In Bed With A Stranger (24 page)

At least the royal hounds were off his back. They left him the moment he began setting up house. The city was teeming with people. The different clan tartans denoted other titled men. Some clansmen still clung to their plain wool kilts without plaid striping. Not all clans had adopted the newer kilts.

It was a full fortnight before he was ready to appear at court. Showing up any earlier would have been a waste of time. The first thing he needed to do was send a formal message to the King’s chamberlain advising the man that he’d arrived as summoned.

James Stewart had been raised by courtiers. His mother had long ago lost her head in an English castle. It was an ironic twist of fate that left him the heir to Elizabeth Tudor’s throne, since she had signed his mother’s execution order.

But that didn’t seem to matter much now. Brodick walked into the main receiving hall to find it bursting with ambassadors from all over the world. They were dressed in fine clothing, attendants trailing them. Foreign languages bounced around the hall—Portuguese, French, Italian and even Spanish. His temper strained against his control as he viewed the number of men waiting to see the king. This was the outer hall. They weren’t even in the main court yet. James might keep him waiting for a month if he was of a mind to do so.

“It seems we Scots have gained a wee bit o’ favor since I was last here.” Druce looked around, his face pensive. “Now that’s a change.”

“It explains why Jamie is so concerned with raiding these days.”

“Aye, it does.”

Brodick watched the blending of new fashion with Celtic tradition. Kilts were still worn by at least half the men but now there were velvet slops and Venetian pants as well. Many of the ambassadors wore lavishly decorated short capes that shone with gold and jewels. He and his men were wearing doublets with sleeves, the green wool a mark of the McJames clan for a century. But he didn’t think even being in the presence of his monarch meant he should have sewn gold baubles onto his clothing. Such frivolity was for women and fops who eyed young men for trysts.

“But I must admit that I’m a bit surprised at the fashion on display.”

His brooch was gold and set with twin rubies for the lion’s eyes. It had been his father’s and someday it would be worn by his son. On his right hand was a signet ring with the seal of the Earl of McJames. It did not leave his hand unless he handed it to a man willing to defend it with his life. That was a promise his father had extracted on his death bed.

Druce scoffed at him. “I’ll remain a happy man in my kilt.”

“Agreed.”

They all froze as McQuade came into view. The man stood with his retainers, frowning at the great number of men waiting to see the king. The royal guards kept the door barred while everyone awaited the call of the chamberlain announcing their name. Without that, they stood waiting.

“Thieving mongrel McQuade.”

“Easy, Cullen. We’re here to defend the fact that we nae started the fighting.”

This time.

Brodick had to give the man his due; there had been a few nights that he strayed onto McQuade land. But he didnae fire the homes of the farmers.

Druce slapped Cullen on the back. “What’s the matter, lad? Don’t ye like the look of yer future father-in-law?”

“Did I miss something important?” Brodick watched his brother bristle but he clamped his mouth shut for a change.

The chamberlain stamped his white staff against the floor three times. The brass plate on the bottom of it echoed through the hall. Everyone fell silent.

“Oyee, oyee, oyee. His Majesty will receive the Earls of McQuade and McJames.”

A sound of frustration rippled through the men who did not hear their names. Several waved scrolls under the nose of the chamberlain, trying to get the man to notice their pleas. He stood straight, staring forward.

“At least Jamie’s nae in the mood to see us cooling our heels.”

Brodick moved forward, eager to see his king and quit the court. He had no ambitions that included remaining for any length of time among the schemers. The only favor currying he wanted to do was back home with his sweet wife. He’d gladly spend every night seeking her favor.

The guards uncrossed their pikes, allowing him and his men into the inner hall. It was decked out with the banners of the royal house. Here there were ladies wearing velvet and silk gowns. Their faces were painted but not the ghastly white of the English court. They still looked ridiculous to his eyes, their cheeks bright red and their lips the same shade.

Brodick lowered himself to one knee, Cullen and Druce mimicking him. He swung one fist against his left shoulder.

“Yer Majesty.”

James Stewart was an interesting cross between Scots and European style. He was seated on a throne at the end of a red carpet.

“McJames and McQuade, join me in my private chambers. Two men each.”

