Page 1 of The Magnificent Rogue

January 29, 1587 Sheffield, England

M ermaid!

Kate bolted upright in bed, chest rising and falling as she tried to still the panic tearing through her.

Had she screamed out the word? Dear God, let it not have happened. Yet her throat felt so raw, she knew she had betrayed herself.

She scrambled back against the headboard, wiping the tears from her cheeks as her gaze fixed fearfully on the door.

If she had screamed, they would soon come. She would hear the footsteps, and then the door would open.…

No sound yet. Perhaps she had not cried out, and if she had, maybe she had not awakened them. Perhaps God would be merciful, and she would be allowed to—

Footsteps.

Her eyes shut as terror closed around her. She braced herself, trying to smother the fear. She would not let them see her weakness, she thought fiercely. They would deny it, but she knew they liked to see her afraid. It was a weapon in the battle they waged against her. She was not usually so lacking in strength, but after the dream she always felt so frightened and lost that—

“Ah, my child. The dream again?”

Her lids flicked open, and she saw Sebastian Landfield standing in the doorway, illuminated by the single candle in the pewter holder he carried. His nightshirt and frayed gray robe clung to his thin body, making it appear frail. His rumpled white hair formed a shining halo about his lined face, and his gray eyes glittered with moisture as he looked at her. “I prayed it would not come. How it hurts me to see you suffer.”

“I’m not suffering.” She couldn’t resist the small defiance, though she knew she would pay for it.

He came forward to stand beside her bed and put the candle on the nightstand. “How can you say that when you woke us from deep sleep with your torment?” He reached out and gently touched a lock of hair on her forehead. “And, look, your thrashing about has loosened your hair from your nightcap.”

Blast it, she should have remembered to put on the cap. She carefully avoided darting a guilty glance at the despised night bonnet she had tossed impatiently on the bedside table before she went to sleep.

Sebastian’s glance shifted to the cap. “It appears suspiciously tidy for having undergone such punishment, doesn’t it?” He looked back at her. “But I know you would not have disobeyed me and left your hair unconfined. You have been so good of late.”

She quickly changed the subject. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, sir. I would not have—”

“It is no disturbance to be called to my duty,” he interrupted. “It is God’s will. His fingers traced the path of tears down her cheek. “Though Martha was not overpleased to have her rest broken.”

She wished he would not caress her cheek with those long, cold fingers. It seemed he was touching her more of late. She turned her head to avoid it. “I will give her my apologies. Where is she?”

“She will be here soon.” He smiled sadly. “And I think you know where I had to send her.”

To the top drawer of the cabinet in the scullery downstairs.

Kate shivered as she visualized Sebastian’s stocky wife moving down the steps, a grim smile of pleasure on her face.

“Martha thinks you’re too old to be having these dreams,” Sebastian said softly. “She believes it’s only pretense, that you woke us out of spite.”

She looked at him in bewilderment. “Why would I be so stupid as to do such a thing?”

“Oh, I do not think you would. Martha is not always clever about people.” His hand moved down to caress her throat. “And sixteen is not such a great age. There is still time to chasten and form you. Now why do you suppose you had the dream tonight?”

She didn’t answer.

“Silence? Meekness is a virtue, but I don’t think this lack of words is caused by meekness. Tell me of the dream. Was it the same?”

He knew it was always the same. She had cursed herself a hundred times for telling him about the mermaid, but she had only been a child when the dream started. She had not realized how powerful a weapon it would prove to him.

“Tell me,” he repeated softly. “You know it is for the best. Confess your sin, my child.”

She could lie to him and tell him the dream was not about the mermaid. He might believe her.

Anger flared through her. She would not lie. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair. “You’re wrong. It wasn’t a sin.” Her voice trembled with rage. “It was only a dream. How could a dream be a sin?”

“Ah, here it comes,” he murmured. “Those golden eyes are blazing at me. All my efforts these long years, and you’ve learned so little. You pretend docility, but no matter how I try to tame your bold ways, there comes a time when you turn and rend me.”

