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an assignment, suggesting that it was beneath your dignity as a

  warrior, and fit merely for a lackey. Yet this simple task has taken

  you away from me for too long. Did you not miss the sight of your

  queen?"

  Morgan stepped closer, leaving Brenna encircled by his men. His voice

  warmed.

  "Aye, Majesty. I have missed not only your beauty, but your sharp

  tongue as well. There are few who can match words as my queen."

  Elizabeth threw back her head and laughed.

  "I, too, have missed our duel of wits, my Lord Grey. I am truly

  pleased that you have returned.

  Now tell me the outcome of your journey to Scotland. "

  "The people are still mistrustful of the English, Majesty. And though

  I assured them that we came in peace, I could sense that they did not

  believe me."

  "They had the word of your queen."

  Morgan smiled at Elizabeth's sudden flash of anger.

  "Aye, Majesty. But I think you were wise in your decision to bind the

  two countries through an arrangement of marriages. We have lost many a

  good Englishman on the Scottish border."

  "The Highland chiefs," Elizabeth said dryly, "have already pledged

  their loyalty to me through the Treaty of Edinburgh."

  "Aye. There is that. But our borders continue to be plagued by

  outbreaks of fighting, Majesty."

  "So, Morgan, you suddenly approve of these arranged marriages."

  Elizabeth held out her hand and drew him close. Many women in the room

  watched the scene with interest. Morgan Grey was a handsome devil who

  caused more than a few female hearts to flutter. And the queen was as

  yet unwed.

  "Tell me about this Scotswoman who leads her clan."

  "I will do better than that, Majesty. I will present her to you."

  He turned. At his command his men moved aside, revealing Brenna.

  "Majesty, may I present Brenna MacAlpin, leader of the clan MacAlpin of

  Scotland."

  Many in the crowd gasped. At their reaction, Brenna lifted her head

  defiantly.

  The queen appeared stunned for a moment before regaining her

  composure.

  "Can this truly be the leader of her people? In such a state of

  disarray?"

  Brenna's cheeks went bright red, but she continued to meet Elizabeth's

  direct look.

  The queen lifted a bejeweled hand.

  "Look at her. Her hair tumbles wildly around her cheeks and shoulders

  and spills down her back in a tangle of curls. Her traveling gown and

  cloak are dusty and wrinkled.

  And is that blood upon her gown, Morgan? "

  He flushed uncomfortably.

  "Aye, Majesty."

  "Her blood?"

  "Mine."

  "You subdued her with your sword?"

  "She attacked me with a knife."

  The queen looked more closely at the woman who stood before her.

  Arching an eyebrow she said, "She more resembles an orphaned waif than

  a leader." She turned toward Morgan.

  "Is she truly the MacAlpin, my Lord Grey, or are you rivaling the Court

  jester?"

  "I do not jest, Majesty."

  "But why have you brought her here like a common prisoner?"

  "Because she attempted to evade your wishes, Majesty. The Lady Brenna

  vowed she would marry a man of her own choosing."

  "She did?" The queen's look changed suddenly, from one of disdain to

  one of sharp interest.

  "Aye, Majesty. I was forced to track her to the Highlands. Once

  there, I decided it was in your Majesty's best interest to keep her

  with me until your Majesty decided her fate."

  "She ran from you?" The queen studied the young woman before her.

  "This one small female managed to elude Morgan Grey? And to wound him

  in the fray?" The queen's eyes danced with unconcealed humor.

  "Oh, this is a fine joke. Can it be that the man who subdues entire

  armies cannot control one woman?"

  Morgan's eyes grew steely.

  "And you were forced to follow her to the dangerous Highlands?"

  He nodded.

  "How very interesting." The queen studied the way the two refused to

  look at one another. The emotions flowing between them were raw and

  savage.

  "And so you have brought her here against her will." The queen smiled

  slowly.

  "A very--wise decision, my Lord Grey, although my cousin Mary of

  Scotland would perhaps not agree."

