Highland Heather - Highland Heather Part 89
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Highland Heather Part 89

"Hurry back. Your queen needs you."

Morgan had forgotten how green the land was. And how blue the sky.

Little villages were tucked into the folds of hills strewn with sheep.

As the horses clattered over a stone bridge, he caught sight of the distant turrets of MacAlpin Castle.

He had searched this idyllic land for signs of a rebellion against the queen. He had found none. Instead he had found the peace he had not found since Brenna left. Everywhere he looked he saw proud young lasses with windswept curls and laughing eyes. And all of them tugged at his heart, reminding him of the one who had captivated him from the first moment he had seen her.

Alden wheeled his mount and raced past the long column of men to where Morgan's horse stood.

"Across yonder river there are over a hundred men assembled. At last I think we have found our rebellion."

Morgan forced his attention to the task at hand.

"Tell the men to prepare their weapons. Send two of your best men to ride ahead and ascertain the enemy's strength and number."

"Aye." Alden urged his horse into a gallop.

Morgan touched the dagger at his waist, then pulled his sword from the scabbard.

The day was so perfect. The sun shone from a cloudless sky. The slightest breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees. It was not a day for spilling blood.

Morgan rode hard until he reached the front of the column of men.

Alden turned in the saddle just as the two riders returned.

"They insist it is no rebellion, my lord. They say they are celebrating a wedding. But they are dressed as if for battle. And there are Highlanders among them."

"Highlanders?"

"Aye, my lord. Giants, they are. In full battle dress. Barelegged heathens, with legs as big as tree stumps. They carry broadswords and longbows as well as swords and daggers."

"And they say it is a celebration?"

"Aye, my lord. There is one among them who said we were invited to join them."

Morgan's eyes narrowed. What sort of ploy was this?

Turning to Alden he said, "You will stay on this side of the river with half the men. I will lead the other half across. If we are in need of your help, we will signal."

"Aye, my lord." Alden watched as Morgan hastily assembled his men.

Taking the lead, Morgan started across the river. On the other side he faced the rows of Highlanders who watched in silence as he and the others rode slowly through their midst.

"Welcome to our wedding feast," one of them called.

Morgan turned. The man had russet hair that fell across a wide forehead. He was taller even than the others, and his shoulders were as wide as a broadsword.

"We do not wish to intrude upon your celebration." Morgan reined in his mount.

"We have been sent by Queen Elizabeth to look into rumors of a rebellion."

"Our queen, Mary," the man said, his eyes showing no sign of anger, "has asked that our people live in peace with yours."

"Aye. I have seen no sign of discontent. But your assembly caused us to inquire." Morgan glanced at the Highlanders, who began laughing and talking among themselves. Though all wore their weapons, they seemed more interested in feasting than fighting.

"Forgive our intrusion into your celebration. We will leave you to it."

"Nay," the Highlander said with a laugh.

"Join us."

"It would not be right."

A beautiful woman crossed the expanse of lawn and stood beside the Highlander. In her arms was a cooing infant, whose chubby fingers curled around a strand of her mahogany hair. The warrior put his arm around the woman in a protective manner. When she looked up at Morgan, he felt his heart stop. Though he had never before seen her, he knew she had to be Brenna's sister.

"You are Meredith. And you," he said to the Highlander, "are Brice Campbell."

"Aye." Meredith gave him a warm smile.

"And you are Morgan Grey.

Brenna told us all about you. "

"She spoke warmly and lovingly about you, as well.," His gaze moved beyond her to the lass who strolled toward them. Megan, the youngest sister, was wearing a flowing gown of gold that matched her golden hair. In such formal attire she looked incongruous with a bleating lamb slung across her shoulders. She moved catlike across the lawn.

When she spied him, her eyes narrowed and he saw the way her hand went to the dagger at her waist.

"I come in peace, Megan." Morgan swallowed a smile at the way she boldly studied him.

"Brenna boasts that the Queen's Savage is fine and noble," Megan said.

"And though I remember only an arrogant English soldier, I will not argue with my sister on this special day."

"So you are to be wed?" Morgan said.

"Nay. Not I." She tossed her head and again Morgan had to stifle a smile.

"There is not a man alive who would own my heart."

"Then who marries this day?"

Megan cast a glance at her sister, then back at Morgan.

"I thought you knew. It is Brenna's wedding day."

Morgan felt his heart stop. He gripped the reins until his knuckles were white. And though the talking and laughter swirled around him, he heard nothing.

Brenna's wedding day. He felt the stab of pain and gritted his teeth.