Page 51 of This Heart of Mine (O’Malley Saga #4)
“Little bitch!”
he growled, smacking her bottom lightly. Then detaching her arms from about his neck, he arose from the bed and dressed himself while she lay watching him. Kissing her tenderly, he said, “Go back to sleep, my bonny wife. I’ll bring ye home a fine salmon.”
Then he was gone out the door.
Velvet snuggled down beneath the coverlet, warm now and feeling better than she had in months. Bothwell had been absolutely right. It was time that she put the past behind her and rebuilt her life with Alex. She needed another child to love, not that she would ever either forget or stop mourning Yasaman. There was not a day that went by that she didn’t wonder about her little daughter. Yasaman would be thirteen months old in a few days. Did she walk yet? Was she talking? For a moment Velvet felt the old sadness sweep over her. It was Rugaiya whom her baby would call mama. It was Rugaiya to whom Yasaman would entrust her childish confidences and run to when hurt. Velvet’s eyes filled with tears for a moment, but then she brushed the moisture away. There was nothing she could do about Yasaman’s loss. Yasaman was Akbar’s child, too, and he had probably been right when he had said that she would face the stigma of bastardy in Europe, whereas there was no such taboo in India. How would Alex have reacted to Yasaman? Probably in the same way she had reacted to the news of Alanna Wythe’s daughter. He wouldn’t want her baby about any more than she wanted the Wythe woman and her child.
She and Alex had been successfully reunited last night. She intended to give of herself as generously while they were here, and in Edinburgh, too. By the time they reached Dun Broc she intended that her husband should be so totally enamored of her once more that Alanna Wythe would not, even with her bastard, be able to regain even the slightest bit of Alex’s attention. It startled Velvet to realize that she was a jealous woman. She had never felt jealousy for either Jodh Bai or Rugaiya Begum with regard to Akbar, but then that had been an entirely different world. This was Scotland, and she’d throw the bitch off the walls at Dun Broc if Alanna Wythe ever came near her husband again. “Defend or Die,”
she remembered, was the motto of the Gordons of BrocCairn, and she was certainly becoming one of them quickly enough. With a chuckle, Velvet turned over and went back to sleep.
Alex stood next to his cousin, Francis, in a freezing, fast-running stream wondering what in hell had possessed him to agree to come fishing when he could be warm in bed with his wife. As if reading his thoughts, Bothwell chuckled and said, “She’ll keep all the better for the waiting, Alex. Ye’re looking a bit worn, however, this morning. Did ye nae sleep last night? I hope the bed was comfortable.”
“Damn comfortable.”
He watched as his line drifted downstream, and then he said, “Does it bother ye that the king has known Cat, Francis?”
“Aye, but there’s little I can do about it, Alex. She dinna want him, nor did she encourage him for all his lechery.”
Bothwell paused, then looked at his younger cousin. “ ’Tis Velvet we’re really speaking of, Alex, isn’t it? It bothers ye that she’s known another man? For God’s sake, lad, get a hold of yerself! Ye’re lucky to have her back!”
“Yer Cat didna go willingly to the king, but Velvet went willingly to Akbar, Francis. Christ, I am glad to have her back, but I canna help think of her in another man’s arms, doing to him the wonderful things she did to me last night that I certainly never taught her!”
“Did she do them well, Alex? These wonderful things?”
“God’s bones, yes!”
muttered the Earl of BrocCairn.
“Then be grateful to this Akbar, ye idiot. Besides, when ye begin to think about him, remember that Velvet believed herself a widow. She’s too toothsome a morsel, yer wife, to remain alone and celibate should ye die, Alex. Best ye remember that and take care not to worry yerself into an early grave. If ye do, ye’ll have to sit up in heaven and watch some other lucky man plow wi’ yer mare!”
At Alex’s startled look, Bothwell punched him jovially and laughed.
“Ye’re a bastard, Francis, but by God ye’re right!”
replied Alex, and then he chuckled, seeing the situation in a somewhat brighter light.
“Then, cousin, that’s settled,”
said Bothwell. “Come now, and share wi’ me the secrets yer wife brought back from the East. By God, I’ve got to know these ‘wonderful things’!”
“Francis! I’ve got a bite!”
shouted Alex, and in the stream a large salmon leaped at the end of his line. “Help me, cousin!”
“Merde!”
swore Bothwell, but he reached for the net to aid his kinsman.
For several days Alex and Velvet partook of Bothwell’s hospitality, the two men going off to fish early each morning; and one day Bothwell and Lady Leslie took both Gordons hunting. It was a peaceful time, the long, lazy days followed by equally long nights of incredible passion between Alex and Velvet. In the magical atmosphere of Hermitage so ripe and full with the love between Francis Stewart-Hepburn and Cat Leslie, Velvet and Alex found once more the love that had been just blossoming between them when they had been separated, and that love grew quickly with each day that passed.
