Much Ado About Marriage (30 page)

Duncan’s frown was sudden. “One of my men?”

“Aye, one of
your
men.”

“That coward will be hideless when I finish with him.”

“It seems your army is peppered with cowards,” said Thomas.

“They’re better than
yours
, which are all locked up in your cellar as we speak.”

“At least
my
men don’t—”

“Enough!” Fia yelled. “Poor Lord Montley needs his wounds seen to.”

Thomas shrugged. “If Robert wanted a surgeon, he’d ask for one.”

“That’s true,” Robert agreed, blinking unsteadily, blood running down the side of his head and soaking into his doublet.

Fia cast her eyes heavenward. “Heaven grant me patience!” She slipped his arm about her shoulders and pulled him to his feet. “We’ll leave these fools to bray at one another like the asses they are.” Casting a sweeping glare at Thomas and Duncan, she helped Robert across the room.

Thomas watched, both relieved and sad that she was leaving. It was difficult to pay attention to Fia’s dangerous cousin while she was there, all flashing eyes and kissable lips.

Worse yet was her hair. He had almost lost control when he’d slid his hand under the silken mass to caress the warmth of her neck. Sweet Jesu, but he wanted to run his hands through her curls even now as they frothed about her shoulders and tangled beneath Robert’s arm.

Thomas frowned. Had Robert been holding his wife a bit too tightly?

He walked to the door and peered into the hall, wondering if he should say something. But every time he tried to speak with Fia, he ended up sounding like a lackwit. Only when he held her did he get the response he wanted.

Hmm . . . maybe
that
was the key: less talking and more touching. As soon as they were alone, he would—

“By the holy cross, Rotherwood, leave her be.” MacLean’s irked voice recalled Thomas to his senses. “She’s safe with MacQuarrie. He barely has the strength to stand, much less make love to her.”

Thomas turned from the doorway, managing a stiff smile. “You haven’t yet explained why my household has been overrun by an army of Scotsmen.”

“I came on an errand.”

“Then perform it and be gone.”

“With pleasure.” He walked past Thomas to the door and bellowed, “MacKenna!”

The guard ambled back into the room. “Aye?”

“Bring me the casket.”

MacKenna nodded and left.

Thomas turned to Duncan. “Casket?”

“Aye.” MacLean returned to the fireplace, the heat stirring the bottom of his cloak. “I came to present you with a gift and to see if Fia is well.”

“And?”

“She’s not as happy as I’d like, but she’s well enough,” MacLean said in a grudging tone. “I wished to see how she truly fared, so it had to be a surprise. With forewarning, a clever man can hide a great many ills.”

“As you can see, she is well.”
And perhaps with child.
Thomas was surprised when the thought didn’t settle into his chest like an aching weight.
I am getting used to the idea. That is something, at least.

Duncan clasped his hands behind his back. “Sassenach, you’ve spent nearly a month with my cousin as wife. You’re fond of her?”

“Fond” wasn’t the word he’d have used. “Befuddled” was. “She’s a beautiful woman.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

MacKenna returned carrying a silver casket Thomas recognized, set it on the table, then left the room.

As the door closed behind him, Duncan said, “You saw this casket when you stole the missive from it, but you missed the most important part. There’s a false bottom.” He nodded toward it. “Look for yourself.”

Thomas first opened the jeweled latch. Inside lay the missive, just as before. He removed it, then carefully examined the velvet-covered bottom of the box. Just as he was ready to give up, he saw a tiny thread. He tugged on it and the bottom of the box lifted to reveal several more letters, a silver cross on a chain, and a small miniature that he recognized as Lord Darnley, Queen Mary’s dead husband.

Thomas opened the top missive and scanned it. The words seemed to leap from the page. “Sweet Jesu, if these are authentic—”

“They are.” MacLean spoke with telling softness. “’Tis enough evidence of Queen Mary’s trickery to warrant her execution.”

Thomas swallowed against the dryness of his throat. Walsingham’s final evidence. He carefully replaced the letter, closed the secret drawer, and set the casket back onto the table.
By the saints, I need some ale.

“The Scottish queen has betrayed us all.” MacLean’s face was frozen and hard. “She married that treacherous fool Bothwell, who wants nothing more than to rule in her name. Such a foolish woman, to believe words of love. No queen can afford such.”

