Page 26 of Shadow Music (Highlands' Lairds 3)

  Since she was so innocent, she couldn’t possibly know how her touch affected him. But after they were married, he would take his time showing her how crazed she could make him.

  He caught up with her as she was opening Rogue’s stall. He reached around her and kicked the gate shut, then ordered her guards to leave. Without questioning, they filed outside and waited at the stable doors.

  Colm wasn’t gentle as he forced her to turn around and face him. There were tears in her eyes.

  “You are not leaving,” he told her.

  “As you say.”

  “No, you are not leaving me.”

  “But Colm—”

  “You are not leaving me.” His voice shook with emotion.

  She pushed against his chest, but she couldn’t budge him. “I cannot stay here,” she cried out. “I can’t. I won’t be able to stop chasing you and kissing you and demanding your attention. I know you think you can keep avoiding me, but you can’t, Colm. I can be relentless when it’s something I want.” She took a breath and whispered, “And I want you.”

  And there it was, out in the open for him to accept or reject. She looked up at him. He’d gone completely still. She wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing. She knew she’d shocked him by pouring her heart out to him. It was unseemly for a lady to admit she felt passion, but it was too late to take the words back, and Gabrielle wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.

  “You say you cannot marry me, and I will accept your decision,” she said. “But if I stayed, it wouldn’t matter if we were married or not. I would still chase you, and eventually I would wear you down. You could not get away from me.”

  He stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand as he struggled to find the words to give her. “There are times I don’t know what to think of you. You constantly astound me. You save my brother’s life, and ask nothing in return. I offer you marriage, and you worry that I will ruin my life. You have been dragged through Hell, and you show only kindness. Now you think I reject you, and you open your heart to me. I don’t know how this miracle came to pass, but I cannot imagine living the rest of my life without you. I want you, Gabrielle, and I will not wait five months to have you. We will marry now.”

  THE WEDDING WOULD TAKE PLACE IN TWO WEEKS. IT WAS AS long as Colm was willing to wait, and he believed fourteen days was more than enough time to prepare for the celebration.

  Maurna and Willa were frantic. Everything needed to be perfect for their laird and his bride. Maurna took charge of the women who would give the keep a proper scrubbing while Willa and her helpers began making their special recipes. There would be pheasant, fully dressed and trimmed; stuffed pigs; pullets, of course—four dozen would do nicely—meat pies; and berry tarts. Honey would be mixed in almost every sweet dessert. The best wine would be served.

  “You’ll be a vision, milady, floating down the stairs in your finery,” Maurna said. “Father Gelroy will hear you say your vows outside in the courtyard. There will be pretty flowers to garnish your hair and more flowers will be strewn in a circle around you and our laird, and the priest as well. Father thought the ceremony should take place at Arbane Abbey. As he explained, you are a princess of St. Biel and should have a royal wedding, but our laird wouldn’t hear of it. He isn’t explaining why, but Willa and I think it’s because he knows his clan would want to join in the celebration.”

  “It will be a grand day,” Willa predicted, “and here before you know it.”

  The best-laid plans had a way of changing.

  GABRIELLE RECEIVED JOYOUS NEWS from her father. Laird Buchanan came to the MacHugh holding to tell her that he had received a message from Baron Geoffrey.

  “Your father is well. He has not been harmed by the king, nor have his estates been seized. He knows that you are living with the MacHugh clan, and he wants you to know that he will be here soon to see you, and to explain what happened with the king.

  “There is more news,” he added, looking at Colm. “Your father believes you will be going home with him.”

  “He knows I have been banned. Why would my father think I could go into England with him?” she said.

  Brodick had no answer.

  Not an hour later, while Colm and Brodick discussed the trouble the new Monroe laird was stirring up, one of the MacHugh soldiers on duty at the drawbridge came to the gate of the courtyard to announce that an envoy from King John was asking permission to speak to Lady Gabrielle.

