Highland Belle

Patricia Grasso

This book is dedicated
to five special people:

With deep appreciation to the real Marianne Jacques — lusty secretary extraordinaire.

And with love to my nieces and nephews (in order of appearance):

Sean — silent and solemn, prone to falling asleep in my eighth-grade English class.

Samantha — sweetest of the sweet, wise enough to stay awake in her dear aunts class.

Matthew — a gift from God, the love of my life. You stole my heart and I want it back.

Jessica — enchanting spitfire of the Grasso clan, demanding that all my books be dedicated to her.

1

England, May 1564

Drizzle, sheer as a brides veil, laced the air; summer had arrived in the south of England. Basildon Castle, the ancestral home of the earls of Basildon, rose spectacularly out of the mist like a magnificent beast.

Upon one of the castles tower walks paced a solitary young woman. Her eyes were anxious as she scanned the surrounding countryside, especially the road leading to the castle.

Brigette Edwina Devereux, second daughter of the late Earl of Basildon, searched the road below and saw what she dreaded. A troop of men were riding through the light mist toward Basildon Castle. Toward her! She shivered with apprehension.

Lo! The bridegroom cometh! whispered a voice near Brigettes ear. She whirled around and faced her younger sister, Heather.

Once Im wed, Brigette countered, the queens eyes will turn on you. Then you, obnoxious brat, will be wearing my slippers.

As did our sister! When Kathryn was forced to wed the Irishman, you were less than kind. Heather smirked. Now youll wed and bed a savage from the north.

One day Iain MacArthur will be the Earl of Dunridge and I will be his countess, Brigette returned, sounding more confident than she felt. Hes no rebel.

Hes worse than a rebel, Heather spat, then shuddered delicately. Rebels kill for freedom. Highlanders kill for pleasure!

Liar! Brigette screeched. Freckle-face liar!

The insult hit its mark. Heather shrieked in rage, but as her hand shot out to slap her sister, she was grabbed from behind.

Cease!

Let me go! Heather screamed, struggling against her cousin, Spring. Loose me, you bastard!

Brigette gasped at her sisters words and Springs hands dropped away instantly. Surprised, Heather faced her cousin and was ashamed when she saw the hurt in the other girls eyes.

Yes, my lady, Spring said coldly. Im only your base-born cousin. Lady Brigettes tirewoman.

Im sorry. I did not mean . . .

The countess sent me to get you, Spring interrupted, looking at Brigette. Your betrothed has arrived.

The three young women peered curiously over the battlement. Sir Henry Bagenal, Louise Devereux, and the young earl, Richard, stood in the courtyard to greet the Scotsman. Tall and well built, he shook Richards hand first and nodded deferentially, then greeted Sir Henry. Finally, he bowed low over the dowager countesss hand.

That must be Iain, Brigette whispered.

The queen has done well by you, Brie, Spring commented.

Richard is enjoying himself, Heather remarked. Hell be furious that Lord MacArthur did not prostrate himself before the renowned Earl of Basildon.

Spring chuckled, but Brigette continued to stare silently at the man who was to be her husband. Heather and Spring looked at her and then each other.

For once her tongue is still, Heather quipped.

Brigette turned then, a satisfied smile upon her face. Its time I met my handsome Highlander. She left the tower walk at a dignified pace and then raced down the stairs until she reached ground level. After taking several deep breaths, she stepped outside.

Petite and graceful, Brigette was the picture of fragile femininity as all eyes followed her across the courtyard. Her expression was sweet and her large green eyes, sparkling with excitement, were shyly downcast. A few tendrils of hair, wild wisps of copper silk, had escaped her braids and warred with her image of passive innocence.

Irresistibly drawn, Brigette approached her betrothed without bothering to greet her family or Sir Henry. Her eyes traveled slowly up the Scotsmans body and met his interested stare.

He was tall and slim, but solidly built, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and hips. His hair was light brown and his eyes were blue, containing a hint of amusement. Silently, Brigette thanked the fates for sending her a young and handsome husband.

Suddenly aware that she was staring, an embarrassed blush stained Brigettes cheeks. She smiled and curtsyed, then extended her hand. Lord MacArthur, I am Lady Brigette.

Lady Brigette, the Scotsman said, taking hold of her hand. This misty courtyard has brightened immeasurably with your arrival.

Sir Henry cleared his throat. Brie, this is Lord Percy MacArthur, your betrotheds brother.

Oh! Brigette yanked her hand back. Percy smiled and Brigette, crimson with embarrassment, glanced around the courtyard. Lord Iain?

My brother is still in Scotland. Percy frowned at her bewildered expression. Damn his brother!

Lord Iain was unable to make the trip, Sir Henry explained, but sent Lord Percy in his stead.

Im to wed Lord Percy? Brigette asked loudly. Percy chuckled and pockets of laughter erupted from his men-at-arms. The dowager countess shook her head in disapproval, and the young earl, Richard, wore a pained expression.

To my infinite sorrow yer to wed Iain, Percy said.

Brie, my dear, Madame Devereux intervened, Lord Percy will stand as proxy for his brother.

Proxy?! Brigette shrieked, shocked and insulted. No! Ill not wed the heathen by proxy! Her gleaming green eyes met Percys, daring him to challenge her words. There will be no marriage!

Brigette! Madame Devereux cried.

The queen has commanded that you wed Lord Iain immediately, Sir Henry interjected.

Let her marry him! Brigette snapped, and Percy burst out laughing.