“What’s to be done?”

“Give these to Walsingham. He will know what to do with them. He’s promised support for the prince, her only child, if she is deposed.”

“Deposed? Good God. Where is she now?”

“In England. A group of lords rose against her and she fled.”

“And Bothwell?”

“He escaped on a ship; we think he heads to France.” Duncan crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Mary is in custody, but she must be removed from the throne before she plunges Scotland into a civil war. ’Tis but a matter of time.”

Thomas whistled silently. “Walsingham has promised assistance?”

“He has. Now ’tis only a question of whether he’ll honor his agreement. ’Tis for that reason I wished to deliver the missives through you. You will serve as more than messenger; you serve as witness, too. I was going to take them directly to Queen Elizabeth myself, but it can take weeks to gain an audience.”

“You don’t trust Walsingham.”

“Nay. If he does not deliver those missives to the queen, then you must tell her of them yourself. You are a favorite; she would believe you.” The laird absently stirred the fire, then looked up to meet Thomas’s gaze. “You mustn’t tell Fia any of this. I won’t have her endangered.”

“You may leave Fia to me, MacLean. I will take care of her.”
No matter how we end.

After a moment, the laird nodded. “Fine. I told my men we traveled here to bring that casket to Fia. They believe it holds the famed MacLean rubies. See to it that she is seen wearing her jewelry sometime soon.”

“She has rubies?” It was difficult to imagine Fia wearing jewels.

MacLean looked surprised. “They’re in one of her trunks.” When Thomas didn’t answer, MacLean chuckled. “Rotherwood, do not allow her fey ways to confuse you. Fia’s born and bred to the purple; she’s related to half the royalty of England and Scotland. She could call Queen Elizabeth cousin and not be committing a sin.”

Thomas smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t suggest such a thing; Elizabeth’s quick to take offense.”

“Aye, she’s a stiff one, she is. I can only hope she does the right thing by Scotland and rids us of our foolish queen.”

“Elizabeth is hard but fair.”

“So I pray.” Duncan rubbed his face as if to scrub away his thoughts. He dropped his hands and managed a faint smile. “Meanwhile, fetch Fia’s rubies and make her wear the blasted things. ’Twill silence the wagging tongues regarding my journey here.”

“And your men accept that they traveled here just to protect a small cask of jewels?”

“I brought the
MacLean
rubies, Sassenach. ’Tis enough for them. Though if you can get Fia to wear them, you’re a better man than I.”

“Was there ever a question?”

MacLean chuckled. “There’s one more thing I wish you to do.”

“Aye?”

“When you take that casket to Walsingham, tell the old fox we are now even. I’ve paid my part of the bargain.”

“What bargain?”

Duncan’s smile wasn’t nearly so amused now. “The old fox hasn’t told you yet, has he?”

“Told me what?” Thomas asked impatiently.

“’Tis not my news to spread; ask him yourself when next you see him. If I were you, I’d threaten to withhold those letters ’til he confessed the whole.”

“Is it that important?”

“It might let you know your value.
That
is worth something, indeed.” MacLean turned toward the door, then hesitated when he reached it. “You may not yet realize this, but you’re holding Scotland’s greatest treasure.”

“Fia?”

“Aye. She’s precious, and I couldn’t love her more if she were my own sister.” His voice was suspiciously husky. “You may not agree with all I have done, Rotherwood, but I did what I had to for Fia’s sake. I wanted her out of Scotland and somewhere safe, somewhere she would be taken care of.”

“What do you—”

“I must go. Tell Fia I will write. Good-bye, Rotherwood.”

MacLean left, calling his men as he went. Within five minutes’ time he’d collected them all and they were gone, leaving Thomas with more questions than answers.

Sweet Jesu! That hurts!” Robert said in protest.

The rabbit scrambled madly off the bed and skittered across the room, his fat stomach never clearing the floor.

Fia smothered a giggle.

“I die, and you play with that rabbit,” Robert complained.

“Och, you’re barely injured. You’ve a wee knot upon your head and ’tis scarcely bleeding now.”

“And
a black eye.”

“If that’s all it takes to kill you, ’tis a wonder you’ve lived this long.”

Robert raised a hand to his right ear and gingerly touched the swelling. “No doubt if I lost an arm, you would call it a mere flesh wound.”

