Return Of The Highlanders: The Guardian Part 22

"Were ye here at the castle five years ago?" Sileas asked in a tight voice.

The woman gave a laugh that made Sileas think of tiny bells. "Why yes, I believe I was. I stayed here for several months about that time. How did you guess?"

Ach, it was her-the woman Ian had wished to marry.

The memory of that night came back sharply-the rough ground beneath her, the chill in the air, the night sky above her. But most of all, she remembered the wistfulness in Ian's voice as he spoke about a lady with a tinkling laugh and the grace of a faerie-and a beauty so enchanting that a young man who was not ready to marry would decide he was.

Ian had failed to mention that Philippa was English. If he had been willing to tell his father and chieftain he wished to wed an English lady, then Ian must have wanted her very badly indeed.

The faerie woman was looking at Sileas as if she were waiting for a response. Sileas had no recollection of the question, so she shook her head and let Lady Philippa believe she had not understood her English.

Sileas was relieved when a young man in English livery interrupted them.

"Her Highness the Queen will see you now," he said, giving Sileas a slight bow. "I'll escort you to her private parlor."

Sileas nodded to Lady Philippa and took Niall's arm. As they followed the servant across the room, Niall stared at Lady Philippa over his shoulder.

The servant took them through an arched doorway, then stopped at the base of a circular stairs. "Only the lady is invited."

"She goes nowhere without me," Niall said.

"The audience will be in the queen's private apartments," the man said. "The queen and her ladies' privacy must be respected."

Sileas tugged Niall to the side. "It will be all women in the queen's apartments, so there's nothing for ye to fret about."

Niall didn't look as though he liked it, but he didn't argue when she gave him a bright smile and picked up her skirts to follow the servant up the stairs.

A short time later, Sileas found herself in the queen's bedchamber. Several ladies lounged on couches or on silk and brocade pillows on the floor, while the queen herself sat in a high-backed chair with her surprisingly tiny feet propped up on a stool and a ratlike dog in her lap. She was a buxom woman with beady eyes that matched her dog's and heavy, glittering rings on every plump finger.

Standing next to her, with a hand resting on the back of her chair, was a darkly handsome man of about Ian's age, with a well-groomed beard and hard eyes. Judging from his fine clothes and the way he held himself, Sileas guessed this was the Earl of Angus, Archibald Douglas. She'd heard that his father had died at Flodden, making him the head of his clan-the Douglas, himself.

Sileas's mouth was dry as she stepped forward and made her curtsy, hoping she was doing it correctly.

"You are Sileas MacDonald from the Isle of Skye?" the queen asked.

Sileas had not foreseen that the queen would have no Gaelic. Her husband, though a Lowlander, had won favor with Highlanders by learning to speak Gaelic. He had been a great lover of Highland music as well.

"She may have no English," the man Sileas a.s.sumed was Archibald Douglas said.

"I do speak a little English," Sileas said.

The queen gave an impatient sigh and rolled her eyes heavenward.

Sileas took a deep breath to calm herself, then said. "Your Highness, I've come a long way to ask for your help in obtaining an annulment from the church."

While the queen scrunched her face up as if Sileas were something her dog left behind, the Douglas looked her up and down as if she was standing in her chemise. What a rude pair these two were. As they say, Put silk on a goat and it is still a goat.

"So, you've found another man you wish to wed?" The queen turned to her ladies and added, " 'Tis the usual reason."

Sileas felt herself color. "No, Your Highness, I have not."

"So there's no urgency?" the queen asked, raising her plucked eyebrows. "You're not carrying another man's child?"

Sileas's face felt burning hot. She shook her head violently this time.

The Douglas asked her in Gaelic, "So, you are a virgin?"

"That is an overly familiar question, sir," she answered in Gaelic, meeting his gaze.

The Douglas turned to the queen and graced her with a dazzling smile. "I know it's tedious for you to speak with someone who has such difficulty with English."

The man made Sileas angry enough to spit. Her English was not as bad as that.