  “There are a bishop and three other holy men, along with a few servants, traveling with the envoy,” he said. “They insist that you will want to hear what they have to say. They brought a scroll with them and a gift for Lady Gabrielle.”

  “And soldiers?” Colm asked. “Did the envoy bring the king’s soldiers as well?”

  “He did, Laird. Twelve in all. They have already placed their weapons on the ground to show their good intentions.”

  Colm scoffed. “The English don’t have good intentions.”

  Colm was going to refuse to let any of them cross his drawbridge, but Brodick urged him to reconsider. “Aren’t you curious to know what they have to say? And if you don’t like what you hear, you could always—” He stopped when he realized Gabrielle was listening.

  Colm gave his order: the soldiers would remain outside, but the others could come forward.

  The shout to lower the bridge echoed down to the guards.

  “Gabrielle, go inside,” Colm said.

  “As you say.”

  She wanted to stay. She was as curious as Brodick to find out what the envoy had to say, but she would not oppose Colm in front of his ally and friend. Besides, she knew protesting wouldn’t do any good. Once Colm had his jaw set, nothing could change his mind.

  Although no command was given, MacHughs began to line up on either side of the worn path from the drawbridge to the courtyard. Most were armed and ready for any outcome. Gabrielle thought they were being overly cautious. What harm could one envoy, some holy men, and a handful of servants cause? None of the priests or servants would be armed, and the envoy would not dare to carry a sword. To do so would be a grave insult to the laird.

  Stephen appeared at Gabrielle’s shoulder and explained what was happening as they made their way into the castle. “It is believed that the procession is coming for you, Princess, with the intent of taking you away. The clan knows there are English soldiers waiting outside the walls, and word has spread that the envoy brings news to you. He could be carrying an order for you to return to England.” He nodded toward the men standing on either side of the path. “The MacHughs are letting it be known that they will not let you be taken away from them without a fight.”

  “These men came here unarmed, and are few at that,” she said.

  “But they will report back to the soldiers waiting outside the walls, and those soldiers will tell King John what has happened here today.”

  “There has been so much deceit of late. How can we even be certain the envoy comes from King John?”

  “We must assume that he does and be prepared,” Stephen answered gravely.

  Just as he reached for the door, Liam pulled it open and came outside. He nodded to Gabrielle, stepped aside so that she could pass, then crossed the courtyard to take his place beside his brother.

  They were a fearsome sight. Colm stood in the middle of the warriors. Liam and Braeden were on his left, Brodick to his right. Christien and Lucien joined the line next to Braeden. Faust went to the opposite side to stand beside Brodick.

  “Go and take your place with the others,” she said to Stephen. “I will stay inside and cause you no worry.”

  Stephen bowed his head and turned to do as she asked.

  The door had just closed behind her when it was flung open again as Father Gelroy ran inside, looking like a pack of wild dogs was on his heels.

  “The bishop has come,” he told her, “and I’m not ready to receive him!”

  He rushed ahead of her to the steps. Then, rememberin

g courtesy, Gelroy stopped suddenly and let her go in front of him. But as soon as they reached the second level, he cut around her and raced up the next flight. He didn’t have time to change his robes, but wanted to at least wipe the dust off and wash his hands and face.

  Gabrielle paced in the hall while she waited for someone to come and tell her the news.

  Panting from his haste, Father Gelroy joined her a moment later. “I’m to stay with you until I am called outside. Our laird will not allow felicitations until the envoy has explained the purpose of his visit.”

  “I would stand by the window so that I would see what is happening,” said Gabrielle, “but those outside would also see me. It would be unseemly.”

  “Aye, it would,” the holy man agreed.

  “And it would be wrong to try to overhear what is being said, but if you were to stand slightly closer to the window, you couldn’t help but hear some of the conversation. I do not see any wrong if you were to just happen to walk toward the window…”

  Gelroy nodded. “No, no, of course it wouldn’t be wrong, and I am certainly in need of fresh air.”

