The Beauty of the Mist Read online

  “What you say is true,” she responded, trying to keep her hands still in her lap as she lifted her gaze bravely. “I came here to make a request. But before I reveal my petition, I need to hear yours first.”

  John nodded in agreement. “Aye, lass. That’s fair enough. These are my terms. I’ll tell you how you can help me, but then I’ll be needing a decision from you, whether you accept or reject my offer.”

  There was no charm, no gentleness in the man’s face. He was all business. But this was much easier to deal with, so far as Maria was concerned. She nodded at last.

  “I want you to become my mistress.”

  “Your mistress?” the young queen exploded, leaping to her feet and sending her chair sliding violently across the cabin floor.

  “Aye,” John responded seriously, without moving. “I want Sir Thomas to believe that I have no interest in his wife.”

  “Sir Thomas? You...I could never do such thing...I’ve never...”

  The Highlander could not help but smile at the sputtering disbelief that was only now turning into green-eyed fury.

  “But only for appearance’s sake,” he continued in an attempt to head off her anger.

  “No! Never!” she managed to stammer out. Maria breathed deeply, trying hard to slow her pounding heart. Wrapping her arms around her, she turned and looked at the closed door. “I think I...”

  “Aye, but before you go, I’d like to explain.”

  “There is no need, Sir John. You’ve made you intentions quite clear,” she snapped, turning and plucking her cloak from the wall peg.

  “You have to hear my...proposition.”

  “I don’t have to do any such thing!” Maria glared at him as she angrily tied the cloak at her neck.

  John saw the look of distrust in her expression. He knew he could probably bully her into listening, but that would only serve to make her fear him. Hardly what he had in mind. “I thought you a reasonable woman,” he said.

  Her eyes locked on him. “Obviously, you’ve made a serious error!” The young woman turned and headed for the door.

  He leapt to his feet and reached the door before she could get there.

  Maria saw he was clearly intending to block her way, and a flash of panic raced through her. She came to a stop, staring at the white linen of his shirt. The Highlander said nothing, and Maria slowly raised her eyes to his. “I wish to leave,” she said quietly, the waver in her voice only barely discernible.

  “Maria, I know my words were impertinent. I apologize for that. But before you leave, I wish you would let me clarify my offer. I only ask you to listen, for few moments. Only that.” John stepped aside, giving her the opportunity to escape, if she really care to. Obviously disconcerted, the young woman didn’t move, but the commander knew he would need to be quick, before she decided to march out.

  “All I want you to do, lass, is to spend some time with me. Innocent time,” he added for clarification. “The reason why I used the word ‘mistress’ is because Caroline Maule’s mind runs to that bent. The appearance of such a relationship is all I’m asking, Maria. That will be enough.”

  Maria remained rooted in place, a feeling of foolishness, giddiness even, washing over her. Other than the mention of the word itself, he’d not implied anything inappropriate. She had obviously overreacted to nothing at all. “But it is Sir Thomas that poses the threat,” Maria said, to John’s surprise. “He doesn’t know me, so he’ll surely not believe anything I would say.”

  “You’ll need say naught.” John cut her short. “Just seeing me with you will be enough to put Sir Thomas at ease.”

  Maria tried to sort through everything in her mind. It all had happened so quickly. His request, her temper. And now, the clarification of his request. She looked at him straight on. He was still all business. She wished she could be that calm.

  “Please consider it, Maria.”

  She’d never before needed to consider anything even remotely similar to this in her entire life. Never. Maria, the Queen of Hungary, sister to the Holy Roman Emperor–Sir John Macpherson’s mistress. Well, not his mistress in truth, she quickly corrected herself. Was that any better than being his future queen?

  “That’s all I ask.” John said, cutting into her thoughts. He could read the struggle in her face. When she looked up at him, the Highlander nodded gravely. “Now let me hear what it is you came to ask.”

