“When I was Greyfaire’s heiress,” Arabella said slowly, “I possessed the power of my station, but I no longer have that power, and I hate it! At least then I was in a position to take charge of my own life. I no longer am.’’
“Oh, lovey,” the earl replied, “dinna let life chafe ye so, for ye will nae be happy if ye do. I would hae ye happy and content. We hae a beautiful daughter, my love, and I thank ye for her. Now try and sleep, for even an easy birth is an exhausting one.’’ He cuddled her in his embrace and kissed her fair head.
Arabella sighed and closed her eyes, yet she could not stop the thoughts that raced through her mind. She wanted Greyfaire back, but it was not merely whim on her part. The thought of Sir Jasper Keane swaggering with pride of ownership about the keep that had been her family’s heritage for several hundred years was galling beyond all. He had no right to Greyfaire. He had stolen it, plain and simple. If he wanted a home, let him go back to his own Northby Hall. Surely, using his false charm and his handsome face as he had done with her and her mother, he could find himself another silly, innocent virgin heiress, or some hapless and equally silly rich widow to wed. Then let him rebuild his own ancestral home in which to live, but she would have Greyfaire back for her daughter!
Her daughter.The words echoed strangely in her head. She had a daughter, and by virtue of that very fact she was now a mother herself.A mother!She was a mother. In the months she had carried her child it had not seemed real, until now. How could she deny the reality of the infant murmuring in its sleep in the cradle by her bedside? The Countess of Dunmor felt her first strong surge of maternal concern. Greyfaire now belonged to Lady Margaret Stewart, and no one, Arabella decided, was going to deny her daughter her rightful inheritance!
Margaret must have brothers, she thought fuzzily as sleep began to overcome her. At least six strong brothers who would be just like their father. Someday, Arabella decided, someday when her as yet unborn sons were grown, they would go over the border with their clansmen, and their Fleming and Hamilton cousins, and they would burn Sir Jasper Keane’s fine new Northby Hall to the ground as their fathers had once done. Arabella smiled with satisfaction even as sleep reached up to claim her for its own.
Realizing that his wife was now deep in the arms of Morpheus, the earl arose carefully from the bed and drew the coverlet over her. Stopping a moment to gaze down at his new daughter, he smiled and then tiptoed from the room. “She’s asleep,” he told Lona, who was waiting patiently outside the door. “Ye may go in now. Watch over my wee Maggie carefully, lassie.”
“I will, my lord. Ohh, ‘tis so exciting! I only wish poor Lady Rowena were here to see her grandchild, but yer babe will have Lady Margery.”
“Aye,” the earl agreed, “and my mother will spoil my wee Maggie fiercely, I’ve nae doubt.”
Lona giggled and nodded vigorously. Lady Margery Fleming had shown serious signs of doting with regard to her two grandsons. This first granddaughter would undoubtedly be a favorite. The earl returned to his hall to find his mother had just arrived. A servant was even now taking Lady Fleming’s cloak, and both his sister Ailis and his sister-in-law Meg were with her.
“Well?” she demanded, hurrying forward. “How is Arabella? How far along is she? Is she comfortable? Is she haeing a hard time of it? I didna want to say anything before now, but I pray she will nae be like her poor mother.’’
“We hae a daughter,” Tavis Stewart said, laughing. “A fine, healthy bairn, Mother. She hae golden hair like my wee spitfire, and her mam’s hot temper to boot.”
“What?Why was I nae called sooner?” Lady Margery said.
“Ye were nae called sooner because there was nae time. Flora tells me that my wife is a natural breeder. Arabella had little warning of the birth and delivered quickly, wi’ little fuss that I could see.”
“Aye, my lady, ‘tis true,” Flora said as she joined them. “She popped the wee bairn out like I’d pop a grape from its skin, and wi’ as little trouble too. Once she’s had time to heal, his lordship can get another bairn on her, and the next one will be a boy, I vow!” Flora grinned broadly.
“I want to see my granddaughter immediately,” Lady Margery said firmly.
“I’ll take ye up, yer ladyship,” Flora volunteered. “Lona is wi’ them, watching.”
Lady Margery nodded her approval. “We’ll be staying the night, Tavis,” she said. “I didna come at a gallop from Glen Ailean to turn myself about to go home as quickly. I’ll want to speak wi’ Arabella in the morning about my granddaughter’s care. Come along, Ailis! Meg!” She strode from the hall, every inch the matriarch, the two younger women hurrying behind in her wake.
“So ye’ve a lass, hae ye?” The Earl of Angus arose from his place by the fire and came over to Tavis Stewart, holding out his big hand that he might congratulate him.
A servant came forward bearing a tray with two small silver dram cups upon it, which he offered to his master and his master’s guest.
The two men accepted the drams, and Archibald Douglas raised up his cup saying, “Long life, good health, and good fortune to Lady Margaret Stewart!”
The Earl of Dunmor raised his own cup in return. “God willing!” he answered, and together the two gentlemen drank down the potent whiskey which came from Dunmor’s own still. The smiling servant took the empty dram cups away as the two earls returned to seat themselves by the fire. “Is she bonnie, Tavis?”
“Aye, Archie, she’s very bonnie,” came the reply.
“I might take her for one of my boys then, if ye’ll consider it,” the Earl of Angus said.
“I canna, though I thank ye for the compliment. Margaret is already promised.”
“To whom?” Archibald Douglas was astounded. The newborn was not even an hour old yet and she was betrothed?
“I dinna know,” Tavis Stewart said with a smile, “but he must be an Englishman.” Then the earl went on to explain the situation.
“Ye think ye’ll get yer wife’s inheritance back?” Angus said.
“Perhaps under the circumstances, aye. At the moment the English are more favorably disposed to the Scots than they hae been in years, Archie.”
“But I wonder if they are foolish enough to gie a border keep to the daughter of a Stewart earl?” Angus answered slowly, considering the situation. “Still, even if the lass is raised in England after her sixth year, in those six years ye can make her a Scot for life. It canna hurt to hae a friendly refuge on the English side of the border, Tavis. Yer a clever bastard, by God! But what if ye canna regain yer wife’s Greyfaire?”
“If the matter is aired publicly between the two kings, then King Henry will hae to pay Arabella a forfeit in exchange for Greyfaire, although I know that will make her very angry. She will hae her home back and nothing less.’’
