“Aye, there are two at his court, and he has allowed the order to have several priests in the country who work toward converting the huge population. Of course the two priests at court hope to convert the emperor himself. Father Ourique told me Akbar is amazingly intelligent, an enlightened ruler, and quite kindly in his character.”
Skye pondered her son’s words for several long minutes. The situation did not sound too discouraging. Praise from the Jesuits was not lightly given. They were a young order, having only been founded fifty-six years ago, but already they were wealthy and powerful. The motto of the order wasAd Majorem Dei Gloriam—To the Greater Glory of God—and their primary object was to spread the faith of the church. Working through the Jesuits, it just might be possible to regain Velvet’s freedom. Skye turned to her tiring woman.
“Daisy, find Bran and tell him I want him to go to Ireland and fetch my brother, Michael.”
“What can Michael do?” demanded Adam.
“As bishop of Mid-Connaught, Michael will go to the Jesuits in Paris where an old friend of his is high in the order. We need to gain their cooperation in the rescue of our child. After all, my darling, ’twas it not a Jesuit who demanded that outrageous ransom from us? A ransom that was paid. Was it not a Jesuit who placed our child in the care of that dreadful man, Marinha-Grande, who then sent her, a good and loyal daughter of the church, to an infidel lord for immoral purposes? Adam, my darling, if the Jesuits hadn’t meddled, then our child would be safe today.
“The way I see it is that the Jesuits owe us for this terrible travesty. We shall, of course, show our further gratitude once Velvet is safely returned to us, but they must first use their influence to get Michael to the Grand Mughal; and once he is there, they must aid him in convincing Akbar to release Velvet into her uncle’s care so that she may be returned to her family, and to her husband whom she believed dead.”
“It is possible,” pondered Adam. “It’s just possible that such a thing might work.”
“What if it doesn’t?” asked Alex.
“To my knowledge,” said Skye, “Akbar is a Muslim. No true believer would keep in his harem the wife of a living man. I am certain that once Akbar is told that Velvet’s husband lives he will give her her freedom.”
“I want to go with your brother,” said Alex.
“No,” said Skye quietly. “Velvet will have suffered more in the last year than she has ever done in her entire life. She will need the time during the voyage home to rebuild her physical and emotional strength, Alex. She will need to be alone. Your strong presence would only result in a heavy burden of guilt upon her. I will not allow you to do that to my daughter. Go home to Scotland. You have been gone from your lands for well over two years, and your people need to see you. We will send you word when Velvet’s arrival is imminent. It will be well over a year from now, Alex.
“The voyage itself is of several months’ duration each way. Once Michael is in India, he must travel hundreds of miles inland to Lahore and the Mughal’s court, present his plea, and travel back to his ship. Yes, it will take well over a full year if not more. Go home to your Scotland. It is better that way. Here there is nothing for you to do.”
What Skye did not say to her son-in-law was that she was more than aware that he had taken a mistress, pretty Alanna Wythe, the daughter of the silversmith whose house the wounded Earl of BrocCairn had been carried to after his duel and who had nursed him in Velvet’s stead. Skye believed it would be best to separate Alex from hischère aimebefore her daughter returned home. Oh, Alex might amuse himself with the girls on his estate, something he had no doubt done in the past, but Alanna Wythe could become a much more serious threat to her daughter’s happiness should Alex become attached to her. Sending him back to Scotland would end the relationship, and Mistress Alanna would look for another protector.
“I’ll go,” said Alex finally. “My men are anxious to be home again and have waited almost a year for me to make this decision. You are right. There is nothing for me to do here in London. There is one thing your Daisy should know, however. My man, Dugald, pledged himself in handfast to her daughter Pansy a month before she disappeared with Velvet. He’ll be happy when we learn the lass is safe and coming home. He really loves that saucy little wench.”
Skye smiled. “I’ll tell her and Bran. I think, too, that Dugald should speak with them, to ask their blessing out of courtesy. Bran Kelly loves all his children, but Pansy as the eldest girl was always a particular favorite with him.”
Alex nodded. “I’ll see to it,belle-mère.”
“Go along with you now, all of you. Murrough, make your peace with Padraic. I’ll have no more of your brawling. What’s done is done.”
“There’ll be no more fighting, Mother, but I’ll not make any peace with Padraic until Velvet is safely home,” growled Murrough, glaring at his youngest brother.
“ ’Twas not me who rushed Velvet out of the country,” muttered Padraic, flushing hotly.
“ ’Twas not me who gave her a fit of hysterics by insisting that her husband had been killed,” countered Murrough, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“Enough!” roared Adam de Marisco at his two stepsons. “Your squabbling isn’t going to bring my daughter back. Get out, the pair of you!”
The two brothers bowed politely to their stepfather and then, still throwing black looks at each other, quickly left the room.
Skye opened her arms to her husband, and for a long moment they stood clinging to each other. If they had made one mistake with Velvet it was that they had loved her too well, and had overprotected her. Finally Skye said quietly, “She’ll survive, my love. Is she not made up of a little bit of us both? Are we not survivors ourselves, my darling Adam? Velvet will come home to us! I know it!”
“Do you know what she’s going through?” He groaned. “My God, Skye! She’s so innocent!”
“She’s a married woman, Adam,” Skye reminded her husband. “She’s no longer totally innocent.”
“My little girl,” he murmured, “my poor little girl.”
“Adam!”Skye’s voice pierced through his distress.
He looked down at her, and there were tears in his smoky blue eyes.
“Oh, Adam,” Skye said softly, “she’s my little girl, too, and as precious to me as any of my children, perhaps even a little more so because her birth was such a miracle for us. She will come back to us! I am certain of it!”
A knock upon the door brought Bran Kelly, Skye’s senior captain, into the room. “Daisy’s told me,” he said, looking every bit as haggard as Adam did. “It’ll be quicker if I ride for Devon and ship from there, m’lady.”