  Elizabeth addressed the woman.

  "You would choose your own husband?"

  "It is the way of the MacAlpin."

  At Brenna's harsh tone, there was a distinct silence in the room.

  Every eye was on the woman who sat upon the throne. Though small in

  stature, Elizabeth was every inch the queen. She tolerated no show of

  disrespect in her presence. Especially not from one who swore

  allegiance to another.

  The queen turned toward the gallery of robed men who sat to one side.

  Brenna's voice carried through the suddenly quiet crowd.

  "In my country, women are not chattel, to be bargained for. Nor

  jewels, to be worn for adornment. We are valued for ourselves. And

  since our lives are so deeply affected by the choice of partner, our

  voices are heard."

  Though the queen's eyes flashed, her lips softened into a smile. There

  was an audible sigh through the crowd. Once more the queen's anger had

  been diffused.

  "I would ask the council to pay heed to this Scotswoman. Your queen is

  not the only one who wishes to choose her own husband."

  Morgan chuckled, low and deep in his throat. Beside him, Alden laughed

  aloud. Gradually others around the room did the same. The atmosphere

  became more relaxed.

  Turning back to Brenna, the queen said, "What am I to do with you,

  Brenna MacAlpin? Shall I parade every titled Englishman past you,

  until you choose the one who piques your interest?"

  "Nay, Majesty. The Englishman is not born who will win my heart."

  "Is there, perhaps, a Scotsman who holds your heart?"

  Morgan waited a moment, unaware that he was holding his breath.

  "There is not. But I will not be bartered like a fatted calf."

  The queen's smile suddenly faded.

  "I would advise you, woman, to beware of your sharp tongue. There is

  only one here who will decide your fate."

  The queen saw the flash of fire in Brenna's eyes before she lowered her

  head. And though Elizabeth admired her courage, she would tolerate no

  show of disrespect.

  "What of you, Morgan Grey?" The queen saw the way he watched the woman

  beside him.

  "Would you be willing to take on the unpleasant task of marriage to the

  unwilling lady?"

  "Majesty." Morgan's tone was patient.

  "You are aware of my feelings toward the unholy sacrament of misery."

  Many in the room laughed at his words.

  "Aye. You are, I believe, the man who swore that marriage was the

  lowest form of slavery."

  Alden swallowed his laughter and pointedly stared at a spot on the

  floor rather than face his friend.

  In her agitation, Elizabeth got up from her throne and walked forward

  until she came to a halt beside Morgan and the wom
an. In a low voice

  she said, "I am more than a little surprised, my Lord Grey. And, I

  might add, disappointed. Since you dared to risk the fragile peace

  between our two countries and bring this--ragged woman here against her

  will, I declare that you are responsible for her until I find someone

  willing to wed her."

  Morgan frowned.

  "I was merely following my instincts as a soldier.

  Majesty. I am convinced that this woman would surely have married one

  of her own countrymen before your plans could be implemented. "

  The queen sighed.

  "If you were not such a rogue, I would insist that you take your duty a

  step farther and wed this baggage." Elizabeth flashed one of her most

  brilliant smiles.

  "Of course, since you are descended from royalty, I had always thought

  you to be one of my suitors."

  Morgan's eyes twinkled with teasing laughter.

  "If I thought I had a chance to win your heart, Majesty, you know I

  would pledge my own. But though we are true friends, I fear your heart

  lies elsewhere."

  The young queen looked up into his handsome face and felt the familiar

  twinge. He was indeed a man who could start a fire in her blood, as he

  did, it seemed, in the blood of every woman in the kingdom. But they

  both knew that he was far too lusty a man to spend the rest of his life

  observing rules of protocol while his wife governed. Life at court had

  always been the part of royal life that Morgan Grey least enjoyed.

  Which was probably why he sought the battlefield.

  Elizabeth looked from Brenna to Morgan. "" Tis said the Scots will

  need a firm hand if they are to be won over. And there is no firmer

  hand in all of England than yours. Also, there is no doubt as to your

  loyalty, my friend. But I suppose I cannot ask this truly supreme

  sacrifice.

