Heaven and the Heather (35 page)

She carried that as a compliment.

Sabine nodded. “We will go, now,
n’est-ce pas
?”

Le Canard’s eyes widened. “We?”

Niall stepped forward. “Aye, big man,
we
.”

“Niall MacGregor has to deliver the message to Her Majesty. He must translate and put it into the proper context,” Sabine said, inside her heart was telling her to grab Niall’s hand and flee to the safety of the Highlands, but she could never live the rest of her life as an outlaw. Her queen needed her, even if she did not know it.

“You must put context in this thing you must tell the queen?” Le Canard asked, dismissing the servant boy to the carriage with a curt wave of his hand.

“I will tell you on the way,” Sabine said, stepping quickly past him and up into the carriage. She took her seat and peered around the velvet curtain at Niall. “It has to do with the life and death of Her Majesty.”

“
Mon Dieu!
” Le Canard exclaimed. “Then we must haste!”

“Aye, exactly,” Niall said.

Sabine observed as he allowed Le Canard to enter before him. The giant climbed up. The vehicle groaned upon his entrance. He settled onto the bench beside Sabine, placing an arm about her shoulders. Then, after taking a few more glances up and down the street, Niall climbed inside. He hunched inside staring at the space beside the heaps of fine silks, velvets and linens.

She thought he had never looked more out of place or uncomfortable. For an instant, she thought Niall would lunge from the carriage and race for the Highlands. It lurched forward and Niall tumbled onto Le Canard’s lap.

“What a rare treat this is!” the Frenchman exclaimed.

Sabine suppressed a surprised giggle.

As if he was stung by a wasp, Niall leapt up, striking his head on the roof of the carriage. “Bloody hell!” He plopped down beside the servant, who stared at him warily.

Niall regarded the lad. “I willnae bite.” He turned aside his plaid enough to display his sword against his back. “But my blade might if ye betray my presence to anyone.”

Le Canard chuckled.

“Something witty in what I said, ye big pansy?” Niall asked.

Le Canard regarded Sabine. “Is this why you went into the Scottish hills?”

Sabine smiled. “This Highlander kidnapped me. And once I was there, in his land, I found my heart.” She felt a bit lighter for saying it out loud.

Niall nodded at her. A knowing grin played upon his lips. “Let’s hope ye can keep it.”

That, Sabine knew, was for Her Majesty to decide.

M
onsieur Le Canard’s generosity flowed well beyond what Sabine expected. He had given her and Niall refuge and repast in his lavish bedchamber while left to quickly fashion a costume for each of them for the queen’s masque that evening. He had taken Sabine’s and Niall’s measurements with him. Hope filled her because good fortune of circumstance had smiled upon them. A masque! Her Majesty did enjoy her parties, thank goodness!

Sabine wrapped her naked body in one of Le Canard’s silk robes and stepped from behind a gilded screen. Niall greeted her from the vast bed, velvet curtains cinched to the post with thick crimson and gold cords, revealing him in all of his MacGregor glory. He lounged on the exposed sheets, one arm on the mound of pillows, propping his head up, one brow cocked at her.

“Loosen the robe,
mademoiselle
,” he said.

Sabine drew the robe cord tighter about her waist. “And what good will that do me?” she teased.

“Come hither and find out.”

“Hither?”

Niall grinned. “I’m not one for tender words. ’Tis the best I could do. Ye’re a wee bit distracting.”

“Only a ‘wee’ bit?”

She padded across the floor past the blazing logs in the hearth. The warmth from the fire was no match for the flames burning up and down her body. She slowly, teasingly shed the robe. His eyes and his grin widened. He offered her his hand. She joined him on the bed entwining the fingers of her right hand in his. If this was to be their last time, let the memory burn deep.

He took her, gently so, down on his body. His hands explored her, gently so, stroking her, making her breathe deeper, then faster. With the deepest sigh as he filled her, Sabine nestled on top of him, their bodies a perfect fit. He reached up and cupped her breasts, kneading each engorged nipple beneath his palms as she began to command him with each fluid movement of her hips.

