“I know,” he replied quietly, “and so ye’ll be guarded at all times, lassie. If ye behave yerself, however, ye may have the freedom of the hall, the chapel and my gardens. Misbehave, and ye’ll find yerself confined most strictly.”
She glowered at him. “I understand, my lord,” was her icy answer.
“This child must have someone to look after her, Tavis,” Lady Fleming said.
“I know, Mother.” He turned and called to a motherly looking woman across the hall. “Flora, to me!”
The woman, obviously an upper-servant, hurried over to the earl. “My lord?” she said, curtsying.
“This is Lady Grey, Flora. She is both my prisoner and my honored guest. She is to be lodged in the west tower, and I would hae ye look after her wi’ kindness. She is never to be left alone, and Father Colin is responsible for her. Ye will go to him, unless, of course, the matter is a serious one.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Flora said, “and I’ll take good care of the little lassie for ye, dinna fear. I’ll go now and see that her rooms are prepared and a fire lit, for the day has been cold for June and the night will be as well. The west tower can be damp in weather like this.” She curtsied again and hurried off.
Arabella was well warmed now, and she allowed the earl to lead her to the highboard, as the dinner hour was upon them. He seated her on his left, his mother on his right. Sitting next to Margery Fleming was her husband Ian, a large, bluff man who kissed Arabella’s hand as he introduced himself. They were joined by the earl’s sister, Ailis, Meg and Mary Hamilton, the earl’s three half brothers, and a handsome young man who was introduced as Robert Hamilton, the Laird of Culcairn. Below the highboard, tables were brought, and placed along with benches, which were quickly filled with the earl’s retainers and servants. Other servants began entering the hall with steaming platters, bowls, and plates filled with hot food.
Arabella was ravenous. Forgetting her threat to starve herself, she heaped her silver plate high with salmon, lamb, several slices of sweet pink ham, a wedge of rabbit pie, a spoonful of small onions and carrots covered with a sherried cream sauce, some braised lettuce, and a bit of raw cress. All of this she liberally washed down with a large goblet of rich red wine, mopping the juices from her plate with a small trencher of bread which she daintily broke into little pieces.
About her the talk swirled, and though she half listened, she did not join in while she ate, giving all her attention to her food. She was determined to dislike Tavis Stewart for using her as a pawn in his game with Jasper Keane, yet those about her, his family and servants alike, treated the earl with a mixture of respect and fondness. Perhaps he was not as bad as Jasper, but he had used her. Still, Jasper Keane had used her as well. Used her to gain a foothold at Greyfaire, which she realized now was his only interest in her. His own home—a poor place, the earl had said—was destroyed. He needed Arabella Grey for but one thing, Greyfaire Keep. And the king had used her as well. He had used her, and he had used her inheritance to bind Sir Jasper Keane to him in loyalty. Arabella considered that perhaps cousin Richard had not known Jasper Keane at all, for he was, Arabella now suspected, loyal only to himself. Arabella spooned up the last bit of a sweet tartlet with its blanket of heavy cream.
“I think we may be of an age, Lady Grey,” said Meg Hamilton, leaning over to speak to her. “I am almost fourteen.”
“As am I,” Arabella replied. “Will you call me Arabella, and may I call you Meg?”
“Aye!” Meg replied, and when she smiled, Arabella could see tiny golden flecks in her eyes, which were more gray than blue and fringed in short, thick sandy-colored lashes. “I realize ‘tis a difficult situation in which we both find ourselves, but can we nae be friends? After all, neither ye nor I are responsible for the difficulties that surround us.”
Arabella nodded. “Men,” she said irritably. “They cannot seem to live in peace. I would like to be friends with you, Meg. I have a friend at Greyfaire. Her name is Lona, and she is FitzWalter’s daughter. FitzWalter,” she explained, “is the keep’s captain.” Then, “Did Sir Jasper really burn your house to the ground? It was a beastly thing to do!”
Meg nodded. “Rob brought us all—Mary, the baby, Geordie, old Una, and me—to safety. We saw everything…” Her voice trailed off even as Arabella remembered what the earl had said about Eufemia Hamilton’s death.