  “I came to ask,” she paused and swallowed hard. By answering him, she knew he might assume that she would accept his arrangement. “I need to think about this. What you ask is not...well, common to my experience. But if you must know, what I ask is to be taken to Denmark.”

  “Denmark?” he exploded. “But we are headed for Antwerp.”

  “Denmark,” she repeated firmly. “That is my condition.”

  John answered her direct gaze with his own. He knew there was no way in hell the Great Michael would be going to Denmark...unless they were forced to by the fog. Aside from that, there was no way he could justify sailing a convoy of four ships east, two days off course. But there was no reason for her to know that, he decided. And once they reached Antwerp, he would pay her passage anywhere she cared to go.

  But only then, he thought.

  “Denmark,” the Highlander nodded solemnly. “You take my offer and I’ll take you to Denmark.”

  Chapter 7

  The physician turned over the jeweled brooch in his scrawny, yellowed palms. Bringing the bright red stone close to the only candle burning in the darkened room, the man bend over, trying to determine the value of the prize before him.

  Caroline Maule moved across the room and snatched the broach away.

  “That’s enough, for now.” She turned her scowl on the disgruntled man standing with his empty hands now outstretched. “Now start answering my questions, and you shall have it to keep.”

  The monk nodded irritably at his tall kinswoman, standing only a step away. He wanted a drink. “They are Spanish. That’s for certain. And moneyed folk, at that. The old woman’s dress had a weave of gold thread in it. Not to mention the jeweled rings that she wears on every finger.”

  Seeing the small man’s eyes wander toward the flask of spirits across the cabin, Caroline rapped the broach on the table.

  “What else? What else?” she snapped. “What do you know of the younger one? Are they kin?”

  “Aye, I would assume as much,” the physician responding, his gaze again vacillating between the flask and the broach in the woman’s hand. A ring, matching the jeweled brooch, suddenly glinted in the candlelight, catching his eye. “But they’re a closed mouthed pair–the lass more so than the lady. But neither has said anything to give away their rank–or all their very worth, for that matter.”

  “There has to be more!” Caroline stamped her foot. “He’s put them in the queen’s cabin. He must have a reason. There must be something he is hiding.”

  The monk shrugged his shoulder. “I’d say you are making more out of it than there is. Though I’m not any friend to the man, the Macpherson is known for deeds such as this. From what his men say, even back in the days when he was raiding anything that came his way–English, Spanish, Flemish...no matter–he had too much heart to leave his victims floating in the sea to die. He’s smart, too, because there’s ransom in saving some, and the spreading of reputation in saving the others. That’s why they called him Jack Heart, they say. Why, there’s one story that, coming upon a burning ship...”

  “Stop, you fool!” Caroline snapped. “I am not paying you to fill my ears with gibberish or with the tales of drunken seamen. I want to know of the woman. Of the younger one. I want to know why he is treating her with such courtesy.”

  The physician’s eyes once again wandered from the flask to Caroline’s ring. “Perhaps he’s taken a fancy to her. She is a bonny lass.”

  Caroline turned a deadly gaze on the man. “This is John Macpherson you are talking about. If her skirts were all he was after, he would have ju
st put her in his cabin at once. Nay, there must be something more.”

  John had never been one for courting or long seductions. Caroline could still remember the first day they met, at Stirling. She had ended up in his bed that day. And they’d been incredible together. His skill as a lover still had the power to make her tremble at the memory, and he’d never failed to appreciate her own talents. Indeed, one place they’d never quarreled was in bed.

  “I’d say, Lady Caroline, that for that ring to go with the brooch, I might perhaps be persuading the serving lass to find out what you want to know.” The monk looked at her angry face through slitted eyes. “I wager she already knows more than even Sir John about the two of them.”

  Caroline waved the brooch at him once again and then, with a sneer, tucked it into her skirts.

  “Bring me what she knows, and if it’s worth more than you’ve told me so far, you’ll get both brooch and ring.”

