Free Highland Barbarian (Highlander Series) by Ruth Ryan Langan

the others done this time?”
    “Done?” With her head lowered she murmured, “I fear I do not understand.”
    The queen was behaving in a most strange manner. Brice knew her well enough to know that it meant she was up to one of her tricks.
    “Come,” he urged, pausing while the others caught up. “Tell me, for I shall surely discover your game soon enough.”
    “There is no game. I am merely overcome with hunger.”
    Brice, giving up for the moment, gave her a smile. “Then you shall enjoy a feast fit for royalty.”
    At the head of the table he held her chair, then seated himself at her right hand. As always the four Maries flocked around their monarch, interspersed with the men from their hunting party. At the far end of the table Brice noted that Meredith was seated between Angus Gordon and Jamie MacDonald, and though she kept her face averted, there was a smile on her lips. Odd. Until now, she had done nothing but scowl at him.
    Crystal goblets were filled and Brice lifted his, exclaiming, “To Mary, Queen of Scots.”
    “To Mary,” repeated the entire company before lifting the goblets to their lips.
    At the head of the table, the object of their toast nodded her head slightly and drank.
    In the silence that followed, the young woman at the far end of the table spoke. “When you leave, will you take me with you—Majesty?”
    Everyone gasped at the boldness of the hostage’s words. Angus placed a hand on her arm as if to warn her, but she shook it off as though no one had ever before dared to touch her in such a way.
    Beside him, Brice saw the queen’s head nod slightly. He felt a rush of seething anger at Meredith’s crude attempt to escape from Kinloch House with the queen’s blessing. When the others left he would deal with her harshly. For now, he would keep a tight rein on his temper and deal with her more diplomatically.
    “It is not proper to address the queen unless she first invites it.”
    “May I speak, Majesty?” came the bold reply from the far end of the table.
    Again Angus tried to stifle her outburst. Ignoring him, she opened her mouth to speak.
    “Nay. We will eat.” Brice held up a hand to silence her. At his signal, the servants began circulating among the guests, offering from trays of steaming deer, rabbit, goose, pheasant and partridge. There were breads still warm from the oven, as well as steamed puddings.
    From the far end of the table, the woman in the white gown called, “Such fine food, my lord.”
    Brice’s eyes narrowed. Was it Meredith’s intention to dominate the conversation? Perhaps she hoped to continue to call attention to herself in order to invite the queen’s protection.
    “There are those who say the Highlanders live like royalty while many in the Lowlands starve.” All eyes turned toward the woman in the white gown who sat beside Angus. With a wide, innocent smile she added, “Is that not true, Majesty?”
    Brice heard a slight choking sound from the woman beside him. “Aye” came the voice. Then, with just a trace of French accent, she added, “’Tis said that many covet the holdings of the Highland lords. What say you—Meredith?”
    Brice turned to study the woman in the burgundy velvet gown. Though the gown and hair were that of the queen, the voice, though similar, was not hers. He and Mary had been friends for too long. He had heard her when angry, happy, ill and well. He would know her voice anywhere.
    He strained to study the face beneath the veil. Why would the queen wear a hat and veil to a banquet? A hint of a smile began at the corner of his lips. To hide behind? His smile grew.
    “Do you remember that time when you and I and the dauphin went riding in Paris?” he asked.
    Beside him the woman went very still.
    “Surely you have not forgotten, Majesty. We had a race. I believe the bet was one hundred gold sovereigns.”
    Still the woman beside him remained silent.
    “Unfortunately for you, I won by several meters,” Brice said with