“At least, I know of none.”
“Then this will be your first,” she said. “How exciting for you. I am told it is quite an event for a man to have his first bastard.”
“I may kill you despite the bairn,” he snarled. “Get upstairs to our bedchamber!”
In bed she lay curled away from him. He did not press the issue although he longed to hold her, to caress her, to kiss her, to fill her with his lust.
The following day he sought out the priest in the nearby village and presented his problem.
The priest shook his head. “If she will not have you, my lord, there is little you can do to force her. If she had a guardian that would be a different matter, for it would be he who made the match.”
The laird considered the problem, and then asked,“Who could be her guardian?”
“The lady is not a child now, but if a blood relative could be found you could make a match for her with him,” the priest answered.
The laird thought on the matter for the next few days.
It was his brother, Duncan Armstrong, who came up with the solution.
“Adair is King Edward’s daughter,” Duncan said.
“King Edward the Fourth descends from King Edward the third a good century back. Another of his descendants was wed to our King James the First. This would give Adair and Prince James a blood tie. The prince is considered of age. Could not he be designated Adair’s guardian? And if that were the case, could not he, as Adair’s legal guardian, arrange a marriage agreement for you with Adair? The connection is tenuous at best, but there is still a blood tie,” Duncan finished.
“If I ask the prince for a favor,” Conal responded,“then I owe him a favor in return. There is trouble brew-ing between the king and his nobles.”
“That trouble has been coming to a head for years,”
Duncan remarked. “The king will not be able to hold on to his throne for much longer. Scotland wants and needs a strong man to lead it. This James Stewart is nothing like his father. But his son is a combination of both his father and his grandfather. Like this king he is an educated man, but unlike this king he speaks the language of the Highlands, and is a fine athlete. He is a soldier, and a great lover of women. He does not scorn the company of the earls. Our prince is the kind of man we want as king.”
“But the king lives, and is in good health,” Conal said.
“The king lives, but he deeply mourns Queen Margaret. He has shut himself up in Stirling and will make no decisions. Sooner than later the clans will force him from the throne and put his son in his place,” Duncan said. “But if they think to rule the lad they are wrong.
The prince will be king.”
“And in return for the favor I ask him I will be beholden to Prince James. What if I am expected to join him when the earls decide to replace the king? What if they take their gamble at the wrong time, and lose, and I am named a conspirator?” Conal Bruce asked his oldest brother.
“Life is a gamble,” Duncan said dryly. “You have to decide what you want more, Conal. Do you want your son born legitimate? Or do you choose to cower here at Cleit, taking no chances and believing that you are safe?
Safe for what?”
“Do you know where Prince James is now?” the laird asked his brother. He was stung by Duncan Armstrong’s sharp words. Duncan had been his mother’s second-born son by her first husband, William Armstrong, the laird of Duffdour. His older brother, Ian, was the current laird. When their father had died, Euphemia Armstrong had remarried the laird of Cleit. Her oldest child remained at Duffdour. Her daughter was being brought up by the girl’s future husband’s family. Only Duncan had come with her to Cleit. But Duncan Armstrong was a man who moved easily through the borders. He knew many, and he knew much.
“Aye, he’s at Hailes with the Hepburn,” Duncan said.
“Do you want me to go to him and ask his help?”
“We’ll go together,” Conal Bruce said.
“You’re not afraid to leave Adair alone?” Duncan asked.
“Adair is not going anywhere. Murdoc will keep her amused, and Elsbeth will make certain that she does nothing foolish,” Conal said. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
Duncan nodded. “Aye, you’re right to go now. The sooner the better. She’s the perfect wife for you, you know.” He chuckled.
“That termagant? You have odd ideas, big brother,”the laird replied. “I’d not have her but that she is carrying my child.”
“You’re a bad liar, Conal,” Duncan told him. “You love her, and she loves you. I do not understand why neither of you can admit to it and be done with it. She nursed you like a bairn in your recent illness. She would scarce leave your side even to sleep. I’ll be glad when you two come to a peaceful arrangement.”
