Page 33 of The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (Kilgannon #2)

“Elizabeth,” said Ian, looking from me to my uncles.

“And who is Elizabeth?” Harry asked, not unkindly.

Ian frowned. “I don’t know. He just calls her Elizabeth. He was talking to Matthew and Gilbey.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“That he was going to visit Elizabeth and pay his respects.”

“Oh.” I laughed, remembering Angus, in the hall two winters ago, after too much to drink, saying that he would go to London and dance on Queen Elizabeth’s coffin.

“I shall pay my respects to Elizabeth,” he had said.

And we’d laughed with him. I looked at my uncles.

“Randolph, where is Queen Elizabeth buried?”

“In Westminster Abbey,” Randolph said. “Yes, of course. Westminster.” He looked at me in puzzlement and I explained. Randolph chuckled but Harry remained pensive.

“So neither of you knows where to find your Scots?”

I bristled. “I know they are here. I just do not know where. But Angus will find me if he has need of me or if he has news. I know these men. They will be loyal to Alex until they die.”

“Truly they will,” said Randolph. “I’ve spent much time with them, Harry. They have not disappeared. They are planning.”

Harry pondered. “That may not help us. We do not need them rampaging around London. I dislike this loose end.” He drummed his fingers on the chair arm. “Well. Well. It cannot be helped. I will set my men to find them. Surely a handful of men so noticeable can be found quickly. I want them found.”

“Why do you want them found, Harry?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light. Surely he did not mean to betray them. Surely Harry would not do that. Harry glanced at the boys, then at me.

“If we cannot be successful one way, Mary, we will try another. They would be helpful in the ‘another.’” He smiled at my expression as he rose and walked away. “Randolph,” he called over his shoulder. “I am taking lodgings nearby. I have trespassed on your hospitality long enough.”

Randolph glanced at me with eyebrows raised. “Harry, you are most welcome here,” he called as he hurried after Harry. The two of them disappeared down the hall, still arguing. I looked into the boys’ puzzled faces.

“How,” I said, smoothing Jamie’s hair and smiling at Ian, “would you two like to see Westminster Abbey?”

The Abbey was cold and damp on this dreary July day.

I showed the boys the Musician’s Aisle and the Choir and the Lady Chapel, where Queen Elizabeth and her sister Mary Tudor were buried, and farther on, her cousin Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots.

It seemed only weeks ago that I’d stood here with their father on another rainy day.

Alex had been merry until we entered the Lady Chapel and he had looked at the queens’ tombs thoughtfully.

I’d had no idea then what he had been thinking, but now I felt I could guess.

His sons looked at the tombs with little interest.

I was quite unprepared for the emotions that overwhelmed me when we reached the poets’ alcove.

I knew I’d recall my visit here with Alex, but had not expected the memories both of that time and of our last visit in Edinburgh to cascade over me with the force of a tidal wave.

I closed my eyes now, as I had then, and heard Alex’s voice echo in my mind.

“‘Had we but world enough, and time,’” he’d said as he’d recited Andrew Marvell’s poem.

And set every inch of me aflame with the words and his tone.

“‘An hundred years should go to praise thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast.’” I clasped my hands to my mouth to keep from sobbing, my body responding to the memory of his touch.

I opened my eyes, half-expecting to see him, tall and intent, standing before me.

“‘But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near.…” And the echo died with my fantasy.

Alex, my love , I thought. I hear the chariot .

We did not see Angus, though we tarried much longer than Louisa’s coachman wished. At last, defeated, I bundled the boys into the coach and rode home.

A week after our arrival in London, Uncle Harry came to us with the news that he had arranged for me to visit Alex the following day.

I don’t believe I heard anything else he said.

The boys were very disappointed not to be included, but Harry promised that they would see their father soon, and I watched him with narrowed eyes, hoping he was not raising false hopes in them.

Harry caught my look and nodded. “I was told they could see him soon. And so they shall, I promise. What’s the good of being a duke if one can’t have one’s way? ” I hardly slept that night.

The Tower of London. Not one tower, as I had thought when I was a girl, but a collection of rooms and corridors.

