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“Impossible, Meridene, for I will escort you to church.”
    â€œChurch.” Like the mist off the moor, her confusion vanished. A brilliant smile followed. “Oh, I would so love to meet the priest.”
    That piqued Revas’s curiosity, but he’d gained ground. He would hold his position for now. At all events, the priest would support his cause; Father Thomas had been instrumental in the preparations. Scotland’s clergy wanted and worked for autonomy as fiercely as laymen did. When the pope excommunicated Robert Bruce, the clergy had rallied behind Scotland’s king.
    Amid a squealing of wheels and a rattling of chains, the castle gates opened. With Kenneth Brodie in the lead, a dozen mounted guards burst onto the road and cantered toward Revas. This special troop sported sons of chieftains from most of the ruling Highland clans. Leslie rode beside Forbes. Grant served with Murray. The absence of a Macgillivray represented Revas’s greatest disappointment and his most trying challenge.
    Meridene would change that. She would influence the lives of more Highlanders than any of her predecessors. Like London to the English, Elgin would become the open city of the Scots. She just didn’t know it yet.
    â€œYour army has arrived,” she said, leaning away from him.
    And your destiny beckons , he thought.
    The guard slowed. Brodie doffed his crested helmet and dropped his chin to his chest in a quick salute. His chain of office chinked with the movement. “Lady Meridene and sir.”
    Revas forbade his men to call him lord. He did not aspire to nobility; he wanted to lead. Their worship was better and rightfully bestowed on Meridene. Revas asked only for their respect and loyalty.
    â€œDo I know you, Sheriff?” she asked.
    Discomfited, Brodie replaced his helmet. “ ’Twas many years ago and you were—”
    â€œA prisoner,” she said. “As I am today.”
    Revas decided that her generosity ended with children bearing gifts. She had not acknowledged any of the men who rode with Brodie, and from their eager looks, they all wanted to strut their manly wares before her.
    When Brodie sent him an inquisitive glare, Revas shook his head. He would explain, but later and in private. “My lady wishes to visit the church straightaway.”
    â€œâ€Šâ€™Tis Wednesday,” Brodie said, guiding his stallion away from Leslie’s moody mare. “Father Thomas has gone to Nairn.”
    â€œWhen will he return?”
    She had spent years among the clergy. Still, she was overeager in her devotion. Revas hoped she did not harbor queer notions of the church. He knew men whose wives were unnaturally fond of prayer. Maclaren’s woman had an altar in every room, even the buttery. As a result, the nursery was empty. That wouldn’t happen in Auldcairn Castle.
    â€œOn Friday,” Revas said.
    Satisfied, she sat straight. “Then you may take me to my apartments.”
    She said the last with emphasis on the separation the word implied. Her defiance was understandable. Revas was in no hurry. He had years to explore her mind and win her heart.
    Nodding to Brodie, he kicked the stallion into motion. The guard moved to flank them. When they picked up speed, Revas tightened his hold on Meridene. When they reached a gallop, she held on to him.
    The freshly mortared curtain wall that ringed the vast outer bailey played perch to a horde of moor hens and noisy gulls. The birds took flight when the sentries moved along the wall toward the narrow opening.
    In the inner bailey, sheep scattered and cattle bellowed. A horn blared as the horses thundered into the castle yard. The guardsmen on the wall sent up a familiar greeting. “A Macduff! A Macduff.”
    If Meridene heard that name once more today, she’d shriek like a madwoman. She felt crushed beneath the weight of so much adulation and loyalty. Could she truly be the only person who