Finally, they could stay no longer, for the trip to Dun Broc was yet a long one, and they knew that they must stop in Edinburgh to pay their respects to the king. Velvet had found in Cat Leslie a good friend and an admirable companion even though the Countess of Glenkirk was some eleven years her senior.
“Life is short, Velvet,”
Cat told her. “Take yer happiness, try to harm none, and let no man, even the one ye love, dominate ye. ’Tis my rule of life now.”
“What will happen to you and Francis?”
asked the worried Velvet, who now knew the entire story of their love wild and fair.
“ ’Twill work out, Velvet, I’m certain. I sense that I am meant to be wi’ Bothwell through eternity.”
Then the Countess of Glenkirk kissed the young Countess of BrocCairn upon the cheek and, hugging her, bid her a safe journey.
Next it was Bothwell’s turn, and he couldn’t resist giving Velvet a kiss as he enfolded her into a bear hug of an embrace. “Take care of Alex, Velvet lass, but then from the smug look he’s been wearing these last few days I suspect ye are doing so already.”
She laughed wickedly, and as he lifted her to her saddle she gave him a saucy wink.
Bothwell whooped with laughter as well. “By God, Velvet, I think perhaps that Alex will have a hard time wi’ ye in the years to come. I dinna know if I envy him or pity him.”
“Time will tell, my lord,”
she said pertly, and then she grew serious. “Have a care, Francis, and if you should ever need our hospitality it is yours despite the king. You have my word on it, and I am mistress of Dun Broc now.”
Then she bent from her horse and kissed him on the mouth.
His bright blue eyes met hers for a long moment, and without words they understood one another. “Godspeed, lass!”
he said. Then, saying farewell to Alex, he sent them off toward Edinburgh and their cousin, James Stewart.
The king knew of their imminent arrival. John Maitland’s spies had brought word to the chancellor who had then carried it to James. The Earl of BrocCairn and his wife were visiting at Hermitage. James had gone into a rage, a rage that was fed to excess by Maitland. “I’ve warned Yer Majesty about the earls time and time again,”
he said mournfully. “I have been suspicious of the Gordons for some time now, Huntley in particular, and BrocCairn is related to Bothwell. Who knows what they plot together.”
“They are so arrogant,”
complained the king bitterly. “They hounded my mother, my grandfather, my great-grandfather. There hasna been one James Stewart who has not been interfered with by them. They’re always sowing rebellion when things dinna suit them! Well, Maitland, I’ll hae no more of it, d’ye hear me? I’ll hae no more of it!”
“Ye hae but to command me, Yer Majesty,”
Maitland replied smoothly. “Ye know that ye can trust me to do what is best for ye, for Scotland.”
“Arrest BrocCairn when he arrives in Edinburgh!”
commanded the king.
“Jamie! You cannot do such a thing,”
the queen interjected. “You have no reason to arrest Alexander Gordon. What has he done that has you so angered?”
“He has been wi’ Bothwell this last week, Annie. No loyal Scotsman should be associated wi’ Francis any longer. Have I not outlawed him?”
“Jamie, Lord Gordon returns from England with his wife who you know was lost to him for over two years. The girl has had a long and exhausting journey. I imagine Lord Gordon but stopped so that his wife might rest. It is possible, isn’t it?”
James liked his queen. Anne of Denmark was blond, pretty, and basically feather-headed, and she had actually nothing in common with her husband but a passion for hunting. She did, however, have a strong streak of common sense, which on occasion she exercised. She also had, like almost every woman at the Stewart court, fallen under the spell of Francis Stewart-Hepburn and defended him, much to Maitland’s annoyance.
Because James liked his wife, he was often influenced by her in small matters. “The Countess of BrocCairn had plenty of time to rest at her mother’s,”
he grumbled.
“Nay, Jamie, she didn’t,”
the queen replied.
“Ye’re singularly well informed, madame,”
said the chancellor archly.
“Aye, Mas-ter Maitland, I am,”
replied the queen quickly. “Lord Gordon informed me of of his circumstances in a message that was delivered to me even as he hurried south for his reunion with his bride. He did so because he wished me to know that he would be stopping in Edinburgh on his return to present his wife to me prior to their homecoming at his castle in the north. His wife had only just returned to England, so I doubt very much, Mas-ter Maitland, whether she had a great deal of time to rest. You have never been on a long voyage, but, as you will remember, I have. There is no doubt in my mind that the Countess of BrocCairn and her husband stopped at Hermitage so that she might recuperate.”
The queen turned to her husband. “Jamie, you must at least give Lord Gordon the chance to tell you that he stopped before you assume the worst of him. Neither he nor his father ever caused you difficulties, did they?”
“Nay,”
the king admitted grudgingly.
