The Queen's Lady (18 page)

When she and Annie entered the queen's chambers, the queen did not recognize her. “Annie, where is your lady?” Mary demanded. “And who is this you have brought before me? Does she work here in the manor?”

Gwenyth burst out laughing, and Mary gasped, then laughed, as well. “Indeed, you've proven your point.”

“I will take no chances, Your Grace,” Gwenyth assured her. “We will shop the stalls and hear what we may.”

Mary hesitated, then nodded. “We have to be certain,” she said. “But if you're not back before nightfall, I'll have the guard out after you.”

“We will be back,” Gwenyth assured her.

As they left the queen's chamber, Gwenyth nearly froze when James, Maitland and Rowan walked by. But none of them noticed her. James and Maitland didn't pay them any heed; Rowan merely offered a nod and a slight smile to Annie.

As soon as the men had passed by, Gwenyth grabbed Annie's hand and went running down the hall, trying not to laugh. Annie freed herself from Gwenyth's hold, turning to berate her. “'Tis a fool's errand we're upon, I tell ye, a fool's errand.”

“Oh, hush, Annie. Please. I'm but playacting for a matter of a few hours.”

They strode past the queen's guard, who had been stationed around the manor when she had bowed to her brother's decision that they must be on high alert at all times.

“The city is filled with the queen's forces,” Annie noted.

“Aye, she has her best archers, her finest military minds…”

Annie let out a breath. “Then 'tis good enough, I suppose, to protect fools against fools' errands.”

“The fish market,” Gwenyth said.

Annie eyed her warily, and they walked on. “At least ye've the right accent for it.”

They walked the streets, huddled together like a pair of servants who had long attended to the same master. Gwenyth knew that Aberdeen was small enough that many people would know one another, and yet it was large enough that visitors might roam the markets unremarked.

As they perused the stalls, they were greeted by the squawking of chickens, the aroma of fish and the cries of the hawkers peddling everything from woolens and needles to cooking utensils. A toy maker dangled a puppet before them, and they thanked him for the entertainment but moved on. At each stall, they pretended to be weighing the merchandise against the coins in their purses. At length they paused before a vendor selling cups of ale cheap.

Annie lifted her nose at the place and gave the vendor a long speech on the amount of dirt he was allowing into his ale, complaining that she didn't like imbibing Aberdeen dust. And as she argued her point, Gwenyth at last heard two maids nearby whispering about Huntly and his planned attack.

“It may well be now that he sets himself up as king here,” one girl, a tiny but work-worn redhead, whispered, giggling.

“Aye, an' that will make the countess a happy woman—and a queen,” the second maid, a pretty young lass with brown hair, agreed.

“'Tis also said they mean to take the queen an' marry her off to their son. Then the whole of the country will be under Huntly rule,” the redhead whispered, looking nervously around.

“All the better for us,” Gwenyth chimed in beneath her breath, yet loud enough for the two women to hear.

Annie, bless her, kept up her chastisement of the vendor, giving Gwenyth ample opportunity to join in with the maids.

The redhead giggled again. “What do I care, who is king, who is queen? I work the whole day long, no matter who rules.”

The dark-haired girl was more serious. She sniffed. “Ach, we may find our lot far worse if the laird fails and the queen takes revenge.”

“And would Laird Huntly fail?” Gwenyth asked as if such a thing were impossible.

“Never,” the redhead agreed.

“We'd best be going,” the brunette urged her companion. “So many to feed, with the men climbing to the heights.”

“Camping upon the Hill o' Fare soon enough,” the redhead said.

The brunette elbowed her. “Come, it's time to go.”

“Or the countess will be showin' her wrath,” the redhead agreed.

They hurried on, nodding farewell to Gwenyth, who grabbed Annie by the arm, almost causing her to spill the cup of ale she had finally agreed to purchase.

“We can go back.”

“Back?” Annie said.

“Aye, now!”

They started back to the manor, no longer strolling the aisles and pretending to judge the merchandise for cost and quality. In her haste, Gwenyth began to stride quickly, deep in thought.

Annie pulled her back. “Ye can't go racin' through the place,” she warned.

Gwenyth turned back to Annie, who had been huffing and puffing behind her, and started walking again. With her eyes still on the older woman, she plowed into the muscular body of a man. Startled, she looked up and was instantly filled with unease.

She had walked straight into Bryce MacIvey.

She held her breath, wondering what he was doing there in Aberdeen, since she knew he was one of the Protestant lairds. Perhaps that didn't matter. Perhaps he and his men had chosen to fight for Laird Huntly against the queen.

To her great relief, he looked down with disdain, clearly not recognizing her. “Stupid woman, get out of the way,” he commanded.

She readily complied.

Apparently her face betrayed her rush of fear, because Annie demanded, “What? Who was that?”

“Bryce MacIvey,” Gwenyth said, shuddering.

Annie gasped. “The clan that borders Laird Rowan's lands?”

“Aye.”

“He might have known ye.”

Gwenyth looked at her, shaking her head. “Didn't you see how he pushed me aside? He has no interest in servant girls.”

“Let's hurry on,” Annie urged.

But Gwenyth paused then, thoughtfully watching the man as he strode away, into the crowd. Then he stopped, as if in confusion, and looked back.

She stared into his eyes, and he frowned before hurrying away again.

“He's come to fight against the queen,” Gwenyth said.

“Perhaps he's come to fight
for
her,” Annie suggested.

Gwenyth shook her head. “He's dangerous, and he hates Laird Rowan. He desperately wants to increase his holdings, and he cannot not do so while Rowan supports the queen and the queen bows to his judgment.”