“Because it’s not true! I did not sin.” Did he think she didn’t know the difference? Sin was what she felt when she wanted to pull his hair out and kick his chicken-thin legs. Sin was what she felt when rage blackened within her at one of Martha’s spiteful remarks.

“I’ve explained all this to you before,” he said patiently. “Your soul flies free when you slumber and wallows in corruption. Why do you not understand?” He leaned forward, his eyes glittering with the fanaticism of his conviction. “You know how sinful you are. How could you not be depraved? You’re the seed of a libertine planted in the womb of the greatest harlot born to man. The only way you may be saved from eternal damnation is through me. Now, confess. You dreamed of the mermaid?”

The resistance suddenly seeped out of her. It would do no good to deny it, she thought wearily. “Yes.”

He relaxed slightly. “Very good. Now we must determine what led to this sin.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “What did you do today?”

“I studied with Master Gywnth. I helped madam make candles.”

“Is that all?”

She bit her lower lip. “After I finished my chores, I went for a ride on Caird.”

“Ah. To the village?”

“No, the path through the forest.” Memories flowed back to her, soothing her: cool, verdant foliage, the smell of earth dampened from the recent rains, the smooth slide of Caird’s muscles beneath her, the velvet feel of his muzzle beneath her palm as she had patted him while leading him to the brook to drink.

“You would not tell me an untruth? You spoke to no one?”

“No one.” She met his gaze and burst out, “No one, I tell you. Even if I had gone to the village, you know they will not speak to me. Not since you—”

“Then it must have been the ride itself.” He frowned. “I never approved of letting you learn to ride. Such freedom is not good for one as weak in spirit as you. It encourages all sorts of—”

Fear ripped through her. He must not take Caird away from her. She could bear anything but that. “No! The lady said I could do it. You said the lady wants me to ride well.”

“Hush! You see what impertinence these indulgences breed?”

“She is being troublesome?” Martha stood in the doorway. “Did I not tell you she was getting worse?” She crossed the room and handed Sebastian the small whip she carried. “If you would let me use this on her at my own discretion; she would soon be properly schooled.”

He shook his head. “How many times must I tell you? It is my duty alone. You may go back to bed.”

She looked at him, surprised. “You do not wish me to stay and bear witness?”

“You may go,” he repeated.

Kate was as surprised as the woman. Her punishment was usually performed as a ritual ceremony with the woman digesting every facet of Kate’s pain with supreme satisfaction.

“I want to stay,” Martha protested. “Why make me leave?”

“It has come to my attention that you enjoy her suffering too much. We do not scourge her body for our pleasure, but to purify her soul.”

A flush mottled his wife’s cheeks. “I admit I have no liking for this strumpet’s-leavings but you have no call to shut me away.”

“It is my duty to protect as well as chasten her.”

The color deepened with anger. “You lie to yourself,” she hissed. “Do you think I don’t know? That I haven’t seen how you look at her now? I did not want to believe it, but you are—” She broke off as Sebastian’s gaze burned.

Kate knew that look that seemed to devour everything in its path, but she had never seen it turned on Martha before.

“What am I?” he prodded with soft menace.

Martha moistened her lips. “Nothing. Nothing. Satan twisted my tongue.” She hurried from the chamber.

Sebastian turned back to Kate. “It is time.”

She knew what was coming. Her hands nervously clenched the sheet. During the confrontation with his wife there was a chance he might have forgotten about Caird. She must make sure his attention remained on the offense and not what he thought caused it. “It was only a dream,” she whispered.

“The dream is a sin. Can you not see how it leads you to willfulness?” He stepped away from the bed. “Go position yourself.”

She stood up and moved toward the whipping stool across the room. It would be over soon. He was always careful not to leave scars, and he seldom gave her more than a taste of the whip for such a small infraction. If she feigned remorse…Sweet heaven, the thought of groveling stuck in her throat. Still she would not only show remorse but beg him on her knees to keep Caird and the little parcel of freedom permitted her.