  With a quick turn of her wrist, Caroline pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and started for the door. The talk had been a waste of time, and she certainly wasn’t about to waste her valuables, as well. She should have followed her initial instinct and gone to the man.

  As she passed into the corridor, a malevolent smile crept across her lips. Yes, that was exactly what she would do, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to go to him as she had earlier.

  John was what she was after. This Maria was only a nuisance, and Caroline would sweep her away like so much dust. She was Caroline Douglas, and she would not let herself be distracted by such a petty creature.

  John Macpherson was what she wanted. And John, she knew–like an old glove.

  Maria fought back her embarrassment, and cut in on her aunt’s sharp words. “Isabel. Please. I saw an opportunity to keep us from returning to Antwerp. So I took it.”

  “But at what price?” Isabel snapped. “Where is your head, child? Don’t you see the consequences of such an arrangement? Oh, Maria, how could you be so naive?”

  Maria sat down heavily on the edge of her aunt’s bed.

  “I wasn’t going to do anything wrong. He didn’t ask me to do anything dishonorable.” Her chin dropped to her chest, and she was certain that whatever it was that had climbed to her throat was sure to choke her. “Sir John made an innocent offer. One that I jumped at, thinking of us, seeing it as perhaps our only possible path to freedom.”

  “Innocent?” Isabel exploded. Seeing her niece cringe, she paused, forcibly quelling the urge to continue her tirade. As she regained her composure, Isabel took in the sadness in her niece’s face and tried to ignore the pangs of guilt creeping in and replacing her anger. The older woman shook her head. Once again, she could see the reason why the Lord had seen to it to not provide her with a husband, or bless her with a child. She was unfit to be a mother. Unfit and full of bad advice.

  Looking at the distraught young woman, she considered the mess she’d made of Maria’s life. After all, it had been Isabel who sent her off to the Highlander’s cabin today. It had been she. Isabel the Foolish and another of her brilliant ideas. Now it was up to her to talk Maria out of it. Foolish, foolish woman, she thought. Nothing more than a foolish old woman. Clearing her throat, Isabel tried to weave a note of gentleness into her tone.

  “It was wrong of me, Maria, to suggest that you go to him. Even if things had gone differently, even if he’d agreed to take us there with no further conditions, Denmark offers us only a temporary refuge.”

  “Perhaps so. But it is a refuge. Denmark is one more step away from Charles.” Maria took heart in the softening in her aunt’s words. “Isabel, please don’t think the worst. Let me go through with this. I just can’t go back to Antwerp. I can’t face my brother. You know, better than anyone, what this means. Aunt, I have broken every rule; I have done the unthinkable. I have escaped Charles’s grasp, running from his palace, from his city. I have sailed away from him, only to find myself escaping a ship under attack. And I have...”

  Her words faltered, and she reached in, placing her bandaged hand on her aunt’s arm. Isabel’s face revealed nothing of what she might be thinking, and the elderly woman kept her gaze firmly on her niece’s injured hand.

  “Please listen,” the young woman continued, her voice stronger. “What I have been asked to do by Sir John is nothing compared to what I have already done for the good of my family. This Scot is an honorable man, Isabel. He doesn’t know a thing about us, and yet, see how well we’ve been treated. I believe he means what he says. I believe he wants no more from me than what I have told you.”

  Isabel slowly raised her gaze to Maria’s face. “You’ve just said all I need to know to prove to you the error in this path. Think of what you’ve just said–he doesn’t know a thing about us. Not a thing.”

  Maria watched her aunt closely. “So?”

  “Maria, he doesn’t know you are a queen. He doesn’t know you are promised to his own king. He doesn’t know you are sister to Emperor Charles, the most powerful ruler in the world.”

  “I don’t understand. What difference does any of this make? These are the things we don’t want him to know.”

