The laird hurried from the hall and upstairs to the bedchamber he now shared with his wife. She was standing by the hearth warming her hands as he entered.
“Is he gone?” Alix asked, turning to face him.
“He’s sleeping in the hall and will be gone on the morrow,” her husband answered her. Then he took her into his arms. “Dinna fear, lassie. He’s just about ready to give up his search for you. But you know he went to your queen, dispensation in hand, to gain her permission to wed you.”
“And brought her a bag of coins to ease her conscience,” Alix said bitterly. Then she sighed. “Poor queen. She is desperate by now, I imagine. It has been over two years since they departed England. The new king must be well established by now. I wonder that my queen, the prince, and the poor king do not go to France. It would seem they have few if any adherents left in England, and while Scotland lets them shelter here they will offer no aid. Queen Marie must consider her son’s position in all of this. She has offered Scotland’s friendship to the English.”
“Which has given us a respite here in the borders,” Malcolm Scott said. “I have never known it to be so peaceful.”
“You are certain he suspects naught?” Alix asked nervously.
“I apologized that my wife,Margaret, was unable to entertain him, but alas she was ill, and our daughter too, and my wife might even be breeding again.”
“Might I?” Alix said with a smile.
“Well, if you are certain you are not, madame, then we must immediately get to work to remedy that and ensure I am not a liar,” the laird teased Alix.
She laughed happily. “I do love you so very much, Colm,” she told him. “I could have never wed Sir Udolf even if I wasn’t repelled by what he proposed. How does he look? Is he well? I wish him no ill.”
“He looks tired,” the laird said. “And sad. He is, as you have always said, a decent man. I enjoyed his company, but I hope I have discouraged him from seeking you further, lambkin. He certainly is not young, but he is not too old to sire a child. There must be some woman of respectable blood who would have him.”
“Now that Hayle is gone, aye, there should be,” Alix agreed. “I wish him luck, but I must admit I will be relieved to see him go on the morrow.”
And in the morning after he had eaten a most delicious breakfast, Sir Udolf Watteson bid his host farewell and departed Dunglais. As he rode away from the keep, his captain, who rode at his side, said, “She is there, my lord.”
“You are certain?” Sir Udolf said quietly.
“Aye, I am. I made an assignation with one of the maidservants who served below the board. After we had enjoyed a lusty bout in the hayloft of the stables we talked. I asked about the laird’s wife. Was she a Scot? Nay, the girl told me. She was English, but everyone loved her, particularly the laird’s little daughter. She said the laird’s people found her almost frozen to death upon the moor two years ago. He had taken her in as his daughter’s companion but then made her his mistress. Several months ago they wed, the wench said. Her lady’s name is Alix, my lord.”
“Their marriage cannot be legal,” Sir Udolf said angrily. “She was already my betrothed wife, and I will have her back!”
“Will we return to Dunglais now?” the captain asked his master.
“Nay. We will go home while I decide what it is I will do. If I am clever as this laird has been, I can regain my Alix and he will never know it,” Sir Udolf chuckled. And when they reached Wulfborn Hall its master sat in his hall and considered what he should do. He spoke with his priest.
“Your claim is the legitimate one, my lord,” Father Peter said. “And you have the permission of the lady’s former guardian, Queen Margaret.”
“Then I shall take her back!” Sir Udolf said determinedly.
“Yet, my lord, you must consider if you would have her back. Did she not betray you by fleeing Wulfborn? And did she not spread herself for another man? Is this truly the kind of woman you wish to wed? There are at least two women of good birth nearby who would be happy to be your wife, my lord. Women of good character and strong moral fiber.”
“But are they young enough yet to give me a son?” Sir Udolf demanded of his priest. “Nay, they are not, and I know it, Father. I must have a son!”
“Your sister’s second son would make you a fine heir, my lord,” the priest said.
“Nay! I want my own son, and Alix can give me that son. You say my claim takes precedence over any other. Then I will have her back!”
“But how, my lord?How?” the priest wanted to know. “I do not believe the laird will give her up to you. Certainly he loves her or he would not have married her.”
“He has forced her into this marriage, I am certain of it!” Sir Udolf said. “He needed a mother for his daughter. He wants a son of his own. He cannot love her.”
“Do you, my lord?” the priest asked candidly.
“She belongs to me,” Sir Udolf said. “She is mine, and as she lives, I shall have her! The church will uphold my claim. Queen Margaret will uphold my rights.”
The priest sighed. It was not that he disagreed with Sir Udolf, but the woman he so desperately desired had run away from him and then given herself to another man. “How, my lord,” he repeated, “will you regain the lady? The Laird of Dunglais will not give her up without a fight.”
“My captain has found me a group of renegade Scots. They will take the lady when she is out riding one day. It will appear to be a border raid, and I shall not be involved in the matter at all. The naked and disfigured body of a young woman will be found and assumed to be the laird’s woman. He will never look for her after that body is found, and Alix will be mine as the archbishopric at York has said.”
