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sounded when he informed her of the fact that he wasn’t going to wed her as he’d promised.
    “What are ye seeking beyond shelter, Yer Maje—” Deirdre simply shut her mouth on the second part of the word. The queen frowned but looked about the room before answering.
    “I need your assistance.” She said. “What is your name?”
    “Deirdre Chattan. My father is Laird Chattan.”
    The queen’s ladies’ faces brightened. One of them clasped her hands together. “An excellent bit of luck. If ye’re the daughter of a laird, even a Highlander, ye will have some sort of education in finer manners.”
    “I’m proud to be the daughter of a Highlander.” Deirdre didn’t care if her tone was too sharp for the noble station of the women standing in front of her. Those who attended court liked to think of themselves as more civilized than the Highlanders, but she would have none of it.
    The queen waved her hand to dispel the tension in the air. “Of course you are, I’d not be interested in asking anything of any daughter who didn’t hold her head high when she spoke of her kin.”
    There was a note of compassion in Joan’s voice that softened Deirdre’s displeasure. “I am quite confused… ladies. The assistance ye seek here is offered to any who knock on the door.”
    The queen stepped closer. “But I seek something quite different than anything a bride of Christ might offer me.” She reached forward and took Deirdre’s hand, clasping it between her own, which were chilled from the night air. She aimed eyes full of apprehension toward her. “There are many seeking me—men intent on imprisoning me for their own gain.”
    “Laird Cameron was here today, and he had his men search the abbey from top to bottom.”
    All three women drew in horrified gasps. The queen’s grip tightened until it was painful. Deirdre pulled her hand free.
    Joan looked stunned that she had moved without permission. She shook it off quickly.
    “Forgive me, but as I said, there are many seeking me who would see me set behind stone walls and denied my freedom.”
    “Ye are the…” Deirdre stopped and searched for another word to use. Joan did not allow her time to think.
    “A fact which makes men crave locking me away for the power it shall give them.” The queen looked furious, her fair features darkening with her temper. “I want to be happy, Deirdre Chattan. If you chose a lover and risked your future to embrace him, you must understand how I feel. I want to wed again, and I’ve run away, but there are too many seeking me. We have been hiding for days to avoid being captured.”
    Deirdre felt shock run down her spine. The queen’s marrying again would indeed be cause for alarm among the Douglas clan as well as a few others. She had shared her husband’s crown, and any further children she birthed would be considered by England to have a claim to the Scottish throne. Her son, James II, was the only son she had given her late husband, and he was a boy too young to wed.
    “Archibald Douglas would see me withering away while he controls my son, and Alexander Livingston is no better. That man kept me locked up for months.”
    The queen began pacing, agitation fueling her rapid steps.
    “But is there a man who can safeguard ye?” Deirdre asked. “There is little point in running if ye do nae have a place to go.”
    Joan turned toward her and smiled. It was radiant one, which brightened her features, exposing how very beautiful she was.
    “Oh yes, there is such a man. I’ve permission from the pope to wed him. I desire so much to be with him. It seems so very long since my James was murdered.” She held out her hands. “I implore you, Deirdre Chattan. Help me meet with my bridegroom.”
    Temptation nipped at her. Deirdre tried to ponder the wisdom of following her impulses, but there was no controlling the urge to answer the plea she witnessed shimmering in the queen’s eyes. For a moment, Joan was simply another woman