Highland Barbarian Part 17

At the head of the table, the object of their toast nodded her head slightly and drank.

In the silence that followed, the young woman at the far end of the table spoke.

"When you leave, will you take me with you--Majesty?"

Everyone gasped at the boldness of the hostage's words. Angus placed a hand on her arm as if to warn her, but she shook it off as though no one had ever before dared to touch her in such a way.

Beside him, Brice saw the queen's head nod slightly. He felt a rush of seething anger at Meredith's crude attempt to escape from Kinloch House with the queen's blessing. When the others left he would deal with her harshly. For now, he would keep a tight rein on his temper and deal with her more diplomatically.

"It is not proper to address the queen unless she first invites it."

"May I speak. Majesty?" came the bold reply from the far end of the table.

Again Angus tried to stifle her outburst. Ignoring him, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Nay. We will eat." Brice held up a hand to silence her.

At his signal, the servants began circulating among the guests, offering from trays of steaming deer, rabbit, goose, pheasant and partridge. There were breads still warm from the oven, as well as steamed puddings.

From the far end of the table, the woman in the white gown called, "Such fine food, my lord."

Brice's eyes narrowed. Was it Meredith's intention to dominate the conversation? Perhaps she hoped to continue to call attention to herself in order to invite the queen's protection.

"There are those who say the Highlanders live like royalty while many in the Lowlands starve." All eyes turned toward the woman in the white gown who sat beside Angus With a wide, innocent smile she added,

"Is that not true. Majesty?"

Brice heard a slight choking sound from the woman beside him.

"Aye" came the voice. Then, with just a trace of French accent, she added, ""Tis said that many covet the holdings of the Highland lords.

What say you--Meredith?"

Brice turned to study the woman in the burgundy velvet gown. Though the gown and hair were that of the queen, the voice, though similar, was not hers. He and Mary had been friends for too long. He had heard her when angry, happy, ill and well. He would know her voice anywhere.

He strained to study the face beneath the veil. Why would the queen wear a hat and veil to a banquet? A hint of a smile began at the corner of his lips. To hide behind? His smile grew.

"Do you remember that time when you and I and the dauphin went riding in Paris?" he asked.

Beside him the woman went very still.

"Surely you have not forgotten, Majesty. We had a race. I believe the bet was one hundred gold sovereigns."

Still the woman beside him remained silent.

"Unfortunately for you, I won by several meters," Brice said with a trace of triumph.

From the end of the table came the thunderous response. "How dare you, Brice Campbell! I won that race. And the bet was five hundred gold sovereigns. By the time you caught up with me I had turned my mount over to a groom and had retired to my rooms. You threatened to have your horse drawn and quartered for stumbling and losing the race.

Around the table there was stunned silence.

Brice threw back his head and roared with laughter. "And how does my captive, Meredith MacAlpin, know of such things?"

At the foot of the table the queen stood, shocking those guests who had not yet caught on to the joke.

"You knew all along, did you?"

"Nay, Majesty." Brice wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Not until I heard the poor imitation of your French accent beside me."

"Ah. Then it was Meredith who gave it away."

"It was the boldness of the one who pretended to be my captive. You have a very--regal presence, Madame. A trait that does not allow you to blend in with a crowd. How much did you have riding on this little prank?"

"A mere gold sovereign." The queen gave him a wide smile.

"It is worth losing this bet to Flem just to put you in your place, Brice Campbell." She looked around at the others.

"Let no one at this table think that any Highland lord can best his queen in a race. Shall I challenge you again, Brice?"

"Perhaps another time. Majesty."

While the others chimed in the laughter at the queen's prank, Brice turned toward Meredith. In a voice the others could not hear he whispered,

"Well done. For a few moments you managed to fool me, little wildcat."

Beside him Meredith merely smiled. Why in the world should Brice's words please her? He was, after all, still the same barbarian who had captured her and held her against her will in the Highlands.

Or was he?

Meredith thought about the loyalty of his people, so unexpected in one of his reputation. And the library of books and ledgers. Did that not indicate an educated man? And what of his friendship with royalty?

So many questions. And yet, long after the queen left, she would be forced to remain here and perhaps learn the answers.

She glanced at the far end of the table where the queen was accepting the congratulations of those who admired her latest trick. Had not the queen herself brought up the question of what would be done with her?

Perhaps she could yet persuade the queen to take her with her.

At least then she would be free of Brice Campbell. After all, was that not what she truly wanted?

At the far end of the table, Jamie MacDonald remained rooted to his chair. He was sitting beside the queen. And he had just been privileged to witness one of her renowned pranks. Could life be any more wonderful than this?

Chapter Six

Q^y^Ts^Q When the feasting was over, the queen insisted upon summoning her musicians who had traveled with her. When they took up their instruments, Brice brought Jamie before the queen.

"The lad plays several instruments, Madame, including the lute. He would be honored to join the royal musicians."

"They would be honored to have him."