Page 56 of The Highlander and The Lady of Misrule

Chapter Fourteen

“In the Dark Ages, a shooting star appeared above what is now Stonehaven. As a result of this appearance, those living nearby had bumper crops. The seers of the tribe then attributed this prosperity to the coming of the shooting star. The fireball is a mimic of this star and the prosperity it brings those who are aroundit.”

Dark Ages theory from Clan.com

Bloody hell!Greerdropped the second orb at his feet and surged toward the queen. Leister leaped before Elizabeth as the heavy fireball arced downward to bounce and roll at her feet. Its greedy flames caught ahold of her skirts as Leister stomped at them, kicking the pitch-covered ball away and catching his own boot on fire as some of the pitch stuck to it.

“Out, damn it,” Elizabeth cursed, stomping and spinning, which only fed the flames. It feasted like a hungry pestilence up the silk and lace, catching her velvet cloak too, which she threw off onto the ground.

Rushing past Walsingham who yelled for water, Greer reached the queen, grabbing her burning skirt. Yanking out hissgian dubh, he sliced through the silk, the fire biting at his bare hands.

“God’s teeth,” Elizabeth yelled as Greer yanked the petticoat so hard, she stumbled into him. For all her strength in character, she was as frail as any other pampered woman who lifted nothing for herself. Greer steadied her and quickly slapped the flames trying to creep up her heavy petticoats.

“Hold her,” he yelled to Walsingham, who ran after him to defend his queen against the dagger-wielding Highlander.

Walsingham, bright enough to realize what was going on, grabbed hold of the queen’s torso, and Greer yanked again. The sound of ripping marked success, and he pulled the flaming skirts from Elizabeth’s legs. She was left in her ornate bodice with ruff about her neck, but her bottom half was free of the farthingale and petticoats. Only her hose, smock, and bum roll hid her lower body.

Leister, having put out his boot, ran to take the queen from Walsingham’s hold.

Lucy stood near, her face distraught with surprise. “Your Majesty,” she said, her tone full of remorse as she laid her own cape around the queen’s shoulders. Elizabeth’s ornate costumes were another layer of her queenliness, and stripping her skirts away showed the world her mortality.

“If there was any a doubt as to the danger of the Scots,” Elizabeth said, looking first at Greer and then at the fiery ball a guard was dousing with water, “let this be a lesson to us all.”

“The rope gave way,” Greer said. Would he end up in the Tower? That did not fit his plans to convince Lucy to consider another night with him. “’Tis why we use chains at Hogmanay in Edinburgh,” he said, taking the extinguished orb from one of the frowning guards. At least six of them had run up with torches to light the area.

Greer spun the blackened ball, catching it in his hands to show where the rope had been burned, releasing the ball to drop amongst the ruined petticoats.

“Who fashioned the balls?” Walsingham asked.

“Let me get you inside, Bess,” Leister said.

“First I would know who decided to use rope instead of chain,” Elizabeth said, her eyes narrowing at Lucy.

She curtseyed low. “I would never have asked for the fireball entertainment if I’d known it would endanger you or anyone in the area.”

“Did you choose to use rope?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, Your Majesty,” Lucy said. “I asked for flammable balls to be made on the end of rope or chain. I should have asked Master Buchanan for instructions. I surprised him with the request at the last moment.”

Daingead. She’d get herself locked in the Tower.

Greer stepped before Lucy as if protecting her. “A properly soaked rope would work without burning through. I should have checked for dampness. I am—”

“Enough,” the queen said. She took a full breath and leveled her gaze at Greer. “Did you know that the rope would break at the exact moment you swung in my direction?” Before either could answer, the queen turned away. “This was obviously an accident. Robert, see me to my room so my ladies can find me an ensemble that is not charred, shredded, and thrown into a muddy puddle.”

Walsingham came before the guards. “Giles and Henry, we will discuss your choice of dangerously dry rope.”

“Aye, milord,” one of the men said.

“You’re burned,” Lucy said, picking up Greer’s blistered palms in her cupped hands. Her hands were gloved as usual. He yearned to pull them off to feel the coolness of her touch. “We need to tend these before they fester,” she said.

Reginald Darby walked over to look at the damage to his hands. “I have ointment that calms burns. William and I get quite a few working with the flame and compounds in our laboratory.”

“Thank you, Master Darby,” Lucy said.

The balding man smiled. “We are always prepared to help those who keep the queen and her court safe.”

He’d said “we,” but Greer was fairly certain that William Darby would allow him to die of festering burns.

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