A Midsummer Wedding (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) Page 10

  “But he can,” she cried out as fresh tears appeared. “He threatened your life if I disobey.”

  Alexander wasn’t surprised that the king wouldn’t make the same threat to him face-to-face. But the petulant coward had no compunction about frightening Elizabeth with his empty words.

  “James is a scoundrel and a fraud, my love, and a petty one at that. He’s only saying these things because I turned him down and because Margaret has been crowing about bringing us together.”

  “But he threatened your life,” she repeated. “He’ll put your head on a pike. He told me!”

  “Let him try. He can’t do it.”

  She shook her head. “He’s the king, Alexander. He can do what he wishes.”

  “And I am Macpherson of Benmore Castle,” he said firmly. “I am a Highlander, with more allies among the nobility of Scotland than—”

  She put her fingers over his lips, hushing him. “Don’t speak treason. Don’t give him any more reason to hurt you. I love you. I can’t bear to have you get hurt.”

  “And I love you. I will drag him from the throne if I must. He won’t dare step in between us.”

  However upset she was before, she was worse now. He frowned, realizing he’d only added to her anguish.

  “I can manage this, Elizabeth. His words are empty threats.”

  “I can’t.” She shook her head, stepping away from him. “I can’t do this. I love you. I can’t put you in danger this way.”

  “Trust me, my love, when I say he has no hold on us. No power over us.”

  “I can’t. I can’t risk it.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll be wed. And you’ll see it for yourself. He’s tried to create an illusion to frighten you. Something that cannot be.”

  “Nay,” she wept. “I won’t do it.”

  “Elizabeth!”

  “I won’t be there tomorrow,” she cried, running off.

  * * *

  They say there are no secrets in a castle. Elizabeth didn’t know how it was that her father learned of her torment, but she was glad when he came to her. She needed help. She needed advice on how to seal up the gaping hole in her heart.

  She loved Alexander. But she could not understand his recklessness when it came to the king’s threats.

  As she sat side by side with Ambrose on the bench in a private corner of the castle’s gardens, the entire story tumbled out. She told him everything the king said. She told him of Alexander’s attitude.

  “Do you understand now why I’m so miserable?” she asked. “Do you see why I cannot go to the church for my own wedding?”

  “I understand,” the old man said quietly. “Why haven’t you brought this to Queen Margaret’s attention?”

  “That would be a mistake. The queen has no influence over King James. Her involvement would only complicate the situation and make it worse.”

  “That is quite astute of you.” Ambrose nodded. “Now you say Alexander is not responding reasonably to this threat.”

  “The man is a warrior. He fears nothing. He thinks he is invincible. He has no respect for the power of the king. He believes this is simply a battle of wills that he can win.”

  “And you don’t?” her father asked. “You don’t trust his judgment in this?”

  She stood up, wringing her hands. How could she explain her fears? “It’s his life that’s at risk. His life!” She started to pace. “Would he behave the same way if the king threatened to put my head on a pike? I think not.”

  Ambrose’s face showed his outrage at the mere suggestion. “I think Macpherson would gut the king like a cod before that happened.”

  “Father!”

  “Daughter, James Stewart is not foolish enough to make such a threat to so dangerous a man as your Alexander.”

  Elizabeth had been a part of court life long enough to know how dangerous the politics could be. She’d heard too much about lethal attacks in the shadows in retaliation for the slightest of insults, and imprisonment for the mere suspicion of treason. Tales were still told of all the noble heads the king had stuck on pikes both here and at Edinburgh.

  “Don’t be influenced by rumor,” he ordered sharply as if reading her mind. “Trust him, Elizabeth.”

  She faced her father. “How can I when I’ll be placing the noose around his neck?”

  “Trust him when he tells you this is all petty maneuvering by the king.”

  She wanted to scream with frustration. This was petty maneuvering by a man who was no more mature than a wee child. A very dangerous and powerful child.

  “The stories have been circulating for a fortnight that your nuptials wouldn’t take place. But Margaret proved them all wrong.” Ambrose Hay stood up and took her hand in his. “And very little irritates the king more than seeing his queen happy.”

  Today was the first time that she’d met the tyrant. Elizabeth had no difficulty believing that James would go to such extremes simply to annoy his spouse.

  “If you do not show up at the Chapel of St. Michael tomorrow,” her father continued, “no one will know that you were threatened. The court and the guests who have arrived will believe that the queen overstated her success. She will look foolish, and the king will win.”