They circled the White Tower, built six hundred years ago by William the Conqueror, the Norman who had supplanted the Saxons and brought my ancestors to these shores.

And around the inner courtyard another gray stone wall, and another, defending the tower amply from attackers.

No, I thought, as I was led through the battlements, Angus could not hope to besiege this fortress with success.

I paused at the foot of the courtyard and thought about all those who had spent their last hours here, then followed my guide to a tiny stone room, square and unfurnished, with one heavily leaded, small-paned window that looked as though it had been there for centuries.

It probably had, I reflected, moving toward it.

Behind me the door closed softly. I was alone.

I could barely see through the glass, but I could make out the river below.

I was almost directly above Traitor’s Gate, I realized, and pushed the thought away with a shake of my head.

I tried to think of the last time Alex and I had had a simple conversation.

I could not count the words we had shouted as he was marched to Leigh, nor our fleeting visit at Edinburgh Castle.

We had not really spoken since Kilgannon, and I’d been in no frame of mind then to talk of simple things.

I could not remember when we had talked without rancor or anguish.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and closed my eyes.

Perhaps we are fated not to be together , I thought.

Perhaps I have already had all the happiness I ever will have in my life.

Perhaps Alex will die here and I will grow old alone, a widow raising a child who never knew his father .

I smoothed the cloth over my middle and waited.

When the door opened again, Alex was led into the room by two men who did not even glance at me.

With rough movements they pulled him to the side of the door and unlocked the chains around his wrists and ankles while he stood without expression, looking at nothing.

He was pale but clean-shaven, his hair tied back neatly, his clothes tidy.

He wore the kilt I had given Captain Jeffers in Edinburgh and a clean but stained shirt.

The men left us, slamming the door behind them without a word, and Alex looked at me at last.

“Mary,” he said, his voice hoarse, and I answered the question in his eyes with a sob, all my attempts at self-control lost as he pulled me to him.

“Oh, lass, I have longed for ye so.” I sobbed into his shirt, calling his name over and over.

“I love ye, Mary Rose. I love ye so much it hurts. I love ye, lass.”

“And I you, Alex, my love. Forever.” I kissed him again and again and cried anew as I saw the raw circles around his wrists where the chains had cut into his skin. He smiled wryly.

“That’s what’s left from Edinburgh and the trip here, lass. I’ve no’ been mistreated.” I could not answer and he wrapped his arms around me again until I grew calm again. “Mary,” he said at last, kissing my neck. “Thank ye for coming to see me.”

“Oh, Alex, as if I would not.”

“Lass, I would no’ have ye see me like this. ”

I deliberately misunderstood him. “You look better than you did in Edinburgh and than you did when you came home to Kilgannon.”

“That is no’ what I meant.”

“Well,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, “I would not have you see me like this.” I put a hand over my middle and he took a step back from me, appraising me with a long look.

“Yer still the most beautiful woman in the world, Mary Rose, and more so now. Never think that yer not.” He kissed my forehead and I tried to smile. “Thank ye for that welcome, lass.” He stroked my hair. “Are ye well? And my sons? Are they aright?”

“For the most part. They do not understand what is happening, but they are healthy. And optimistic. And you, my love?”

He shrugged. “I am well. They are decent to me. Perhaps it is better to be considered a serious danger to the Crown as I am here, than to be one more Highlander in Edinburgh. But, lass, ye dinna answer my question. Are ye well, Mary Rose?”

“I am, my love.” I smoothed the material of my skirt.

“Almost five months. The babe has moved within me.” His eyes flickered over me and returned to my face as I continued.

“Your child, Alex. Your son.” The baby fluttered then more strongly than ever before, and I stepped back from him, putting my hands on my stomach.

Alex’s eyes grew wide with fear. “What? What is it, Mary? Is something wrong?” He put a hand next to mine and stared at my middle.

“Your child…” I laughed breathlessly as the baby moved again. “I am fine. Did you feel that? ”

“Aye. I felt it, lass. I felt it.” He bent down and looked anxiously at me. “Is it amiss?”

I laughed and stroked his cheek. “No, Alex, it is a mister.”