  Marriage. " She chuckled as if it were a great joke.

  "To this--untidy foreigner."

  "I would rather face a horde of invaders without a weapon." Morgan's

  tone was crisp.

  "But ne'er fear. Majesty. You will find a solution to the problem. I

  agree that the woman will not be easy to marry off, especially when a

  suitable partner learns how difficult she is to subdue. She is

  devious, shrewd and cunning." He touched a hand to his wound.

  "Not to mention skilled with a knife."

  Even while she shared a laugh with Morgan, the queen saw the look of

  anguish in Brenna's eyes and fought to ignore it. Did she not

  understand the lady's desire to choose her own destiny? But how many

  could afford such a luxury? She lifted her head regally. Not even one

  born to the Crown.

  "You know I can refuse you no request, Morgan Grey. I am indebted to

  you a hundredfold for your loyalty. And so I will not command you to

  marry your prisoner. But, though I see the wisdom of bringing her here

  until a decision is reached regarding her future, I cannot ask another

  to be responsible for the lady. And since she is a woman of noble

  birth, I am reluctant to consign her to a prison cell until her future

  is decided."

  "Aye. The Tower would be too harsh."

  Brenna stood rooted to the floor, hearing their words echoing in her

  head. This could not be happening. While a hundred strangers watched

  with disinterest, her fate was coldly being decided without any regard

  for her feelings.

  She clenched her hands tightly at her sides and bit her lip to keep

  from crying out at the unfairness of it.

  Morgan glanced at Brenna. He chose to ignore the anger and fury in her

  gaze. Was there not enough anger in his own heart? He was a soldier,

  not a nurse. He had seen to his duty, and had brought the Scotswoman

  to England. Now he wished to be finished with her. He turned to the

  queen.

  "I cannot take responsibility for the lady. It is enough that I have

  brought her here to you."

  The queen watched his eyes, reading the frustration he could not

  hide.

  "The lady is your prisoner--you are her jailer. Where you go, she

  follows. You bear sole responsibility for her."

  "And if I go to battle?"

  "Your battlefield lies here in England, for now."

  "Then I pray. Majesty, that you decide the lady's fate quickly."

  The queen could not resist a quick smile.

  "All in good time, my lord."

  "You mean" -- Brenna's voice was choked with rage "--I have no voice in

  my own destiny? I cannot return to my home? I must remain this man's

  captive?"

  Morgan gave her an indulgent smile.

  "It seems you are fated to remain under my--protected care."

  "Aye," the queen said quickly.

  "Take her and good riddance. Set her up in one of your households,

  Morgan, until I am able to arrange a suitable marriage."

  Brenna heard no more. She felt the blood rush from her head, leaving

  her ashen. The queen's words faded until they were only a slight

  buzzing in her ears. The room began to spin in a dizzying rush. And

  as she slid to the floor, a soothing black mantle settled over her.

  Chapter Seven

  q^ztqts^q t < JVlon Dieu. Did you not give this poor child anything to

  eat during her journey to England? "

  Brenna felt the press of a cool, damp cloth against her forehead and

  struggled to open her eyes.

  Morgan's voice, deep with concern, was very near.

  "I tried to feed her. The damned female refused all offers of food."

  "And did you allow her to rest, mon cher?"

  "Rest? I am a soldier, on a mission for my queen. I expected her to

  keep up."

  Brenna heard the queen's voice, low, regal.

  "Was she not given even a moment's privacy?"

  "I foolishly offered her privacy. But only once. She bolted and tried

  to run home to Scotland. My men and I were forced to waste precious

  time chasing after her again. I tell you, the woman needs a firm

  hand."

  "Be careful, Morgan Grey," the gentle French voice said, "that your

  firm hand does not break her into little pieces."

  "I do not break easily." Brenna's throat felt parched. Her lids

  fluttered. Into her line of vision swam an unusual woman's face.

