Joan smiled, a sight that always comforted Annabella. The woman was filled with such compassion and grace. “I believe in love, Annabella.” She laughed then. “I would have to in order to live where I do, would I not?”
Joan and James had been married in London just before he was released to reclaim his throne in Scotland. Annabella recalled how nervous Joan had been to live so far north and in a strange land filled with the wild people. She often commented on being proud of the society she and James had cultivated at Linlithgow. The palace was certainly as lavish as any Annabella had ever seen, save for Windsor Castle in London. She had never travelled to the continent, but she knew expense when she saw it, and none had been spared in the building of Linlithgow Palace.
A knock sounded at the door, and servants entered with a tub, steaming buckets of water, gowns, food, and drink.
Joan clasped her hands together. “Now, you shall enjoy all the comforts of a lady of your station this morning, Annabella. We have guests to entertain this afternoon, and I intend for you to be presented in a fashion the like of which my great hall has never seen.”
Annabella drew a great breath. She would much rather bathe in the kitchen of Finlaggan Castle and don the purple gown Angus had given her. She longed for it as she slid her fingers along the silks and satins of the gowns Joan offered. These gowns were pieced together with ties, and weighed a ton by the time all the pieces were assembled. That simple, straight-cut, purple velvet gown was more beautiful to her than all of these combined.
Once the tub was filled and she had been urged into it, Annabella allowed herself to succumb to the heat. Though she preferred to bathe and wash her hair herself, this morn she permitted herself the luxury of others attending her. By the time the maids were done, her skin was scrubbed and her body smelled of lavender. She was as relaxed as was possible, and with it came determination and courage.
Never had she been given the opportunity to affect the course of her life, but, by God, today she would make her voice known. She would meet this Douglas, but if she found one concerning point in him at all, she would vocalize it to him, to her father, and to the king. She may not be able to bend their will to hers, but she had the power to say what she felt, and today she would.
* * *
Angus had always angrily regarded Linlithgow Palace as an extravagance which had cost the people of his land. While his fury remained, for the first time he concentrated on sizing the place up for tactical escape, should the need arise.
It was easy to appreciate the ornate detail the Stewart had put into the palace, and if the entrance way was any indication, the inside would be something rather incredible. A large drawbridge was flanked on both sides with canopied niches, housing statues of a bishop and a noble. The central niche above the drawbridge housed the Stewart crest and an angel with outstretched wings.
The drawbridge yawned open with two guards standing on either side. Angus, with his father and a dozen men, trotted on horseback across the wooden bridge. The clip-clop of the hooves echoed around them.
Angus slid from his saddle and tossed the reins at a stable hand running toward them to collect the horses. The square inner courtyard was not overly large, but allowed visitors access to several parts of the palace. Angus strained his neck to see the height of the walls. They would not be scaled and, from a tactical point of view, he could appreciate the value in the design.
“I see you have come to your senses and are willing to hear my proposal,” Stewart said from behind them.
Angus turned around. The man was shorter than Angus had imagined. He was of average height, but Angus and his father were well over six feet, so the difference in their height was unmistakable as the Stewart approached.
“I accepted your invitation to talk, but that does not mean I will accept what you have to say.” His father’s tone had taken on a hard edge.
Angus was pleased to hear the caution in the older man’s voice. Clearly all the atonement and forgiveness talk—while good to hear—did not mean the man had lost all sense and reason.
“Come,” Stewart said, and motioned toward a doorway behind him. “Let us feast at my table to celebrate peaceful negotiations. Surely neither of us would have predicted this a year ago.”
Angus, his father, and the men followed Stewart as he led them inside and up a short flight of stairs to a large hall; surely the largest Angus had ever seen. With stained glass windows along the top of the longest wall, benches lengthways on both sides, and an enormous table on a raised dais in front of a stone hearth, this room could entertain hundreds. Servants milled about, hanging garlands on the stone walls and setting tables.
“You really did not need to go to this much trouble just for us,” Alexander chided.
Stewart turned with a grin. “Should our negotiations run favourable, I shall hold a feast as large in your honour. But this grand affair is to celebrate the marriage of my wife’s cousin. I believe you know the Lady Annabella?”
Upon saying her name, Stewart glanced at Angus and narrowed his eyes. The Stewart did not know Angus was aware of his plans to wed Annabella to the Douglas. Did the man think he held the upper hand at this point? Angus held back a grin. It would be interesting to see what Stewart said about Annabella during the course of their talks. In doing so, he hoped that the king would reveal enough information for Angus to use it to his advantage to save her.
“The Lady Annabella is indeed a treasure,” Angus’s father said. “I trust the gentleman to whom she will wed is worthy of such a prize?”
Angus glanced sideways at his father. The twinkle in his eyes convinced Angus that his father was at the top of his game right now with the Stewart. His father thrived on hidden meanings and careful word choice. Had the stakes not been so high, Angus might have enjoyed the banter between these two men.
“Please have a seat, my lords,” Stewart said. “And feast to your heart’s delight, so we may enter into these negotiations in good faith, with the hope of positive results for us both.”
“That is my only wish,” Angus’s father said. “It has been far too long that we have quarrelled over what is right and just for my people.”
The men took their seats, and trenchers of succulent wild game and steaming mounds of bread were brought before them. Angus’s belly rumbled in approval. He took advantage of the feast, as did the other man in their party, while the Stewart sat back and watched them.
“Do you not feast yourself?” Angus’s father said. “Should we be concerned that you have poisoned the food?”
The Stewart tipped his head back and laughed. “If I wanted to kill you, MacDonald, I could have done so many times before now. It is not your head on a pike that I want. It is your allegiance and your fealty.”
And his lands. Angus knew better than to trust that this man wanted anything less than everything the MacDonalds owned. His father was a clever man and did not reply straightaway. Rather, he nodded and continued to enjoy the succulent feast before them.
When he had eaten and drank his fill, Angus’s father sat back and folded his hands over his belly. “How is it that you are not as fat as the pig you serve? Do you feast like this every day?”
