Page 2 of The Magnificent Rogue

“It was when I was a boy.” He frowned, trying to remember. He and Robert, who was five years older, had grown up together on Craighdhu. He had trailed behind him all over the island, and they had shared a multitude of experiences. That day had been so special to Gavin that surely he would have told Robert about it. “It must have been when you were in Spain.”

“Perhaps.”

Gavin couldn’t see Robert’s expression in the dim cell, but he heard the sudden reserve in Robert’s tone that hadn’t been there before. He had blundered again. He knew Robert didn’t like to talk about that time. He wasn’t usually so stupid; it must be this damn fever. “Well, anyway, I know I don’t smell like a sea lion.”

“I’ll accept your word on it. Are you thirsty?”

“A little.” More than a little in truth, but he didn’t know if he had the strength to get up and fetch water from the pitcher on the table across the room, and he didn’t want to ask Robert for anything more. He had done too much already. He had cared for Gavin as if he were a helpless bairn on the long journey from Edinburgh, binding his wound, bathing his head when the fever struck.

“Lie back down. I’ll get you some water.”

“No, I can—”

Robert was already moving. Gavin watched as he poured water from the pitcher into a goblet.

“Why did you take me to sea with you this time instead of Jock?”

“You wanted to come.”

“I thought I did. All those stories of gold and glory…”

“Well, there was gold aplenty.” Robert brought the goblet to Gavin. “But no glory.”

Gavin drank thirstily. “I didn’t like the blood. I didn’t think there would be so much of it.”

“You can’t take ships without shedding blood, and Craighdhu needs the gold.”

Gavin knew that was true. Craighdhu was not fertile enough to feed her people, and Robert had done only what was necessary.

He took another drink. “Are they going to hang us, Robert?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why are we here?”

“You heard Montgrave. The queen wants to see me.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have raided her ship.”

“I doubt if that’s why we’re occupying this cell. Everyone knows Montgrave handles the queen’s more confidential assignments.”

“Then why?”

“I have a few ideas. More water?”

Gavin shook his head.

“Then lie down again.” Robert gently pushed him back and covered him with the blanket.

He had never known Robert could be gentle until he had fallen ill, Gavin thought. No, that was not true. He could dimly remember that gentleness when they were younger. But since Robert had been back from Spain, he had known only the hard, mocking man they called Black Robert of Craighdhu. The chief who distanced himself from everyone and let no one come too close, the leader who dealt in blood and force as easily as he executed the decisions of the clan. Not like himself, Gavin thought ruefully, remembering how he had hung his head over the rail and been sick after his first battle.

Robert sat back down on his own cot and leaned against the wall. He didn’t seem worried, but then Robert seldom showed his feelings. Gavin had watched him sit that way a hundred times, outwardly at ease but drawing silence and strength around him like a cloak of power.

Gavin said, “If she does intend to hang us—”

“Then we’ll find a way to escape.”

“You’ll have to go without me.”

“No.”

Gavin had known that would be his answer, but he felt honor-bound to pursue it. “I’m not strong enough to be any good to you.”

“You’re stronger than you think.” Robert’s tone was final, and Gavin felt a tiny rush of relief. It was all very well to offer to sacrifice your life, but it was infinitely better to have that offer refused. Not that he had expected anything else. Gavin belonged to Craighdhu, and to Robert that meant he must be protected against all enemies. Besides, why should he be worried? Robert would manage to get them out of here. Robert was more clever than anyone he knew. If it became necessary, he would find a way to escape. and take Gavin with him.

“You’re probably right.” Gavin’s tone became light as he settled himself into a more comfortable position. “I’ve always found I rise splendidly to any occasion.”

“That doesn’t involve blood,” Robert added dryly.

“Well, then you’ll just have to think of some way to get us out of here that meets that condition, won’t you?”

···

The cell was dank, dark, and unpleasant, Elizabeth noticed, as Percy threw open the door. By the light of the candle he carried, she could barely discern two figures on cots across the room.

“Take Gordon to another cell until we’re through with the earl,” Montgrave ordered the guard accompanying them. “Her Majesty wishes to speak to His Lordship in privacy.”

The guard roughly pulled Gordon from his cot and pushed him toward the door.

A curse erupted from the other cot. “Goddammit, be careful, you fool,” Robert MacDarren said sharply. “Let him walk by himself. Do you wish to open his wound?”

The guard didn’t answer as he pushed Gavin Gordon past Elizabeth. She caught a glimpse of tousled red hair, bloodshot blue eyes, and freckles dusting a parchment-pale face. Why, he was only a boy. She doubted if he had reached his twentieth year. A strange choice to guard the man they called Black Robert.