McQuade slid Brodick a sinister smile. The older man knelt on one knee the same as he had. The king stood and left the throne room. Brodick stood up, eyeing his nemesis.

“Ran crying to the king, did ye, McQuade?” Brodick smacked his lips. “Always knew ye were a whining bastard when ye lose. Like yer father before ye.”

The older man’s face turned ruddy. “And yer the son of a thief that waits ’til a man is in his cups to challenge him to a game of wits.”

Brodick smirked. “My father often said I look a lot like me mother. Since ye knew her, do ye agree?”

McQuade spat on the floor. “She was mine.”

Cullen scoffed at him while stroking a lock of his lighter hair that was the same shade as their mother’s had been. “Nay, man, we’re living proof that she was had well and good by our father.”

McQuade smiled. “Well, now we’ll be seeing just who has the last word.”

He moved toward the king’s private chambers, his spurs clanking against his boots. Druce patted Cullen on the shoulder once more.

“That had a nice ring to it.”

Cullen smirked. “Ye think so?”

“Oh, lad, aye.” Druce tilted his head to the side. “I think ye’re going to be quite the family when ye make good on that threat to tame Bronwyn.”

Cullen glared at Druce, his fingers tightening into a fist. There wasn’t time for more as they came into the king’s presence and hit a knee once more.

“Rise.”

James Stewart eyed McQuade first. The older man lifted his chin, stubbornly resisting the look from his monarch to soften his stance.

“McJames, tell me why ye wounded several of McQuade’s men last month.”

Brodick resisted the urge to grin. James might be dressed like a European king but beneath his pants he was pure Scot.

“Because I caught them burning some o’ me farmers’ homes.”

“’Tis not so.”

Druce stepped forward. “It is. Saw it with my own eyes.”

The king held up a hand. He looked at Druce.

“Ye swear that?”

“On the title of Bisbane. I was at Sterling for the celebration of my cousin’s marriage.” Druce pointed a finger at McQuade. “I rode out with Brodick and saw the torches myself.”

McQuade didn’t look repentant. Quite the contrary, the man’s face lit with satisfaction. The king grumbled beneath his breath.

“What am I going to do with ye, McQuade?” Jamie sat down and propped his hand on his knees. He rested his chin against one palm while considering McQuade and his men.

“The eyes of the world are on Scotland. We’ve no time for raids and quarrels long past settling. Man, that woman is long ago wed and her sons grown to men.”

McQuade shook his head. “I want a portion of the dowry returned. That will satisfy me.”

“Ye married a woman with a good dowry.”

“But no land. ’Tis the two-hundred measures of land I’m wanting. They were promised to me.” McQuade was yelling by the time he finished.

“No chance o’ that happening.” Brodick wasn’t much calmer. “Ye dragged me here for no reason. Yer men were raiding and I sent them back to ye whining like their master.”

“Enough.”

Jamie stood up. He pointed at McQuade. “Ye’ve wasted my time, man, and I’ll nae thank ye for that. That land went with the heiress. There will be no arguing with what a father settled onto his daughter thirty-five years ago. I suggest ye look to arranging a good match for yer sons if it’s a larger holding ye want.”

“But that bastard just took an English bride who will double his land yet again.” McQuade shook a tight fist in the air. “I want that land.”

“I said nay.” Firm authority rang out of the king. He looked at Brodick.

“Ye claimed yer bride?”

Brodick lifted his chin as high as McQuade’s, but with a far different emotion. “Aye, three months ago.”

The king didn’t respond for a long moment. McQuade began to shake his fist again.

“Ye see?” McQuade stepped closer to the king. “The man is power hungry. He’s setting himself up to challenge ye.”

“That’s nae true.” Brodick glared at McQuade. “Watch yer insults, man. I’m nae a traitor and willnae hear any man say I am.”

“Enough!”

The king’s guards reinforced their monarch’s order with lowered pikes. McQuade shook with his rage, but the man stepped back in the face of cold steel leveled at his belly.

“The pair o’ ye will remain with the court for the summer. I’ve not the time to deal with yer fighting.”

“I’ve got a new wife that’s breeding.”

The king lifted an eyebrow. “If her belly’s full, she dinnae need you anymore. Ye’ll stay.”