“Bare your back.”

She quickly slipped her gown from her shoulders and let it fall to her waist as she knelt beside the stool. She could feel the cold floorboards through the thin cotton of her gown. She spread out her arms as he had taught her from childhood and waited for the first blow.

It did not come.

She glanced over her shoulder. He stood there with the whip in his hand, his gaze on her back. His cheeks were curiously flushed; his hand loosened and tightened on the whip in an odd rhythmic movement.

“How easily you shed your clothing. Are you completely lost to shame?” he asked hoarsely. “Is that how you behaved in your dream?”

She stared at him in bewilderment. He had never found fault with her in this way before. “I told you…the dreams are never like that.” Why did he not start? She wanted it over. Trying to keep the impatience from her tone, she said, “You told me to ready myself. I only obeyed.”

“With no modesty or decorum.” His gaze was fixed on the hollow of her spine where it joined the soft swelling of her buttocks. “I have noticed how you flaunt yourself of late. I feared it would come to this as childhood left you. The bad blood is too strong for you to fight. You must try to tempt every man who comes near you.”

“No!”

“Yes.” His lips tightened as if he were in pain. “I have seen how you look at men beneath your lashes and smile with that pouty whore’s mouth. I know that smile. I have watched her passing through this village, weaving her magic for nearly twenty years. Did you think I would not recognize the signs?”

“I’m not her. I’m not my mother.” Her voice shook with anger. “I’m me. I swear I have no wish to tempt any man. I only want to be left alone.”

“You lie. All strumpets lie,” he hissed. “Even in your sleep you dream of sin. Admit it.”

“I do not dream of—” Her hands clenched into fists. “Please do it and get it over with.”

“So that you can go back to sleep and lose yourself in lust?” He drew his arm back to strike. “For the good of your soul I must make sure you are not able to indulge yourself this night.”

Fire touched her back as the lash struck.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“And I think we will have to rid you of that stallion.”

“No!” She screamed at his words as she had not at the lash.

Another blow.

She desperately tried to think through the haze of pain.

The lady. If Sebastian feared anything in the world, it was the wrath of the lady. “The lady will not…like it. She will—”

“It is not always wise to tell the lady everything. The horse is old. He will fall ill and die.” The lash struck again. “We will merely neglect to get you another.”

Sickness moved through her. “You would kill him?”

“What is the life of a beast when it comes to saving a soul? I should have gotten rid of him when you fled three months ago.”

The lash struck again.

And again.

And then again.

She had never seen him in such a frenzy. She did not know how many times the lash fell before the blows finally ceased.

She was barely clinging to awareness when he picked her up and carried her to bed. He laid her down with great gentleness. “Now you will sleep well,” he murmured. “Though you should not have forced me to chastise you so severely.”

“Please…not Caird…”

“We will talk tomorrow about the horse.” He tucked the covers around her. “And then you will watch the act and know it is done only for your sake.”

The devil she would. Her nails dug into her palms beneath the covers. She loved Caird. He was the only thing in the world she cared about, and she would not let him be destroyed. She would master this weakness and fight again.

He picked up the candle and moved toward the door. “Good night, Kathryn.”

The door had scarcely closed behind him when she threw off the covers and staggered to her feet.

She could not let him kill Caird. Not Caird…

Greenwich Palace

“Black Robert…” the queen murmured. “You have him? You’re sure, Percy?”

“Quite sure, Your Majesty,” Percy Montgrave said. “I could hardly be more certain. I have two dead men and one wounded to testify to the fact. The earl of Craighdhu is awaiting your pleasure in the Tower.”

“Excellent.” Elizabeth’s beringed hand slapped down on the arm of her chair. “Though God knows it took you long enough. I told you I wanted him six months ago.” Her gaze went to the document on the desk across the room. “It’s very nearly too late.”

