“My lady.” A tall, ruddy-cheeked woman with dark red hair stepped forward. “I am Mary Douglas, Marion’s mother, and you are most welcome to Glengorm!”
“Thank you,” Cicely said, relieved to see that, now that she’d been welcomed by this obvious leader of the village women, all the other women now pressed forward to greet her. She slipped down from her mount that she might walk among them, taking their hands in her hands, smiling warmly. Aye! She was home. Home for the first time in her life.
Chapter 10
Cicely was happy. So very happy. A year ago if anyone had told her she would be the wife of a border lord—and content—she would have laughed and called them mad. She could hardly wait for the spring thaw or for Sir William Douglas to return to Glengorm to tell them that the king had accepted her decision to take Ian Douglas as her husband instead of Andrew Gordon. Certainly Sir William’s suggestion to solve the problem of offending the Gordons of Huntley would be accepted. It was, after all, most practical.
She and Ian had discussed what they would do with her dower. He meant to add a flock of black-faced sheep to his livestock, and keep the rest of the monies to dower any daughters they had. Cicely had decided she would put some of her dower aside as well, but she also planned on using some of it to enlarge their house. There would be a new space on the main floor for a library, and above it would be a large new apartment for them to share. Right now Ian would either share the bed in her small chamber, or she would share his bed in his chamber, but the rooms did not connect as in other houses, keeps, or castles. Their new rooms would face south, east, and west to guarantee warmth.
“And we’ll need a new, bigger bed,” Cicely told her husband.
Ian grinned. “I’ll still be able to catch you, ladyfaire,” he teased her.
And she laughed. “I don’t think I’ll really flee you, husband,” she admitted.
Their passion for each other had grown greater with each passing day. And their love had grown as well. She began to forget what it had been like not to be loved. She must write to her father and share her happiness with him. She knew he would be pleased and only wished he might know Ian. But when she had bidden Robert Bowen farewell Cicely had known that it was unlikely she would ever see him again. Leighton was too far away, and Ian could not leave his lands. So she wrote her letter, and waited for a peddler who was going south to take it with him.
And then one afternoon Sir William Douglas rode into Glengorm. He looked tired as he dismounted and made his way into the hall.
Ian came forth to clasp the hand of his kinsman in greeting. “It’s too late to move on to Drumlanrig,” he said. “You’ll spend the night. What news do you bring?”
Sir William shook his head and asked, “Have you wed her yet?”
The laird nodded. “Aye, in mid-February. Did James Stewart forbid it?”
Cicely hurried into the hall holding her pale blue gown up so she would not trip over it in her haste. “Sir William! Welcome back! I was told you had come. Tam! Wine for Sir William. He looks fair worn. Come, my lord, and sit by our fire. It may be April, but the day is still sharp.” She led him to a tapestried chair and gave him a goblet of wine from Tam’s tray. Then, sitting opposite him, she said, “Now, my lord, what news do you bring us? Has the queen birthed her prince, and are mother and child safe?”
“Princess Margaret was born in December, and the queen is again with child,” Sir William said. “The queen is strong, and says she will give her husband many bairns.”
“If she says she will, she will,” Cicely agreed. “Jo . . . the queen always keeps the promises she makes. But what of the king?”
“He is well,” Sir William said shortly.
“And?” Cicely probed.
“Duke Murdoch and two of his sons have been executed, as well as some others. It was to be expected, of course. The king holds the old duke, Murdoch’s father, responsible for all those years in England. He is showing no mercy to those he deems his enemies.” He turned to Ian. “You’ll have to go to court to present the patent you hold for your lands, kinsman. Every laird and earl in Scotland is required to do so. Do you have the patent to show? I know Glengorm goes back several hundred years.”
“The patent for these lands was given to us by King Robert the Bruce,” Ian answered him. “Aye, I have it. Do we have the king’s permission to wed?”
“Aye,” Sir William said.
“Thank God!” Cicely said, relieved. “When will the king turn over my dower to my husband, Sir William? Ah, but perhaps when we go to court with the patent.” She paused a moment. “Did the king give the queen’s young cousin to the Gordons?”
“Aye, they were wed before Lent. She’s gone from court now to Fairlea,” Sir William said. He had bad news for them, but hesitated to speak. If they were going to court they would learn soon enough, the clan chief decided. Why should he be the bearer of unfortunate tidings? “The king will be in Edinburgh next week. You should take that opportunity to make your peace with him, my lady,” Sir William suggested. “And you, Ian, will want to get the patent to your lands firmly confirmed. The sooner the better.”
“Glengorm has belonged to my family for centuries,” Ian said.
“Kinsman, the king is still angry at you for stealing Lady Cicely. And getting the Gordons to accept the queen’s cousin, Elizabeth Williams, was not easy. The cost was dear for her dower was not the size of Lady Cicely’s. Andrew Gordon had gathered his Fairlea clansmen together, and was prepared to ride into the borders to retrieve your lady. It took tact and diplomacy to calm the Gordons and get them to see the advantage of having the queen’s blood kin married to one of them.”
“I doubt it not,” Ian replied scornfully, “for they could see nothing but my ladyfaire’s wealth.”
“Bring your patent to the king, Ian, and let us be done with this. You will have to apologize for your actions as well,” Sir William said.
“Apologize? For what?” the laird demanded.
Cicely put a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “For abducting me and spoiling the king’s plans, my darling. You are a big enough man to do that, for you have me for a wife now, and I love you. You say you love me. Then make your peace with James Stewart, even if it means you must briefly bow your head in subservience to him.”
“Very well,” the laird of Glengorm said to his wife. “I will do this for you, but why the king, who claims to have fallen in love with his queen at first sight, cannot understand that the same thing happened to me is beyond comprehension.”