"It doesn't help that the la.s.s is fl.u.s.tered speaking to royalty for the first time." The Douglas spoke to the queen in a voice as smooth and slippery as melting lard. "Shall I take care of this problem for you?"

The queen flashed a sharp look at Sileas, but she shifted her gaze away when the Douglas whispered something in her ear that made her neck flush. A moment later, he walked to the door that led outside to the gallery and flicked his hand at Sileas, signaling for her to follow him.

Apprehension p.r.i.c.kled at her skin as she followed him, but she didn't want to remain with the queen, either. Once they were on the gallery-and out of the queen's view-he held her arm against his body in a firm grip that increased her unease. She reminded herself that she was in a palace surrounded by soldiers and guards. Surely she had nothing to fear.

After pa.s.sing three doors, he opened the fourth, which led into a small parlor. She was relieved to see two servants, who leapt to their feet and bowed as they entered. Sileas glanced through the open door to her right-and her heart beat faster when she glimpsed an imposing bed with a dark wood frame and heavy crimson curtains.

"Go now," the Douglas said.

The servants disappeared though a second door. As it closed behind them, Sileas felt for the dirk strapped to her thigh-and cursed herself for not finding a hiding place closer to hand. She'd tried, but there was no good place to stick a dirk in this gown-and certainly not in her dainty slippers.

The Douglas poured a cup of wine from an ornate silver pitcher on the side table and took a drink. She chided herself for letting her imagination get away with her. Nothing could be more normal than a man taking a drink.

"I have some business to discuss with ye, la.s.s," he said, and handed her the cup. "Your letter to the queen said ye are heir to Knock Castle."

She decided to hold her tongue until she knew where this was leading.

"I knew about ye being the heir, of course, but I'd heard ye wed a MacDonald and thought the matter settled." Her surprise must have shown on her face, for he added, " 'Tis my business to know such things."

She didn't like this man knowing so much about her. Since he'd drunk the wine, it couldn't be poisoned, so she took a gulp. It did nothing to cure her dry throat.

"The queen will soon name me Protector of the Western Isles-which includes Skye, of course." He leaned closer and said in a soft voice. "That means, la.s.s, that I am a good man to know. And the better ye know me, the better off you'll be."

Her heart was racing. Despite her inexperience, she had a fair notion of what he was suggesting.

He pried the cup from her hand and set it on the table. "I'm sure you've had a hard time of it, with both the MacDonalds and the MacKinnons trying to get their hands on you and your castle," he said. "Likely, the Macleods will have a try as well."

When he took a step closer, she took a step back.

"I am a powerful man," he said, resting a hand on her arm. "I can protect ye from the MacDonalds, the MacKinnons, and all the others."

She backed up until her heels. .h.i.t the wall. He was so close to her now that she could taste the wine on his breath and smell the musky odor of his skin beneath the scent he wore.

"You're a verra lovely la.s.s." He ran a finger along her cheek. "And brave to come all this way, telling no one but that young lad who's waiting for ye in the hall."

If his intent was to make her realize just how alone she was-and how far from the protection of her clansmen-he had succeeded.

She swallowed back her fear and tried to keep her head. "I don't suppose the queen would be pleased to see ye touching me."

"No, I don't suppose she would," he said, his teeth gleaming white. "That's why I'll make sure she doesn't know about us. Nothing could be easier."

She ran her tongue over her dry lips. " 'Tis time I was leaving."

"Come, la.s.s, I deserve a reward for having to bed that Tudor cow." He cupped her face and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. "And don't fret. If ye have a child, I promise I'll claim it."

Her mouth dropped open at this blunt statement of his intentions.

"Ye are a conniving b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she hissed in his face. "Ye just want Knock Castle for yourself, same as the rest of them."

"I can a.s.sure ye, la.s.s," he said, taking hold of her shoulders and pressing her against the wall, "Knock Castle is not all I want from ye."

If she could have reached her dirk, she would have gutted him. As it was, she struggled against him, but he held her fast.

"Ye are a beauty," he said in a husky voice, as his mouth inched closer to hers. "And I find I'm partial to pretty virgins."

CHAPTER 24.