With growing confidence, Sabine bore down on him, taking charge. The look in Niall’s eyes told her he did not mind, his actions emphasized that sentiment. He grasped her hips, pressed her down hard and mimicked her dance with his hips. She closed her eyes and imagined that they were not in the palace, doing the unspeakable in the royal house. She tried to imagine they were far from everyone. Their lives were laid out far and wide before them like the infinite Highland landscape. What a beautiful dream. The thought of ending their time together was worse than the possibility of the royal goal. She might as well ask the queen to send her to the Danes than live her life without Niall.

She threw her head back. The ends of her hair brushed his strong legs as her body was racked with wave upon wave of sensation. Her breathing stopped, her heart stopped, as Niall took her with him to a place only they could go.

Their moans mingled with the crackling and snapping of the fire as they continued to make love. Their world was about to end but that was the farthest thing from their minds as they fell rapt into each other’s arms.

“This the end of our time together,” Sabine whispered. She stared at the flames knowing that night would arrive with the prospect of righting her name to her queen.

“Does it have to be?” Niall asked her, combing her hair with his strong fingers.

Sabine rested her head tighter against his chest. With one finger she toyed with the dark auburn curls against his pale skin. “What I wish and what the queen commands are two different things,
mon amour
.”

“Does she expect ye to honor yer betrothal to Campbell after what we tell her?”

“She will expect me to remain in royal service.”

“Will she?”

Sabine looked up into his face. “Do you think she will allow me to away with a Highland….”

“Say it, Sabine. A Highland savage is what ye meant. Ye wonder if Her Majesty would condone one of her court to leave service to hide in the bens and glens. I can tell ye the answer. ’Tis no.” His tone was abrupt, sarcastic even.

He took a fig from the silver trencher beside the bed, peeled off the thin outer skin, and took a bite. The juices exploded about his lips. He chewed, deliberately so, before offering the fruit to Sabine. She declined it.

“What have I done to deserve such a tone in your voice?”

He swallowed. “’Tis not ye, Sabine, ’tis the bloody way of things.” He dropped the remains of the fig on the trencher and gathered her in his arms. “I have my own reasons for leaving ye here as well.”

Sabine closed her eyes. The warmth gathering behind her lids threatened to ruin this beautiful time they had alone together, as if Niall speaking the bitter truth had not done enough.

“My clan has invaded Castle Campbell Dubh. I have new people under my protection, and I should haste back as soon as we set things to rights here…with or without Her Majesty’s consent. I will find a way to them.”

“What do you mean?” Sabine asked.

“I have a better chance of making it to the gaol than ye, my love. My clan has a tainted reputation to say the least. Our clan has long raided cattle from anyone, even royal holdings. My father would sell the cattle at market and take the tidy profit to his clan. That is not the way I wish to run our affairs. I want our reputation, although partly deserved, to change. I want to trade wool with the rest of Europe. We can make it work from the shores of Loch Katrine. I know it can happen.”

“’Tis your dream?” she asked.

“Aye,” he said, a faraway look in his eyes, “’tis.” He breathed deep. “And my wish is that ye could be there with me.”

Sabine felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She opened her mouth to tell him that her wish was the same, just as the door slammed open.

She quickly buried herself under the sheets. Niall left the bed, his feet landing on the floor with a heavy thump.

Sabine slowly stuck the top half of her face from the covers. Monsieur Le Canard stood just inside the door dangling Rory by his plaid. The Buchanan looked, at best, quite ill used. Sabine doubted Le Canard had anything to do with that.

“
Pardon
,” he said throwing Rory to the floor at Niall’s bare feet. “But I found this Highlander creeping around in Her Majesty’s gardens. One cannot go out to gather blossoms for the most stunning costume ever created without being bothered by the denizens of this savage land.”

