhaps, a Scotsman who holds your heart?"
Morgan waited a moment, unaware that he was holding his breath.
"There is not. But I will not be bartered like a fatted calf."
The queen's smile suddenly faded.
"I would advise you, woman, to beware of your sharp tongue. There is only one here who will decide your fate."
The queen saw the flash of fire in Brenna's eyes before she lowered her head. And though Elizabeth admired her courage, she would tolerate no show of disrespect.
"What of you, Morgan Grey?" The queen saw the way he watched the woman beside him.
"Would you be willing to take on the unpleasant task of marriage to the unwilling lady?"
"Majesty." Morgan's tone was patient.
"You are aware of my feelings toward the unholy sacrament of misery."
Many in the room laughed at his words.