“On your feet,” Percy said to MacDarren as he placed the candle on the table. “Can you not see who is honoring you with her presence?”

The dark figure on the cot didn’t move. Arrogance, Elizabeth thought. Well, she had no quarrel with arrogance. She had an abundance of that quality herself, and a touch of it in him would serve her well.

“Leave us, Percy.” She moved forward into the cell. “Come back when I call.”

“But, Your Majesty,” Percy protested. “It’s not safe. He will—”

“Throttle me? Ridiculous,” she scoffed. “He may be without manners, but he’s no madman. Go.”

Percy hesitated before stepping back and slamming shut the door.

“Now that he’s gone, do you suppose you could bring yourself to display courtesy?” she admonished. “You do not have to prance and pose to show how brave and uncaring you are.”

There was a moment of silence, and then MacDarren chuckled. “Good evening, Your Majesty.” He stood up and bowed. “Forgive me. I judged you incorrectly. I assumed you had a fondness for poseurs like Montgrave. Naturally, in my precarious situation I wanted only to please you.”

She peered into the shadows but could discern only the white blur of his shirt and the fact that he was big, very big. “I cannot see you. Come closer.”

“I fear I’m both disheveled and aromatic. I understand your senses are very delicate, and I would not offend you.”

Mockery. She suppressed a flare of anger. One of the reasons she had chosen him was his lack of reverence for authority, and she could not have it both ways. However, it might be wise to remind him that authority had certain advantages. “My feelings are not so sensitive that I could not bear to witness you punished for your insolence. This tower has witnessed the breaking of stronger men than you, my lord. Now, come here and let me see you.”

He let a moment pass before strolling forward into the pool of light.

God’s blood, he was comely.

She had always had a fondness for dark men. Her own dear Robin had this same Latin coloring. No doubt it was MacDarren’s Spanish mother who had given him his gypsy-black hair, the brows that slashed over deep-set dark eyes, and the skin that was more golden than tan. Unusually high cheekbones hollowed his cheeks and made his well-shaped lips appear all the more sensual in contrast. His body was tall and fit, his legs powerful and bulging with muscle in their hose, and he had moved with a sleek, animallike grace that stirred her senses. Comeliness was not necessary for her purpose, but she was pleased that he possessed it.

“But you have no desire to break me,” he said softly. “Do you, Your Majesty? You have something else in mind.”

She gazed at him with wariness. “You think so? That must have given you comfort, lying here in this dark cell.”

He smiled. “It did, actually.”

Good white teeth, she noticed, and, though charged with mockery, that smile had a certain bold charm.

“I’m sure that disappoints you,” he continued. “Did you picture me lying here trembling in fear of your royal wrath?”

“It would not be unheard-of in your situation.”

He shook his head. “If you had wanted me dead, Montgrave could have accomplished that end in Edinburgh. Instead, you brought me to London at some little bother to dear Percy.”

“More than some little bother. Two dead men, I understand.”

“But you thought it worthwhile to forfeit their lives for your purpose.”

“Perhaps I wanted to show my people I will not tolerate piracy.”

“Unless you receive a generous tribute from the Spanish treasure chests.”

She didn’t bother to deny it. “But you gave me no tribute and did not confine yourself to Spanish ships. You attacked one of mine.”

“Did I?”

“And led the captain of that ship to believe you were acting on the orders of your Scottish king. James was not pleased when I sent him a protest. Not only had he not received the tribute that might have soothed the sting of my note, but he had most certainly not sent you forth to raid my ships.”

His smile didn’t waver. “I didn’t exactly say I was acting on James’s orders.”

She snorted. “Quibbling. You were amazingly restrained in that attack. You took booty but no lives. I believe you attacked my ship for only one reason. You wanted me to believe that James was interfering with my fleet.”

His lids lowered to veil his eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“That’s one of the things I want to know. You have questions to answer.”

“I so detest questions.”

The mockery was back, and she was suddenly impatient with him. “That boy they took out of here is your kinsman?”

“Gavin?” His smile vanished. “Yes, my cousin.”

“And I understand as chief you act as father and protector of your clan. Unless you wish to rescue him from a very unpleasant fate, it would be wise to answer me clearly and fully.”

An expression flickered over his face that caused her to take a step back. She was actually afraid of him. The knowledge amazed her and then sent a tiny thrill through her. There had been no reason for her to be afraid for many years, and absolute safety was always a little boring. As queen she was protected and guarded by her very position, but MacDarren cared nothing for her crown. Deadly, Percy had said about him. She had an idea he was more deadly than the man knew.