“Then we must return to the manor and tell all we know,” Annie said.

“We don't know enough,” Gwenyth protested. “Laird Bryce's presence changes everything.”

“We know enough,” Annie insisted.

“All right,” Gwenyth agreed softly.

They were on a quiet street nearing the manor when Gwenyth heard hoofbeats behind her. She started to turn, only to find herself swept up by the rider. Bryce MacIvey. A scream tore from her throat, which gave no pause to the horseman. Despite the thunder of the horse's hooves and her own state of danger, she was aware that Annie had also been snatched. She continued to scream loudly, praying that they could attract attention before being carried too far away.

Her heart thundered as she tried to think. Had he taken her because he knew who she was? Or only because she had aroused his suspicion, watching him as she had done?

The horse was moving with such speed that she knew she would be badly injured, perhaps die, if she fought so hard that she fell to the roadside.

And so, with a man she despised holding her tightly upon his mount, she had no choice but to cling to the horse and wait to see what fate would bring.

 

I
T HAD BEEN EASY
, with the buildup of arms on both sides, for Rowan to keep himself busy and not spend time dwelling on the woman who had come to haunt his every moment, waking or sleeping. But today, knowing that an attack was imminent, Rowan found himself disturbed when he didn't see Gwenyth among the queen's women.

When he asked Mary about her favorite's absence, she was vague. “She went to the market, I believe.”

He remained worried. Aberdeen had seemed to welcome the queen—despite Huntly. Still, that any of the queen's ladies might be blithely walking about was a concern. Rowan knew too well how fickle the minds of the Highlanders could be, especially as now, when caught between loyalty to a new young queen, and the laird they had known and honored for years.

When he also couldn't find Annie busy at any task within the manor, he found himself growing more concerned. At last, he made up his mind that he was going to take a walk to the market and find her. He was irritated as he stepped out; there were now more than a thousand of the queen's men finding shelter in the fields, forests, halls and houses in the area. There were drills to be carried out and formations to be determined. His own cavalry awaited his command, and yet here he was, on a fool's errand.

Outside the manor, he found Gavin speaking with one of the queen's guard, awaiting his orders. But when Gavin lifted his brows, awaiting a military summons, Rowan shook his head and said only, “Join me. I need to find the Lady of Islington.”

“I saw her maid, not an hour ago,” Gavin told him.

Rowan frowned. “Where?”

“Heading with another servant toward the market.”

“Did this servant dwarf Annie?” Rowan inquired.

“Aye, indeed.”

“It was Gwenyth,” Rowan said with annoyance. “What in God's name is she about?”

Gavin laughed. “It was not the Lady Gwenyth. She had to be a kitchen maid. She was all sooty, dark haired—and quite corpulent.”

Rowan shook his head. “Trust me, my friend. It was Gwenyth. And I want to find her before she gets herself into some new trouble.”

Even as he spoke, he heard screams coming from the direction of the market. He looked at Gavin. “Get the horses,” he told him brusquely.

He was amazed when the troop of horsemen—six of them, two bearing screaming women—passed by the very manor itself, with all the queen's guard in attendance. When the guards would have sprung to life, Rowan stopped them. “It may well be a trap, intended to mow down many of the queen's finest before the battle. Inform Laird James that I am following the mob into the forest beyond. Tell him to take care, to avoid the obvious route, but to come after us.”

Gavin arrived with the horses and looked questioningly at Rowan. “So we will ride into this trap?”

“Nay, Gavin. We will take the old Roman road through the trees, while these fellows will be tempting the queen's men upon the established trail.”

Gavin nodded gravely. “Those were MacIvey colors, worn by the horsemen.”

“Bryce MacIvey in the lead,” Rowan said in agreement.

“They will know the old roads, as well.”

 

T
HE JOLTING
,
BRUTAL RIDE
lasted a good thirty minutes, carrying them far from the queen's manor—and the great host of men arriving to fight on her behalf.

When they came to a halt at last, in a small clearing deep in the forest, Gwenyth was dismayed to realize that there had been no pursuit, though they had been taken from beneath the very nose of the manor and its guards

Of course, who among the queen's guards would desert his post to ride to the rescue of two servants, servants no one would even have realized were in the queen's employ?

She found herself crudely dropped to the ground and let out no sound, but she heard Annie's bellow of protest at her rough fall. Gwenyth sprang to her feet, quickly adjusting her mantle and the woolen scarf atop her head, knowing full well it was more important than ever to maintain her disguise.

As Bryce MacIvey stared at her then, she realized that he did not in fact know who she was—only that he felt he
should
know.

“What manner of idiocy is this?” Annie railed from behind her. “What fool laird has decided that servants of the Highlands are to be abducted and abused?”

Bryce spun on Annie, approaching her with menace. “Ye are no Highlander, woman. I can hear it in y'er voice.”

“She's me dear auntie!” Gwenyth cried out in old Gaelic. That drew Bryce's attention back to her, and she thought quickly before speaking again. First she spat on the ground, as if in disdain of him, even if he was a landed laird. “Me auntie is in the queen's service. I live in the woods outside Aberdeen, with me mum. But the queen does not allow for her servants to be ill treated. They'll be comin' fer ye, that they'll be!”

“Let them,” he said.

Then she knew. The woods were surely crawling with his men. He had expected, even intended, to be followed. He must have had it in his head he would gain favor with Laird Huntly if he winnowed down the queen's troops.

Perhaps it was not so strange that no one had followed. The queen's guard must have seen through his ruse.