Mary entered the room just in time to hear this. “Fie, Lord Montley. Here’s the mistress a-tendin’ ye as if ye were her own bamkin, and what do ye do but complain?”

“Let her be busy elsewhere,” Robert said sulkily, eyeing
with distrust the herb-soaked bandage Mary carried. “I would run and hide from you both, were that hideous animal not standing guard over the doorway.”

Zeus lay sleeping on his back across the threshold, his legs splayed in an ungainly manner, drool dripping from the corner of his slack mouth.

Fia regarded her dog with a fond smile. “Och, now, don’t make sport of the poor beastie. He’s worn out from chasing all of the evil, villainous English cats from the courtyard. He was snarling and gnashing his teeth like a huge, terrible ogre.”

Robert snorted his disbelief. “He possesses naught but gums, and he displays those only when you are present to protect him, in case any should take up his false challenge.”

“Och, no. He can be strong and brave when he needs to be,” Fia protested. “He must feel secure in your presence to sleep so soundly.”

“Pathetic, mangy beast,” muttered Robert.

Mary pinned him with a stern glance. “’Tis no wonder ye’re out of sorts, but don’t be takin’ it out on the lassie. She’s enough on her plate without ye addin’ to it.”

Mary wrapped the herb-soaked bandage about his head. “Ye took a mightly lump, ye did. I’m sure ye’re achin’ like a split gourd.”

That seemed to console him. When she finished, Robert took Mary’s rough hand and held it reverently. “Even angels would learn tenderness at thy touch.”

“Psssht. Enough of yer foolery.” She disengaged her hand but grinned as she patted his cheek. “Ye’ll be feeling better in no time, me lord.” She turned to Fia. “I’m off to the kitchen to see about supper. The servants are so
upset o’er bein’ locked in the cellar, that not one o’ them is thinkin’ about food.”

Fia smiled. “You’d be upset if an army of Englishmen came to Duart and locked you in the cellar.”

“As if they could,” Mary said stoutly. “I dinna care what happens, ye still have to see to yer duties.” Huffing, she left.

“How I wish I could witness that.” Robert sighed wistfully.

Fia chuckled and perched on the edge of the bed. “I’d wager on Mary any day.”

“Would you, indeed?” Robert’s voice had unmistakable eagerness.

“Aye, though not with you! We still have a wager between us, and it doesn’t suit me well at all.”

“An easy wager, that. I’ve naught to do but transform you from a winsome Scottish lady into a winsome English lady. Then you will secure the queen’s sanction, your plays will be the rage, and Thomas will see that you are the perfect wife.”

“I never said anything about wanting to be the perfect wife. I think, instead, Thomas should work on being the perfect husband.”
Or at least proficient.
Except for one area, he was sorely lacking.

Robert adjusted the bandage Mary had tied about his head. “I hope you are prepared to pay the fine when I win our wager.”

“I don’t even know what it is. All I know is that I may refuse if it includes anything mortifying.”

“I dearly wish I hadn’t added that caveat, but in a moment of weakness, I did.”

“Perhaps you should tell me the forfeit now?”

“Nay,” he said simply. “Though I will admit that you’ve already made excellent progress. Your dancing is impeccable.”

Fia sighed. “It may not be enough, though. They say Elizabeth is capricious, and she dislikes it when her courtiers marry without permission.”

“Aye, and she’s like to resent your beauty, too.” His expression grew somber. “Thomas is already known as the luckiest man in England, and his reputation will be set once you’ve been introduced to the court. Except, of course, with Queen Elizabeth.”

“You’re not making this any easier.”

He placed a hand over hers. “She will rant and rail, but she will forgive him.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“As he’s committed no treason, the worst thing she would do is banish him from court. As he’s not one to languish there anyway, he won’t care. She will miss him anon and demand he return. And
then
everyone will know what good fortune he has.”

“Poor Thomas. He’s had to deal with many troubles lately.”

“Strife is good for the soul. Thomas would be a better man if he’d had more of it in life.”

“He wouldn’t agree with that.”

“Do not underestimate Thomas.” Robert shook his head, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “My poor head feels like an egg crushed beneath a boot. I’d like one good moment with that fiend Douglas.”

“Aye, that would solve all. Then we’d have two broken heads instead of one.”