Maid of Deception (40 page)

My blade had been expertly aimed, and it hit its mark. Sophia’s gaze flew to mine, then sheared away. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her mouth quivering in a despairing grimace. “Not everything I see happens, Beatrice,” she said miserably. “You know that.”

I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing. Such were my nerves this day that seeing someone so upset about my own pending unhappiness was impossible to fathom. “Sophia, truly. You will not be the first person to predict my downfall. And doubtless you will not be the last.” I gestured her to draw near. “But come, do your worst. It is better to be prepared for what might happen than to live in wonder, no?”

She moved toward me, but at that moment the guards stepped smartly to the side and bowed. Sophia and I quickly
stood and dropped into our customary curtsies as the Queen strolled into the room, followed by her advisors and Alasdair. But I wasn’t looking at them through my lowered lashes. Instead I glanced to the side, noticing as if for the first time that Sophia’s neck was long and gracefully arched, her profile perfect. How had I never seen this girl as a rival? Had my opinions of her been so colored by her “differentness” that I’d failed to see such beauty because of the strangeness that surrounded it?

What else did I miss, blinded by the court and its perceptions?

“Arise,” the Queen said airily, and I knew immediately that she was well pleased by whatever arrangements had been reached in the privacy of Cecil’s office. I lifted my head to gaze serenely into her eyes. They held approval and—something else. Something that set my nerves on edge again.

Calculation.

“Thank you most plainly once more, Alasdair MacLeod. It does England good to have such allies as your family to the north.” The Queen nodded to him as he executed a flawless bow. Then she turned to mount the short stairs to her throne. She sat, taking her ease, and left the rest of us to stand. Sitting in the presence of her standing court made clear who the most important member of the group was. It was a favorite move of Elizabeth’s. I suspected it was one that would not wear off with age.

I turned and looked at Alasdair’s face. His gaze could easily have slid over to meet mine, but it did not. He watched the Queen as if she were the only woman in the world. “We
are well met, Your Grace,” he said. “I am glad to serve where our interests are mutual and the outcome is so precious to us both. We will be ready.”

The Queen beamed magnanimously at him, then drew breath to speak again, when Alasdair raised his hand.

“Another moment of your time, Your Grace.” This time he did allow his gaze to shift to me, and I felt its weight like a burn. “I would grant you a treasure of our people, so precious that it is fit only for a Queen.”

This arrested Her Avariciousness entirely, and she waved him on with an indulgent hand, sitting forward slightly on her cushioned seat. “A gift?” she asked coquettishly. “Well, this is an unexpected delight.”

Alasdair reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden oval half the size of his hand, which hung from a heavy gold chain. He allowed the chain to dangle in the air, catching the sconce light, but it was plain to see that the charm at its base was a reliquary of some kind. I lifted my hand to my mouth, knowing what words would come next.

“You may have heard of the legend of the Fairy Flag,” he began, and the Queen stiffened with surprise, her glance flying to me. She’d asked for me to ferret the flag away from Alasdair, not convince him to give it to her openly. She would be wondering what, if aught, I had to do with his sudden burst of generosity, and I was wondering the same. How had he known the Queen wanted the thing, and whyever would he give it to her?

“It came to my people before the turn of the last millennium, and its origins are shrouded in mystery,” Alasdair
continued. “Some say—and most believe—that it was gifted to my forebears by the Queen of the Fairy herself, in thanks for some aid rendered. This we will never know, but one thing is true enough: When we fly the flag or carry its markers upon us, we are but certain to ride to victory. Each of the sons of the MacLeods is given a token of the flag, to carry forth and keep us from harm, or to give to the woman who captures our spirit.”

Alasdair’s words were spoken to Elizabeth, but I felt their cuts from the side. I remembered how he’d kissed me in the labyrinth behind Marion Hall. I remembered how he’d held me, if ever so briefly, sheltering me from the harsh winds of the North Terrace. And I remembered his face when he had stared at me in the Privy Garden bare hours before. Had I originally been the woman who had captured his spirit? Had he thought to give the token to me?