  Large, sensuous lips parted in a friendly smile. Almond eyes studied

  Brenna with concern.

  "Ah. You are awake. You fainted, cherie."

  Brenna struggled to sit up.

  "Impossible. I have never

  The queen could not resist a quick smile.

  "All in good time, my lord."

  "You mean" -- Brenna's voice was choked with rage "--I have no voice in

  my own destiny? I cannot return to my home? I must remain this man's

  captive?"

  Morgan gave her an indulgent smile.

  "It seems you are fated to remain under my--protected care."

  "Aye," the queen said quickly.

  "Take her and good riddance. Set her up in one of your households,

  Morgan, until I am able to arrange a suitable marriage."

  Brenna heard no more. She felt the blood rush from her head, leaving

  her ashen. The queen's words faded until they were only a slight

&
nbsp; buzzing in her ears. The room began to spin in a dizzying rush. And

  as she slid to the floor, a soothing black mantle settled over her.

  Chapter Seven

  JVlon Dieu. Did you not give this poor child anything to eat during

  her journey to England? "

  Brenna felt the press of a cool, damp cloth against her forehead and

  struggled to open her eyes.

  Morgan's voice, deep with concern, was very near.

  "I tried to feed her. The damned female refused all offers of food."

  "And did you allow her to rest, mon cher?"

  "Rest? I am a soldier, on a mission for my queen. I expected her to

  keep up."

  Brenna heard the queen's voice, low, regal.

  "Was she not given even a moment's privacy?"

  "I foolishly offered her privacy. But only once. She bolted and tried

  to run home to Scotland. My men and I were forced to waste precious

  time chasing after her again. I tell you, the woman needs a firm

  hand."

  "Be careful, Morgan Grey," the gentle French voice said, "that your

  firm hand does not break her into little pieces."

  "I do not break easily." Brenna's throat felt parched. Her lids

  fluttered. Into her line of vision swam an unusual woman's face.

  Large, sensuous lips parted in a friendly smile. Almond eyes studied

  Brenna with concern.

  "Ah. You are awake. You fainted, cherie."

  Brenna struggled to sit up.

  "Impossible. I have never fainted." The very thought of such a

  weakness was repugnant to her.

  The woman placed her hand gently on Brenna's shoulder and forced her to

  lie still.

  "That may be so. But I have known a great many people who react

  violently to strange circumstances. Even the strongest woman must give

  in to the demands of her body, cherie."

  "Who are you?"

  "I am Madeline d'Arbeville, Duchess of Eton. And I am told that you

  are Brenna MacAlpin, leader of a Borderer clan in Scotland."

  "Aye." Brenna gave her a grateful smile.

  "Thank you for your kindness.

  Where am I? " She glanced around at the sumptuous bed hangings.

  "You are in my chambers." The queen leaned close.

  In the queen's own bed!

  "Majesty, I did not mean to create such a disturbance. Forgive me for

  my weakness," Brenna whispered.

  Again she struggled to sit up. This time it was Morgan who restrained

  her.

  "Rest a while longer." His tone was gentler than he'd intended.

  "Aye." The queen gave a conspiratorial smile.

  "Your little spell gave me the perfect opportunity to dismiss the court

  and free myself of all duties for the rest of the day. A rare thing

  indeed. Now," she said, linking her arm through Morgan's, "perhaps I

  can spend some time with you, dear rogue. We have much to discuss."

  Morgan turned toward the figure in the bed. His eyes narrowed as he

  studied her carefully, noting with satisfaction that the color was

  returning to her cheeks.

  "You will stay with Brenna, Madeline?"

  "Oui. It will give us a chance to become acquainted."

  Brenna watched as Morgan and the queen retired to a small| alcove.

  Instantly a servant approached the two with goblets;? of wine. When

  the servant left, the queen and her loyal soldier bent their heads

  close in intimate conversation. Thougha they kept their voices low,

  Brenna was aware of the tension'.

  in their tones. Whatever was being discussed, it was obviously of