Percy’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. The entire court knew how distraught Elizabeth was about the contents of that order, but as far as he could determine, that order had nothing to do with the earl. “He’s not an overly obliging gentleman. For a while I wasn’t sure if the Spaniards would get him before he returned to Scotland.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “He’s too clever for them. You took him at Craighdhu?”

Percy shook his head. “Edinburgh. Craighdhu would have been impossible. Those barbarian clansmen of his would not have been amenable to seeing their chief in chains. His Majesty, your kinsman James, however, was all too eager to turn a blind eye while I removed an irritating thorn from his side.”

“How impossible?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How impossible is it to break Craighdhu’s defenses?”

“Perhaps not entirely impossible.” His lips twisted. “If attacked by a fleet the size of the armada Philip of Spain is building to put to sea against Your Majesty.”

“That strong…” The news did not seem to displease the Queen. “No weakness?”

“Craighdhu is an island off the western coast of Scotland. I understand it’s a barren, dark place of mountains and mists. The castle is well fortified and has only one harbor that can be broached from the sea. That port is extremely well guarded.” He paused. “May I ask if there’s a reason why we should be concerned about the strength of his lordship’s holdings?”

Elizabeth didn’t appear to hear him. “What manner of man is he?”

“Deadly.”

She waved an impatient hand. “I have no problem with that. A man who is lacking in dangerous qualities is no man at all. What other impressions can you give me?”

God’s blood, what did she want from him now? More than a year ago she had demanded and received the most detailed report on the scoundrel he had ever compiled for her. He had been ordered to bring her many such secret reports on various gentlemen during the past three years, but something about the earl of Craighdhu had caught her interest. He could not understand her obsession with this Scot. Robert MacDarren held no power in James’s court in Scotland, nor in Elizabeth’s in England. Of course, the possibility existed that his pirating of Spanish ships had won her approval. Elizabeth had always expressed a fondness toward her buccaneers, but Robert MacDarren did not fly under her flag.

“Well?” she prompted.

He tried to ignore his own dislike of the fellow and give her what she wanted. “Intelligent.”

“Brilliant,” she corrected.

He inclined his head. “Perhaps.”

“Don’t quibble. He took four of Philip’s galleons in six months.”

“Which may mean he has excellent warrior instincts. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s—”

“Brilliant,” she reiterated.

“May I remind Your Majesty, he also took one of your ships?”

“I believe he had a purpose in that.”

“Gold.”

She gazed at him thoughtfully. “He’s raised your hackles. You bristle when you speak of him. Why?”

Percy hesitated. “He…annoys me.”

She was silent, waiting.

“I do not like these wild Highlanders.”

“Particularly this wild Highlander?”

“He’s nothing but an outlandish rogue,” he burst out. “He has the tongue of a viper, no respect for any authority but his own, and…he laughs too much.”

She raised her brow. “Laughs?”

“He finds humor in the most inappropriate subjects.”

“Such as?”

He was not about to confess how MacDarren had mocked the turned-up toes of his fashionable puce-colored shoes. “Anything that is out of his realm of barbarism,” he said tartly.

“Why won’t you…” She trailed off, studying him for a moment, her gaze traveling from his scarlet-feathered velvet cap to the white doublet puffed to almost feminine fullness at his hips and then down to his fine purple hose and silver-embroidered garters. She suddenly chuckled. “He made fun of your attire?”

He flushed. Elizabeth’s instinct was uncanny, and she never hesitated to tear aside barriers best left intact. “I did not say that.”

“But a brilliant man who has been left without weapons would probe until he found a suitable one.”

“Are you saying you find my attire—”

“Entirely suitable,” she said soothingly. “You’re the envy of all my courtiers, and I like a bit of gaud. But as you say, a man of MacDarren’s barbarian upbringing would not appreciate the niceties of court dress.” She changed the subject. “He was alone when you took him?”

“A chief of a clan is seldom alone. The clan demands a henchman to accompany the chief at all times for his protection. We were forced to take his cousin, Gavin Gordon, as well.” He shrugged. “The man was surprisingly inadequate at his duty. My captain of the guard said it was MacDarren who was forced to protect both himself and the henchman. Gordon was wounded in the fray.”