  This was what the ruler of their country spent his time doing? Something so trivial? Sadly, Elizabeth knew it was the truth.

  “This is life, daughter. You say you love Alexander. Trust and love are two of the pillars of a good marriage,” the older man advised. “You said it yourself. He is a fearless warrior. He thinks he’s invincible. Well, his achievements support that. The king’s offer of leading his navy was based on Macpherson’s abilities, his power, and his judgment. Don’t you think it’s time that you trusted him, as well?”

  She did trust Alexander, but that wasn’t enough. What if King James decided to arrest Alexander to make certain the ceremony tomorrow didn’t happen? How far the man would be willing to go to see his wife fail?

  She turned to her father. “I need your help.”

  “Anything. Tell me.”

  “I’ll write another letter to Alexander this moment. Tell him that my decision is final and he’ll be standing at that altar alone tomorrow. That we shall not marry.” She took her father’s hand. “Arrange for the letter to be intercepted and read by the king’s men before it reaches my intended.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stirling Castle

  Wedding Day

  “M’lady,” Alexander growled.

  “Highlander,” Elizabeth replied, coming to stand before him.

  “Blast me,” he cursed, tossing the veil back from her face. “You lied.”

  “But I came,” she said, still unable to breathe past the knot in her chest. The only thing she could think of was what her defiance might bring him. “I sent that letter to make certain nothing happens to you before now.”

  “The seal was tampered with when I read it. It had been read by others.”

  “That’s what I was counting on. And now we’re here. But if anything happens to you . . . if he arrests you or . . . I’m afraid, Alexander!”

  He brought each of her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss on her palms. “Fear nothing, my love.”

  Through a sheen of unshed tears, Elizabeth’s eyes traveled over the magnificent warrior standing before her. And he was magnificent. Alexander’s long black hair was tied back. A true Highlander, he was arrayed in his finest kilt and a shirt of gleaming white silk. A tartan of red and blue and green and white crossed his broad chest, and the bright sun flashed on the hilt of his long sword and on the clan arms inscribed on his golden brooch.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  She tried to build her courage on the look of confidence in his handsome face. His blue eyes shone with love when they locked with hers.

  “You and I forever.” He placed her hand on his arm. “It’s time.”

  The notes of the bagpipe gave way to a harp as the two stepped into the chapel. The assembled guests turne
d as one to greet them. Elizabeth’s gaze moved to Queen Margaret, standing to the right of the altar and nodding her approval.

  The knot in her chest grew larger as her gaze drifted to the left of the altar where the king stood with his entourage. His displeasure was obvious as he fixed his sharp eyes on them.

  Her feet dragged, and a dread weariness filled her. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t force enough air into her chest. The crowd in the chapel disappeared. In her mind’s eye, she saw a scaffold, a bloodstained block, a Highlander being hauled up the torturous steps. Her knees locked and she struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Elizabeth didn’t realize that she had a death grip on Alexander’s arm until he took her hand in his, entwining their fingers. His eyes met hers.

  “Trust me,” he said again.

  Elizabeth made herself look only at the altar. They were almost there. Seven steps. Five steps. Four.

  King James moved, drawing her attention. He was whispering something to the warrior towering behind him. The king’s man signaled to two guards of equal size, who immediately moved closer to the monarch.

  This was it. The end was here.

  They reached the altar. The drum of her heart muffled the priest’s voice as it rose and fell in the measured cadences of the mixed Latin and Gaelic.

  Keeping the king and his men in the periphery of her vision, she could no longer focus on anything else. Would he wait for them to exchange their vows before seizing Alexander? Would they drag him from her arms? From the sanctuary of a church? Was she about to lose him forever? How could she live after doing this to him?

  Elizabeth sensed a movement behind them, and she looked over her shoulder. A tall Highlander had separated himself from the crowd and was now standing behind Alexander.

  “Who is that?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Hugh Campbell,” Alexander answered. He motioned to the priest to continue.

  She heard the sound of another pair of boots coming up behind them. This time she recognized the man standing in support of their marriage. Sir Robert Johnstone, Clare’s intended.

  Alexander squeezed her hand reassuringly. At the sound of others approaching, Elizabeth once again glanced back and felt the knot loosen in her chest. More people kept joining them until at least a hundred nobles and warriors, Highlanders and Lowlanders, were standing in a line of support behind them.