Ian's every nerve and muscle was taut with tension as they rode into Stirling. He had expected to find Sileas and Niall on the road, but the pair had moved fast, d.a.m.n them. After days of hard travel and worry, he felt like a hide that had been stretched and beaten on a frame.

"We'll check all the taverns and inns," Connor said. "They'll be staying in one of them."

If they had made it to Stirling. Ian's headed pounded every time he thought of the dangers. "I'm going to the castle to look for them," he said.

"If they haven't gone there yet, we can still keep this quiet," Connor said.

Fear pulsed through him. "I don't care if I'm a laughingstock all across Scotland. I must find her quickly, before she comes to harm."

If harm had not already found her.

"They can't have arrived in Stirling more than half a day ahead of us,"Alex said. "Sileas cannot walk into the palace and receive an audience with the queen. More than likely, they'll make her wait a day or two-if they let her see the queen at all."

Ian agreed, reluctantly, to look first in the town. After stabling their horses at the first tavern they found, they went inside-and finally had their first bit of luck.

"Take the room upstairs on the end," the tavern keeper said, as he tucked the coins Ian gave him into the leather bag at his belt.

"Have ye seen a couple of lads, one almost as tall as me, and the other a wee thing with red hair?" Ian asked.

"Mayhap." The tavern keeper narrowed his eyes at Ian. "Why would ye be looking for them?"

Ian's heart beat faster. He wanted to grab the man and shake what he knew from him, but he was grateful for the tavern keeper's unexpected protectiveness toward the wayward pair.

"My brothers had an argument with our da and ran off," Ian said. "I've come to bring them home."

" 'Tis good you've come," the man said, as he poured a cup of ale for another customer. "The big one looks like he could handle himself in a fight, but there are plenty of other dangers in Stirling, if ye know what I mean."

Ian did. Praise G.o.d he had found them.

"Which room are they in?" Ian said, starting toward the stairs.

"The younger lad might be up there, but the tall one left some time ago." He chuckled and shook his head. "Funny thing, he'd found himself a pretty la.s.s and said they was going to visit the queen."

People on the street moved out of Ian's way as he strode toward the castle. Connor was beside him, matching him stride for stride, and the other two behind them.

"Mind your temper," Connor said, as they drew near the gatehouse. "If ye draw your blade, twenty guards will be on ye before ye can say her name."

They told the guards at the gatehouse they were looking for a clanswoman.

"She was with a big lad of fifteen, and she's so high," Ian said, holding his hand to his chin, "and has flaming red hair."

"Couldn't forget that la.s.s, now could I?" one on the guards said. "Ach, she's a fair one."

Ian took a deep breath to keep from punching him.

"If that were my wife, ye can be sure I'd keep her home," another said.

Ian gritted his teeth while Connor and Alex talked the guards into letting them pa.s.s, then they hurried to the King's House. As soon as they got past another set of guards at the door, he saw Niall.

His brother's eyes widened as Ian and the others crossed the hall to him, but he stood his ground.

"Where is she?" Ian grabbed Niall by the front of his shirt. "Tell me now."

"A servant took her to the queen's private parlor," Niall said, and Ian saw the worry in his eyes. "He said men were not permitted to go there."

Ian knew from personal experience that was a lie. The queen's ladies sneaked men in all the time.

"I didn't like it, but it's only women in there, so Sileas should be safe enough," Niall said, but there was a question in his voice. "But she's been gone a long while."

Ian turned to the others. "Can ye hold the guards for a wee bit?"

"Wait, I see an easier way in." Alex shifted his gaze across the room. "I believe that is the English la.s.s who used to have an eye for ye."

Ian followed Alex's gaze to a woman with a graceful figure and a delicate, perfectly proportioned face framed by very fair tendrils.

"Are ye speaking of Lady Philippa?" Niall asked in a wistful voice.

She was, indeed, Philippa, the woman Ian had once planned to marry. It seemed a lifetime ago.

"I'd wager Philippa can get ye into the queen's parlor in a wink, if she's a mind to it," Alex said, pushing Ian forward. "So make an effort to be charming."