Meghan: A Sweet Scottish Medieval Romance (12 page)

“I can see now that it was a mistake to involve his son,” David continued, “but what has been done cannot be undone.”

Lyon nodded absently.

Meghan Brodie captured him as no woman ever had. She roused him... made his soul yearn for something... more.

He shook his head, trying to cast off the spell she wove over him. “Misjudged who?”

“Lyon?” David said, sounding vexed. “Have you not listened to a single word I’ve said to you?”

Lyon didn’t see the point in lying.

“Nay,” he admitted, but his eyes remained fixed upon Meghan’s lovely face as she marched toward them, her expression foreboding. Even ungroomed as she was, looking every bit the part of a madwoman, he thought her beauty unparalleled. Whatever else she was, whether mad or simply shrewd as the devil, she was unshrinking as well, and Lyon braced himself, expecting the worst. There was little worse to bear than the lash of an angry woman’s tongue.

David’s gaze followed his.

“You have a guest?” he said with some surprise, and then as she approached, undaunted, with fire flashing in her glorious green eyes, he turned to Lyon and asked, “Lyon... who is she?”

Lyon cast his friend a sheepish glance. “She,” he replied with some hesitation, “is the complication I was speaking of.” And he shrugged.

M
eghan decided
she would appeal to the man’s sense of loyalty. If he were countryman, she had some chance, at least, of gaining his support. If he were an English toad, then she was simply out of luck. It was impossible to tell by his manner of speech as he spoke like an Englishman, with only the merest trace of a brogue.

“Are you a Scotsman, sir?” she asked, meeting his gaze as she approached the table. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin.

He cocked his head at her in puzzlement. “Aye,” he answered, casting Lyon a wary glance. “Why do you ask, lass?”

“Verra good,” Meghan exclaimed. “Because I wish to go home.”

The man turned to Lyon, looking all the more confused by her vehement demand. “What is this?” he asked. “What does she mean, Lyon?”

“Uh,” was all Lyon Montgomerie could think to say.

Meghan turned to glare at him, and was pleased to see that he had the decency to flush at the prospect of an explanation.

She wasn’t about to let him explain, however, because he would no doubt find some way to justify his actions. “He abducted me,” she charged, pointing an accusing finger at Lyon.

The man’s brows lifted higher. “Lyon?” he said. “Is this true?”

Lyon had the good grace not to deny it. He nodded with lifted brows and an abashed grimace. “Afraid so,” he admitted.

The man exploded with fury.

“I was going to tell you as soon as you were finished,” Lyon assured him.

“What a pair we are,” the man declared. “Why would you do such a thing? Who the devil is she anyway?”

“
I
am Meghan Brodie,” she announced, wholly annoyed with their apparent comradeship. “And I dinna know who you are, sir. You dinna sound like any Scot to me, but my brothers will not be pleased to hear this, I assure you.”

The man turned to Lyon once more. “Lyon, I anticipate you had a better reason than to simply warm your bed. Her very demeanor curdles my blood.”

Meghan gasped in outrage at his remark, and her face heated.

Lyon chuckled softly. “I cannot claim I did to begin with,” he said, “but in my own defense, I must say she was somewhat more appealing last night.”

The man chortled, and Meghan bristled. She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands at her sides. “I dinna see what precisely is so amusing,” she assured them both and narrowed her eyes at the arrogant stranger. “Who are you, sir?” she demanded of him.

He regarded her a moment, and then proclaimed matter-of-factly with an arrogant lift of his chin, “I am David of Scotia.”

Meghan blinked in surprise. “King David?”

“Aye, lass.”

“Son of Malcom Ceann Mor?”

“None other.”

Meghan tilted her head at him in disdain. “You dinna look like a king to me, sir,” she accused him. “You look and sound like a rotten Sassenach.”

He merely smiled at that.

“Och,” Meghan exclaimed, and was disheartened.

Or was she truly?

“I dinna suppose I can persuade you to send me home?” she asked the man without hesitation, but also without expectation. There was little chance of it, she knew, when he was the reason Lyon Montgomerie was in Scotia to begin with. The two were in league together. Bedfellows.

“Give me a single reason I should question the judgment of one of my most valuable men,” he answered.

“Because I dinna wish to wed with him is why,” Meghan said, lifting her chin.

His gaze flew to Lyon’s in surprise. His brow arched imperiously. “Wed, Lyon?”

Lyon seemed to brace himself. He nodded. “Aye,” he answered simply.

“You cannot wed with her,” David argued.