I would never know now.

“From the Queen of the Fairy to the Queen of England, I grant you this gift of the clan MacLeod,” Alasdair said, stepping forward to mount the first steps of the dais, and then reaching out to deposit the heavy necklace into the Queen’s greedily outstretched fingers. “This is our gift to you.”

“Oh!” The Queen unlocked the delicate latches of the reliquary, making the contents of the piece available fully to her eyes alone. From where I stood I caught only a glimpse of a satiny white cushion, and then a scrap of faded yellow silk. “It looks so very old!” she exclaimed, holding the golden amulet up to the nearest torch. She lifted her gaze to Alasdair. “It must be priceless.”

He shrugged. “We canna say where it is truly from, so there is no way of knowing. But it is yours. May it bring you all the luck in battle and in peace that you could ever wish.”

“And I thank you for it.” She watched a moment as Alasdair backed down the stairs. Then she abruptly stood.

“As you have claimed a moment of my time, allow me to claim one of yours.” He stopped on the steps, looking at her, but it was not him who the Queen’s cool eyes were staring at.

It was me.

“I have come to a decision,” the Queen said.

CHAPTER FORTY

The Queen was speaking, but for just a few seconds, despite all my long years of training to hang on a monarch’s every syllable, I somehow could not quite hear her words. I felt on the edge of a precipice, the crash and rumble of dark waters surging upward to swallow me whole.

The moment could not last, of course. My attention snapped back into focus with the Queen’s strident laugh.

“In truth, good MacLeod, I cannot think that marriage was on your mind when you traveled so far from your home to visit us here in England. Am I correct?”

Her tone was light and playful, and Alasdair matched her jollity with a raised brow and a boyish grin. “No, Your Grace, it was not.”

This would have been the ideal time for him to glance over to me with longing eyes and speak words of affirmation or continued interest. But Alasdair did neither of these things. He stood there like a marauding conqueror, one foot planted on a lower stair, his knee bent, bantering with the Queen like they were old friends. “I confess, it gave me a bit
of a start. I was accustomed to stories of English hospitality, but I canna deny that you did them all one better.”

“Hmm, yes. Well, in truth you have served us well in building an alliance
without
the need for matrimonial ties. In our wisdom, we have not aired the possibility of your betrothal to Lady Beatrice much outside these far walls.”

Not aired the possibility!
I looked at the Queen with a face wiped dead of any emotion, my practiced, poised smile upon my lips. As if she could tell me I was set next for the executioner’s block or the latest country dance, and it was all the same to me. But she well knew how much her “decision” would cost me.

First, I’d failed to hold the interest of the scum-dragging Cavanaugh. Now not even a Scotsman would have me. I’d have to spend much of the next year proving my worth to possible suitors young and old, or come up with some new spin upon the age-old story of the jilted bride, before the court’s tongues would wag about my possibilities again, instead of my problems.

The rational part of my brain was processing this, even as Alasdair and the Queen chatted and gibed as if I were not even in the room. But the not-so-terribly-rational part of my brain had gone silent and shocked. And my heart . . . well, my heart was another thing entirely.

“And I propose you one better, in truth,” the Queen continued, her voice carrying a girlish lilt that was more affected than any other I’d heard. She’d have to take acting lessons from Meg before much longer if she wanted to play the part of the blushing maid. The throne was aging her with every
passing day. “You have a man of your company who has quite captured the heart of a lady of the court.”

“I do indeed?” asked Alasdair, his grin now broadening. “We Scots do have a way of catching the eye, I’ll tell you plain. Who is the man?”

“Niall— Oh, what was his last name?” The Queen turned to me. “Beatrice?”

“Niall Garrett, Your Grace,” I said, forcing my voice to sound light and engaged.