  Elizabeth’s gaze shifted to the king. His eyes were darting from her to Alexander to the army behind them. For a long moment, a brittle silence reigned in the chapel. She held her breath, feeling only the gentle pressure of Alexander’s hand.

  Then, with a flick of his finger, James Stewart waved his guards back into the shadows. He nodded almost imperceptibly to Alexander and turned his face, staring at the altar.

  As if nothing at all had transpired, the priest raised his hands in prayer and proceeded with the ceremony. From the grate of iron bands behind the altar, the sound of nuns’ voices responded to the prayers.

  When the moment came, Alexander and Elizabeth turned and faced each other as they exchanged their vows. Man and wife. Forever.

  She looked up into her husband’s face and remembered the journey that had brought them here. The dangers, the laughter, the passion, the trust.

  “I love you, Highlander.”

  “I love you, Elizabeth.”

  Alexander lifted her off her feet and kissed away the tears on each cheek before capturing her mouth in that ageless symbol of promise and devotion and love.

  When he put her down, Elizabeth realized that a crowd had queued up, eager to congratulate them. With her husband’s arm around her, Elizabeth turned to the first one in line.

  King James.

  Epilogue

  Alexander Macpherson declined James III’s offer to serve as the Lord Admiral of his navy. The relationship between the Macphersons and the crown would improve greatly, however, over the course of future generations.

  James III failed to learn from his mistakes. A temperamental and short-sighted leader, he followed a misbegotten policy of courting an alliance with England. He promoted favored lackeys who served themselves and grew fat at the expense of the Scottish people. Matters only worsened when the increasingly unpopular king became totally estranged from his eldest son, the future James IV.

  In 1488, the king faced a revolt. The nobles rose against him with the Crown Prince at their side. The young heir to the throne was angered by his father’s favoritism toward his younger brother, and the rebel lords exploited the family rift. The king met the rebels in battle near Stirling. As his forces were defeated, James fled and was killed taking shelter nearby.

  His son, only a figurehead for the rebel army, would become the next Stewart monarch and arguably one of Scotland’s finest kings.

  Alexander and Elizabeth’s three sons were to play key roles in the decades that followed. Alec, their eldest, would fight beside James IV at Flodden Field. Their second son Ambrose would serve as a warrior diplomat and live to defy the English king Henry VIII. Ironically, or perhaps inevitably, their youngest son John would one day become Lord Admiral of the Navy.

  The Macphersons had arrived.

  Author’s Note

  We hope you enjoyed this prequel to our Macpherson Clan saga. When we set out to write this story, we already knew so much about Alexander and Elizabeth, having introduced them to our readers as parents of their grown sons in our Macpherson series.

  Many of our readers know that we can’t let go of our characters. After forty novels, we find that our stories continue to connect in some way with so many of our other tales. And in that body of work, the Macphersons have always held a prominent place in our imagination. So we had to take you back to where it all began.

  For the many purists and history buffs among our readers, our depiction of the marital troubles between James III and his queen, Margaret of Denmark, is fairly accurate. Of course, we hope you will accept the fiction we weave around them, and fall in love with our heroes and heroines.

  We love getting feedback from our readers. We write our stories for you. We’d love to hear what you liked, what you loved, and even what you didn’t like. We are constantly learning, so please help us write stories that you will cherish and recommend to your friends. You can contact us at NikooandJim@gmail.com, and visit us on our website at www.MayMcGoldrick.com. Also, please sign up for our newsletter. We want you to be among the first to be notified about our new releases and giveaways and other pertinent news.

  Finally, we need a favor. If you’re so inclined, we’d love a review of this collection and our contribution to it. As you may already know, reviews can be difficult to come by these days. You, the reader, have the power now to make or break a book. If you have the time, please consider posting one to a major bookstore or reading group site. Thank you.

  Wishing you peace and health!

  Nikoo and Jim

  About May McGoldrick

  Authors Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick (writing as May McGoldrick) weave emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Publishing under the names of May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have written thirty-nine novels. Nikoo, an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops on writing and publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a PhD in medieval and Renaissance literature. They live in northwestern Connecticut.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  A MIDSUMMER WEDDING

  About May McGoldrick

  Copyright Page

  These are works of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in these novels are ei
ther products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  A Midsummer Wedding. Copyright © 2018 by St. Martin’s Press.

  All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover photograph © Steve Gardner/PixelWorks

  ISBN 978-1-250-16689-0 (ebook)

  First Edition: April 2018

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