“We dinna need a priest, sweetheart. We are already wed by law, and I mean to bed ye this night.”
“Your sons will be bastards then, my lord of BrocCairn, for whatever anyone may say, I will deny that any marriage ever took place between us. I can imagine how that will delight your sister and her husband, for I suspect they look to your lands for their own sons.”
“Very well, ye damned little hellcat, I’ll find us a priest, but ye’ll wed wi’ me before him tonight or I swear I’ll gie yer pretty little maid servant to Bothwell’s Borderers for their evening’s amusement! Do ye understand me?”
“Aye,” she snarled back bitterly at him.
Alex slammed from the room, leaving her alone and not a little frightened. She had never in all her dreams of her wedding day imagined that the event would take place in a gray Border fortress filled with men, without any of her beloved family about her, or that she would be forced to marry in a travel-stained riding skirt. “I’ll never forgive him for this!” she muttered mutinously.
She didn’t hear the door open, but turned, startled, as Lord Bothwell said, “I’m afraid there isn’t a priest of the old kirk to be found in these parts, lass, but I’ve sent for a parson of the new kirk.”
“ ’Twill be no true marriage for me then,” she said sadly.
He came into her line of view and, tipping her face up with gentle fingers, said, “A marriage isn’t made by words spoken by any man, be he holy or not, lass. A marriage is in the heart and in the soul. I know, for I had a proper marriage in every sense of the word, and yet my wife and I haven’t lived together in years.”
There was a sadness in his eyes that Velvet saw, though he quickly masked it.
“Is there no one you love, my lord?” she said shyly, yet curiously.
“Aye, there is someone I love, though she knows it not. I canna speak of it for she is the loveliest and most virtuous of women.” Again there was a sadness that touched Velvet, but then Bothwell sighed deeply and said, “Ye canna be wed without a proper dress, lass. I’ve asked one of the serving wenches to help ye prepare.”
“But, my lord,” Velvet protested, “I’ve nothing suitable. Alex really did kidnap me from London, and I’ve nothing but what I am wearing and an old velvet skirt that is no better.”
Bothwell smiled. “But, lassie, ye’re in a Border brigand’s castle. I’ve all sorts of booty available if ye dinna mind choosing a gown from amongst such stuff. Come along, and I’ll take ye to yer rooms.”
He led her from his library and up a narrow, curving flight of stone stairs to a spacious apartment. There they found a woman waiting, and the Border lord said, “Maggie, this is Mistress de Marisco, who will very shortly be the Countess of BrocCairn. Find her something suitable and lovely to wear to her wedding, and have the men bring a tub, for I’ll wager the lass wants a bath.”
“Oh.” Velvet sighed with pleasure. “You’re an intuitive man, Francis Stewart-Hepburn!”
“Aye, ’tis what all the lasses tell him.” Maggie laughed, and then she was gone from the room before he could reach out to swat her bottom.
Bothwell chuckled. “I think that my cousin is a very lucky man, sweet Velvet. Damn me, if I dinna think ye’re a lass made to love!” Then to his surprise Velvet suddenly began to cry softly. “Why, lassie,” Bothwell protested, and found himself taking her into his arms, “what is it?”
“My lord,” she said, sobbing, “I do not know how to love a man!”
“Why, lass, there is no crime in that. In fact I suspect that Alex will far prefer it that way, for a man likes to school his own wife in matters of that sort.” He reached for the silken handkerchief that was tucked into his sleeve and tried to wipe her tears away.
“My brother wedputa little while back, and I slept in the room next to his and his bride’s on their wedding night,” Velvet said. “She cried with pain when he made love to her, and Alex said it was because he had pierced her maidenhead, that it would only hurt once. Did he tell me true, my lord, or did he say it to calm me? What did my brother do that hurt his bride? I do not understand, and my mother never spoke on it, for she believed me too young before she went away. Do a man and a woman mate like the animals do? I have seen the stallions in my father’s stables mated with the mares. I have seen his hounds with the bitches. I can’t believe it, but is it the same?”
She nestled against him, and Bothwell wondered how he had gotten himself into this predicament. He had always thought of himself as an elegant and debonair man. He saw nothing about himself that should remind an attractive young woman of a mother hen, and yet here was this adorable female who, on the barest of acquaintances, was asking him questions that her mother was far more suited to answer than he. Then she trembled against him, and Bothwell, ever a gallant where the ladies were concerned, began to speak.
“ ’Tis something like the animals, lass, but nae really. The beasts feel a need to mate while a man and a woman feel something entirely different. For a man and a woman, the mating is nae simply a physical act but an emotional one as well, though a man can take a woman physically simply because he desires her body. There is pain the first time a maiden is mounted, but the amount of the pain depends upon how tightly the maidenhead is lodged. ’Tis over in an instant, though, and then there is naught but sweetness. Alex has never been known to mistreat a lass, Velvet. He loves ye and will be gentle wi’ ye, I’ve nae a doubt.” He stroked her hair and said, “Now dry yer eyes, lass. There is naught to fear, I promise ye.”
She took his handkerchief and wiped her face. “I have no other choice, do I?” she said softly, realizing he had actually told her nothing.
“Nay, lass, ye don’t,” he agreed.
The door to the room opened and several sturdy, kilted Borderers came in carrying a huge oak tub, followed by others bearing steaming buckets of water. The tub was quickly filled, and Bothwell followed his men from the room, saying as he went, “We’ll have to fill the other tub in the kitchen, lads, for if the lass bathes, then so should the bridegroom.” The door slammed noisily behind them, and for a minute Velvet found herself alone. Then the door burst open again, and Pansy ran into the room.
“Oh, Mistress Velvet! A tub, and ’tis hot, too! Here, let me help you. That Maggie is bringing the loveliest dress you’ve ever seen for you to wear. She’s just behind me now.”
“Och, good! The men filled the tub,” said Maggie as she reentered the room carrying a gown. With a smile she held it up for the bride’s inspection.
Velvet’s eyes widened, for when Bothwell had offered her a dress, she had not expected it would be something as incredibly lovely as what Maggie now proffered. The gown was of a heavy candlelight-colored satin, its bodice and underskirt embroidered with pearls and crystal beads. The leg-of-mutton sleeves were tied by many small, pearl-encrusted ribbons; the cuffs, which were turned back, were of rich antique lace. The neckline was shockingly low but totally fashionable. It was the most beautiful dress Velvet had ever seen, and it was obviously brand new.
“It’s glorious!” Velvet exclaimed. “Where did he ever find such a gown?”
Maggie laughed. “When a Borderer gies ye a gift, lassie, ’tis nae wise to ask where he got it.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out a necklace that blazed with diamonds and pearls set in rose gold. “These are Hepburn family jewels, and he says for you to hae the loan of them for yer wedding.”
