The Beauty of the Mist (45 page)

Fiona had proved the most gracious of hosts during Maria’s stay at Drummond Castle, making Maria and Isabel members of the family. Like three sisters, Maria, Fiona, and Elizabeth had learned much from one another, exchanging stories and gathering fond memories.

And for tonight, this final night of their stay, Fiona had prepared a gathering. All would attend. All except John. Alec and Ambrose were expected any moment. But Elizabeth had learned from Ambrose that John was busy with the work of the King’s Council, Maria knew the truth. He would sooner travel into the jaws of death, than come to her. Understandably, he could not bring himself to see her again. But perhaps that was the best for all.

Standing, she placed the letter from the king on the side table and looked into the long looking glass Fiona had sent in for her. Her stomach was flat and hard. How is it life could be growing in there? This was no time to be grieving past decisions, Maria thought, turning and slipping out the door into the torchlit corridor. She had a whole lifetime ahead of her, and a child to raise. Their child.

Coming down the spiraling stairwell, Maria was nearly flattened at the landing by a giant of a young man who barreled into her with a black-haired girl on his heels. A steel-muscled arm helped her regain her balance, but she nearly laughed out aloud as she realized that her assailant was still using her as a shield against the attacking Jaime.

“Please stand where you are, mistress,” the young man pleaded. “I’ll be forever in your debt if you can keep this banshee away from me.”

Maria, staying between the seven year old girl and the towering young warrior, laughed heartily. “You can’t mean this wee lass?”

“Aye,” he replied, breaking away and taking the steps three at a time. “Fairy creatures come every so small, you know.”

Maria stood in front of the little girl, blocking her path.

“Terrifying,” she said, looking at the child.

“Excuse me, your grace,” Jaime said, giving her a full curtsy and then trying to force her way around the young queen.

“Jaime,” Maria said, staying in front of her. “I was hoping to run into you. I heard that besides the entire family, a great many guests will be here tonight, and I was hoping you might tell me the names of those I don’t already know.”

The little girl gave a wistful look up the winding stairs, and then nodded her agreement. Maria took Jaime’s hand and turned her back down the stairs.

“Who is your young man?” Maria asked, seeing Jaime’s reluctance about giving up on her prey.

“That’s Malcolm,” Jaime answered simply.

“Malcolm. Fiona and Alec’s stepson?” Maria asked with surprise. Fiona had spoken so proudly of Malcolm MacLeod, the young clan chief of Skye and Lewis, beyond the Western Highlands. But for some reason, Maria had expected a young boy. Clearly, this was how Jaime thought of him, as well.

“Aye. We’re going to marry when we grow up,” Jaime announced matter-of-factly.

“Does he know this?”

“Of course. I told him first on my fourth birthday. But he doesn’t believe me.”

“And what you were doing just now? Trying to get his consent?”

Jaime looked down at her feet, scuffing the steps as she descended, and then lifted her mischievous, black eyes to Maria’s face. “I just like chasing him. He always runs away, you know.”

Maria smiled back at the child. The resemblance between Jaime and Elizabeth was startling. It warmed her heart to know that Elizabeth had revealed this secret to her. She could see that this little bundle of energy was a happy and well cared for child, and she rejoiced in her friend’s trust. To be thought of as a friend! she thought happily. She’d never experienced such a relationship before.

“My cousins are a wee bit childish,” Jaime said with an air of maturity as a swarm of children raced passed them, heading for the kitchens. The little girl lowered her voice to a whisper. “But they have good hearts, I suppose.”

“Thank you,” Maria responded, hiding her smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jaime proved to be a wonderful escort and kept up a running commentary on Drummond Castle, its dependents, and its guests. Though she thought of her Alec and Fiona’s sons as mere children, the eldest, Alexander, was actually eleven and twice her size, while James, their second son, was nine years old and a head and shoulder taller than the young girl. And what she knew of the doings of the guests, servants, and townsfolk quite nearly shocked Maria.

