“Aye, but only after Arabella herself went to Edinburgh to beg him for his help. She felt that ye dinna care, and I truly wonder if ye did. Everything else took precedence in yer life over helping Arabella win back Greyfaire.”
“But why divorce me?” he asked, puzzled.
“Without yer aid, or that of yer nephew, what other choice did she hae, ye damned fool? With Jemmie dead, and Jamie king, and ye not in the whit interested, she felt alone. How could she go to King Henry as yer wife, wi’ out yer support, and ask him to return her property? She hae to be totally free of ye. She hae nae other choice. Yer inaction forced her to it! Do ye think the English would return Greyfaire to an English woman with a Scots husband wi’ out royal intercession? She needed ye, and she needed yer help, but ye would not gie it to her.”
“Yer nephew, however, helped her obtain the divorce,” Donald interjected slyly. “I never knew Jamie to be of a charitable nature, Tavis. Do ye nae wonder what she gave him in return for his ‘kindness’?” He snickered loudly.
Tavis Stewart went white about the lips. “I’ll kill him,” he said slowly. “I’ll wring his bloody neck!”
“Tavis!”His mother spoke sharply. “‘Tis treason ye mouth. He is yer blood relation, yer brother’s son.”
“When did that ere stop one Stewart from murdering another?” the earl demanded fiercely.
“‘Twill solve nothing, my lad,” Lady Margery said quietly. “Arabella is gone and taken Margaret wi’ her. That Jamie aided her is of nae importance, and I do not for one minute, Tavis, believe Donald’s inferences. Yer brother hae always been of a jealous nature. The question here is, what do ye want to do about it? Do ye want yer wife and child back?”
“She hae made her choice, Mother. She hae chosen Greyfaire over me. I wish her happiness of it, but I will go over the border tomorrow and bring my daughter back.Margaret is mine!”Tavis Stewart said bitterly.
His mother hit him a blow that staggered him. “Yer a great fool, Tavis Stewart! A great, prideful fool! Arabella rode out from Dunmor wi’ tears in her eyes. She loves ye!”
“Not enough!”
“Why do ye insist she choose, my son? Why can she nae hae both ye and Greyfaire? She but wanted it as a dowry for Margaret, and such a dowry would hae made the bairn a proper heiress.”
“For an English husband,” he said.
“The border English are nae different than we border Scots,” his mother reminded him, and then her voice softened. “Ye love her, Tavis Stewart. Dinna allow yer pride to overrule yer heart, lest ye regret it in the years to come. Remember, ye need a son.”
“There are other women who would be happy to be my wife, Mother,” he said coldly. “Loyal women.”
“Arabella was nae disloyal,” Lady Margery said, her voice rising again, and she smashed her fist into his shoulder once more. “This is yer own making, Tavis Stewart, and ye are too stubborn to admit to it. If ye hae one grain of sense in that head of yers, ye’ll go over the border tomorrow and fetch Arabella back. Then ye’ll remarry her and gie her yer undivided attention to helping her get Greyfaire back. ‘Tis nae so great a matter, and I dinna see why ye would allow this terrible thing to happen over something so small.” She punctuated her speech with a third blow to his arm.
The earl began to laugh as he rubbed his shoulder, for his mother had not been gentle.
“And what,” she demanded furiously, “is so damned funny, ye great oaf?”
“I just now realized,” the earl said, “how very alike ye and Arabella are, Mother. She hae never been loath to use her fists, my wee spitfire.”
“Then ye’ll go and fetch her home?” his mother said.
“I dinna know, Mother. I must think on it. The lass hae hurt me greatly. Do ye think because I am a man I canna feel heart-sore? She and the bairn are safe at Greyfaire for now, and I must consider well whether I want this hotheaded English lassie back in my life,” the earl said.
“And who would ye replace her wi’?” Lady Margery said scornfully. “There’s been nae who could please ye until Arabella Grey, but perhaps in yer highland travels for the king ye met some puling wench wi’ watered milk in her veins instead of a hot blood who would serve to get yer sons on. All cats, I am told, are gray in the dark. Well, did ye?”
“Nay.”
“I thought as much! Go and fetch yer wife, Tavis, lest ye live to regret yer folly. What of Sir Jasper Keane? What if he is at Greyfaire?”
“God help him if he is,” the earl said with a small smile. “The man’s very life would be in mortal danger if Arabella catches him in her keep, Mother. The lass would disembowel him herself and relish every moment of it.”
“Aye, she would,” Donald agreed, still rubbing his sore jaw.
“What if Arabella goes south to see King Henry, Tavis? Hae ye considered that?” his mother goaded him.
“To London?” the earl said.
“Wherever the court is, and ‘tis south, as ye know,” Lady Margery said. “Her English king could order her marriage to another in return for Greyfaire. Then where will our Margaret be?”
“How long hae she been gone?” the earl asked his mother.
