caught the women in shockingly close embraces before beginning the
dance steps. Brenna was amazed to note that none of the women seemed
to mind being held so intimately. In fact, from the giggles and
whispers, they encouraged it.
When the dance ended, the men bent low and kissed the ladies' hands. A
few of the women offered their cheeks to be kissed. And one woman
actually lifted her lips for her partner's kiss. Seeing it, Brenna
blushed and lifted the goblet to her mouth to hide her embarrassment.
Morgan was fascinated by her reaction.
"Are you blushing, my lady?"
She felt her cheeks grow red and hotly denied it.
"I am just a bit warm, my lord."
"Perhaps a walk in the night air." His voice was warm with unspoken
laughter.
"Nay." She realized at once that she had rejected his offer too
quickly. Now he would have even more to laugh at.
"I suppose you will not dance."
"I cannot."
"Then we will sit here and enjoy our wine."
He lifted his goblet and watched as she drained hers. A serving wench
quickly refilled it.
"Morgan, you must dance," the queen called as she twirled by on the arm
of a new partner.
Morgan turned to Brenna. She shook her head and stared at the floor.
"Is it John Knox you fear? Is that why you cannot dance?" Morgan
smiled.
"I do not think anyone from the queen's court will carry tales of this
night back to your people."
"I do not fear John Knox."
"Is it the sin itself, then? Will you be damned if you dance?"
"I do not consider dancing sinful, my lord."
"Then why can you not dance?"
She sighed.
"Except with my sisters, and a few of the youth at wedding feasts, I
have never danced. I fear I would be--clumsy."
His smile gentled.
"Clumsy? You, my lady? That would not be possible.
Come. " He stood and held out his hand.
She bit her lip.
"I do not know what to do."
"I will teach you." Taking the goblet from her, he set it on a small
table and took her hand.
While the musicians played a tender ballad, Morgan led Brenna through
the intricate steps of the dance.
"Allow me to lead. In my arms, you need only follow."
"But I am moving right while you move left."
She was achingly aware of the hand at her back, pressing ever so
lightly as he guided her. She could feel every one of his fingers
touching her flesh.
"Do not watch your feet," he whispered, tipping up her chin.
Her gaze fastened on his as his fingertip stroked her cheek.
Oh, why did he have to have such a gentle touch? Why was he so
graceful in the dance?
She fit so perfectly into the circle of his embrace. It was as if she
had been made for his arms alone. He drew her closer and moved to the
music. And the woman in his arms began to move with him in perfect
rhythm.
"I pray that John Knox does not choose this night to visit the Queen of
England," Morgan murmured against her temple.
"I told you, I do not consider dancing a sin."
"Perhaps. But anyone watching us can see what I am thinking. And what
I am thinking is definitely a sin, my lady."
Her cheeks flamed. Only a crude Englishman would dare to make such a
joke. She did not know how to deal with such a blunt manner.
"Forgive me, my lady." His deep voice whispered over her senses,
causing a prickly feeling along her spine.
"I can see that a sheltered woman would feel lost in such decadence."
He gave a chuckle that sent icy shivers along her spine. She tried to
pull away but he gathered her even closer and continued to sway to the
music.
She was caught in the gentlest of prisons. Through her satin skirts
she could feel the brush of his thighs against hers. Her breasts were
crushed against his chest. Each time he breathed, she felt the warmth
of his breath ruffle the hair at her temple. Slowly, against her will,
she closed her eyes and with a sigh gave in to the overpowering need to
surrender to his touch. Her fingers played with the dark hair at his
nape. The hand engulfed in his relaxed until their fingers were gently
laced.
"You are an excellent student, my lady." His words were whispered
against her temple.
She sighed. It was not the student who was excellent; it was the
teacher. But she was too content to speak.
"Is there anything else you would like to learn, my lady?"
Her lids snapped open. She found herself staring into his dark,
laughing eyes.
"I fear there is nothing else you could teach me."
"Would you care to bet a gold sovereign on that?" She suddenly
resented his mocking laughter.
"I no longer wish to dance with you, Morgan Grey." An aging earl
stepped forward and tapped Morgan on the shoulder.
"It seems your every wish is my command, my lady." With a smile Morgan
took a step back, breaking contact. Before she knew what was
happening, Brenna was swept away in the old man's arms. When she
glanced over his shoulder she saw Morgan dancing with the queen. Lord
Windham was standing in the center of the floor looking over the
dancing couples.
From her vantage point, Brenna watched as Morgan swept the queen around
the dance floor. It was obvious, from the ease with which they moved,
that they had danced together many times. Elizabeth looked up into
Morgan's eyes and said something that made him laugh. He then lowered
his head to whisper in her ear. Brenna stared in fascination, unable
to turn away from such an intimate scene.
What was this strange emotion she felt? Jealousy? She instantly
rejected such a notion. How could she feel any jealousy toward a man
she cared nothing about?