“There, you see!”
the queen said, smiling at him winningly. She put her head against his shoulder and looked up at him with her blue eyes. “Now promise me, Jamie, that you’ll not arrest Lord Gordon?”
Her rosebud mouth was inches from his, and he thought of how nice she had been to him last night.
Sliding an arm about her waist, he said, “Aye, Annie, I’ll promise, but if he gies me no explanation, then I’ll have to assume the worst.”
“I suspect the worst is that he might fear to tell you because you’re so put out with Francis right now, though why I will never understand,”
the queen replied.
“Lord Bothwell has flaunted the king’s authority by escaping from prison where the king placed him,”
said Maitland, seeking to extricate James before he could give himself away.
“A lot of faradiddle over nothing,”
said Anne, and then she smiled warmly at her husband. “You’ll come to see me tonight, Jamie?”
“Aye, sweetheart.”
He smiled back at her, giving her a quick kiss, then loosing his hold upon her.
The queen curtsied prettily to the king and then left the room. “Until tonight, sir,”
she said as she went.
“Yer Majesty must not allow the queen to wheedle ye,”
the chancellor began, but he was cut short by James.
“She is right, Maitland. Let us see what Lord Gordon has to say for himself. I dinna want to act rashly, for Annie is correct. Neither Alex nor his father, nor any of their family, has ever given me any difficulties. I canna afford to make enemies.”
“Of course not, sire,”
said Maitland sourly, forced to let the matter rest.
Two days later, the Earl and Countess of BrocCairn arrived from the Border country and went directly to the town house of George Gordon, the Earl of Huntley, the most powerful of all the Gordons and the head of the clan. They planned to stay but one night as both were anxious to reach Dun Broc. Since the Earl of Huntley was not in residence at the time, there was plenty of room for all of Alex’s retainers. A message saying that the Earl of BrocCairn and his wife wished to pay their respects was sent immediately to the king. It was quickly answered, and they hurried off to Holyrood Palace.
They had taken the time to bathe and change, and Alex was enormously proud of his beautiful wife. The young Countess of BrocCairn was attired in a gown of rich, dark brown velvet. The dress had a very low square neckline, and with it she wore a starched cream-colored, fanshaped lace neck whisk. The sleeves of her gown were full to the elbow but fit the arm tightly below it, and the skirt was a pleasing bell shape. About her neck Velvet wore a necklace of red Irish gold from which hung a large, oval-shaped, golden-brown topaz surrounded by yellow diamonds. Her hair was parted in the center and caught in a caul of thin gold threads, drawn back over her ears so that her red gold necklace and topaz earbobs might be shown to their best advantage. As the day was warm, she wore neither hat nor cloak, but she did have delicate, pearl-embroidered French kid gloves of a beige color to protect her hands when she rode and to hide her rings from the cutpurses. It was altogether a simple but rich look and Alex knew that she would once again win over the king, and most assuredly the little queen.
Alex had debated as to whether or not he should tell James of their visit to Hermitage , but when he came face to face with his sire, he immediately realized from the king’s suspicious attitude that James knew of it already and was but waiting for Alex to say something. Before he could, however, Velvet spoke up ingenuously.
“We saw Francis at Hermitage , Your Majesty. Do you remember the first time that we met, when Alex and I had just been married at Hermitage , and you were forced to return me to England because Alex had stolen me away from the queen’s court?”
James Stewart was forced to smile. “Aye, Lady Gordon,”
he said, “and if I remember correctly ye were refusing to acknowledge yer marriage because it had not been performed by a priest of the old kirk. Do ye now admit to being married to this very disobedient earl of mine?”
“Aye, sire, for when we returned to England we were married twice more. But, sire, if I may ask a question of you?”
“Aye, madame?”
James replied.
“Why do you call Alex disobedient? He is your most loyal servant.”
“That, Lady Gordon, is a matter of opinion. Yer husband knows full well that Francis has been outlawed, and would even now be languishing in prison were we able to catch him. Yet knowing this, Lord Gordon still stopped at Hermitage. I should like an explanation of yer behavior, Alex!”
“There is nothing complicated about it, Jamie,”
Alex drawled, his very tone making the king feel foolish. “Velvet is but newly returned from India. It was a long voyage, but nonetheless her mother notified me immediately upon her return, and I hurried south to be reunited with my wife. Since we didna wish to stay in England under her entire family’s watchful eye, we left almost immediately for Scotland. Velvet isna used to riding cross-country after two years away, and by the time we had passed over the border she was exhausted. Ye know the quality of inns in the Border, Jamie. They’re full of petty thieves and whores. I couldna take my wife to one of them. There was no choice but to stop at Hermitage. I made no secret of my visit, nor did Francis. Had he wanted to hide it, then yer spies wouldna hae already brought ye word that we were there. Francis sends ye his most loyal greetings and says he wishes to make peace wi’ ye.”
