“Oh, yes, my lord! I love it! I adore it! It is the most beautiful thing I have ever possessed!” Still clutching her present, she flung herself at him and hugged him.
His arms slid about her, and he breathed in the warm scent of her elusive perfume. His face buried itself in the fragrant hollow of her neck and shoulder, and he sighed. “Dammit, lass, I do love ye so! I never knew that love would be so all-consuming, but by God I don’t regret a moment of it! In fact I despise myself for being such an arrogant fool that I missed all those years with ye.”
Velvet nestled against Alex’s shoulder, her heart filled with a new and wonderful warmth. So this was love, she thought. It was not an unpleasant feeling. It was, in fact, most tolerable. She sighed happily as he drew her closer.
Alex’s face, which had been a study in all-consuming passion, now took on an expression of amusement. He wondered what she was thinking and came close to the truth. He felt his heart expanding within his chest until he thought it would burst with the incredible depth of his feeling for this woman. Jesu, how he loved her! Still, it would do her no good to know his full emotions. Women who were too sure of their men often became unruly. Best to end this soft moment before he said something further he would have cause to regret. He spoke with a nonchalant tone.
“Have ye nothing for me, lass?”
“Oh, Lord!” she exclaimed. “I do!” She ran across the room. Flinging open a large chest by the door, she bent down and lifted out a muffled object. Pulling the cloth wrappings from the seemingly bulky lump, she triumphantly unveiled a small painting. Turning the carved and gilded wooden frame about, she revealed the subject, herself in her mother’s creamy silken wedding gown.
Alex stared in surprise, his jaw slack. “How?” he demanded. “How could this be? There hasn’t been time!” His eyes devoured the portrait delightedly.
Velvet smiled triumphantly. “It is by Master Hilliard,” she said proudly. “He did my miniature when I first came to court. It was to be a Christmas gift for my parents. When we returned to court from Scotland, I went to him and begged him to re-create from the miniature a larger painting that I might give you for Christmas. He doesn’t often do full portraits, Alex. ’Tis quite an honor. He copied the head from the original, and then I sat for him twice in the gown so that he might, as he put it, rough it all in. After that I simply left the garment and he copied the details from it. You never guessed, did you?” she crowed delightedly.
He turned from the painting a moment to look at her. “Nay, lass, I never suspected.”
It was a wonderful painting, he thought as he looked again upon his wife’s portrait. She stood flanked on one side by two of his setters, her slender hand resting on one of the dog’s heads. Her other hand was at waist level and held a small, ornate gold pomander ball. Velvet stared straight out from the canvas, her jeweled green eyes clear with the innocence of her youth, yet curious; in fact, very much as he remembered her when they had first met only several months ago. She was not really smiling, and yet the corners of her mouth were faintly turned up as if any minute she would burst into laughter. She seemed to be hugging some secret to herself that she had absolutely no intention of sharing with anyone, and her expression told the viewer that she delighted with her private knowledge. The background of the painting was a simple blue sky, but as Alex looked more closely at the picture he noticed in the lower left-hand corner, on the Turkey carpet that his wife stood upon, a badger wearing a bejeweled collar.
She saw his eyes widen and chuckled softly. “Am I not the badger’s wife, Alex?” she teased him.
“Badgers dinna have wives, they have mates, and ’tis a certainty that ye’re mine, Velvet,” came his reply.
“Aye,” she drawled, “I am yours, but you are also mine, my lord. Four times have I pledged my fidelity to you in various marriage ceremonies, but as I have pledged my faith and loyalty to you, so have you pledged yours to me. Remember it well should you be tempted to stray from my bed, my lord. I will tolerate no slight upon my honor.”
He stared at her, astounded. “What in hell has made ye say a thing like that?” he demanded, outraged not only by her words, but by the threatening tone she seemed to use.
“Angel tells me that Robin has been forced to include Lord and Lady de Boult on his guest list for the Twelfth Night masque. Lord de Boult has recently done the queen some small but vital service and stands in her favor at the moment. To exclude them from the masque would be insulting.”
“Ye think I would accost the lady publicly?” His tone was dangerously low.
“She was once your mistress,” Velvet said sharply.
“Never!” He spat out the word with equal ire, his eyes dark with his outrage.
“Never?”she looked doubtful.
“Never, madame! ’Twas done only to make ye jealous, but never did I bed that viper! How dare ye presume that I did, and how dare ye presume that now wed to ye I would renew such a liaison had there ever been one in the first place!”
“I will accept your word, Alex, that naught took place between you and Lady de Boult, but you must admit that you played the lover well before me, and as I recall our first marriage took place because I found you with your hands all over the bitch in the queen’s gardens! What was I supposed to think, pray, my lord? If I have offended you, I beg your pardon, but I could not know that you were not really involved with that creature!”
“Whether I was or not, for ye to dare to set conditions for my conduct is inexcusable, madame!” he shouted.
“Indeed, sir? Do you not attempt to set standards for my conduct?”
“Ye’re my wife!”
“You’re my husband!”
Suddenly the incongruity of the situation hit him and he began to laugh. “I think we’re back to horses and dogs again,” he chortled.
“Villain!” She laughed back. “Dear God, Alex, what a proud pair of peacocks we are! I wonder if there will ever be peace between us?”
“I dinna mind the little battles, lassie,” he murmured softly and, reaching out, drew her back into his arms. Nuzzling her fragrant hair, he kissed the top of her head and said, “I dinna mind the battles for I so enjoy the peace-making.”
Velvet felt her bones turning soft with his words. She felt warm and safe in the haven of his arms. Perhaps this marriage business would work out after all. They loved each other, and she was wise enough to know that he was a good man for all his pigheaded ways. She smiled to herself. For all her pigheaded ways, too, for the truth of the matter was that she was no better than he. Slipping her arms about his neck, she murmured huskily, “ ’Tis cold in here, my lord. Shall we repair to our bed to negotiate this latest treaty?”
Wordlessly, he swept her up, walked across the bedchamber, and pulling back the covers, tucked her beneath them before joining her. They spent the night in heavy bargaining, but when the dawn finally came both the Earl of BrocCairn and his countess were well satisfied with the results of their dickering.
