“They’re old enough now to know better.” Lizzie folded her arms and pressed her lips together.
“What’s wrong?” The anger in Lizzie’s voice made Margaret suspect the boys had done something worse than usual. “Did something happen?”
“You’re too nice to the king,” Lizzie said, and fixed her gaze on the floor.
“Too nice?” Margaret felt sorry for the king, being separated from his mother and passed from guardian to guardian. Though he was difficult, she tried to be kind to him.
“Aye,” Lizzie said. “Ye must stop it.”
“Stop being nice?” Margaret asked with a laugh. “Why?”
“The king talks about you,” Lizzie murmured.
“Talks about me?” she asked. “How?”
“He’s always saying how beautiful ye are.” Lizzie cast a furtive sideways glance at her. “He brags that he’s going to take ye to his bed.”
Good heavens, the king was not yet fourteen. Though this infatuation could not be serious, it was best to nip it in the bud. Time and distance would solve this problem.
“I must leave Edinburgh, at least until Archie passes the king onto his next set of guardians,” Margaret said, getting to her feet. “I’ll speak with my brothers at once.”
She could barely contain her glee. The king had given her an excuse to escape court, one that her brothers would have to accept.
Once she was away, perhaps she could stay away.
Margaret found her brothers in the royal solar, which Archie had taken over for his own use.
“I’ve had a new gown made for you to wear tonight that will be stunning,” George said. Then he winked and added, “Without my help, ye might be mistaken for a laundress.”
“I’m afraid I’ve something more important than gowns to discuss with ye,” she said.
Her brothers listened closely as she explained the problem and did not interrupt her with either expressions of disbelief or criticisms. This was going better than she had hoped.
“As I’m sure ye can see,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her, “I must leave Holyrood at once.”
“Ha! Our Margaret has the king wrapped around her little finger.” A teasing smile tugged at George’s lips as he held his finger up. “What did I tell you?”
If George anticipated this, why did he not forewarn her? Margaret stifled her annoyance and said in a pleasant tone, “I’ll go pack my things now.”
“This is no time to leave,” Archie said.
“But I just told you the king wants to”—she felt herself blush—“take me to bed.”
“Then give the king what he wants,” Archie said.
Margaret was so shocked she could not find her voice to object.
“’Tis unfortunate the king takes after his mother in looks, but I bedded her,” Archie said, making a face as if he had something bitter in his mouth. “We all must make sacrifices.”
“You cannot be serious,” Margaret said. “For heaven’s sake, the king is half my age. He’s still a child.”
“He’s old enough to want a woman,” Archie said. “No matter how unappealing he is in appearance and disposition, he is the king and will have his choice of bedmates.”
“What Archie is trying to say is that some lass is going to be his first mistress, and her family will benefit,” George said. “Should it not be a Douglas?”
“You want to make me a…a…whore to thatboy?” She should not have been so surprised.
“If you’re unwilling to bed him, then just give him the hope that ye will,” George said. “Keep him diverted so he doesn’t choose a lass from one of our rival families, who would be only too happy to have a royal bastard.”