“Francis can go to hell!”
snapped the king. “He already has my terms for peace between us, but he willna comply. He has but to gie me back what is mine.”
Then the king, realizing that his wife was in the room, hurried on to say, “I’ll forgive ye, Alex, for I dinna really believe ye would join any rebellion. Come now and present yer wife to the queen.”
Alex hid a smile, for he had caught the king’s little slip although the queen apparently had not. “As always, Jamie, yer graciousness is welcome.”
Then he turned his head to the queen, and, bowing, he lifted her hand to his lips. “Madame, it is good to see ye again. Ye’re fairer than ever.”
The queen dimpled prettily. “ ’Tis good to see you, Lord Gordon. Is this your bride then?”
“Aye, madame. May I present ye my wife, Velvet, the Countess of BrocCairn.”
Velvet curtsied low to the queen, but it was the king’s eyes that plunged to her décolletage, something that Alex did not miss.
“Welcome to Scotland at long last, Lady Gordon,”
said the queen.
“Thank you, madame. I am glad to have finally come home,”
said Velvet.
“Will you be staying in Edinburgh long?”
asked Queen Anne.
“Nay, madame. I am not yet up to following the court. My voyage was of almost six months’ duration, and although Alex and I have been married almost three years I have never seen Dun Broc. It is past time that I settled down to the business of being a wife and a mother.”
“Yes,”
agreed the queen. “ ’Tis for that purpose God created women.”
Before Velvet could reply, the king was raising her from her curtsy and saying, “Surely ye needn’t continue yer journey so soon, Lady Gordon? Would not the gaiety of court gie ye pleasure?”
He could scarcely take his eyes off her. How young she was, thought James. Young and tender and undoubtedly quite delicious. She had green eyes like his Cat’s, not the same leaf-green, but more of a green-gold; and he would wager that her unbound hair fell to her hips in auburn waves as did Cat’s dark gold locks.
Velvet had seen the king’s look and was somewhat startled, yet her voice when she answered him was calm and friendly. “Your Majesty is so kind, just as I remembered you, but please understand that for all the time I was away I longed for Dun Broc and my husband.”
She sighed deeply. “Surely you will not forbid me my home when we are so very close? We will visit the court eventually, I promise Your Majesty, but for now I really do want to go home.”
She smiled at him sweetly, and James could not help but acquiesce.
“Very well, Lady Gordon,”
he said, “we shall let ye go this time, but the next time I shall not take a nay from ye.”
How prettily she pleaded with him, he thought. He would like to have her under him pleading for his love.
Later as they rode back to the Gordon town house in the Highgate, Alex complimented his wife on her behavior. “Yer performance, lass, was magnificent.”
Velvet frowned. “Did you see how he looked down my dress, Alex? Poor Cat! The man is a terrible lech for all his pious mouthings. I wonder if the queen knows.”
“If she does she’ll say naught, for I believe she is basically intelligent for all her feather-headed ways. She’s queen of Scotland, come what may, and Jamie is fond of her. So she’ll have his bairns, and as long as he treats her wi’ kindness and respect she’ll tolerate his behavior provided it causes no scandal or embarrassment to her or the crown.”
“I should not be as tolerant,”
muttered Velvet ominously.
Alex heard her words and knew that whether she had meant them as a warning or not, they were a warning nonetheless. He should, he thought, not have given Alanna Wythe any choice, but rather returned her to her father’s house in London. Still, there was the child to think of.
They left Edinburgh the following day, beginning the last leg of their journey northward to Dun Broc. The countryside began to change, becoming wilder as they found themselves farther and farther from the city and entering the Highlands. The gentle hills of the south quickly gave way to the rugged mountains of the north, thick with forests of mixed conifers and hardwoods. There were trees of many kinds: alders, beeches, larches, sycamores, pines, firs, oaks, and birches. The mountain peaks were dark and granitelike, and fast streams of clear water tumbled over the rock-strewn streambeds. It was, to Velvet’s eyes, an incredibly beautiful and lonely land; the only signs of life being occasional flocks of sheep, herds of cattle upon the moors, or a suddenly come-upon village consisting of a few cottages, perhaps a small inn, and a church.
They were not the picture-pretty villages of England with their whitewashed cottages and windowboxes of brightly colored flowers. The houses here were of dark stone, and the summer season, Alex told his wife, was not long enough to encourage flowers. Besides, such things took time, valuable time that was needed for more important things like helping in the fields of barley and oats or for keeping the kitchen garden free of rabbits so that there would be onions, leeks, and carrots through most of the winter.
“ ’Tis a beautiful land, lass, but often ’tis a harsh one for our people.”
She was beginning to understand him through this. “At least the cottages are sturdy,”
she noted.