Brie! Richard entered the fray. I am the Earl of Basildon and your liege lord. You will marry Iain MacArthur and keep your mouth shut!

The hell I will! Turning her back, Brigette stalked away.

Youll do as I say, Richard shouted, shaking his fist in the air, or Ill cast you into the meanest dungeon!

Brigettes pace quickened. Englishmen and Scotsmen alike valiantly smothered their mirth at the sight of the twelve-year-old earl demanding to be obeyed. Watching Brigette retreat, Percy was tickled to think Dunridges future countess was an English lady with a Highland temper. How surprised Iain would be!

Brigettes expression was sullen as she walked toward the great hall that evening. She had spent the afternoon in her chamber, but not alone. The dowager countess had been Brigettes first visitor and had given her a terrible tongue-lashing. Brigettes behavior was unbecoming a lady and unacceptable from the daughter of an earl. Where were Brigettes pride and honor? Madame Devereux demanded that the Brigette at supper be a completely different young lady from the one whod made such a spectacle of herself in the courtyard.

Later, Heather and Spring had skulked in and commiserated with her. Spring advised Brigette to speak with Lord Percy and learn what prevented Lord Iain from attending his own wedding. Heather took the practical approach. As she saw it, Brigette had two choices. She could marry Lord Iain or enter a French convent. Neither choice held much appeal.

Bring no further disgrace upon our family, the dowager countess ordered sternly, intercepting her daughter at the entrance to the great hall.

Brigette nodded.

Keep a civil tongue in your head, sister, Richard whispered as she passed his seat at the high table.

Brigette ignored him.

Lord Percy rose, smiling, as Brigette moved to her place between Sir Henry and him. Sheepishly, she returned his smile.

Im sorry for my earlier behavior, Brigette apologized as suppers first course, leg of mutton stuffed with garlic and shoulder of veal, was served.

Theres nae need, Percy assured her. Marriage is distressin and —

Distressing? Brigettes voice rose with anxiety.

I dinna mean bein wed, but gettin wed.

Oh. Brigette flushed. I realize you are not your brothers keeper, she said pleasantly, and so may not be blamed for his ignorance.

Percy nearly choked on his food and wished Iain could hear his betrotheds insults.

I mean —

I ken yer meanin, Percy interrupted.

Youve a strange accent, Brigette remarked, purposely changing the subject.

Yer wrong, he teased. Yer the one wi the accent.

Brigette smiled and relaxed, pleased with Percys wit. Tell me about your home, my lord. Ive never been anywhere but Essex.

Its a land of lonely majesty, Percy began, a faraway look entering his eyes, wi white-capped peaks and lush green glens and sparklin blue lochs. His eyes focused on Brigettes awe-struck expression and he smiled. Thats why a Highlander always goes home, Lady Brigette.

It sounds lovely, but I would know more.

Dunridge Castle will be yer home — if ye wed my brother — and is situated on the shore of Loch Awe in the Shire of Argyll, Percy told her. On the opposite side of the loch is Inverary, which is the seat of the Duke of Argyll, the chief of clan Campbell of which the MacArthurs are part. Now that our bonnie Queen Mary is returned from France, the duke —

Have you met the queen? Brigette asked, her green eyes large with expectation.

When theres a need, Black Jack or Iain travels to Edinburgh.

Black Jack?

My father. Ye know, this is my verra first journey to England, Percy continued. Id love to see yer brothers lands. Would ye care to ride wi me in the mornin?

Yes, but only if youll call me Brie — all my friends do.

Brie? Percy chuckled. Like the cheese?

The Scotsmans wit tickled Brigette and she burst out laughing, a melodious sound that drew the interested gaze of the great halls occupants. Apparently, Lady Brigettes good humor was restored. The men from the north cast each other knowing glances. If Percy could so easily charm the temperamental lady, then Iain would have no problem taming her.

Summer is here, Brigette announced as Percy and she rode out of Basildon the following morning.

How can ye tell?

The air is warmer, the mist finer, and the trees are a tad greener than yesterday.

Percy smiled. If ye like Englands climate, he returned, yell love Scotlands. Its colder and wetter and a bit greener in summer.

I detest the rain and the cold. Brigette was irritated by the reminder of her marriage.

And green? he mocked gently.

Brigettes eyes darted to Percy, who was grinning at her, and she was unable to suppress a smile. He had been kind to her. Brigette was sorry shed snapped at him. I apologize for —

Nae offense taken, Brie. Dealin wi great changes in yer life — such as weddin a foreigner — can be difficult.

Ive no choice in the matter.

Brie! Brie! Over a small knoll of green came the young Earl of Basildon, riding hard. Whatever are you thinking of, Brie, to ride unchaperoned? Richard turned on his sister when he reached them. Its not fitting, and Mother is furious!

The lass was safe wi me.

Oh! Richard looked stricken. I — I did not mean . . .

Percy burst out laughing. Ye English have a charmin habit of apologizin for what ye didna mean. Lets ride together a bit, he suggested, before Brie returns to prepare for her nuptials.

Expecting a protest, Richard glanced at his sister, but she said nothing. The three rode in companionable silence for a time and enjoyed the green lushness of the land.

How long has this land been in the Devereux family? Percy broke the silence.

Basildon has been ours since my great-grandfather came from Wales with the Tudor, Richard answered.

Thats the queens grandfather, Brigette added. As a reward for his loyalty and service to the Tudor, our great-grandfather was given our great-grandmother, the heiress of all you see.

Were distant cousins of the queen, Richard interjected proudly.

But yer mother is French?