"You spend an inordinate amount of time staring at your enemy when you think no one is watching."
No one except this old woman would ever speak so bluntly to the mistress of MacAlpin Castle. Brenna flushed clear to her toes, then reached for the door pull.
"I have no time for your silly prattle. I go below stairs to oversee the food for the English soldiers' journey."
As she flounced away, Brenna fretted over the old woman's words.
Perhaps she had spent a good deal of time staring at Morgan Grey. But it was only because he was a man who could not be trusted. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was indeed easy to look at.
Halfway down the stairs she turned and found Megan following her. The girl's face was wreathed with smiles.
'"Tis a day for rejoicing," she called, as she caught up with her sister and linked arms with her.
"Aye. Perhaps our lives can now return to normal."
The girls came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs. Morgan Grey stood near the main entrance, calling orders to his men, who were already carrying supplies to the horses who stood saddled and waiting in the outer courtyard.
"My ladies." He bowed and smiled charmingly.
Too charmingly, Brenna thought. This was a side to Morgan Grey that she had not previously witnessed.
"You are afoot early, my lord. It would appear that you are eager to be away."
"Every soldier harbors a longing for home."
"Aye. Then I will not delay your departure." Brenna turned away.
"I.
will see to your morning meal at once. "
He watched as she hurried away, followed by her sister. For a moment he stood very still as he went over his plan in his mind. Then, confident that he could carry it off, he returned his attention to the men and their supplies.
The meal was a lavish affair, and at last Brenna had found her appetite. With Morgan about to depart, she felt free to enjoy herself.
He watched as she savored the thick slab of pork and bread warm from the oven. When she drank the hot mulled wine, she felt light-headed, and couldn't decide if it was the wine or the knowledge that she would soon be rid of this troublesome man.
Across the room she noted that Duncan's chair was vacant. She would speak with his wife, Mary, as soon as the guests were gone. The old man often had trouble getting out of bed these days. He had earned the right to his rest. Perhaps old
Duncan could be persuaded to retire soon and turn over his duties to one of his sons. She hated to admit to herself that the Englishman had been right when he suggested that Duncan's loyalty was not enough to keep her safe. Her old friend would give his life for her. But that might not be enough. She needed one younger, more agile, at her right hand.
She turned aside the troubling thoughts. She would find a way to handle the matter gracefully, with no slight on Duncan's good name.
Hamish MacPherson was obviously delighted to be part of the festivities. Seated to the left of Brenna, he ate with relish and drank more than a little ale, until his face was flushed and his eyes a bit cloudy.
He paid special attention to his hostess, hanging on her every word.
If the Englishman to her right was scowling, it mattered not to Hamish.
Soon enough they would be rid of the scoundrel. And perhaps, if the fates were smiling, he could persuade Brenna MacAlpin to allow him to stay on another day or two.
When they had had their fill, Brenna and Megan led their guests to the courtyard, eager to bid them farewell.
"Safe journey, my lord," Brenna said, her eyes dancing.
"You may extend my warm wishes to your monarch."
"You may extend those wishes yourself."
She thought she heard a trace of laughter in his tone. But his words had her puzzled.
"I fear you make no sense."
He crossed the distance between them and caught her by the arm.
Surprised, she stared at the offending hand, then up into his dark eyes.
"You have but a moment to see to a wardrobe suitable for traveling."
"I do not..."
Her eyes widened. He saw the confusion, then the sudden, terrible knowledge at his next words.
"I fear I cannot bear to be parted from you. I insist that you accompany me to London, my lady."
She swallowed.
"You cannot be serious."
"My queen has already petitioned her cousin in Edinburgh, my lady. She intends to have you wed to an Englishman. To that end I am sworn to obey."
"You cannot take me from my own home, my own land, against my will."
"You are wrong, my lady. I fully intend to do just that."
At Morgan's announcement, Hamish MacPherson unsheathed his sword. But before he could brandish it, Morgan's words stopped him.
"Look around you, boy. If you but lift that sword against me, a dozen men will step forward to stop you. And the lady will see you lying at her feet in little pieces."
"At least I will have the pleasure of wounding you or perhaps even killing you first."
Morgan shrugged carelessly.
"If you wish."
As Hamish lifted his sword, Morgan unsheathed his own weapon and moved so quickly the lad had no chance to defend himself. The tip of Morgan's sword pierced his shoulder. Blood spurted as Hamish's sword clattered to the stones of the courtyard.
"That is but a warning, nothing more," Morgan said between clenched teeth.
"Know that if I had wanted to kill you, you would already lie dead at my feet."