“Ah, yes.” The Queen clapped her hands. “And the young Lady Catherine is quite in love with him. Do you know if he has a mind to marry?”

Alasdair shrugged and spread his hands. “I can but ask, Your Majesty.”

“Do that, then.” She nodded firmly. “We may have an alliance yet.” The two of them laughed and agreed that yes, this would be a brilliant thing, and I found my mind returning to the churn of my own darkness.

“What say you, Beatrice?” the Queen demanded now, her voice suddenly loud, like she was talking to a simpleton. “Shall we set the good MacLeod free of his marriage contract to you, that he may go and find another bride more suited to his strength?”

If Alasdair was startled by the Queen’s direct slap of me, he did not betray it, and I certainly was not going to. Everything I’d done—had tried to do—was turning to ashes around me. But she clearly expected me to speak here, and so speak I would.

“I live ever to serve you, my Queen,” I said. “You and
England. If it serves you better to not betroth me to Alasdair MacLeod, then of course I bow to your wisdom.”

I refused to look at Alasdair, though once again I felt his gaze upon me as I was giving my pretty little speech. Well, he could look his fill and then be gone to his desolate isle in the middle of nowhere. I’d already told him to find someone who suited him better than I did. Apparently, he’d agreed. So now he could choose a woman of his own country to be his bride. He could choose six, for all I cared. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—let this little scene break me. For my family, I would be strong and proud. For my family, I’d remain unruffled by the Queen’s cruel words. For my family, I would tilt my chin just so, slant my gaze thus, and smile as if my reputation had not just been dragged through the mire.

“Then it is done.” Elizabeth clapped her hands again. “I will summon Lord Knowles to discuss the particulars, but we have agreed in principle, and you, my young man, are free of a Queen’s desire to meddle in the hearts of her people.”

Alasdair’s grin didn’t slip; his manner didn’t shift. He cast me off with no more concern than he would doff his tunic. He bowed first to the Queen, and then to me. I didn’t even hear him depart, with the roaring in my ears, but as I made my own curtsy to leave, the Queen’s next words drew me up short.

“So, then—you have served me well, Beatrice, and now I have repaid you.”

I looked up, startled, and caught the malicious look of triumph in the Queen’s eyes. Had she known that in the end, I had done the one thing I’d sworn I would not—could
not—do? Had she known I’d fallen for Alasdair? I looked around and saw that Sophia was no longer in the room, nor the Queen’s advisors. So I was left alone with the vicious shrew.

“Repaid me?” I managed. Her smile, if anything, grew broader.

“Of course! You made your lack of interest in Alasdair clear, and now he is no longer to be a bother to you.”

“Ah! Of course, Your Majesty.” In that moment I did not know if the Queen was baiting me or if she truly believed she’d done me a service. Not that it mattered, of course. Alasdair hadn’t seen fit to fight for me; nor should he have. I had betrayed him at every turn.

“Even better,” she continued on, “Cecil and Walsingham now know better than to keep information from me. I will just learn it anyway,” she said. “The question of the Scots has been solved in a way far better than I could have imagined, and we are in a position of power whenever we choose to strike. The Lords of the Congregation will prevail, and the French will be beaten back. All these things are assured this day.”

She tilted her head, all satisfaction and guile. “So where should we go from here?” she asked, drawing out the question with a long pause. Idly I wondered if she knew about the MacLeods’ interest in treasure collecting. It did not seem so, and the thought was one tiny bit of joy amidst the pain I knew was still to come.

I was not mistaken.

“Indeed, yes,” the Queen proclaimed suddenly, having
clearly come to some private resolution. “I need to announce some new husband for you, else all the world will know you have been twice jilted in my care. But I think—I think we should wait a bit. See how the court settles out after our guests depart for their home and we prepare for the move back to London—yes.” She tapped her fingers on her lips, as if she were settling a grand question of state. Or the dinner menu. “Yes. London would be a suitable location to get you settled, once and for all.”