He lay there in the darkness, for the fire had become only a small orange glow, his wife against him, spoon-fashion, obviously terrified that he would demand hisrights, and he realized in a great burst of clarity the source of her pain. For two and a half years Velvet had been very much alive to him, while he had been dead to her. While he was biding his time amusing himself with Alanna Wythe, she had built a new life with another man, only to be torn brutally from that man and that life. She had great courage. He had already heard her praises sung by the usually taciturn Dugald, who had told him a wild tale of how Velvet had saved the lives of both Pansy and little Dugie.
“She’s a great lady, m’lord! A great lady! She’ll breed up fine sons for BrocCairn!” Dugald had said.
Alex smiled to himself in the darkness. There could be no sons unless Velvet’s heartbreak healed, and he must be the one to heal it, for his stubborn pride had been a prime factor in breaking that brave, young heart. “Don’t be afraid of me, Velvet,” he said to her softly. “I understand. I truly do.”
“I feel so foolish,” she answered him, “but I am not yet ready for this part of our marriage, Alex. Please be patient with me. I am trying, I swear it!”
“I understand,” he repeated. “I was dead to ye, but Akbar is not.”
“Yes.”
“Then I must woo ye from him, lass, and I will try to do so. I am not a man for the lute and love songs. I cannot compose a verse to save my soul, but I will show ye that I love ye in other ways if ye will give me the chance. Will ye, lass?”
She was silent a moment, and then she said, “Aye.” Nothing more, but she turned in his arms so that she faced him, and, taking his head between her hands, she kissed him on the mouth before turning her back to him again.
Alex’s heart soared! He felt like a young lad with his first lass. It would not be easy, he knew. He must swallow his pride to win back his wife’s heart and soul from another man, but he would do it! He wanted her! Oh, how he wanted her, and whatever he had to do, it mattered not as long as Velvet would smile at him again with love in her eyes as she had those two and a half years ago. Pushing her thick hair from her neck, he placed a quick kiss on the soft skin at the nape. “Good night, lass,” he said.
“Good night, my lord,” was her reply.
On the last day of August in the year 1591, the Earl of BrocCairn’s party crossed over the Cheviot Hills and rode through the invisible gateway that separated England from Scotland. They had traveled slowly, for Velvet was still worn out from her long voyage. It had been a strange week for Alex since he reclaimed his wife. Velvet remained subdued in both manner and speech with him, but at least she had stopped trembling against him during the night. He knew that if he made love to her she would acquiesce, but it would have been like rape to him. He waited for her to want him again even as he wanted her. Patience, Skye had said, and she had been so very right. He only hoped that he had enough patience, for it was not easy to lay with Velvet night after night without loving her.
The air was yet warm in the Cheviots during the day; still, there were already signs of autumn around them. The heather had begun to bloom, and Velvet saw whole hillsides of the purple-pink flowers. The bumblebees loved the heather and flew busily from flower to flower gathering the nectar that would make their delicious honey. The whortleberry bushes were long stripped of their delicious fruit, but already the foliage had begun to assume its rosy-red autumnal tints. Here and there flocks of Cheviot sheep grazed the seemingly peaceful land, but the men of BrocCairn were ever-watchful for an unseen enemy who might attack without warning.
Alex had sent a messenger on toHermitagerequesting the hospitality of his cousin, the Earl of Bothwell. Bothwell was once again in his royal cousin James’s bad graces, and Lord Home had been sent in early summer to arrest him. Sandy Home, however, had decided that he preferred hunting and fishing with Francis Stewart-Hepburn to arresting him, and he had remained atHermitagewith his friend.
Most believed that the royal wrath against the Earl of Bothwell had been brought to a fine froth by the king’s chancellor, John Maitland. Maitland had caused Bothwell to be imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle for several months, but on Midsummer’s Eve the earl had escaped and publicly mocked Maitland at Nether Bow, daring him to come out of his house, where, rumor had it, the chancellor was cowering in a cabinet, to return the earl to prison. All of Edinburgh had enjoyed a good laugh at Master Maitland’s expense, and he had not forgotten it. Learning from the king’s chamber boy that James secretly coveted Catriona Leslie, the beautiful Countess of Glenkirk, Maitland allowed the king to learn that both Bothwell and Lady Leslie sought divorces from their spouses and planned to marry. In fact, Margaret Douglas, Bothwell’s wife, had already been granted her decree. James had then used Bothwell’s past misdemeanors and “his lewd conduct wi’ a certain lady of the court” as excuses to outlaw his cousin. And he had prevented Lady Leslie’s divorce. The lady, however, was not to be bullied by the king and remained with her lover in defiance of the Stewart’s anger.
Under normal circumstances, Alex would have avoided Bothwell’s hospitality at this time. He had no desire to bring the king’s temper down on BrocCairn. Velvet, however, was simply not strong enough to ride too great a distance at a stretch, yet, and he had to break their journey atHermitage.Perhaps, he hoped, the king would not learn of it.
The stone keep that was Bothwell’s home had no sooner come into view when its great gates opened and a small party of horsemen rode out to meet them.
Francis Stewart-Hepburn’s face was split in a huge smile as he greeted his cousin of BrocCairn. “Alex! ’Tis good to see ye!” Then he turned to Velvet, and his smile softened. “I’m glad ye’re home safe, lass,” he said quietly.
Velvet felt quick tears prick her eyes, and she blinked them away. “Thank you, Francis,” she said, and for the first time in days Alex saw a small smile touch the corners of her mouth. “I am told the king is most put out with you, my lord. I would have thought you had outgrown your bad habit of teasing His Majesty by now.”
Bothwell chuckled. “Jamie is too tempting a target, lass,” he replied. Then he moved his horse just slightly so that the rider next to him was visible to them, and both Alex and Velvet were surprised to see that it was a woman. “This is Cat Leslie,” Bothwell said simply. “She is to be my wife one day.”
“Oh, Francis!” Velvet burst out, “you are finally happy! I am so glad! So very glad!”
Bothwell flushed, pleased by her words, but the beautiful Lady Leslie gave a soft, husky laugh. “Were she not yer cousin’s wife, Francis, I think I should be jealous,” she teased him.
“Velvet is the sweetest of lasses,” Bothwell said, “but there is only one woman in the world for me, Cat, and ’tis ye, my darling.”
Now Lady Leslie flushed becomingly, and Velvet thought that, next to her mother, she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Tall, slender, and full-bosomed, Cat Leslie had fair skin like Velvet’s, leaf-green eyes, and dark, honey-colored hair. Her face was truly heart-shaped, with a stubborn little chin. She was dressed in doeskin riding breeches, a creamy, open-necked silk shirt, and a leather jerkin with silver-rimmed horn buttons. Her boots came to her knees, and her long, heavy hair fell about her shoulders.
“It’s not safe for us to remain outside the castle walls, Francis,” reminded the earl’s bastard brother, Hercules Stewart.
Bothwell nodded and, turning his horse, led them safely intoHermitage Castle.As they dismounted, he said, “Cat, take Lady Gordon to the apartments ye prepared for her. She looks fair worn.”
“I am,” Velvet admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden like this.”
“Almost three years?” he ventured.
For a moment Velvet thought, and then another smile lit her features. “Aye, Francis, ’tis almost three years, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. “Ye’re a lot more docile now than ye were then, lass.”
“I have but to regain my strength, my lord,” Velvet answered mischievously, realizing as she spoke that she was suddenly feeling better than she had in weeks.
