"Did you want something, my lord?"
Now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. He wanted nothing more than the opportunity to look at her, to be with her.
"I thought you might need help carrying those."
"Thank you, my lord." If she was surprised at his sudden act of kindness, she hid it well. When he held out his arms she filled them with flowers. In the process his hands encountered the softness of her breasts. She pulled back quickly, but not before he saw the sudden flush on her cheeks.
"What will you do with the flowers?" He watched as she bent to cut a perfect rose. His fingers still tingled from that brief encounter with her soft flesh.
"I will fill the guest chambers with them." She buried her face in a mass of blooms, then cut them and added them to the bouquet in his arms.
"Their fragrance will perfume the air."
He breathed in the sweet, rich aroma and was reminded of her.
"But within a few days they will fade and die."
"Then," she murmured, pausing to snip another bloom, "I will dry the petals and use them to line chests and wardrobes, my lord. And their fragrance will live on as a reminder of this lovely summer day."
He watched her as she moved through the garden like a beautiful butterfly. He would need no reminder of this day. He needed only to close his eyes. Though he told himself that she was nothing more than a pawn in a political game, he could not deny the fact that her image was already becoming indelibly imprinted on his heart.
"Carriages arrive, my lady."
Brenna finished arranging the last of the flowers, then hurried down to the courtyard where Morgan was already waiting.
As the carriages halted there was a flurry of activity. Trunks were unlashed from the backs of the rigs. Cloaks were handed down to the servants who had accompanied the queen and her party.
"Ah, Morgan," the queen said as she stepped from her carriage.
"Always, coming to Greystone Abbey is like coming home."
He caught her hand and led her past the servants who had lined up to greet their queen. She smiled and offered a few words to each one.
Brenna noted the affection between these people and their monarch. They were deeply moved by her simple act of kindness.
Nearly a dozen ladies emerged from carriages, as well as the titled gentlemen who were at court in Richmond.
"Cherie." Madeline stepped from the carriage and flew into Brenna's arms. After a quick hug she held Brenna a little away from her and studied her with a critical eye.
"I have long wanted to visit this private retreat, which Morgan so jealously guards. How are you bearing the loneliness of this place?"
"I am fine, as you can see."
It was true that there was a bloom on Brenna's cheeks that had not been there at the queen's palace in Richmond.
Madeline arched an eyebrow, then turned to Morgan.
"And you, mon cher." She kissed his cheek.
"Have the two of you declared a truce?"
"At least while you are here."
"Beware, old friend," Charles said with a laugh, "or my wife may extend 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."