“I know,” Annabella said. “He can take care of himself.”
“Aye, he can. Now, let’s get you tended to properly,” Jean told her. Then, with the help of two of the housemaids, she inspected her mistress’s genital area, and, satisfied that there was no sign of infection, she dressed the area again with a mixture of healing herbs and rendered goose fat, placing a pad of cotton wool between Annabella’s thighs to contain any leakage. Drawing the down coverlet up over her mistress, she said, “I’ll send a messenger to Bothwell to seek Angus. Ye are to rest.”
Annabella nodded. “I think I can now. I feel safer here than at Holyrood Palace.”
Jean drew the bed curtains, and in the company of the two little maids left her mistress to sleep. As she had promised she dispatched a messenger to the earl immediately. It was another two days before Angus Ferguson returned to Burnside House. He had already departed Bothwell’s encampment before the messenger arrived, and gone to Holyrood in search of his wife. It was there the messenger caught up with him to tell him his wife was at Burnside House. He hurried to reach her.
“Where is she?” he demanded of Jean when he entered the dwelling.
“Upstairs, resting, my lord,” Jean told him, reaching out to catch at his sleeve before he might dash upstairs. “Angus!” Her voice was low. Sisterly.
Angus Ferguson turned to look at her questioningly.
She led him into the little hall, signaling to a servant to bring him a dram of his whiskey. “Sit down, brother,” she instructed him. “Before ye see yer wife, there is something ye must know.” She waved the serving man away when he had brought the earl’s dram. “Annabella was with the queen when Lord Ruthven broke in with his minions and murdered Riccio. When Ruthven threatened the queen, it was yer wife who flung herself before the monarch to shield her with her own body. They dragged her away and to the floor. It was that cur Darnley who kicked her several times. Annabella has lost her bairn, brother. She is in a fragile state right now.”
“She will live?” he asked softly. His eyes were suddenly hard, however. Darnley! That drunken, lecherous fop who fancied himself king, and expected everyone else to do so as well. He had brutalized Annabella without a single regret. Well, he would pay for that error.I don’t know how, or when, the Earl of Duin considered,but one day he will pay for our loss.
“Aye, she will live, and ye will get another bairn on her, brother.”
“If we had not come to court, this would nae have happened,” the earl said grimly.
“Dinna say that, for in doing so ye blame yer wife for yer bairn’s loss,” Jean said. “She has already done that, and plots revenge against Lord Darnley. Ye could nae refuse the queen’s invitation to come to court, Angus.”
His shoulders slumped as if in defeat. “Nay,” he agreed, “I could not refuse.”
“Drink yer whiskey,” Jean said, “and then go to Annabella. Her wee heart is broken, and she needs ye.”
“How is it that ye’re the youngest of us, and yet the wisest?” Angus asked his sister.
Jean laughed. Then she stood up. “I’ll go tell her ye’re home, and coming to her.” She bent to kiss the top of his dark head and then hurried off.
Angus swallowed down his dram, letting the whiskey hit his stomach like a ball of fire. He wanted to go home and never leave Duin again. That, however, was going to be impossible. When he had arrived at Holyrood Palace today, he had learned the queen had escaped the night before with Darnley, aided by Bothwell. The rumor was that they were already ensconced at Dunbar Castle, a full twenty-five miles from the city. The traitor lords had immediately fled Edinburgh and were headed south into England or back to their homes. Many others would flock to declare their loyalty to the queen as she rode to take back the town. He would have to be among those lords. With the rebels fled there would be no resistance, for Edinburgh was loyal to Mary Stuart.
He was not going back to Duin until late spring. Annabella, however, was a different matter. As soon as she was able to travel, he was going to see that she was sent home. Matthew would accompany her, and then his younger brother would fetch little Mistress Agnes Baird to keep her sister company. He would escape the political machinations of the more powerful lords as quickly as he could. Setting the empty dram cup aside, he hurried to his wife.
Annabella’s eyes lit up as he came through the bedchamber door. “My lord!” She held out her arms to him.
The earl went immediately to the bed to embrace her. As soon as his arms closed about her, Annabella began to weep. “Ahh, sweetheart,” he said soothingly. “We shall have more bairns, and great joy in creating them.”
“If we had not come . . .” she began, sobbing.
“We had no choice, Annabella,” he told her.
“Darnley did this to us, Angus.” She snuggled against his shoulder.
“And we will have our due on him; I vow it,” the earl replied.
“I want to go home, Angus,” Annabella said softly.
“And so ye shall, as soon as Jeannie says ye’re fit to travel,” he promised. “But now ye must get well and strong to do so.” He did not tell her he was leaving again at first light to join the queen’s army now marching toward Edinburgh. Instead he crawled into bed with his wife, and together they slept in each other’s arms for several hours.
When Annabella awoke the following morning, the imprint of his head was still visible in the pillow next to her, and she imagined she could still feel his strong arms enclosing her. She sighed happily, stretching herself like a young cat. She felt better already. Certainly she would be ready to travel home to Duin in a few more days.
“Good morning!” Jean entered with a tray.
“Where is Angus?” Annabella asked.
“He had to return to join the other lords pledging their loyalty to our queen. He rode out at dawn.”
