Cicely nodded. “Aye, I should appreciate it if you would.”
“There’s to be a wedding then,” Mary probed gently.
“ ’Twas decided months ago by Sir William, and then approved by the king,” Cicely admitted. “But I would not agree until I had mourned Ian a full year, and Father Ambrose spoke for me as well.”
Mary nodded. “You were right,” she said. “Of course, I see the men’s side in this too. They are anxious for a male heir for Glengorm. Well, we all are, and one will come in God’s good time. But the date has been set?”
“October eighteenth,” Cicely told her.
“May I tell the village?” Mary asked.
Cicely nodded. “Aye, for ’tis certain Kier will declare a holiday.”
“You don’t love him,” Mary said candidly.
Cicely shook her head. “But I will respect him as my husband, and as the laird.”
“It’s as good a beginning as any, and better than some,” Mary replied. “And he knows his duty as laird. He will have learned that at Sir William’s knee. We are fortunate he was sent to us, and not one of the other Douglases. Some are very wild.”
July passed, and then August. Cicely and Kier were careful about each other, making certain that they never touched even by accident. For touching had been what had set off their lust on Midsummer’s eve. Johanna had taken happily to Kate’s breast, and Cicely’s milk had dried up—to her sorrow, for she had enjoyed nursing her daughter. Sir William arrived unexpectedly one September afternoon bringing news.
“The king has decided to come into the borders to hunt grouse at the end of the month,” he announced. “The queen will be with him, and she would like to visit her old friend, the lady of Glengorm.”
Cicely jumped up. “Oh, there is much to do if we are to receive a royal visit. How will we house them? We have no bedchamber large enough.” She turned to Kier. “Now do you see the advantage to enlarging this house, my lord?” She looked to Sir William. “How long will they remain with us, my lord?”
“At least three days,” he said.
“If,” Cicely said, “you could convince the king to join us the second week in October, we could manage to build a bedchamber to house them. It would be a temporary structure, of course, but it could be done and would be far more suitable than the small chambers upstairs. Have you ever seen them, my lord?” she asked Sir William.
“I have, my dear, and you are right. They are too small for the king and his wife.”
“Can they not stay somewhere else?” Kier inquired of his father.
Cicely shrieked. “Have you no idea the honor being done Glengorm?” she demanded. “You are such a d—” She stopped. “You have not considered how fortunate we are to have the king and queen visit us, my lord.”
“Cicely is right,” Sir William said.
“But the expense!” Kier complained.
“You are gaining a large dower from me,” she snapped irritably. “And Ian had promised me half of whatever he gained so I might enlarge the house. You, however, have said you mean to hoard my father’s gold all to yourself. Well, now you must spend some of it.”
“Do you realize the shrew I am being burdened with?” Kier appealed to his father.
“I am certain that you and Cicely will manage somehow, my son. I am just sorry you are not already wed. The king will want to know why.”
“Let Cicely and Ambrose explain that matter to James Stewart,” Kier said. “I would have wed her the morning after I first bedded her,” he told his father with a wicked grin. “But my lady insists upon the proprieties being observed.”
“Are you with child then?” Sir William asked anxiously.
“Your son took a sip of the cream, my lord, but the cow has not been his since, nor will it be until we are wed,” Cicely told the older man.
Sir William burst out laughing, and when his mirth had ceased he asked, “You have chosen a day, haven’t you?”
“October eighteenth, three days after the first anniversary of Ian’s death, my lord,” Cicely told him.
“I’ll be here.” Sir William chuckled. “Now you must begin your preparations to receive the king and his queen in just a month’s time.”
“We will be ready,” Cicely promised the man who was to become her father-in-law. “The Douglases of Glengorm will not be found wanting.”
