“Aye, that traitor,” Bothwell snarled irritably.
“What’s wrong wi’ him then?” Angus repeated.
“He’s a weak-kneed pompous fop with a lust for power,” Bothwell said. “A tall, gangling lad with golden hair and blue eyes. He’s younger than she is too, but she’s besotted by him. He has the brain of a flea, and a crude wit.”
“Be careful, old friend,” Angus warned. “Ye sound like a man in love who has been overcome by a rival.”
To his surprise James Hepburn flushed guiltily, but before Angus might say another word, Bothwell spoke. “Enough of the queen’s folly,” he growled. “That property ye’ve been trying to purchase from the laird of Rath, I think I have a way for ye to get it, Angus.”
“How?” The Earl of Duin was curious. The land in question bordered his, and when its previous owner had died he had attempted to purchase it from his heir, a laird whose lands were in the eastern borders. Robert Baird, the laird of Rath, would not sell the property, despite the Earl of Duin’s offer to name his price. For several years now he had been trying to obtain the land, which was particularly good pasturage.
“It’s time ye wed,” Bothwell said. “Would ye agree to that?”
“Aye,” Angus said slowly, “I’ll be thirty-five come August.”
“Rath is married to a Hamilton. They have a son and four daughters. The eldest lass is twenty. Robert Baird won’t let the others wed until she is wed.”
“What’s wrong wi’ her?” Angus asked bluntly.
“It’s the damnedest thing,” Bothwell said. “Her mother is a beauty. Her three younger sisters are beauties, but Annabella Baird is as plain as porridge.”
“She’s ugly then,” Angus said.
“Nay, not at all. Her face is oval in shape. Her eyes fine. She has a straight nose and a nice mouth, but there is nothing to commend her but her hair, which is the color of midnight, long and thick. It is her finest feature, but ugly, nay. She is not ugly,” Bothwell tried to explain. “But while her sisters are beauties they are ordinary lasses. Annabella Baird has wit and manners. I was introduced to her at a summer games last year. I liked her.”
“Ye didn’t seduce her, then?” Angus teased his friend.
James Hepburn laughed. “Nay, not a proper laird’s daughter. She needs a husband. Ye need a wife, and ye want that land her father possesses. I will wager I can get Robert Baird to give his daughter that property as her dower portion, along with whatever else he was putting aside for her.”
“I’ll take her for the land,” Angus Ferguson said. “I don’t like having unprotected acreage on my borders.”
It was then that another man in the hall spoke up. “Ye can have any woman ye want,” Matthew Ferguson said. He was the earl’s bastard half brother. Matthew had been born six months after Angus. His mother had been in service to the earl’s late mother, the lady Adrienne. “I have made inquiries, Angus. The girl is respectable, but as Lord Bothwell has said, she is plain of face. Ye could have a great beauty as yer countess.”
“A plain woman will suit me very well,” the earl said. “She will be grateful to have a husband, and eager to do her duty, which is to give me sons. She will be obedient and bring no shame to the Fergusons, Matthew.”
“I suppose ye’re pretty enough for all of us,” his half brother teased with a grin, ducking the swat Angus aimed at him. But then Matthew grew serious. “Ye’ll be kind to her, won’t ye? As ye’ve said, she’ll be grateful to have a husband, but even plain women have dreams of happiness.”
“I’m nae a monster,” the earl said, feeling a trifle offended. “Ye must remember, Matthew, that while some will find love in marriage, the truth is that marriage is an arrangement between families to the mutual benefit of both. Rath wants a good husband for his eldest daughter, and he will get it in me. I want a bit of land that Rath possesses. Taking his lass to wife is no great hardship. We both profit. I’ll treat Annabella Baird with the kindness and the respect she will merit as my countess.”
“Ye’ve a soft heart, laddie,” James Hepburn said to Matthew. “Be careful it doesn’t get ye into trouble,” he warned the younger man with a grin, “and listen to yer brother. He’s a practical man, wise enough to take a plain virgin in exchange for something he wants. A man’s mistresses can be pretty.”
Angus Ferguson laughed. “It will be fun to introduce my bride to the joys of the marriage bed. Is it not said that all little cats are alike when you pet them in the dark?”
“It depends on whether they purr or scratch,” Bothwell responded with a grin.
“Either way will delight me,” Angus answered with a chuckle. “I suppose I should meet Robert Baird face-to-face before I wed his daughter.”
“I’ll send word to him. He can meet us at Hermitage Castle,” Bothwell said.
The Earl of Duin nodded in agreement and turned to his younger sibling. “I’ll want you to go to Rath and act as my proxy, Matthew. The few remaining inhabitants of our brother Jamie’s monastery are about to depart for France, as they are no longer welcome in Scotland. The abbot has already gone. He left Jamie to conclude the necessary business. I sent to our brother, and he will go with you to make certain the marriage contracts are drawn up properly and to officiate at the ceremony. Then you will all return to Duin, where this union will be blessed before our clan folk.”
“I am honored to act for you in this capacity,” Matthew Ferguson responded.
He and Angus had been very close their entire lives. His mother, Jeanne, had been the confidante and tiring woman of the earl’s mother, Adrienne du Montverte. It was rumored that Jeanne was her lady’s cousin, a poor relation, raised with the du Montverte heiress. Neither woman had ever confirmed nor denied the rumor. Pregnant with her first child, Adrienne had begged Jeanne to service her husband’s lustful nature so she would be spared this task while she carried her child. She was a delicate girl, and very much afraid of losing this first child whose birth would cement her place in her husband’s life.
But Jeanne was reluctant, despite her love for her mistress. “What if I am rendered enceinte by the master?” she asked Adrienne. “Will you put me out on the road with my helplessbébé, madam? Or will you insist that I wed some farmer to cover my shame?”
The good lady, however, had assured her trusted friend that if she had a child by the laird of Duin, that child would be brought up with her own child, following the example of both the Scots and French royal families. Satisfied, Jeanne had agreed, and William Ferguson was not unhappy to have his wife’s plump red-haired serving wench to fondle and fuck while Adrienne ripened with his son. The laird of Duin’s seed was potent. He impregnated Jeanne, but, less fearful than her mistress, the sturdy serving woman kept the laird’s lustful nature well satisfied until her mistress was ready to allow him into her bed again. And, true to her word, the lady Adrienne added Jeanne’s newborn son to her six-month-old son’s nursery so the children might be brought up together.
