Cicely shook her head. “Charles is only twelve,” she said. “What has happened to Luciana, my stepmother?”
“They have confined her to her apartment with her servant,” Fergus said.
“Donna Clara,” Cicely noted.
“She’s as mad as a rabid fox,” Fergus said. “I saw her being taken for a walk in the gardens. Her hair and garments were in disarray, and she spoke not. But then when she saw the gardener’s small child she began to screech and tear at her hair, poor soul.”
“She belongs in hell,” Cicely responded coldly.
“I spoke briefly with your da,” Fergus said. “He sends you his tenderest love, but he cannot aid you financially. He will, however, send to the goldsmith in London who put your dower with his kinsman in Edinburgh. The earl says the goldsmith in Edinburgh had no right to give what was yours to anyone but you. He will press his man in London to see what can be done.”
“The goldsmith in Edinburgh will avoid responsibility for fear of the king,” Cicely said. “He will claim that as the king was my guardianhe believed he might give him my monies. And who will fault him? I should go to Leighton and look after my father.”
“You cannot be in the same house with that madwoman who is your stepmother,” Ian Douglas protested. “She will know you are there and seek to harm you.”
“I can stay in the cottage where Orva and I lived when I was a child,” Cicely said.
“I agree with the laird,” Orva spoke. She had been in the hall and heard all. “Your father will be well cared for at Leighton. You are no longer a child, my lady. Your duty is here with your husband, and your Glengorm folk.”
Ian Douglas felt sorrow for his wife, but at least now she had something else to think about besides her wretched dower. Why wouldn’t she understand that he was satisfied with what he had? It was her he had wanted, and nothing more.
And then came word that Queen Joan had given birth to her second child, another princess, Isabella.
Upon hearing the news Cicely burst into tears. “I shall never be able to give you my dower now,” she wailed.
“I don’t give a damn about the dower,” Ian said angrily. “I don’t care about it! Can you not understand that, ladyfaire? Give me what I really want. Give me an heir! At least the queen is trying to do her duty.”
Her tears suddenly ceased. She was astounded by his words. “Ian,” she began.
“Nay, Cicely, not another word!” He looked angry, and she had never before really seen him angry. “I will hear no more about your dower. The king has taken it. He is unlikely to return it to us. Do not tell me again that without your dower you are valueless. All the gold in Scotland would not suffice me if I lost you. You are precious to me, and of great worth to Glengorm. You have fretted and fumed over your monies since the day the king told you he took them; but I swear to you that if I had them in my hand at this very minute I should throw them into the middle of the loch and be done with it!”
It took a moment but his words finally made sense to her. He was right, of course. It was unlikely she would ever see her dower, and to ruin her happiness over a pile of gold was worse than foolish. He loved her for who she was, not for the gold she might have brought him.Blessed Mother!She was so fortunate. Little Beth Williams had had to prove her worth with a fat dower. Andrew Gordon wouldn’t have had her otherwise. But she, the Earl of Leighton’s daughter, was loved for herself and naught else. What a fool she had been! And how fortunate she really was.
“The matter is closed, my lord,” she told her husband.
“For good?” he demanded.
“Forever,”she said with a small smile. She moved to stand before him. “Now you must kiss me, for your words were harsh, and you frightened me.”
Wrapping his strong arms about her, he kissed her a hard kiss and then he laughed. “I have never frightened you, my love. Even when I trussed you up and stole you from Perth you assailed me with your fierce spirit. You are as braw a lassie as I have ever known. Now, that other matter we earlier discussed . . .” he said, smiling into her face.
“We will simply have to try harder, my lord.” She giggled.
In early autumn Glengorm found itself assailed by raiders from the English side of the border, and a flock of sheep was driven off, but no one was harmed. Ian was surprised, for like everyone else on the border he had hoped an English queen of Scotland would help keep the peace. Andrew Grey arrived to say Ben Duff had been attacked, and he had lost some cattle but no lives were lost.
“Do you know who it is?” Ben Duff asked Ian. “They came before moonrise, and I couldn’t identify anyone or anything.”
“I suspect ’twas Hunter Grahame and his ilk. An English queen of Scotland wouldn’t make a difference to him,” Ian replied. “That family has little respect for anyone or anything. We can’t let these two raids go unpunished, Andrew.”
“I know,” the laird of Ben Duff answered with a sigh. “Maggie’sbreeding again, and I don’t want her upset, but if we don’t strike back they’ll take it for weakness. God knows what will happen then.”
“We should strike at them at dawn,” Ian suggested. “They won’t be expecting us to do that. They will think of us coming in the night, as they did. We’ll take our livestock back and leave them to themselves. I have no real quarrel with the Grahames of Greyhome. How many men did you bring with you, Andrew?”
“Only a dozen,” he replied. “I didn’t want to leave Maggie unprotected.”
“ ’Tis enough,” Ian said. “Let us get it over and done with before they slaughter any of our beasts to eat.”
Cicely had never seen a party of border raiders. They had been sleeping when the Grahames had stolen the Glengorm flock. At least three dozen men filled the hall, crowding the trestles as supper of rabbit stew and ale was served up. One of Ben Duff’s men found himself smacked upon his head when he slid a hand beneath Flora’s skirts as she served him. There was much good-natured laughter. Cicely’s terriers slipped beneath the high board, hoping for fallen tidbits. Finally, with the meal cleared away, the men settled down to catch some sleep before riding out several hours before the dawn.
