Highland Heather - Highland Heather Part 66
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Highland Heather Part 66

Morgan and Brenna seemed unaware of anything except each other. When Rosamunde had finished arranging Brenna's hair, she bowed her way from the room. As she was closing the door she caught a glimpse of Lord Grey standing behind the lady, his hands on her shoulders, his gaze meeting hers in the looking glass. On both their faces was a look of love so intense, so smoldering, it left no doubt in the serving girl's mind. The rumors and whispers had been correct. Lord Grey was truly intent upon pledging his troth to the lady.

But Rosamunde had seen something else that had deeply disturbed her.

The Lady Brenna's flesh had been marred by a wound. Though her mistress had insisted that it was merely a scratch, the servant knew better. She had seen enough knife wounds in her young life to recognize one. The question was, who would inflict such pain upon the lovely Brenna MacAlpin? And why?

The same thought was uppermost in Morgan's mind as he escorted Brenna to the refectory. When all were assembled, he intended to study their guests and assorted servants very carefully. One among them was a vicious madman, who would answer to Morgan's sword.

One thought nagged at Morgan. Had the attacker been bent upon harming Brenna, or had he come upon her by mistake? Many of the servants knew that the lady's things had been moved to his room. And in a home such as this, what one servant knew, all knew. Rumors and gossip were a way of life. Still, the nagging thought persisted. Could he have actually been the intended victim?

As they entered the refectory, Morgan noted that Elizabeth and her ladies were already seated at table.

"So, you have finally dragged yourselves from bed." With great care the queen studied Morgan and the woman beside him.

Under the queen's scrutiny, Brenna blushed. Morgan, looking immensely pleased with himself, was unruffled by the queen's perusal.

Glancing around he asked casually, "Where are the others?"

"Madeline and Charles were summoned to Cordell's room early this morning," the queen said.

"It would seem that the young Frenchman took a fall down a flight of stairs last night."

"A fall." Morgan's eyes narrowed.

"Why was I not summoned?"

"The servants were loath to disturb you, my friend, knowing how you were--otherwise occupied."

At the queen's sly laugh, Morgan felt his temper rising.

"Where is Lord Windham?"

"He went for an early morning ride."

"In this rain?"

"He said he had a need to be up and about."

"Did you see him?"

"Nay. He sent word with a servant. Why?" The queen studied Morgan across the table.

He shrugged.

"No reason. Majesty. What about my brother?"

"Richard and the young Frenchwoman took a stroll in the garden."

"A walk in the rain." Tossing down his napkin Morgan scraped back his chair.

"Now I know that the whole world has gone mad."

"Where are you going?" The queen looked up from her plate.

"To see how Madeline's brother fares."

When Brenna made a move to follow he touched a hand to her shoulder.

"Nay, my lady. Stay and visit with the queen. I will return shortly."

"Tell me truly." Richard studied the lovely young woman who sat on a bench beneath the branches of a gnarled old tree.

"You do not mind the rain?"

Adrianna's gaze lifted to the man who sat facing her in the wheeled chair.

"Nay, my lord. I have often walked alone in the rain in Paris."

"Why would a beautiful woman like you walk alone?"

"Beautiful." She glanced down, feeling her cheeks redden at his unexpected compliment.

"I am not beautiful, my lord."

"You think not?" He caught her chin and lifted her face for his inspection.

She blushed clear to her toes.

"To a worldly man like you I must seem plain. My eyes are too big, my nose is too small. My hair is so ordinary."

"Ordinary." He allowed his gaze to burn slowly over her until she felt her cheeks flame.

"Dear little Adrianna. There is nothing ordinary about you. When I look at you I see hair like burnished copper." He touched a finger to her rainwashed tresses.

"Your eyes are greener than the Thames at sunrise. They are big, though." When she lifted her gaze to him he chuckled, low and deep in his throat.

"Big enough, I think, for a man to drown in."

She pulled her head away and refused to look at him.

"You should not say such things."

"But I must. Or would you have me lie?"

"I did not come here seeking compliments."

"Nay. Nor did I come here to give them away. We both came," he said, turning to glance around him, "to admire the rose garden. See how the flowers lift their heads to drink in the rain."

"Aye. How fresh and green everything looks."