Arabella explained to the Earl of Angus why she had come, and he nodded his understanding.
“Ye were right to take this matter into yer own hands, madame,” he told her. “Tavis Stewart is a good man, but he treats his half brother too softly. Besides, if ye raise yer wee Maggie correctly, she’ll always be loyal to the Stewarts, even though she lives in England, an Englishman’s wife.”
“I would have her be loyal to Greyfaire, and its people first, after God,” Arabella said quietly. “That is where my daughter’s duty will lie, my lord. Politics and war are a man’s domain. Nurturing is a woman’s.”
“Yet sometimes women involve themselves in politics, madame,” the Earl of Angus noted.
“How can that be?” she asked him.
“When a woman influences her husband one way or another, she is in her own way involving herself in his affairs, is she nae?”
“Indeed, my lord, she is,” Arabella admitted, “although I have never thought of a woman’s good influence in that light. I think it is a woman’s Christian duty to guide her husband where she may.”
“A female mind is a treacherous bog, madame,” the Earl of Angus teased then said, “woe to the man who loses himself in an attempt to understand it.”
Together the Countess of Dunmor and Archibald Douglas passed the next hour in the castle’s Great Hall speaking on various subjects. Arabella began to gain new respect for Angus, and he, in turn, admitted to himself that she was not only a beautiful woman, but a fascinating and clever one as well, particularly considering her youth and inexperience. When finally a page came to tell them the prince was ready to receive them, they followed the boy arm in arm, ignoring the stares of both the curious and the envious.
The prince greeted them warmly and apologized for the plainness of the fare upon his table. “I did nae hae the time to prepare properly,” he said.
“You must not invite people to supper so precipitously, my lord,” Arabella teased him.
“Madame, it is nae supper I hae in mind when I look at ye,” the prince shot back wickedly.
“Then it should have been Lady Sorcha Morton you asked to your rooms, Jamie Stewart, and not me,” Arabella said mischievously. With Angus for support, she was feeling braver than she might have had she been alone with the prince.
The two gentlemen burst out laughing, and Angus asked, “How is my cousin, laddie?”
“I could nae tell ye, Archie, for our acquaintance was but a brief one. Sorcha’s repertoire is nae very large or involved, I fear, despite yer early tutelage of the lady. She hae, I am told, set her sights on a wealthy merchant in the city.”
Angus nodded. “She needs a husband, and she needs a rich one, for her tastes are expensive. The gentlemen of her own class nae hae the funds to waste upon a woman that Sorcha needs for her personal adornment.”
The prince grinned. “She could nae seem to see the advantage in pleasing a future king,” he said, and his blue eyes twinkled.
The meal was a simple one, for the castle kitchens had not the guidance of a mistress any longer. There was a roasted capon, venison, a rabbit pie, and a salmon poached in white wine. There was bread, cheese, and a bowl of apples. A rich Burgundy wine accompanied their supper, which was no sooner over than a young page appeared.
“The king would see the Earl of Angus,” the lad piped.
“Then I must return to the hall,” Arabella said quickly, “for I am certain the king’s secretary has my parchment ready for me by now.”
“Ye will stay, madame,” the prince ordered, catching her hand. He turned to Archibald Douglas. “Ye may go, my lord.” The Earl of Angus cast Arabella a look that told her that although he sympathized with her predicament, he could no longer interfere. The prince’s dismissal of him, and his directive to Arabella that she remain, made it impossible for him to intercede on her behalf any further. He stood, and with a bow to both the prince and the Countess of Dunmor, he departed.
As the door closed behind the earl, the prince turned, and raising Arabella’s hand to his lips, he turned it and placed a kiss upon the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. “Now, sweetheart, we are finally alone.” His look was a smoldering one.
“If you touch me, Jamie Stewart, I shall scream,” Arabella told him bluntly, snatching her hand from his grasp.
“What is it about me, madame, that you find so repugnant?” the prince demanded angrily.
“First answer me this, my lord. What is it you want of me?” she countered.
He had the good grace to flush, and then he said, “I think, madame, ye know precisely what it is I want of ye.”
“You wish to take me to your bed and make love to me, do you not?” Arabella said frankly. “Well, my lord, I do not wish you to make love to me. I love my husband, and I consider your pursuit of me offensive. I do not wish to dishonor my lord’s good name. You know this, for I have been more than candid with you in this matter. I do not understand why you continue in your pursuit.”
“Yer certainly outspoken, madame,” the prince noted dryly.
“If you force me to your will, Jamie Stewart, and surely you could, for you are far bigger than I, you will commit an act of rape. When you release me, I shall go directly to my husband and tell him of your behavior toward me. What do you think Tavis Stewart will do, my lord, when he learns you have coerced his wife into your bed and then compelled her to your will?”
The prince stood up, and walking around the table, stopped behind Arabella. He placed his hands upon her velvet-clad shoulders. “I’ve nae known a woman like ye, Arabella,” he said softly. Bending, he kissed her throat lingeringly and one hand slipped down into her bodice to cup a breast. He fondled her breast, teasing gently at the nipple which hardened beneath his thumb. “Yer so soft, ninny-love, and so sweet,” he murmured.