  “Of course we don’t, but think of what it means. In his eyes, we are no different than any other poor soul he might find drifting in the sea. He has no reason to believe that we are anything other than what we tell him we are. He is freed from any constraint other than what normally constrains him. And as a man, those constraints are practically non-existent, believe me. His mission, his loyalty–these things are irrelevant in his thinking right now.” Isabel lifted Maria’s chin slightly. “This Scot sees a beautiful woman, that’s all. A woman with no attachment, vulnerable and available for his use. I’m surprised he hasn’t forced you into his bed already.”

  Maria shook her head. “You are placing more weight in this than there is. You talk as if his actions must all be motivated by vice and malice.”

  “Nay, I’ve said nothing of malice.” Isabel corrected her. “Your Sir John is just being a man. And interestingly, a man you are quick to defend, my dear.”

  Seeing Maria flush crimson, Isabel pressed on. “Let me guess what you see in him. And you have looked at him, Maria. What woman could avoid it? Let me guess. You have seen charm in his manner, nobility perhaps. You have seen confidence in those dark blue eyes. In the way he moves, in the way he talks. I know you have, child. We both have. And I can’t remember when I’ve seen a better looking man than this one.” Isabel paused, thoughtfully. “But he is a hunter, Maria. One of those the Lord has given license to take whatever he wishes. He has no need for innocent companions. He can have whomever he wants.”

  Isabel pushed herself up in the bed, wincing slightly at the weight she put on her aching shoulder. Leaning gently back against the pillow, she sighed before focusing her attention once again on her niece. “And there is nothing innocent, Maria, in what he is after.”

  Maria looked up as Isabel took her hand.

  “Listen to me, child. Women throw themselves into the arms of a man like him. That’s what he is used to. No loyalties, no love, no conditions, just pure surrender. That’s what he is accustomed to and that’s what he’ll expect from you.”

  Maria stood up and stalked to the table, fighting all the while the anger that surged through her at Isabel’s words. His bed. All her aunt thought he wanted her for was his bed.

  Maria’s thoughts went back over the brief encounters they’d had. The Scot was always at ease, always unaffected. The man seemed to be, at least, perfectly at ease with himself–and with her. John Macpherson was everything Isabel had described and more. Much, much more.

  Eyes blazing, lips set in tight lines, Maria turned to her aunt. The young queen’s anger was burning within her. Anger that she felt toward Isabel, for being able to see what she herself had been blind to. Toward the Highlander, for his unbridled charm and his forward manner. Toward herself, for being so naive.

  But deep within her, tucked far back in the recesses of
her mind, Maria sensed a needlepoint of light that refused to go away. It poked at her anger, and at her aunt’s assertions. After all, so much of what Isabel had said was speculation. Speculation based on the observations of a few brief moments when they were taken aboard the Great Michael. And even though Maria had, in her heart, already resigned herself to rescinding the agreement she’d come to with the ship’s commander, she still saw it necessary to defend him–and his honor. That little needle of light demanded it.

  “He is a user of women, Maria. That sums him up. I know. I’ve seen more than my share.”

  “How can you judge him so harshly? After all, consider what he has done for us. We must be fair, Isabel–not condemn him solely because of one woman’s weakness.” Maria’s voice could not hide the disappointment she was feeling at her aunt’s harsh words, but also disappointment with herself. “Isabel, my inability to carry out a simple, well rehearsed discussion is the cause of these things that you speak of. Honestly, beyond that failure on my part, nothing–not Sir John’s words, his actions, nor even his request of me–nothing has given either of us any hint of the lack of character you describe. He has been nothing but civil, courteous, and gallant. And he is not the unfeeling seducer you imagine.”

  “There is no purpose in discussing this with you,” Isabel shook her head, straightening the blankets on her lap. She knew there was merit in what the young woman said, but she was too old, too tired, and too stubborn to want to dawdle over the fine points of this. “There is no point in arguing, since you wouldn’t know the difference. You are an innocent, Maria, unworldly and completely unschooled in the matters of heart and the ways of men. So let us just end this right now.”