“Ask your questions,” he said coldly.

“Why my ship?”

“You seem to have guessed. I did it to annoy James. The opportunity presented itself, and I took it.”

“But why in this way?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “It was a chance to divide you. James is powerful enough already, and everyone knows you’re considering naming him as heir to your throne. It would not be to my advantage to have him king of England as well as Scotland. He has no liking for Highlanders.”

“Particularly for you.”

He inclined his head. “We have had words on occasion. Is that all you wish to know?”

“For the moment. I know a good deal about you already and have guessed more. If I think of something else, I will let you know.”

“But it’s not only information you want from me, is it?” he asked softly. “It’s action.”

It was true, but he could not possibly have guessed her purpose. She was curious to know what conclusions that agile mind had drawn. “And just what action do you think I wish from you?”

“Assassination?”

“What?”

He studied her astonished expression. “No?” He shrugged. “It was a reasonable conclusion.”

“Assassinate who?”

“James.”

She looked at him, surprised. “You believe I chose you to kill a fellow monarch?”

“There would be certain advantages. I’m a Scot, and everyone knows I have no love for James. That would draw suspicion away from you. You’ve kept James’s mother, Mary, captive for nearly twenty years because you fear her claim to the English throne. Now, rumor has it the Parliament has asked you to end that captivity…violently.”

“She instigated a plot to take my life,” she said quickly.

“But with Mary of Scotland dead and James suddenly removed as well, it would throw Scotland in turmoil. What a perfect opportunity for you to march across the border and restore order.” He added, “And gather Scotland up like a goose for the cooking.”

He was clever. If the circumstances had been the same fifteen years ago, she might have decided to do just as he supposed. “If that was what I wished to do. It is not. Though she has been a constant threat to me, I have avoided executing Mary for years.” She cracked her fist down on the table. “I have no wish to see her die. She is a queen, and the lives of royalty should be sacrosanct. All monarchs walk a thin line between life and death. If I take her life, who is to say that tomorrow another king won’t deem I should also die? To put her to death is to put myself in danger.”

“Then you will disregard the order of execution drawn up by Parliament?”

She did not answer directly. “I do not wish to see her die.” She lifted her gaze to his face. “And if I wished to kill James, it would be in battle, not by assassination. So you are wrong on both counts. But you are correct that I do intend to use you for my own purpose.”

“And that purpose?”

“I intend to make a bridegroom of you.”

He stared at her, stunned, before he threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Good God, are you proposing to me? The Virgin Queen who has refused half the royalty in Europe?” He swept her a low bow. “I accept. And when shall we wed, Your Majesty?”

“You know I did not mean myself,” she said, annoyed. “Your impudence is beyond belief.”

He clutched his breast. “Stabbed to the heart. And just when I thought happiness was to be mine.”

Another side of him was suddenly before her. For an instant his grimness had vanished, and his face was alight with wicked mischief. She struggled to suppress a smile. “Percy is right…you are a rogue. Since you’re so eager to wed, you will have no objection if I choose the bride.”

“I did not say that. Alas, I fear it’s you or no one for me.”

Her smile vanished. “And I fear, if you do not do as I tell you, that you will be without a henchman.”

The coldness returned to his expression at the threat. “I do not wed at England’s command.”

“Nor at Scotland’s, evidently. James has sent you three candidates for your inspection.”

“Because he wants a claim on Craighdhu and sees no other way to get it. He finds our trade routes with Ireland appealing.” He smiled crookedly. “As I’m sure you do also, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t care a whit for your Irish trade routes.”

He lifted a skeptical brow. “Then why are you trying to furnish me with a bride from your court?”

“She is not from my court. The girl lives in the Midlands. She is Mistress Kathryn Anne Kentyre. The child has reached her sixteenth year and is in good health, has been well schooled, and is not unattractive. She has no title, and, though of gentle birth, is not legitimate. You must take her away at once and never bring her back to England.” She went on briskly. “Naturally, there will be no dowry. You’re lucky to escape with your head still intact. The wedding will take place at once, and you will—”

“Where in the Midlands?” His gaze was fixed on her face, and she could almost see the wheels of thought turning.

“Sheffield,” she said reluctantly.

“One of Shrewsbury’s lands.” He was silent as he stared at her. She could almost see the moment when he made the connection. He gave a low whistle. “By God, it’s true.”

“I fear I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She did have a child.”

She gazed at him without speaking.