“That’s precisely what I have been trying to tell him,” Meghan interjected, pleased to see he was finally seeing her point.

“What of MacLean?” David asked, ignoring her.

Meghan bristled at his apparent dismissal.

“What of him?” Lyon replied mildly. “I have already dispatched him a letter of explanation, as I did with you. I assure you I’ll not be wedding Alison MacLean.”

“Lyon,” David urged him, “consider what you are saying.”

“I’ll not wed her,” Lyon answered quietly, but tersely, and Meghan wasn’t certain who she was more incensed for—herself, or Alison. Did no man know to look behind a silly face?

“The poor lass appeared as though she might cry did I simply breathe upon her,” Lyon said by way of explanation. “I cannot wed a girl who will not have me.”

There was an immediate soberness between them as they stared at each other, seeming to be sparring without words.

David’s expression was an unreadable mask but for his eyes, which flashed forbiddingly.

“Do you recall,” Lyon said, “what you once claimed you would give to me upon a silver plate?”

David turned away, his jaw tautening. “I do,” he replied.

Lyon’s expression was every bit as firm. “This is not the way.”

Meghan watched the two, considering their curious exchange. By the expression upon David’s face it became quite apparent that Lyon would hold his ground, that David would relent.

What hold did Lyon have over this man?

It was also apparent by the look in David’s eyes that he was unused to being opposed, and yet she knew instinctively he would yield.

“If you will not, you will not,” David relented, “though I cannot and will not condone a marriage without consent. Lyon, you have not even her brothers’ blessings in this.”

Meghan held her breath.

“I will have hers,” Lyon assured him.

Meghan inhaled a breath. “Nay, you will not,” she swore, enraged by his arrogance.

David peered at her then, looking suddenly annoyed with her presence. Well, Meghan didn’t care. This was her life. And she was certainly not going to stand idly by while two strangers decided her fate.

He returned his gaze to Lyon and yielded, “Are you so certain of this, Lyon?”

Lyon smiled. “What do you think, David?” He lifted a brow.

In answer, David arched a brow as well. “I think if anyone can, you certainly may, but if you do not gain consent, I cannot, as I said, condone it.”

Meghan could scarcely believe they were bartering the matter of her life right before her so arrogantly.

“Very well,” David said, “I can give you a fortnight to convince her, after which you must agree to release her if she remains opposed.”

Lyon was silent, unresponsive, and Meghan, knowing this was the best she was going to get from David of Scotia, lifted her chin and challenged Lyon, “Unless you are not so certain of your self, after all?”

Lyon met her gaze and his lips curved softly, his uncanny blue eyes flashing with seductive interest.

“I will agree if you will agree,” she boldly invited him.

He turned abruptly to David, looking suddenly quite satisfied with the arrangement. A quiver raced down Meghan’s spine. Recalling the way he had left her upon his bed, ready to yield to him for want of a simple kiss, she wondered whether she had somehow made a mistake in challenging him so.

“You were ever the negotiator,” he said to David.

David gave him a look that told Meghan he was hardly feeling a victor in this settlement.

“Fair enough,” Lyon said. “I shall agree to a fortnight, after which, if she does not agree to be my bride...” He peered at Meghan, and his smoldering blue eyes stole her breath. “I shall personally escort her home.”

“Very well,” David announced, and Meghan had the immediate impression she had made a terrible mistake. Something in Lyon’s expression told her she had lost already. And somehow, she got the feeling she’d played directly into his hands.

The image of him as he’d appeared standing in the doorway last night accosted her then, and her heart began to pound traitorously, thundering in her ears.

Wasn’t it enough she had to vie with Lyon Montgomerie? Was she going to have to battle her own treacherous body, as well?

She had never thought herself so susceptible to the wiles of any man, but there was little use in denying the way this one made her feel—despite that she knew him to be as shallow-minded as the rest of his gender.

Well, she hadn’t lost as yet, she reminded herself. And she wasn’t very good at losing, besides. Lyon Montgomerie might win after all, Meghan resolved, but she was going to make certain he looked thrice at his prize.

It probably wasn’t the wisest thing Alison had ever done, but she had to speak with Leith. She had to tell him how much she appreciated what he was willing to sacrifice for her sake, but she had begun to feel the weight of her conscience ever since he’d taken his leave the other night. She knew he couldn’t possibly love her, and she couldn’t allow him to surrender his own chance for happiness with some other woman of his choice.