Brodick clenched his fists. Even the guards behind his king didn’t settle his temper. Jamie waved a finger at him. “I’ve need of ye, McJames. This court is full of tale-spinning lords who want to keep raiding each other over things that can never be changed. Yer clear thinking will be welcomed.”

“My King—”

“I’ve spoken, man.” Jamie’s voice rang with a royal decree. “And ye will serve me for the summer. I’ll send ye home in time to see yer son born.”

McQuade snickered.

“And ye, McQuade, will remain in the outer hall awaiting my summons.”

“Yer Majesty—”

“Ye have that correct, man. I am yer king and I nae appreciate ye spinning tales in my ear like I’m some lack-wit. There’s men out there who have waited months to have their issues settled. Quarrels that can be resolved, unlike the question of a bride who was lost decades ago. Good God, man, stealing a bride is as Scottish as a kilt. Ye should have planned things more secretively if ye didnae want someone to try and lift her out of yer keeping before the consummation.”

Jamie lifted his chin, looking every inch the king.

“Go and ye had better be waiting in the outer hall when I summon ye.”

“’Tis an insult, even coming from me king.”

Jamie pegged him with a hard stare. “And ’tis also better than being locked into shackles for bearing false witness against a fellow lord.”

McQuade snapped his mouth shut. He glared at them both before staring at the points of the pikes. He lowered his head before storming from the room.

“That man is going to hound ye until he’s dead.” James shook his head and reached for a goblet. He took a long drink from it, his guards resuming their positions of vigilance behind him. “No doubt his sons have been raised to detest ye as well. ’Tis a good thing ye didn’t let him get wind of yer impending nuptials. He’d have stolen the bride if he’d known.”

“He might have tried.”

Jamie laughed. “Aye. He’d have done that sure enough.”

The king snapped his fingers and a servant offered goblets to them all. Brodick took it but he wasn’t interested in the French wine. He had no taste for the strong brew. It made mush out of a man’s thinking. Jamie scoffed at him.

“McJames prefers small beer.”

Brodick let the servant take the goblet. “Ye remember.” He was slightly impressed. The last time he and Jamie shared a drink was a full ten years past.

“I’d have been dead years ago if my wit wasnae sharp. There’s plenty o’ men that dinnae want me succeeding the throne of England.” The king waited until the servant returned with another drinking vessel. This one was a tankard far better suited to small beer. Druce looked ready to weep until he noticed the second servant with two more tankards.

“I really do need ye, man. We’ve delegations from every royal house on the continent. This is a summer when Scotland needs her earls at court.” James pegged him with a firm look. “I need ye here, and I’ll keep McQuade on a leash so you’ll nae have to worry about him harassing yer people.”

“What about the man’s sons?” Druce asked.

The king nodded. “I’ll summon them to wait with their father. A few months cooling their heels in my outer hall should teach them to carry tales. But I’ll nae promise that it will keep them from raiding ye in the fall.”

“I need no help with running him back to his own land.” Brodick looked at Druce and Cullen. Both smiled unpleasantly. The king grunted.

“But I need ye, man.”

To serve his king was an honor.

But that meant not returning to Sterling…

Brodick hid his disgruntlement behind the tankard. He’d judged older men harshly because they wanted nothing more than to return home. Look at himself now. Young lads didn’t know what they were missing. He hadn’t until he was forced to leave it behind. Still he was blessed and needed to remember that.

The only thing that vexed him still was the fact that his wife hadn’t told him about their child. Her letter was sweetly written, more than he’d expected salving the wound that was left when he rode away from Sterling.

But it didn’t contain the news that she was carrying. That had come in a second letter written by Helen. He didn’t feel any remorse over commanding the maid to write him in secret. There would be no surprises when he returned home this time. He needed to know that his wife was cared for. Needed to know that she was not wasting away to a sack o’ bones.

Something felt wrong but he couldn’t place it. Just that inkling of a feeling that tingled down a man’s neck when he knew he was being watched.

But for the time being, he would serve his king. It was the McJames’ duty.

England, four months later

“Mother, I’m bored! I will go insane if I am forced to endure much more of this confinement.”