Le Canard stared at Sabine who sat, with shoulders bared, on the bed with the covers cinched about her body. He then regarded Niall. “
Mon Dieu!
’Tis a formidable weapon you have.”

Niall immediately grabbed his plaid from the end of the bed and wrapped it about his waist.

“What’s this rubbish ye’ve brought me?” he asked.

“The savage says he must speak with you. Go gentle on him though,” Le Canard said.

“Why should I?” Niall asked.

The Frenchman looked down upon Rory and with the toe of his shoe, toyed the hem of his kilt up to his waist. Rory snapped upright from his place on the floor.

“Delicious,” Le Canard said. “Leave a bit of the fight in him for me, would you.” He winked at Niall who, in turn, winked back.

Sabine held fast to a laugh. Rory looked up at Le Canard then at Niall. “Ye’re no’ gonnae give me to this big pans—”

Niall kicked Rory in the ribs. “Careful what ye say, bloody bastard, this big Frenchman is my friend.”

“
Bon, bon
,” Le Canard said. “I will be waiting for my reward then, MacGregor.”

“Aye, after I find out what this piece of shite wants.” He took Rory up from the floor by the tattered collar of his linen tunic.

Monsieur Le Canard took his leave.

“Ye’re no’ gonnae give me over to that buggerer, are ye?” Rory pleaded.

Niall patted the Highlander with one hand for weapons while holding him firmly by the throat with the other. His lips were drawn together in a tight grim line as he ground his teeth.

“I’ve no arms,” Rory spit, pulling from Niall. “That Frenchman took them from me, put them in his handful of posies.”

“Resourceful,” Niall mocked. “Why are ye here?”

Rory glanced at Sabine then at the trencher of food. “I’m a wee bit empty in the belly, might I have a fig or pear first?”

“I’ll fill yer belly with every inch of my claymore, ye bastard if ye dinnae tell me why ye’ve come?”

“Campbell tried to kill me,” Rory whimpered.

“Bloody tragic for ye.”

“He beat me and tossed me out the window for dead. A goodly amount of straw kept me from breaking my bloody neck.”

Niall huffed and folded his arms across his chest. His silence and stare told Rory he had wished the other fate had befallen him. Sabine wished it had, given all the pain Rory had caused Niall.

She cleared her throat. “Why are you here?”

“I will tell ye,” the Buchanan said strolling importantly past Niall to the bed. “Because I bloody care about what happens to us all.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed and took a pear from the trencher. “Without Clan Gregor I dinnae exist.”

Niall stared at him.

Rory shrugged and took a bite of pear. “I have nothing except the will to survive in this shiteheap of a world.”

“’Tis that way, because ye’ve made it so,” Niall snarled lunging forward knocking the pear from Rory’s hand. “Stop with the riddles and tell me why ye dared show yer face to me.”

“You owe Niall that much,” Sabine added.

“Aye, so I do,” Rory said. “I want ye to forgive me.”

“That willnae happen,” he growled.

“What I did, I did for Clan Gregor.”

“If I had more like ye,” Niall spat, “I wouldnae need the enemies I’ve got.”

“Campbell has money, coin, lots of it,” Rory said. “He tried to lure yer da and Colin into his riches, by negotiating a truce at the Canon Gait.”

“They died at the Canon Gait,” Niall said.

Sabine slipped from the bed, bringing the covers with her like a toga, and stood beside him. She pressed a hand to his shoulder. He covered it with his hand.

“Aye, they did, but after refusing to join with Campbell.”

“My father didnae tell me he was going there to bargain with Campbell.”

“Because he knew ye’d want to come,” Rory said. “He told me no’ to tell ye. He wanted ye away from the Canon Gait, in case he and Colin—”

“Met with death,” Niall breathed. “He knew Campbell well.”

Sabine wrapped her arms about him. His body trembled.

“Ye were his legacy, Niall,” Rory continued.

“Of course, I am his bloody legacy!” he roared. “Why did ye not protect them!”