“Ohh, I am sorry, Meg! I have been thoughtless.” Arabella’s voice was genuinely regretful. “Forgive me. It is just that I am so surprised to have discovered that Sir Jasper is such a villain,” and as she spoke, Arabella remembered the day that Jasper Keane had beaten her. Why had she not known then?
“You did not really know him,” Meg said quietly.
“Nay, not really. The king chose Sir Jasper to be my husband because he knew Greyfaire must have a lord to defend it. He is very handsome, and I, to my shame, am very inexperienced in these matters.”
“And I would certainly hope a lass of yer tender years would be inexperienced in the matters of men,” Lady Fleming said. “Yer king, if he cared, should have known better, but I’ve heard nae good of King Richard.”
“Oh no, madame!’ Arabella cried.“King Richard is a good man, I vow it! I have known him my whole life, as has my mother, who was Queen Anne’s cousin. I believe that Sir Jasper put on one face for the king and yet a different face for each person he met. ‘Tis a most handsome face too,” Arabella concluded.
“‘Tis always difficult to believe the worst of a handsome man,” Lady Fleming noted sagely, and the gentlemen hearing her remark laughed.
“Are you betrothed?” Arabella asked Meg. She had decided that she liked this pretty Scots girl. They would pass the time most pleasantly until she could discover a means of escape. Who knew? Perhaps Meg Hamilton would help her.
“I am nae betrothed,” and Meg lowered her voice, “but I am in love!”
“You are?”Arabella said. “How wonderful! Are you certain? I thought I was in love with Sir Jasper, but now that he has proven himself so cowardly, I realize I could have never really loved him. How do you know, Meg, if it is really love? Can you tell me who he is? Will your family approve? Will they make the match?”
Meg giggled. “So many questions!” she teased Arabella, smiling.“Heis Gavin Fleming, the earl’s half brother; and aye, my brother approves; and aye, Gavin loves me too. It is wonderful! Tell me, Arabella, did yer toes feel all curled up in yer shoes when Sir Jasper kissed ye? Mine do when Gavin kisses me. That’s one way I know. I never felt that way before when the lads would steal a kiss. Wi’ Gavin I dream about my own home, and about the bairns we will have.” She blushed. “I nae thought about having bairns before wi’ another lad. ‘Tis love, I’m certain! Gavin will ask his father’s permission to wed wi’ me when they return home to Glen Ailean in a few days. Lord Ian will agree, for there is nae impediment to our union. Rob has promised that he will add half of Eufemia’s dowry to my dowry. The other half will go for Mary when she weds one day. I am a well-dowered lass and need nae be ashamed that I would be Gavin Fleming’s wife. Gavin will one day inherit his father’s house and lands, ye know.”
“You are fortunate to be a laird’s sister, Meg,” Arabella said sadly. “No king is concerned with you or your property. You may follow your heart. I thought the king had sent me a fine man to be my husband, but now I realize he cared naught for my happiness. I am chattel to the king, and I am chattel to any man who will wed me.” She made a small moue with her mouth. “I do not like being another person’s possession.”
“Nor should ye, child,” said Lady Fleming. “I am going to gie ye a wee bit of advice given me when I was a girl. Depend on no one but yerself in this life and ye’ll be happier. Trust only yer own instincts, that little voice we Celts call the ‘voice within’, and ye’ll nae go wrong. I have followed that advice for many years, and I have nae been disappointed.”
Arabella considered Lady Fleming’s words and then asked her, “Who gave you such good advice, madame?”
“Tavis’ father,” Lady Fleming replied. “He was called James of the Fiery Face, for he was born wi’ a great purplish splotch on his face. He was a good man, but he was a solder wi’ little liking for his own court. His father was murdered when he was six, and he spent his childhood as a pawn between our constantly warring nobility. When he was ten his governor, the Earl of Douglas, died. Douglas’ ambitious sons hoped to follow in their father’s footsteps and have charge of the king. They were murdered before the boy king’s eyes by other jealous nobles who wanted James’ custody. It was not an easy childhood, and my James learned early that he could only depend on himself, for those who did not seek his custody for their own gain were repelled by his face, half of which was the color of an amethyst. He was as handsome as any Stewart but for that. His mother was an Englishwoman, Lady Joan Beaufort. The Scots and the English like to fight wi’ one another. Yet they have a history of being friends and lovers.”
“I could never be your enemy, madame,” Arabella said.
