“And when you have no coin to give him?” he queried her.
“I will simply tell him the lady refused to pay me,” Bethia said. “He will not question me further, for I shall feign outrage. Nor will he go to the lady,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll be extra gentle and kind to his old mother, and cook his favorite supper. It’s unlikely he’ll beat me then. Especially if I see that he has enough drink to put him to sleep.”
“You’re just like our mam,” Durwin said. “A nasty piece of work, Bethia.”
Bethia cackled with appreciation, and then began to make preparations for her brother’s supper. Their motherhadbeen a nasty piece of work. “Thank you,” she said to him. “You could not have given me a better compliment.”
The next morning, as soon as it was light, Bethia set out on her return journey to Glengorm. When her husband held out his hand for the coin she was supposed to have earned, she broke into a tirade. Her explanation had Callum Douglas satisfied, if irritated. He cuffed her once to show his displeasure with her, with the lady, and with the world in general.
The queen came into the village that afternoon, and charmed all of the clanfolk. One of the clansmen took her and Cicely out rowing upon Loch Beag,beagbeing the Scots word forlittle. The trees about the water were turning their autumn colors. Cicely’s two white terriers had accompanied them and, paws on the gunwales of the boat, they barked at anything that moved upon the shoreline.
“They be good watchdogs, for all their wee size,” the clansman rowing the boat noted dryly. Then he chuckled, for a fish leaped from the waters of the loch, sending the terriers into a frenzy of yapping. Cicely and the queen had to hold on to the dogs to keep them from leaping from their little vessel.
It was almost like old times for the two young women. Happy to be together, they hardly left each other’s side. The queen had put many a nose out of joint by leaving her women behind. Only her beloved elderly tiring woman, Bess, had accompanied her. Bess was spending her days either dozing in the hall by the fire or gossiping with Orva, while Cicely and the young queen amused themselves walking, playing cards, and talking for hours on end. The queen was concerned that she had birthed two daughters. While healthy and strong, neither was the desired prince and heir. And now, pregnant again, she feared another daughter would be born.
“They say it is my fault,” Joan Beaufort told Cicely. “But Jamie’s mother birthed four sisters and three sons, of which only he and his brother David reached adulthood. David was murdered by his uncle, the Duke of Albany. That is why Jamie was to be sent to France, for safety’s sake. His poor father realized too late the duplicity of his brother.”
“There is nothing for it but that you must keep having children until you give Scotland its prince,” Cicely replied. “That is your duty.”
“Your little Johanna is a beautiful baby,” the queen remarked. “Thank you for naming her after me, but why was I not her godmother?”
“I didn’t think the king would allow it, as he still felt anger towards Ian for abducting me when he planned to see me married into the Gordons,” Cicely answered. “Will you be godmother to the first child I bear Kier?”
“Are you enceinte?” the queen inquired, curious.
“Nay, we are not yet wed,” Cicely replied primly.
“But he’s certainly bedded you, hasn’t he? He doesn’t look like a man to take nay for an answer.”
“Once, but I have held him at bay ever since,” Cicely said with a smile. “He has the most amazing effect upon me, Jo. He kisses me, and I become absolutely wanton. It was not that way with Ian. I cared for Ian. I don’t even particularly like Kier Douglas.”
The queen laughed. “It is said that strong dislike often leads to love,” she told Cicely. “Perhaps without realizing it you are falling in love with him.”
“Never!” Cicely said vehemently. “I lust after him. Nothing more.” But Cicely was beginning to wonder if that was true. Could she love a man like Kier? A man who professed distain for her, who thought of her only as a means to his own immortality?
She considered the two Douglas men with whom she was or had been involved. Ian had loved her enough to risk offending James Stewart. For all his reckless behavior he had been honorable, a good man and a good laird. The Glengorm folk had adored him, and his own brother had been willing to die for him. And she had come to care for him. Not with the deep passion he held for her, she admitted to herself. But she had felt affection and respect for Ian Douglas. She knew now that she could have been happy spending her life with him. Why was it one always realized these things too late?
Kier, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. He was a hard man with a strong sense of duty to Clan Douglas. Perhaps it was his nature, or perhaps because of the circumstances of his birth he felt a need to excel, to please his father, to prove that he was as worthy as any. And yet his mother had been a Stewart, a lady. And his father’s wife had loved him as her own. Yet Sir William had not bothered to legitimate his eldest son. And whether he said it or not, that must have stung this proud man.
Especially considering that the wife he was about to take had been born under similar circumstances. While Cicely’s mother had not been noble, as Kier’s mother had been, her father had cared enoughfor her and the child she bore him to make Cicely’s birth a legitimate one. Could that fact alone cause Kier Douglas to despise her? Or would it not matter to him as long as she gave him the sons he required? Might they come to care for each other one day? But it didn’t matter if they did or they didn’t. In a few days’ time they would be wed to each other. Cicely sighed so deeply that the queen looked at her to see if all was well, but then, realizing her friend had obviously been in deep thought, Joan Beaufort said nothing.
Glengorm prepared for the wedding of its new laird to the widow of the previous laird. As the day that would mark the first anniversary of Ian Douglas’s death approached, Cicely found herself growing sadder. Once again the fact that this big, full-of-life man was gone reached out to touch her. How could such a thing have happened? But she knew the answer. The Grahames. The bloody Grahames. But she had sworn to her dying husband not to begin a feud. Ian had understood the futility of it. Still, given the opportunity to have her revenge upon them, she would have taken it.
Kier Douglas returned to Glengorm the day before the first-year commemoration would be celebrated. He would go to the Mass with Cicely, to be held at Glengorm Church on the morrow. The king would come on the sixteenth. That he had not returned with Kier to honor Ian Douglas told Cicely that James Stewart still held a grudge against the man who had boldly abducted her. It saddened her, but then, she knew the king was a hard man who would brook no disobedience to his will.
“Welcome home, my lord,” Cicely greeted Kier as he dismounted his horse.
The genuine warmth in her voice pleased him. “Thank you, madam,” he said with a smile. “All has been well while I have been gone?”
“Aye, my lord, all has been well.” She did not ask about the king. “Was all well at Ben Duff?” she inquired. “Will Maggie come with Lord Grey to our wedding?”
“Ben Duff’s lady told me to tell you she is looking forward to seeing both you and the queen,” Kier answered, surprised when she slipped her hand upon his arm while walking with him into the hall. He could not resist teasing her, saying, “You have missed me then, madam?” The blue eyes were twinkling as she looked up at him, startled by the query.
She paused, and then said, “Glengorm was quieter with your absence, my lord.”
He laughed aloud. “Indeed, madam, indeed.” He suddenly felt happier and more relaxed than he had in months. And she seemed less tense. His getting away with the king had obviously been good for both of them.
The following morning they walked together to Glengorm’s little church, where the clanfolk were already gathered. The queen came with them. Her presence would make up for the lack of the king this day. Father Ambrose said the Mass, and the homily he preached was as much an instruction to Kier and Cicely as it was a tribute to his two deceased nephews, for it dealt with the subject of duty to one’s king, clan, and self. Afterwards the queen praised Ambrose for his words, and the priest flushed with pride.