“But he lives?”

“He lost a good deal of blood, but he’s on the mend.”

“Good. We may be able to use him.”

“For what?”

“Even rogues have loyalties, and from what you’ve reported, the earl is prone to be as extravagant with his friends as he is with his enemies.” She stood up with a flurry of amber velvet skirts and adjusted the stiff pleated ruff that framed her throat. “As we shall soon see. Let’s get to it. You shall accompany me to the Tower.”

“Now?” His eyes widened in surprise. “But it is nearly midnight, Your Majesty.”

“All the better. I do not want my visit to be shouted from every street corner in London. Go tell them to summon my barge.”

“Would not tomorrow do as well?”

“No, it would not,” she snapped. “Thanks to your laggardness, time has almost run out. Do as I bade you.”

Percy’s lids lowered to hide his anger. By God, it went against the grain to stand here and take her abuse. Queen or not, she was only a woman, and her behavior in this matter went entirely beyond the bounds of reason. First, he had been insulted by that impudent rogue, and now he was being accused of laggardness. What was he supposed to have done? Gone sailing after that barbarian while he raided Spanish galleons?

He took a deep breath and then said through clenched teeth, “Immediately, Your Majesty.” He bowed low and backed from the room.

By all that was holy, the man was growing pompous. Elizabeth watched the door close behind Percy before she strolled over to the window to stare out into the darkness. But though a fop and a trifle above his station, Percy was evidently no fool. He had gotten her MacDarren!

She glanced back at the document on her desk and felt the muscles in her back and shoulders tense. It was there, waiting for her signature. Dear God, was there no way out?

She knew the answer.

But she did not have to face it yet. In spite of the pleadings of those bloodthirsty leeches in Parliament, she would not give in.

Not yet.

Not before she set her plans in motion.

How had it come to this? she thought wearily. She had only wished to protect and guard, but lies had a habit of begetting lies until the entire world seemed webbed with falsehood.

She tore her gaze away from the document and immediately felt better. There was no way for her to win that battle. Her coming confrontation with MacDarren was much more to her liking. From what she had heard he was a man worthy of her steel, and there was nothing she liked better than proving to a clever man how much more clever a woman could be.

She turned away from the window and moved briskly toward her dressing room. “Margaret! My cloak.”

“I failed you.” Gavin glanced gloomily around the small cell and then looked at Robert, who was on the other cot across the room. “We would not be here if I had done my duty.”

Robert yawned. “You’re entirely right. You’re an abysmal henchman. You handle a sword as if it were a broomstick and are as clumsy as a pregnant sea lion.”

Gavin wrinkled his nose. “The rest is true enough, but I resent being compared to a sea lion. Besides, how could a lion be pregnant? It would have to be a lioness to—You’re not listening.”

“I’m listening. You were berating yourself for putting us in this predicament. Go on, I’m sure it’s very good for you.”

“It’s true, you know. I should never have been the one to accompany you. Jock wouldn’t have let you be taken.”

“We were outnumbered.”

“You’ve been outnumbered before. If I hadn’t been wounded, you would have managed to get away.”

“Gavin.”

“Yes?”

“You’re boring me. I agree you’re a terrible henchman, but you’ve always had one saving grace. You were never a bore.”

“Just a jester in your hall,” Gavin said glumly. “You should have left me at—My God, it’s hot in here.” He sniffed. “And it smells.”

“That’s probably me.” Robert sniffed. “No, I believe it’s you.”

Gavin sat up in his cot and swung his legs to the floor. “Next you’ll say I smell like a sea lion too.”

“I’ve never gotten close enough to one to smell its scent.”

“I have.” Gavin’s face suddenly lit up with eagerness as he remembered that golden day. “Once I camped out on the barrens and watched them. They were frightened at first, and then they got used to me and let me come close.”

“Really? You never told me.”