"Does Richard know we are arrived?"
"Aye, my lord. He has been most anxious since your messenger told of your plans. He has been at the window since sunrise."
Morgan placed his hand beneath Brenna's elbow, propelling her toward the doorway.
"Mistress Leems, this is Brenna MacAlpin. She is to be our--guest."
Brenna was so shocked by Morgan's unexpected kindness, she could have wept.
The housekeeper bowed.
"Welcome, my lady."
"Thank you. Mistress Leems."
Before she could exchange pleasantries, Morgan hurried her inside. His impatience was evident.
They crossed a long hallway and paused before huge double doors. As Morgan pulled open the doors to the great room a man, seated in a chair by the window, turned.
Sunlight gleamed on his gray-streaked hair, and his dark eyes crinkled with laughter.
"Morgan." His voice boomed out.
"You've been gone too long this time."
"Aye." In quick strides Morgan was across the room and clasping the man in a great bear hug.
"Did those Scots bastards engage you in battle? Or did you find their wenches too tempting? I can think of no other reason for you to be gone this long."
"Guard your tongue. There's a lady present."
The man turned to study the slender figure who paused in the doorway.
"By all the gods. Don't tell me you've brought home a bride."
"You know better, Richard. She's the Scotswoman whose marriage will be arranged by Elizabeth."
"Why is she here?"
"The queen has decided that since I brought her to England, she is my responsibility until she is wed."
"Your responsibility?" The man roared with laughter.
"You mean the wench is your prisoner?" He turned to her.
"Come closer, lass, into the light where I can better see you."
She tossed her head in annoyance. She cared not for this rude man who did not even bother to rise in her presence.
"Brenna MacAlpin," Morgan said softly, "I would have you meet my brother, Lord Richard Grey."
Brother? Aye. She could see the similarity in their eyes,
and in the way their mouths were touched with the same roguish smile.
The man extended his hand and she offered hers. As he lifted her hand to his lips, her glance slid to the fur throw that covered his lap.
The blanket had slipped, revealing his withered limbs.
She felt a twist of remorse at the unkind thoughts she had entertained.
This handsome man, Morgan's brother, did not rise to greet her because he was confined to the chair.
Chapter Twelve
"Lord Grey."
"Richard," he corrected in his booming voice.
"Else we'll never know which Lord Grey you're addressing." He studied her.
"You're a pretty thing. So you've come to England to be wed."
"To be bartered," she said quickly.
"For the cause of peace."
"Ah." His eyes crinkled.
"Life is unfair, isn't it, lass? Some men give their lives on the battlefield for peace. You must give up your freedom. And I..." He patted the robe on his lap.
"All I had to offer were my legs."
She prayed that her shock was not visible in her eyes.
"How, my lord?"
"A cart crushed them as I lay wounded on a Norwich battlefield. Now they wither from lack of use. But it is a small price to pay to put down a rebellion."
"Small price? You are not bitter?"
"Aye. At times I burn with the unfairness of it all. But I've learned that bitterness is a painful boil on the soul, lass. If allowed to fester it will sap all the joy from life. Better to lance it, no matter how painful, and allow the healing to begin. A bit of wisdom I've tried to pass on to my brother," he added with a wry laugh, "to no avail."
His eyes crinkled as he looked up at Morgan.
"Mistress
Leems has had the servants running about like sheep preparing a feast for your return. She knows how you like to eat. "
"Good. We have had little to eat this day. I was impatient to be home."