Free Maiden of Inverness by Arnette Lamb Page A

“Summerlad Macqueen.”
    â€œDrummond’s youngest brother,” Revas said by way of explanation. “And he’s very glad you’ve come.”
    â€œLady Clare speaks well of you, my lady,” Summerlad said.
    That he called Drummond’s wife Clare was of great interest to Meridene, for it answered a question that had puzzled her since Drummond’s unexpected release from the Tower of London. Johanna, the woman who now lived with Drummond, had kept secret her true identity from the people of Elginshire.
    Surrounded by so much male power, Meridene felt small and helpless in a land of strangers. She turned away and pretended interest in the third tower.
    â€œDoes it suit you?” Revas said.
    If he could generalize on important subjects, so could she. “ ’Tis a place any wife would favor.”
    â€œSince I have only the one wife, I assume you speak from the heart.”
    With so many witnesses, she carefully phrased her retort. “ ’Tis safe to say that you always know when I am speaking from the heart, my lord.”
    His eyes turned hard and sharp as flint, and he drew her near his horse and out of earshot of the others. With quick, angry motions, he unbuckled his money pouch. “Revas suits me well.”
    She tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, she rose on tiptoes. “England suits me well.”
    As if she’d asked for a pinch of salt, he loudly said, “Oh, very well, Meridene.” Then the blackheart tossed the bag to Sim, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her!
    Before she could push him away, he grasped her tighter and whispered, “Be gentle, my brave one, and have a care. You’re poorly armed for this battle.”
    â€œAre you threatening me?” she said, her nose very close to his.
    â€œNay. I’m promising. Should you snip at me again, with these men as witness, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you away. I’ve done so before.” He gave her a blinding smile. “Then, my spritely Maiden, the battle will commence.”
    She had no business challenging him in front of his men; she knew better, but years had passed since she’d learned her lesson and fallen prey to that bit of Highland protocol. “A battle you think you will win someday.”
    â€œWinsome?” He spoke in a melodious tone, one intended to convey intimacy. “You flatter me well.”
    Meridene fumed. “Not I, and stop twisting my words. Never would I find you appealing.”
    â€œI’m certain ’twas what you said.”
    â€œAnd I’m certain ’twas one of the twenty women you keep who said it.”
    The guardsmen grumbled among themselves; she had spoken too loudly.
    â€œA score of women?” Revas drew back and stared, his dark eyes wide with alarm. “Who told you that?”
    â€œNever you mind.” A glance over her shoulder proved wise, for the men were inching closer. “I’d like to go inside now.”
    â€œYour happiness is my quest.”
    To a stranger, the pledge sounded sincere, but she knew him for a blackheart.
    He turned to the sheriff. “See that the gate is greased. It sounds like a rusted siege engine. And have a man ride hotfoot to the ship. He’s to speed the luggage cart along.”
    â€œAye.” The sheriff marched off, shouting orders. The guardsmen followed like goslings after a goose.
    Revas dismissed the servants. “Come, Meridene.”
    Although cordially said, his words conveyed an order. Despotic was too kind a description for him. Her mind harkened back to the subject of Robert Bruce. Was he friend or foe? Determined to learn the answer, she followed Revas into the keep.
    A walk-through hearth separated common room from dining hall. Above the stone cavern and carved in the smooth rock were the words “Community of the Realm,” an ancient and long-unanswered cry for Scottish unity.
    The motto was newly