She found him in the courtyard with both Colin and Gavin, their heads together in solemn discussion. Gavin and Colin had evidently only just returned from yet another search, for Gavin still held the reins of his mount firmly within his hand. Colin had abandoned his own mount entirely, and it stood dutifully by, as Colin listened to whatever it was Leith was saying to him. Her heart twisted a little at the sight of him, but she told herself she was a fool. He had never shown her the least regard. Why should she care so much for a man who refused even to look her in the eyes?

Alison had to know, too, whether they had word of Meghan, as she was tormented with worry for her friend’s sake. She couldn’t bear the wait any longer; she had to know.

And yet, she waited still, unable to face Colin.

When both Gavin and Colin had taken their leave, and Leith turned to go as well, she ran after him, calling his name.

He turned to face her at once, his brows lifting in surprise. “Alison!” He reached out and seized her hand when it seemed she would stumble into his arms.

“Och, forgive me for intruding.” she beseeched him a bit breathlessly. “But I had to know. I had to know of Meghan. Please dinna be angry with me for coming yet again.”

“Dinna be silly,” Leith said. “I understand, Alison.” And he seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

Alison clutched his arm hopefully. “Is there news?”

He shook his head. “None at all, I am afraid.”

Alison frowned. “I am so worried.”

“So are we, lass, so are we. But dinna ye fret. We will find her soon.”

“I do hope,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Leith,” she began, peering up at him bravely. “I also came for another reason.”

His brows lifted. “What is it, Alison?” he said with a look of concern.

Alison suddenly could not find the words to speak. “I... I... wished to say... well, you see,” she stammered, “I feel a bit that you were forced to ask my father... ”

He clasped her hands gently, seeming to understand what she was trying to say. “Alison sweeting, I was not forced to do anything at all, dinna ye see?”

Alison shook her head. “I cannot believe you would wish to wed with me,” she told him. “I know that you feel sorry for me, and I wanted you to know that I will not be crushed if you dinna wish to take me as your wife. I do not need a man to feel sorry for me, and I dinna wish to make you unhappy.”

He smiled down at her. “Look at me, Alison MacLean... Does the prospect of wedding you seem to distress me?”

“Well, nay, but—”

“Nay, but naught,” he said, hushing her. “Come with me a moment.” And then he drew her aside for privacy behind a horse and cart. “Will you do me a favor?” he asked her.

Alison nodded, so grateful to him that she would have fallen at his feet and kissed them with her lips.

“Listen to me with your heart just now, Alison,” he said, and then drew her into his arms.

Alison gasped in surprise. Her heart began to hammer within her breast as he turned her face up to his and bent to touch his lips to her own.

She felt dizzy with shock as he kissed her sweetly, gently upon the mouth—just a tender kiss, but it was the first kiss Alison had ever had in her entire life.

No man had ever, ever done such a thing to her.

No man had ever even expressed the desire to do so.

It confused her, startled her so that she merely stared up at him in bewilderment as he lifted his face to peer down at her. She blinked in surprise.

“Did you hear that?” he asked her, his voice tender.

Alison could not find her voice to speak, nor did she find the will even to nod.

“Listen to me, and listen to me well, Alison MacLean,” Leith told her with certainty. “I want you to go home now,” he directed her, “and think on what I have just said to you with my heart. Think about what you desire. Consider carefully whether you would have me as your mon. My offer stands as it was made, but I dinna wish to force you, either, lass. Go home, then, and think of this, and decide if you will have me as your husband, because I would be honored to take you as my bride.”

Alison shook her head and opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh,” he bade her. “Dinna say a word until you have passed the night in thought. Do me the favor of that. Will you?”

Taking in a breath, before she should swoon at his feet with the shock of it all, she nodded.

“Good, then,” he said, and drew her out from behind the cart into open view once more.

He had to drag her out behind him because she would have remained there, so shocked was she by what he had said and done. She placed her fingers in bewilderment to her lips.

The messenger came as she stood there staring up at Leith Mac Brodie in bewilderment. Alison was scarcely aware of him, even, for he handed the missive to Leith and practically turned and fled whilst she stood there contemplating what had only just happened between them.

Leith broke the seal, and stared at the parchment. He turned it sideways, and then his face colored a bit. “Alison,” he said. “Gavin is not here, and I cannot read this. Will you do me the honor?”

Alison nodded, taking the parchment from his hands at once. She gazed at the paper without seeing the words for an instant, and then blinked and read.

“Lyon Montgomerie has her,” she said, stunned. “He has Meghan.”

“What?” he thundered, and tore the parchment from her hands.