  The priest positioned himself at the edge of the window with the hope he wouldn’t be noticed.

  “I’m just in time to see the procession,” he reported. “There is pomp and splendor. The bishop is dressed in his rich finery, riding a docile horse. He’s not a young man, but he’s not so old, either.”

  “And the envoy?”

  “Walking he is, with a scroll tucked under his arm. His clothes are unremarkable, and I must say he seems the jittery sort, for he keeps darting quick looks to his left and right. I think the poor fellow believes he will be pounced on any minute.” Gelroy chuckled as he added, “And well he could. I remember such a feeling myself.”

  “What of the others?” she asked.

  “It is quite a procession. First comes the bishop, then the envoy, then, one at a time, the monks, and last the servants. I recognize a few faces. They are indeed from the abbey.”

  Gabrielle kept edging closer to Gelroy, hoping she could sneak a peek. The priest shooed her back.

  “The bishop can see straight through this window, Lady Gabrielle. Do not let him see you.”

  “Then tell me what is happening now.”

  “The bishop is still atop his horse, but he has stopped. A servant is coming forward to take the reins and aid the bishop.”

  Gelroy made the sign of the cross and folded his hands as though in prayer. Then he explained. “The bishop decided to give his blessing. If he had hoped the lairds would bow to him, he was mistaken. None of them have moved.”

  The bishop didn’t seem offended that Colm and the others didn’t drop to their knees. The servant stood by his side and held the reins, but the bishop didn’t dismount.

  The envoy came forward. Assuming the warrior standing in the center of the stone-faced men to be Laird MacHugh, he addressed him.

  “His Highness, King John of England, sends word to Lady Gabrielle. She is here?”

  “She is,” Colm answered, “but you will give me the king’s message, and I will then decide if you can speak to her.”

  The envoy was quick to agree. He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and took a step forward. He then began his rehearsed speech as a herald would do, in a loud booming voice so that many would hear.

  “There has been a terrible injustice done to Lady Gabrielle. She has been wrongly vilified and persecuted. His Highness now knows and has absolute proof that the lady is innocent. The king wants it known that Baron Geoffrey of Wellingshire will be lauded and richly respected for his vigilance over his daughter, and Lady Gabrielle, a treasure to England, will from this day forward be called Princess Gabrielle of St. Biel and friend to England’s king.”

  The envoy paused to await a response. It was not long in coming.

  “Every man here knows Lady Gabrielle is innocent. We do not need your king to tell us so,” Colm said.

  “King John will be pleased to hear that you and others have seen through the treacherous lies told and wrongly believed by many. He wishes to prove his sincerity.”

  “And how will he do that?” Colm asked.

  The envoy held out the scroll so all could see the seal was unbroken.

  “To prove sincerity,” he repeated, “and in hopes of forgiveness for this grievous injustice, His Royal Highness hereby confers the land known as Finney’s Flat to Princess Gabrielle. He has signed his name and affixed his royal seal as his solemn promise that the land will never belong to England again. He also has had it written that God may strike him if he does not keep his word.”

  The envoy took another step forward and with both hands held out the scroll. Colm took it and handed it to Liam. “Why do these priests travel with you?” he asked.

  “For protection, Laird MacHugh,” he answered. “It was hoped…sincerely hoped…that you would hear the message from my king and not harm the messenger.”

  Colm glanced at Brodick before speaking to the envoy again. “Holy men would not save you from my fist if I were displeased with your message.”

  The envoy swallowed loudly, and the bishop, hearing what the laird had just said, gave yet another blessing. “And are you displeased, Laird?” the envoy asked.

  “No, I am not, and I do not kill messengers, even when the news is not to my liking. You are welcome here as long as it takes you to refresh yourselves. The others, too.”