Within minutes Brenna was dancing with another partner. She looked up
to find herself in the arms of Charles Crowel, Duke of Eton.
"My wife, Madeline, is quite taken with you, my lady."
"And I with her. I shall never forget her kindness to me."
"Madeline is a tenderhearted woman. She has not forgotten what it
feels like to be a stranger in a strange land. But my friends have
gone to great lengths to make her feel welcome in England."
"Your wife is a truly good person. I feel that I have at least one
friend in England."
"My dear, if you let us, we will all be your friends."
"Thank you, sir." She gave him a grateful smile.
"You are most kind."
"And you are most beautiful, my dear. I fear Her Majesty will have
twenty and five suitors vying for your hand before this night is
over."
Brenna was still laughing when she was suddenly turned into another
pair of arms.
"Lord Windham." The smile vanished from her lips.
"I have been waiting for this opportunity," he said.
His hand at her waist drew her firmly against him. His eyes had none
of the warmth or humor of Morgan's. Instead, they burned with an
intensity that alarmed her.
muttered.
"It seems you shall have your pick of titled Englishmen from which to
choose."
"Perhaps," Brenna said, striving to keep the conversation light, "I
shall be unable to choose just one."
"All the better. I like a woman who can please many lovers."
"I did not mean..." She bit her lip. There was no point in attempting
to explain to this crude man.
He swept her gracefully through the crowd and continued dancing.
Brenna was unaware that they were heading toward a deserted balcony
until they stopped dancing. She looked around in surprise.
"Why have you brought me here?"
"Why does a gentleman usually take a lady away from the crowd?" He
smiled and she felt a tiny tremor of fear along her spine.
"I thought you might wish to escape from Morgan Grey."
"Escape? You offer me escape, my lord?"
He took a step closer and ran his finger suggestively along her arm.
She gave an involuntary shudder and took a step back. But as she took
another -step, her back pressed against the cold stone of the balcony
railing. At her look of fear Lord Windham's smile widened.
"Are you playing the part of the coquette, my lady?"
"I..." She licked her lips and fought back the rush of fear that
caused her throat to go dry.
"I do not understand what you mean."
"Oh, I think you do." He stepped very close, until their bodies were
touching. He felt the way she recoiled from him and gave a cold laugh
as he brought his hand to her shoulder.
"You are teasing me, my lady.
Playing the part of the innocent. And it is most effective. "
"Please, my lord. I wish to go back to the others now."
"All in good time." He caught her by the upper arms and pressed his
thumbs into the softness of her flesh.
"You are a beautiful, desirable woman, Brenna MacAlpin. It was most
kind of Morgan Grey to fetch you here for my pleasure."
His breath reeked of ale. Brenna strained against the hands that
clawed at her.
As he drew her close and lowered his head, he heard the sound of swords
being drawn. Stunned, he turned to find two of Morgan Grey's soldiers
facing him, their swords lifted in a threatening manner.
Behind them was Morgan Grey himself.
Brenna was so elated to see them, she nearly threw herself into
Morgan's arms. She took a step toward him, but the look on his face
stopped her.
"Did you not think it rude to leave the festivities before your queen,
Windham?"
Lord Windham's face was a cold mask of fury.
"You have no right to intrude. Grey."
"I have every right. Have you forgotten that the lady is my
prisoner?"
Brenna froze. For just a moment she had forgotten that the guards were
not there to protect her, but to keep her from escaping. And Morgan
Grey was not worried about her safety; merely about the way it would
look if she disappeared while his soldiers were supposed to be guarding
her.
"Could it be that you think the lady is your own personal property?"
Windham saw the way Morgan's eyes darkened and realized that he had hit
a nerve. He gave a shrill, nervous laugh.
"So. That is it. You think you are the only one allowed to dally with
the prisoner." His voice lifted in agitation.
"Have you already decided how to spend the lady's dowry, and how to cut
up her lands to your satisfaction?"
At his words Morgan felt a wave of fury.
"That is not even worthy of a reply. I care not what you think.
Windham." Morgan's voice was low;
his words deliberate.
"Be warned. The lady is off limits to all but the man who petitions
the queen for her hand."
Windham's words were slurred.
"Perhaps that is what the lady and I were discussing." He pushed past
the guards and stormed away without another word.
Brenna was left alone to face the furious, accusing look on Morgan's
face.
Chapter Ten
Q^y^ssQ
You will take my arm, my lady. "
"You do not care to hear what happened?" Her heartbeat was still
racing. Her voice trembled. Despite his cold demeanor, she had
experienced waves of relief at her rescue from this frightful scene.
Though she had always dealt with her own problems in her own way, she
had an unreasonable yearning to cling to him and weep over her
embarrassing ordeal.
"Nay. It is finished."
Finished? She studied his shuttered expression, his stiff stance.
"Can it be that you believe that I came here willingly with that evil
man?" "You made it abundantly clear that you would do anything to
escape me. But if you saw Windham as an ally, you made a poor choice.