As they neared the Great Hall, Jaime extricated herself courteously from Maria’s hand. With a quick glance into the Hall, where the merriment had already begun, the little girl dashed off toward the stairwell they’d just descended.

“Well,” Maria murmured to herself. “At least Malcolm has a bit of a start on her.”

Maria slipped quietly into the huge hall, trying to avoid bringing any attention to herself. Standing on the side, Maria let her eyes roam the room, taking in its festive occupants. Though Alec and Ambrose had been expected in the afternoon, the two elder brothers had not yet arrived. Maria wondered what news they would bring of John. And she prayed she would learn something before she and Isabel left in the morning.

Hearing her aunt’s snort of laughter over the revelry, Maria looked over at the dais where Isabel sat with the elder Macphersons. It had been amazing how Isabel’s complaints about being dragged to Scotland had ceased the moment she’d arrived at Drummond Castle. In fact, her only criticism of Maria recently had been to complain about the young woman’s hurry to depart. Maria had an idea she was planning a tour of the Highlands, with an extended stay with Alexander and Lady Elizabeth at Benmore Castle.

Fiona was the first one to spot Maria. Crossing the room to greet her, the red haired beauty gathered Maria in a warm embrace as she brought her to the middle of the room. The immediate attention that the young queen received from those around her touched her heart and brought a lump to her throat. The merriment, the banter, and the love these people showed for another clearly included her, wrapping Maria in a soft glow. Maria rejoiced in that light, and yet she hoped they would never consider her untrue. The way John considered her.

Inwardly, John kicked himself for the hundredth time for accepting his brothers’ invitation of traveling with them for the remainder of the journey. That he had caught up with them en route to Drummond Castle should have alerted him to the fact that they would keep him from his goal. They were as slow as the old mules in a hot summer day. He had told Alec and Ambrose as much, and in response they had slowed their pace even more. But now, at long last, they had reached Drummond Castle.

During their journey, John had thought over his approach. Was it best just to sweep in and take her in his arms, pretending that he’d caused her no pain? He was in love, but he was not a fool. Perhaps he should begin all over–court her, allow her to see his love and then perhaps find it in her heart to forgive him for what he’d done.

Approaching Drummond Castle’s Great Hall, John felt Ambrose’s heavy hand upon his shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie.

“We’ll give you tonight to make good, you blackguard,” Ambrose said with a wry smile.

Alec’s huge paw fell on John’s other shoulder. “Use your charm, your allure, your gracious courtesy, and since you have no choice, use your ugly face.”

“We like her, John,” Ambrose picked up. “And if you lose her, there will be hell to pay with our wives.”

“So don’t muck it up.” Alec warned, slapping him on the back.

John glared at one man then at the other. These two giants were treating him like a mere lad.

But neither waited for a response. With a wink and another shove, the two older brothers strode ahead of him into the Hall.

He was here.

Maria felt her body tremble with excitement and dismay as she watched John stepped into the room behind his brothers.

The long benches emptied as everyone rose to welcome the new arrivals. Everyone, including Isabel. Maria watched in amazement as her aunt crossed the room to John and gave him an affectionate hug. The best she could do was to stand. One step away from the table and her legs would surely fold beneath her.

John looked up and their eyes met. His heart pounded in his chest as he devoured her with his gaze. Radiant, she stood behind the trestle table–clad in white, her silky black hair falling in waves around her. Isabel was whispering in his ear, but what she told him he already knew. His niece and nephews were using him as a climbing tree, but his eyes never left her face.

Maria noticed that how the Hall gradually quieted. The silence became pronounced as all eyes riveted on John, waiting his next move.

Lifting his nephew Michael in his arms and handing him to Elizabeth, John moved purposefully through the crowd to Maria.

Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she thought it would explode. His strides were confident, determined. His eyes sparkled with that roguish glint she recalled from their first days at sea. He halted directly before her. Only the width of the trestle table separated them.

“Your grace.” He bowed. She felt her heart sink at his formality.

“M’lord!” She nodded slowly in return.

“May I have the honor of sitting beside you?”

