Highland Heather - Highland Heather Part 27
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Highland Heather Part 27

Lord Windham watched her with a smug expression. If Elizabeth chose her favorite companion, the Scotswoman would be without an escort. He had every intention of offering his arm to the Lady Brenna. It would be great sport to flirt with, and perhaps seduce, the Scotswoman.

If, on the other hand, the queen allowed Morgan Grey to be with the lady he had captured, that would leave Lord Windham as the most eligible escort in the room. He would surely be the queen's choice.

That was why he had not brought a lady with him. He would enjoy being at Elizabeth's right hand for the rest of the evening. He thrived on being the center of attention.

The queen knew that there was no love lost between Morgan and Lord Windham. And though Morgan was her dear friend, she enjoyed Windham's dry humor. Besides, he was a worldly, elegant man who could converse with ease. And he was a splendid dancer. If Morgan could not be beside her, Windham would.

"Lord Windham. You will accompany your queen to sup."

With a look of disdain in Morgan's direction, Windham offered the queen his arm and led her toward the banquet room. The rest of the assembly followed.

"Morgan," the queen called over her shoulder.

"You and the Scotswoman will sup with us."

Inwardly Morgan groaned. It took all his willpower to be civil to Windham. Yet he gave no sign of his distress.

"Aye, Majesty. It will be our pleasure."

Morgan offered his arm to Brenna.

As the guests took their places at the large tables, Brenna and Morgan followed the queen and Windham to the head table, where all could see them.

Morgan held Brenna's chair. As she brushed past him she murmured, "It would appear that the queen and Lord Windham are exceedingly close friends."

"Aye. He is often invited to join the queen's company."

"And you, my lord?"

"I also enjoy a--close relationship with my queen."

"I noticed."

Was that a trace of jealousy he heard in Brenna's tone? Or was he merely imagining something that didn't exist?

Morgan took the seat beside her. Though he had chafed at the thought of spending a long evening with the queen's peacocks at court, Morgan suddenly found himself looking for

ward to the next few hours. The Scotswoman, it would seem, was not as indifferent to him as she pretended. And there was nothing he enjoyed more than a duel. Especially a duel with a bright and beautiful woman.

Chapter Nine

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1 he banquet hall at Richmond was festive. Servants in colorful satin livery attended each table. There were platters of whole roasted pig, as well as trays laden with pheasant, partridge and dove. There were baskets of bread still warm from the ovens and bowls of steaming pudding. The goblets and tankards were filled and refilled with wine and ale. With each course there were endless toasts to the queen, to her health, to her country and her people.

A man in brilliant robes took a seat at the end of the queen's table.

Each course was presented to the queen by a servant on bended knee.

The queen inspected it, nodded with a slightly bored expression, then turned away as the tray was carried to the man at the end of the table.

"Who is that?" Brenna whispered.

"Lord Quigley, the queen's taster."

Brenna watched in amazement as the white-haired man tasted a morsel of each serving before giving his approval. Then the servant approached the queen again on bended knee and waited while a second liveried servant spooned a portion of each food onto the queen's 'plate.

Though this went on through course after course, neither the queen nor Lord Quigley acknowledged each other.

Brenna was seated at the queen's table between Morgan and Lord Windham.

But though there was a whirlwind of activity around her, she found herself mesmerized by the man beside her. His voice was low and deep, in contrast to the shrill sounds of laughter around them. And his eyes pinned her, daring her to try to look away.

"How did you happen to become the MacAlpin?" Morgan asked as a serving wench filled his goblet with ale.

Her eyes lit with a passionate fire that fascinated him.

"My father was murdered by a coward, and my older sister, Meredith, assumed the leadership of the clan."

He heard the venom in her voice and felt a wave of pity for the man who had dared to cross her family.

"Was this coward an Englishman?"

"Nay. He was one of our own countrymen, who coveted our land."

"So." A smile touched the corner of his lips.

"Not all the evil villains in the land are English."

She failed to see the humor of his statement.

"We have had our fill of English."

He was in no mood for a debate while in the presence of the queen. He decided to steer the conversation to a safer course.

"Why is your sister no longer the MacAlpin?"

Brenna's voice took on a softer note. It was obvious that she adored her elder sister.

"Meredith married a Highland chieftain and went to live in his mountain fortress. As next eldest, the task of defending my clan fell to me."

"So, you think it was a love match between your sister and her husband?"

She glanced at him.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you seemed glad when you spoke of it. This Highland chieftain makes your sister happy?"

"Aye." Brenna actually smiled, and Morgan was reminded once more how truly soft and delicate she appeared.