Page 10 of A Highland Lass for the English Duke

Lissie turned in surprise. "Wheesht! We've come all the way from the Highlands. That isnae safe. Whit on Earth do ye mean, nae safe?"

Her wide blue eyes glistened in the early morning air. The world overwhelmed her. The last few weeks had been a miasma of tough roads and hard, biting cold.

Now, for the first time, she had a glimpse of something else. It was new, exciting, and maybe a wee bit scary. But one thing Lissie was not going to do was to hide.

However, Malcolm was not budging.

"I mean, mistress, the situation in England is a powder keg. The forces o' the king against the supporters o' York," Malcolm hissed.

They had just about finished dodging sheep, and for the first time, Lissie caught a glimpse of the town beyond, its narrow buildings with gothic architecture huddled together as if for warmth.

Lissie blinked. She had never seen so many buildings before, but that was nothing to the number of bodies crammed into the trickling streets which wound their way around it.

It was only morning, but it looked as if the whole of the town was out, gearing up for the day ahead. Everywhere, there were sounds from the blacksmith's hammers clanging loudly to the shouting of merchants and tradesmen.

"York? But he's dead," said Lissie, perplexed. They walked on foot along the narrow bridge, over toward Bishopsgate. Behind them, their horses followed, ushered by one of the clan guards.

All Lissie wanted to do was to get to her lodgings with her cousin, as well as see as much of the town as she could. She had little appetite for a dull lecture. However, Malcolm was showing no signs of stopping.

"Aye, the auld York is dead, but his son an' his supporters are nae," reminded Malcolm, as he led her through the crowded bridge.

The pair of them weaved in and out amongst the traders and peasants, all headed into the city for the day. Lissie scrutinized them. From the laden carts and animals, it was clear this was market day.

"Mistress Lissie," Malcolm continued. His eyes had widened as if he had to make her understand right there and then. "It's a collieshangie an' make nay mistake. We must tread softly."

Lissie frowned. She did not really see how this affected them. Malcolm pressed his point.

"Mistress, they say the Sassenach prince an' queen are on their way to Scotland. It isnae safe for them here. We must be careful of oor fealty if we are to remain here."

Lissie nodded briskly. "Certainly," she said. But she thought his advice a bit misplaced. Then, almost immediately, she walked straight into what Malcolm had been talking about; a head on a spike!

Her heart quickened, and Lissie visibly recoiled as she pushed herself away from the ghoulish sight. But getting past the macabre spectacle almost propelled her straight into another one.

"Are ye alright, miss?" Malcolm called.

Shuddering, Lissie gathered herself.

"Och," she muttered, nodding quickly. "Braw!" She battled to remain calm. Around her, traders trundled past. Nobody was giving the heads a second glance.

Lissie steeled her resolve and clenched her teeth. "Dinnae ye fash," she said, strengthening her resolve. "Let's find oor way to Annice hoose!"

* * *

Nothing had prepared her for the moment, when the thick oak door to the large manor opened, Lissie Duncan held her breath.

And until she did, she had no idea of her terror.

For weeks, she had traveled to this point, blithely consumed with getting there, and finding this house. At the time, she had not paid much importance to the English cousin of her mother, some five hundred miles away from the Highlands. She was well-connected, for sure. All she knew really was that she had married some lord, and the family fortunes had altered for good.

Then, when the invitation had come, there had barely been a second thought.

It was only now, standing on the doorstep of the mansion, that a sudden thrill ran through her. The place was huge. She was out of her depth. Standing there, on the narrow pavement, it dawned on her that this was a proper noble's home.

Before she had the time to think any further, the door was flung open.

"My dear!" Flanked by two serving wenches was a lady in a most enormous houppelande, welcoming her.

Lissie gazed up. It was her first glimpse of her noble cousin. She was dressed immaculately in long flowing robes, the very newest styles from Burgundy. Lissie could not help but widen her eyes to take in the expanse of flowing material—in silks and printed too—with fine furs slashed to reveal the scarlet beneath.