She stared at him, trying to measure his mood. He talked one way, and yet his mischievous blue eyes spoke of something else. “Of course,” she answered quietly.

Without hesitating an instant, John vaulted over the table and stood beside her.

With great effort, Maria lifted her jaw back into place. It seemed that no one in the Hall seemed shocked at his move, and suddenly the young woman was conscious that the pause in the merrymaking was only momentary. The servants bustled, the people talked, the children shouted. Gradually, Maria regained her poise and then looked up into his eyes. He was standing behind her bench, waiting attentively for her to sit. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she took her seat.

Her look was clearly one of invitation, he thought. Exultant, John prepared to sit, but in the corner of his eye caught his mother making her way past them to her seat.

“Maria,” Lady Macpherson said softly to the young woman. “Forgive this young scapegrace. I’m sure I brought him up better.”

Turning to John, the elder woman reached up to kiss her son and whispered, “Don’t ruin this opportunity, my dear, or your sisters-in-law won’t be the only ones you’ll be answering to.”

“It’s very good to see you too, Mother.” John hugged her tenderly in his arms. “I always knew you loved me best.”

Pulling away, she punched him squarely in the chest. “John Macpherson, you are a scoundrel.”

Maria just watched in amazement as he took the seat beside her. She was seeing a different man than the one she’d last spoken with at the Abbey of Holyrood. But she could not assume he had forgiven her of the wrong she had done him. And she was not sure she could bear the disappointment of a false hope.

“A drink, your grace?” he asked.

“Very well,” she said, lifting her cup.

John’s large hand closed over hers, his fingers holding hers captive as he poured the wine.

She felt her face redden as the heat of his hand radiated through hers, but she could not look away from the smoldering look in his eyes. She cast about for something casual to say. Anything but what they’d been through.

“How was the journey from Edinburgh?”

“Long, because of the slowness of my good brothers.”

“Everyone appears delighted that you made it.”

“And you?” John asked.

Maria nodded. “I’m thrilled that you came,” she whispered. As she spoke she felt his knee press deliberately against hers. She drew her breath in sharply.

“Have you had a pleasant stay at Drummond Castle, your grace?” he asked, the indifference of his tone belied by his soft caressing touch of Maria’s cup.

“Very pleasant, thank you, m’lord,” she answered, her eyes following the movement of his fingers.

“Has anyone showed you about?”

“I’ve been here for some time.”

“I’d be willing to show you more.” John reached up and casually pushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “One can experience so much in a new place.”

His fingers scorched her skin where they brushed so lightly against her face.

“Can there be much more to experience here?”

John gazed at her lower lashes. The soft skin of her face. His eyes drifted to her lips. “To experience a place fully, a traveler must be open to new things.”

“And one needs the right guide, I suppose.”

“Aye, that’s it.” He smiled.

She reached in to take her cup, his hands wrapped around hers. Her eyes lifted up to his. “Are you offering your services?”

“I am, if you’d have me.”

She tried to ignore the sound of thunder in her heart. “I would,” she said shakily, looking about the room. She wondered if anyone could see the excitement bursting within her. No one seemed to be paying the least attention to them.

“This is the best time of the year to be here.”

His voice drew her back to him. Beneath the table, his bare knee moved slightly against her leg.

It is, since you arrived, she thought. “It’s paradise.”

“Have you had a chance to stroll through the gardens under the moonlight?” He came closer to her side and whispered his words. “The roses should be in full bloom, and the night is quite warm.”

She just shook her head, fighting the urge to close her eyes and allow his lilting whisper to beguile her.

A serving man placed a platter of food before them. She stared at the food, but her hunger was not for food. John served her first and then just stared, waiting. Hesitantly, she picked up a slice of pear and brought it up to her lips. She shivered involuntarily as his eyes followed the path of fruit.

He lifted his cup to his lips. “Have you been kissed in a garden of roses, under a starlit sky?” His words were a caress.

She swallowed hard and then brought her hands to her lap to hide their trembling. She shook her head. “Never.”

His hands moved beneath the table and rested on hers. Welcoming his touch, she clutched them tightly in her lap.