“Everything!” Arabella replied.
Again James laughed. “What would ye begin wi’?” he demanded.
She thought a moment and then said, “History, Sire. The history of Scotland. I do not know if I shall ever be considered a Scot by those about me, but my husband is a Scot, and my children will certainly be, but for one, and I would know the history of their native land that I may better understand it.”
The king was pleased by her desire, but he was also intrigued by part of her statement,but for one.“What do ye mean, my dear, that all yer bairns but for one will be Scots?”
Arabella suddenly realized what she had said and clapped her hand to her mouth. “I have spoken out of turn, Sire, for ‘tis a matter best discussed with you by Tavis. He would be angry, I fear, should I bring it to your majesty’s attention before he did.’’
“And yer of a mind to obey him?’’ the king teased her gently, still curious. “Why, lassie, ye must love him to be so biddable, for I suspect ye could hold Dunmor Castle by yerself if called upon to do so, yet in this secret matter yer all meek and mild.’’
Arabella blushed, unable to think of a single way in which she might defend herself.
James Stewart patted her shoulder. “Dinna fret, lassie, I’ll nae press the matter, for my brother’s hot Stewart temper is every bit as peppery as yer own. Yer well matched, and right glad I am for it!”
Tavis Stewart had managed to disengage himself from the Earl of Angus and moved across the room to join his wife and brother. A beautiful woman unexpectedly blocked his passage.
“Tavis Stewart, it is good to see ye once again. I hae missed ye, my lord,” she murmured into his face.
“Lady Morton,” he responded coolly.
“What, my lord? I hae never known ye to greet me in such cold fashion,” the beauty declared, her amber eyes growing dark with her annoyance. “Ye hae always been a most passionate lover,’’ she said softly.
Tavis Stewart, to his irritation, found himself leaning forward to hear her words. Lady Morton’s décolletage left little to the imagination. A whiff of her favorite perfume, heavy with musk, assailed his nostrils. It was a little trick of hers, the earl knew, to lower her voice so that a man found himself leaning forward to hear what she had to say. “Madame, I am a married man now,” he told her.
Sorcha Morton laughed, tossing back her bright red hair in another familiar gesture. “I am aware of it, my lord. ‘Twas the scandal of the court last summer. Did ye really tear the clothes from the poor wee creature’s back before ye wed her?’’ Lady Morton shivered. “Aye, I’m certain ye did! How absolutely delicious, Tavis. Yer poor little English bride must hae been terrified of such savagery.’’
Across the king’s chamber the Countess of Dunmor saw the beauty in animated conversation with her husband and said to the king, “Who is that woman, Sire, who makes so free with my husband?”
The king hid a smile. “‘Tis Lady Sorcha Morton, my dear. She is a widow several years, for old Lord Morton died leaving her little.”
“She dresses well for a lady with little,’’ Arabella noted tartly. Lady Morton’s dark green velvet gown was lavishly trimmed in rich brown marten. “How is it that she can afford to come to court?”
“‘Tis nothing ye should worry about, my dear,” the queen said as she joined them. She had observed her husband in conversation with Arabella and was frankly curious to learn what was making him smile so much, for the king was not a man who smiled easily under any circumstances. She slipped her arm through Arabella’s. “Lady Morton, my dear, is a woman who seems to attract wandering gentlemen. She lives, I suspect, off their foolish generosity. She is not the sort of woman ye should know, though she does frequent the court. Since she has broken no laws, I cannot forbid it in good conscience. It is best to ignore her.”
“Is my husband one of those ‘gentlemen’?” Arabella asked softly.
“Aye, lassie, in the past he was,” the king replied, and then said to his wife, “Now, Maggie, dinna look daggers at me. ‘Tis best the lassie know. She can hardly believe that Tavis was celibate until he set eyes upon her, and besides, ‘twas but a brief fling. Sorcha Morton is too predatory and obvious a female for my brother. Frankly, I think ‘twas curiosity on Tavis’ part.”
“Curiosity?” said the queen. “I have never seen anything interesting about that woman, Jemmie. Have ye?”
The king laughed. “I hae nae found any woman interesting but ye, my Maggie,” he answered smoothly.
Now it was the queen who laughed, shaking her head at him. “Ye are too clever by far, Sire,” she said, and then turning to Arabella, told her, “Go and fetch yer husband, my dear. Tavis looks extremely uncomfortable to me, and ‘tis yer duty as a good wife to rescue him from that female dragon.”
Arabella curtsied to their majesties and then made her way the rest of the distance separating her from her husband. Reaching him, she took a leaf from the queen’s book and slipped her arm through his. “My lord,’’ she pouted at him, “I have missed your company these past few minutes.’’ Her face was tipped up to his, her light green eyes wide with ingenuousness. She pointedly ignored Lady Morton.
The Earl of Dunmor grinned down at his beautiful wife. He could hear the faint edge behind her honeyed tones, and he was extremely amused by her pretense that he was alone. “Well, lovey, then I suspect I shall hae to take ye home and prove my devotion to ye.”
Arabella smiled brilliantly. “Ohh, my lord, how wicked you are! Come along now, naughty man! You have made me most eager to depart.” Then pulling at his arm in a most playful fashion, the Countess of Dunmor drew her husband away from where he had been standing with Lady Morton.
Sorcha Morton was mortified to find herself both so blatantly ignored and so obviously deserted. Tavis Stewart had made no attempt to even introduce her to his wife, and worse, had not bid her farewell. “Ye’ll pay for that slight, my lord!” she murmured softly after them. “And ye also, ye simpering bitch!”
“Madame, madame, dinna look so openly angered. It does nae become ye,” the prince said softly as he joined her. He slipped his arm about her waist and dropped a kiss upon her shoulder.
“He hae insulted me, yer highness,” she replied in as soft a tone. “I will nae forgie him!”
“Is he a good lover, my uncle?” the prince demanded.
