Arabella sat perfectly still beneath his touch.
“How many men hae ye known, sweetheart? Yer husband and nae other, I’ll wager. I am young, I know, but already I am acclaimed as the finest lover in all of Scotland. Let me love ye, Arabella Stewart!Let me love ye!”
“I will never betray Tavis willingly, Jamie Stewart,” she told him coldly. “Now remove your hand from my bodice this instant! I would leave, and if you try to stop me, I shall cry the castle down about your royal ears!” It was as if his invasion of her bodice had suddenly given her the strength to defy him. Arabella decided that the fact Jamie Stewart was heir to Scotland’s throne should not give him license over her person.
Reluctantly he complied with her demand, and she arose from the table, shaking her skirts angrily. “One day ye will want something of me, sweetheart,” he said softly, kissing her neck once more. “Eventually everyone wants some boon of a king. Before ye ask it of me, Arabella Stewart, remember what the price will be, for nae even a king’s favors are free.”
“You are not Scotland’s king yet, my lord prince, and pray God you will not be until you have learned that you cannot have everything you want simply because you are a Royal Stewart!” the Countess of Dunmor snapped.
“I canna wait to get ye in my bed, Arabella Stewart.” The prince chuckled. “I like spice and can nae ever get enough of it. Ye must keep my uncle a verra happy man.”
He was the most determined man she had ever met, Arabella thought as she traveled home the following day. She debated whether she should tell her husband of her encounter and decided, in the interest of family unity, she would say only that she and the Earl of Angus had taken supper with the prince. She had met Angus in the hallway outside the prince’s apartments.
The page who had come to fetch him, Angus told her, had disappeared the moment he had exited Jamie Stewart’s apartments, and Angus had learned quickly enough that the king had not summoned him. It had all been a trick of the prince’s to get Arabella alone. Realizing that, Archibald Douglas had returned posthaste to rescue the Countess of Dunmor.
“I should hae known ye didna really need my aid,” he said to her as he explained the prince’s ruse.
“Oh, my lord, I most certainly did need you,” she told him. “I was terrified and had no idea how I was going to extricate myself from the situation until the prince boldly put his hands upon me. I became so angry that he was forced to let me go. I do not think women usually become angry with Jamie Stewart.”
“Only when he refuses them,” Angus chuckled, and she burst out laughing.
“He is so damned persistent,” Arabella grumbled.
“He’ll be a good king one day,” the earl replied.
Arabella was not unhappy to see the turrets of Dunmor Castle rising up before her. She had been gone from her home for ten days, and she had missed her daughter terribly. First, however, she had to contend with her husband, whom she had no doubt would be very angry with her. The Countess of Dunmor strode boldly into the Great Hall of her castle to find herself face to face with Tavis Stewart.
“Well, madame, did ye get what ye wanted from my brother?” he demanded.
“Aye, I did,” she answered him, thrusting a rolled parchment into his hand.
The Earl of Dunmor unrolled the parchment and scanned its contents, nodding. “By God, my wee spitfire, ye did stir Jemmie to action, didn’t ye? It doesna mean, however, that ye’ll get yer precious Greyfaire back for Maggie. Ye realize that, don’t ye?”
“I will get Greyfaire back, Tavis. I swear it!” she told him. “It was my dowry, and ‘tis Maggie’s now. I’ll not let Jasper Keane and his ilk have it! I’ll tear the keep down stone by stone myself rather than allowthatbastard to have it.” Then she flung herself into his arms. “Ohhh, ‘tis so good to be home, my lord!”
“What a wench ye are, lassie,” he murmured against her hair, and then he picked her up in his arms.
“My lord!”she squealed. “I have not seen Maggie yet.”
“Ye’ll see her in the morning,” he said, and stamped out of the hall and up the stairs with his wife.
“Did you miss me, my lord?” Arabella said softly, nibbling at his earlobe.
“Vixen!” he grumbled at her.
“Did you catch the wolf?” She bit down sharply on the morsel of flesh.
“Aye, damnit, lovey! Aye, I did,” he admitted.
“And you’ll admit that you were wrong and I was right about approaching the king?” she pressed.
“Only if ye’ll admit yer a disobedient baggage,” he teased her, kicking open the door to her apartments and striding through into her bedchamber.“Out!”he commanded Flora, who was awaiting her mistress, and then he dumped Arabella upon the bed, flinging himself atop her. “Now, madame, I would hae a welcoming kiss of ye!” His lips came down upon hers.
Arabella made a distinctively satisfied sound and stretched sensually, her arms coming up around his neck. “Mmmmm,” she purred, sighing deeply as his mouth moved to press kisses along the column of her throat. His fingers fumbled expertly with her laces and he pulled her loosened bodice off. Impatiently his hand gripped at the neck of her chemise, and with a quick motion he tore it away, burying his dark head between her breasts. She thrust herself against the warmth of his lips, turning within his grasp so that he might kiss the twin mounds of perfumed flesh.
“Sweet, sweet,”he groaned, a hand seeking beneath her skirts, trailing leisurely upon a silken thigh, finding the throbbing core of her.
She twisted beneath him, making soft little whimpering noises in the back of her throat, moving a hand between them, reaching beneath his kilt to find his manhood, stroking it urgently until he was hard and even more eager for her than he had first been.
