Alex shot her a quelling look. “Hush yer mouth, lass! This is politics we’re talking of, nae religion. Ye can rest assured that I’ll wed ye a third time in our own church. Yer family will hae it no other way, I’ve nae a doubt. In the meantime, however, ye’re my wife in the eyes of both Scotland’s church and Scotland’s law, and ye’ll behave as such.”
“Indeed, my lord? Am I to suppose you’ll use force if I do not?” Her glance was pure defiance.
“If ye do not, I will take great pleasure in beating yer bottom, fetching as I find it, until sitting is the farthest thing from yer clever mind. Mark me well, Velvet! I dinna jest wi’ ye.” Alex’s black look matched her own in spirit.
The king and Bothwell looked at one another, their previous disagreements momentarily forgotten in light of the battle between the bride and groom. Each was delighted in his own way by BrocCairn and Velvet.
“When I tell my brothers how you’ve abused me, Alex Gordon …” she began.
“They’ll undoubtedly either cheer me or challenge me, Velvet, but I think the former rather than the latter,” he replied dryly.
“Now, lass,” said Lord Bothwell, grinning, “I think ye’ve certainly won this round in yer ongoing battle wi’ Alex. However, ye’re going to go back to England in a few days’ time. Be gracious in victory. Ye two are going to have to learn how to get along sooner or later.”
“When she accepts the fact that I am the master,” blustered Alex.
“Master, is it?” Velvet shrieked. “Why, you pompous idiot! Do I look like a horse or a dog to you that you wouldmasterme? I am a woman, Alexander Gordon! I have a damned good brain and I am as well educated as you are for all your French university. I will be respected by you for my intelligence or, believe me, your life will be one long hell, I promise you!” Her eyes blazed green fire at him.
“Is this how yer mother speaks to yer father?” he demanded, outraged. Both had again forgotten the king and Bothwell.
“My father respects my mother as well as loves her. Their marriage has been a partnership of love, trust, and mutual admiration. I will accept no less in my own marriage. If you had waited until my parents returned home from India, you would have understood that by knowing me better. But no! You had to carry me off like some Border plunderer!” She glowered at him. “Now, having taken my innocence, you’re bound to wed with me in our own faith, but mark me, Alex. I will be no man’s slave or brood mare!” She drew herself up to her full height and, with an unflinching gaze, stared proudly at him.
“Christ almighty!” swore the king. “I can only hope the lass I wed is not as fiery as ye are,Lady Gordon!I am of a mind to have a quieter life than my cousin Alex is likely to have.”
“Your Majesty appears to me to be a gentleman of breeding and sensibility,” Velvet said softly. “I doubt were I your wife that I should have to resort to violence as I very well may have to do with my wild Highland husband.” She gave him a dazzling smile, and James was again enchanted by her.
Bothwell laughed, shaking his head, and remarked, “Well, Alex, I suspect that the next move is going to be up to ye. Think well first is my advice. Dinna act rashly wi’ such a hot-tempered lass.”
Realizing that he had been bested in this bout with Velvet, Alex smiled good-naturedly, saying, “I’m not of a mind to hae my brains bashed in today, Francis, and I can see that her ladyship has a dangerous look in her eye.”
“Why, my lord,” said Velvet sweetly, “violence is not my habit at all. Is not the Gordon motto ‘By Courage Not Craft’?”
“That is the motto of the main branch of the family, the Gordons of Huntley,” he answered her, “but we Gordons of BrocCairn have our own motto. It is ‘Defend or Die.’ We keep what we take, Velvet.” His meaning was boldly plain.
“Enough!” said the king, whose head was beginning to ache with the argument between these two.
With a charming blush, Velvet curtsied to James. “Your pardon, my liege. You must think that Alex and I know not how to communicate other than by shouting. I promise you that I am far better bred than that.”
The king was once more charmed by this lovely young girl. “I think my court will be a livelier place for yer presence, Lady Gordon. Will ye join us for the evening meal?”
“I should be honored, sire.”
The dining room atHolyrood Palacewhere James Stewart was in residence was not particularly large. The room was paneled with a coffered oak ceiling. Upon the walls were beautiful French tapestries, some of which had been brought from France by James’s grandmother, Mary of Guise. Others she had worked during her years in Scotland, and later her daughter, Mary, Queen of Scots had taken them up. The scenes depicted upon the tapestries were pastoral in style. There was a large fireplace in the room, and it now burned with pine and aspen logs.
The king’s high board ran almost the width of the room, the side tables taking up the rest of the floor. There was a small center space between the tables where the servants were able to squeeze in and out with the dishes. It was a great deal less sophisticated than the Tudor court, but there was a warmth about it that was lacking, Velvet decided, at the English court.
Alex and Velvet had been seated with the king as his personal guests and the new Lady Gordon found herself the center of many curious looks. She was a little uncomfortable at being the subject of such close scrutiny. Gentlemen, she knew, were always interested in a pretty face, the ladies in her clothes. She was sorry she had none of her own gowns to wear, for they were the height of fashion. Instead, she had on another borrowed gown from Lord Bothwell’s treasure room, and only that because Francis understood enough about women to know that Velvet would want to wear something attractive when meeting the king for the first time. Alex had argued with her saying that Jamie wouldn’t care if she appeared before him in her riding clothes, but Bothwell had interceded for her, and she was now more grateful than ever. In her tawny orange gown with its heavy gold embroidery she felt the equal of any woman at the Scottish court even if she was bare of jewelry.
“Well, Lady Gordon” said James, turning to her, a haunch of venison in his hand, “what think ye of my court when compared to that of my cousin England?”
“One cannot possibly compare them, sire. I mean no offense, but the queen’s court is possibly the most elegant in the world. Even the French have not such a court! Still, I am not certain that I do not prefer yours, for although it’s not as sophisticated, its informality offers charm and warmth. When we return to Scotland next year, I shall enjoy being a part of your court.”
“Ye’ll be one of its shining stars, madame,” James complimented her.
“We’ll nae be able to come to court until Velvet has borne me several bairns, Jamie,” said Alex. “I would take no chances wi’ her health.”
“My mother bore eight children with no difficulty,” Velvet said sweetly. “She took sea voyages and even rode while she carried my brothers and sisters. I am sure I shall be as hardy.”
“Eight bairns!” The king was impressed. “How many lived to adulthood, Lady Gordon?”