  The envoy was weak with relief. “I thank you, Laird, but there is more of the apology to give, and more needs said about the gift. His Highness wishes to hear Princess Gabrielle has forgiven him. She must say the words to me so that I may say them to my king.”

  “My clan will also hear this apology from your king.” He signaled to Braeden, who shouted the command.

  Within minutes men, women, and children surrounded the courtyard and stood silent, watching.

  “Go and get your princess,” Colm ordered her guards.

  The door was thrown open and held by two of the men who had been standing guard. A moment passed and then another as all eyes watched the entrance.

  And then Gabrielle stepped out into the light. An aid sounded a herald’s trumpet as the envoy said, “Hail to Princess Gabrielle.” He then dropped to his knees and bowed his head. The visitors from the abbey also fell to their knees to show their respect.

  Startled, Gabrielle looked at Colm, uncertain of what to do. It was not appropriate for these men to kneel. Colm wasn’t giving her any help. He simply stared at her and waited for her to come to him.

  She didn’t disappoint him. Liam moved back so that she could stand beside Colm.

  “You must give them permission to stand,” Stephen instructed in a whisper.

  Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “You may stand.”

  She surprised everyone then when she gave the envoy instructions. “You bow to Laird MacHugh, for you are on his land by his good graces, but you do not kneel to me. If the laird wants you on your knees, he will tell you so.”

  A murmur of approval came from the MacHughs.

  Colm gave the envoy permission to speak, and the envoy repeated his prepared speech. The cheers were deafening when he finished. He waited until the noise had died down and then asked, “May I tell His Royal Highness that you forgive him?”

  Gabrielle was about to answer the envoy and tell him yes, she did forgive the king, but something held her back. Was this another trick?

  “I will consider it. You will have your answer before you leave here.”

  The envoy looked shocked that she didn’t immediately agree, but bowed to her wishes. “I will await your answer.”

  Liam took Gabrielle’s hand. “You have always had the acceptance and respect of this clan, but now you have their love.”

  Colm knocked his hand away. “You will give your love to another and leave Gabrielle alone.”

  Liam laughed. He winked at Gabrielle and said, “As you say, Laird.”

  “Lair

d, we must celebrate,” Braeden said, “for now we have a princess and Finney’s Flat.”

  Colm agreed but didn’t want any of the outsiders to come into his home, not even the bishop. With the weather pleasant and no rain cloud in sight, he called for tables and benches to be carried outside and a barrel of ale to be brought from the buttery.

  The bishop was finally removed from his horse, and he and his monks were given places at the table. Still suspicious of their English visitors, the MacHughs were reticent to be welcoming to the envoy and his men.

  Gabrielle was even more wary than the MacHughs. She kept an eye on the envoy as he made his way through the gathering crowd. Distracted, she barely paid attention to the conversation next to her until she heard Colm praise Father Gelroy. With each word he said, the priest seemed to grow taller.

  “Perhaps soon, Laird, you will wish to build Father Gelroy a chapel,” Gabrielle suggested.

  “Perhaps,” he replied.

  “The statue of St. Biel the abbot has kept safe for you is soon to come here,” the bishop said. “Perhaps you will name your chapel after the saint. I have not heard of him,” he admitted, “but so many were sainted before my time. Would you know how many miracles he has performed?”

  Gabrielle didn’t have the faintest idea. Father Gelroy saw her hesitation and said, “St. Biel was a good and holy man. I’m certain the royal guards could tell us the number of miracles.”

  When the bishop left to get refreshment, she whispered to Gelroy, “I am ashamed that I have forgotten so much about St. Biel. I, too, will seek instruction from my guards.”

  Father Gelroy spotted Maurna carrying out a tray of food. “Yes, yes,” he said, dismissing the talk of saints. “The meal is ready.”

  Gabrielle looked around in astonishment as MacHugh women carried huge trenchers filled with meat pies and bread and game birds. One of the women crossed to the courtyard with yet another tray. Everyone was bringing food to share.