Now we will speak of it no more, my lady. But be warned that I will
not tolerate such foolishness again."
Brenna glanced at the guards. They stared straight ahead, awaiting
orders from their leader.
With a sigh of resignation, she placed her hand on Morgan's sleeve and
walked by his side. There was no point in attempting to defend
herself. This man was having none of it.
On the dance floor the queen was going through a series of intricate
dance steps in the arms of the Duke of Eton. A crowd ringed the room,
clapping their hands. As Morgan and Brenna approached, Madeline turned
to greet them.
She took one look at Brenna's flushed cheeks and Morgan's unreadable
expression and gave a little laugh.
"Mon dieu. You two have been naughty, slipping away like that. Could
you not at least wait until the evening is over?"
Morgan's eyes narrowed.
Madeline turned toward the dancers.
"Is Charles not the best dancer in England?"
For a moment her question was met with only silence. Then, to cover
the awkward moment, Brenna cleared her throat.
"Aye. He cuts a fine figure with the queen."
Madeline heard the slight tremor in her voice and touched a hand to her
cheek.
"You are overwrought, cherie. It is this rogue, Morgan Grey, is it
not?"
Feeling the prickle of tears, Brenna shook her head and blinked
quickly.
Madeline's concerned look quickly turned to one of understanding.
"Ah.
I see. You are weary then, cherie. "
Brenna nodded, afraid to trust her voice. She had a desperate need to
flee this room, these people.
"A pity. For no one can leave until the queen does."
Brenna groaned inwardly and tightened her grip on Morgan's sleeve. If
he noticed her discomfort, he gave no indication. He continued to
stare at the dancers as though she didn't exist.
In his mind's eye he could still see Brenna locked in Windham's
embrace. The little fool. Did she not sense the danger in playing
with a man like Windham? He was no better than an animal, deflowering
maidens for his selfish pleasure, then leaving them to deal with
bruised hearts and sometimes, if the rumors be t
rue, battered bodies.
If she was so desperate to escape that she would even choose Windham
for her champion, Morgan would have to save her from her own folly.
The music ended. The queen and the Duke of Eton acknowledged the
applause. The duke returned Elizabeth to the arm of her escort. Then
the crowd parted as the queen and Lord Windham bid good-night to their
guests and headed for the door. There, the queen made a great show of
bidding good-night to Lord Windham. When he had dutifully kissed her
hand, she clapped for her servants.
Immediately a flock of serving girls and the queen's ladies circled
Elizabeth. With a flurry of women's high-pitched voices, the queen and
her retinue headed for the royal quarters.
Windham, drunk not only from the amount of ale he'd consumed, but from
the attention paid him by the queen, strutted around the room accepting
the congratulations of his friends.
The musicians began to play. Many in the crowded room returned to the
dance floor, while others followed the queen's example and bid
goodnight.
"Now you can rest, cherie." Madeline turned from Brenna and linked
hands with her husband as soon as he approached.
He drew her close.
"Will we stay with the revelers, my dear, or would you prefer to return
to our quarters?"
"I think I could dance until the morning light."
The duke gave a fleeting glance toward the door as if regretting the
sleep he would be forced to miss. Then he touched her cheek in an
affectionate gesture.
"You shall have your wish, my love." He turned to Morgan.
"Will you linger awhile?" , "Nay. We will see you on the morrow."
Morgan's words were clipped.
Brenna bid good-night, then placed her hand on Morgan's arm, moving
stiffly at his side as they took their leave.
They spoke not a word as they ascended the stairs to their suite of
rooms. Morgan held the door for Brenna, then paused to speak to his
men before following her inside.
The rooms had been prepared for the night. In the sitting room, a fire
crackled in the fireplace. A chaise had been positioned in front of
it. To one side a table held a decanter of wine and two goblets. On a
tray were fruit and pastries.
A perfect room for lovers, Brenna thought. But she and
Morgan Grey were far from lovers; they were enemies. And each day her
dislike for this man grew.
A servant looked up as they entered. Seeing Morgan's scowling face,
she filled a goblet with wine and placed it in his outstretched hand.
Brenna pushed open the door to her sleeping chamber. A cozy fire
burned within. The bed linens had been turned down. Across the bed
was draped a gauzy ivory night shift of hand-worked lace and finest
linen.
The Queen's seamstresses must have worked throughout the entire evening
to turn out something so fine.
A second serving girl looked up from the fire she had been attending.
She hurried to Brenna's side and began to assist her in removing her
gown and petticoats. When Brenna was dressed in her night shift, the
maid brushed her long hair until it fell in soft waves to her waist.
Brenna thought about old Mora, her nurse since childhood. Those old,
awkward fingers would have fumbled with the buttons of this fine
gown.
And the hairbrush would have snagged and pulled at her long hair. But
oh, how desperately she missed that dear, wrinkled face.
"Would you like anything, my lady?"