Stuart, Elizabeth (36 page)

"Lady
Lynton took the girl in at the border, protecting her until my mother arrived
to take charge. The lass has been safe with her awaiting a diplomatic mission
to Albany's household in France. Naturally when they heard of your escape they
came here."

"Quite
a story."

"Aye."

"She'll
not use the Douglas name?"

"No
fear of that, Your Grace. The girl was bullied and terrified, the threat of
torture used against her uncle to coerce her compliance. She has more reason to
hate the Douglases than any here save yourself."

James
was staring at Jonet, his sympathy stirring. The lass was a woman in
distress—and a lovely one at that. "Then the lady is welcome at court.
Most welcome."

Alexander
motioned for the women to approach. Jonet met his eyes. Then her gaze was all
for Robert Maxwell.

"And
now if you'll do me the honor of allowing me to present my mother,"
Alexander added, smoothly redirecting James's attention. He stepped forward and
caught Elizabeth's hand, squeezing it as he led her to James. "My mother,
Your Grace," he repeated, knowing that within minutes all of the old
stories, all the hateful gossip would be revived. "The Lady Elizabeth
Hepburn of Durnam."

Head
high, Elizabeth sank into a curtsy, her beautiful eyes holding the king's.
"An honor, Your Grace. I've long hoped to meet you."

"And
Lady Jonet Maxwell," Alexander added. "If Your Grace will
allow—"

He
broke off, for Mure had pushed forward and taken Jonet in his arms and she was
laughing and saying his name, tears in both their eyes.

Alexander
watched, his feelings twisted, conflicting. This was what Jonet had wanted and
he had given it to her. He just hadn't expected it to hurt quite so much.

Mure
was holding her close, saying her name as well, but his eyes had shifted over
her shoulder. They were resting on Elizabeth Hepburn.

Alexander
smiled and turned to his mother. Regardless of the watching men, he drew her
into his arms. "Welcome back to Scotland, Mother. Welcome home."

"Was
she
in her chamber, Agnes? Will Lady Hepburn see me?"

The
young woman wrung her hands. "Oh, please, Mistress, don't do this thing!
Your lord uncle will be that upset with me, he will. He'll turn me off... and
after only three days work!"

Jonet
smiled reassuringly at the trembling girl. "I take it that means Lady
Hepburn is waiting?"

"Aye,
though I pray to God ye won't go."

"I'll
tell him about the visit, Agnes," Jonet responded patiently. "You'll
not be turned off. Especially if you tell him of my disobedience yourself as
I've given you leave to do. I told you I'd no wish to put you between the two
of us, but I will see Lady Hepburn despite what he's said. I thank you for
taking the message."

She
caught up a package in her arms, her excuse for the visit. It contained
clothing Alexander's mother had lent her. The things had arrived that first day
at court, packed along with Jonet's own meager supply of clothing. The package
had contained the priest's sworn statement regarding her marriage and a note
from Alexander as well, an impersonal message anyone might have read.
You'll
have need of this paper and the rest of your things. My mother has packed them
for you. Your servant, Hepburn of Durnam.

Jonet
had wanted to scream in frustration when she'd read it, yet she wore it next to
her heart. It was the only thing she had of Alexander's.

She
frowned, not quite as blithe as she was trying to appear. Robert had been
adamant about her not seeing the Hepburns. He had enforced his decree with the
help of Duncan and Worrell and the earl's eldest son, John, a quiet man widowed
some six months and still grieving. One of the four was always in attendance,
pleasant company, but there for a reason.

She
had brought up the matter of the Hepburns several times, longing to be rid of
the half-truths she'd been forced to accept, trusting each time that her uncle
would have become more reasonable.

But
each time the words grew hotter between them. And each time Jonet came closer
to telling the truth. That she was in love with Alexander. That she planned to
marry him if he'd have her once her farce of a marriage was ended.

But
that was why she needed to talk to Elizabeth. Alexander had made no effort to
see her. In fact, he had avoided her now for three long days, days in which
she'd watched from a distance his attendance on James, his increasing
attentions to other women. Jonet was angry and hurt... and beginning to be
afraid.

She
closed the door on the sniffling Agnes and started down the corridor. The men
were all out this morning with the king, looking over the gathering army,
checking the cannon that would be used in the next few weeks to lay seige to
the Douglases at Tantallon.

And
she was going to talk to Elizabeth. She was tired of wondering and worrying.
She ached with the need to see Alexander closer than across a crowded room, to
touch him and have him touch her, to taste his sensual mouth, make love to his
beautiful body in the slow exquisite way she had learned that made him as
hungry as she.

She
caught her breath and stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall for
support. Her heart was pounding, that empty tingling ache that came so often
now tightening all the muscles in her groin.

So
this was the torment of which Alexander had spoken. She was amazed by the need,
shaken by the intensity of feelings that swept her. She loved Alexander; he
wanted to make love to him.

No
wonder mothers warned their daughters about this, that churchmen preached
against it as sin. To give so much of one's self to another was frightening, to
allow any other than a cherished husband this power was no doubt foolish in the
extreme.

To
face the
thought that the one you had loved in such an intimate, soul-sharing way no
longer loved you in return...

Jonet
swallowed. That would be devastating. Almost beyond recovery.

She
pushed away from the wall and walked on, fear making her hurry. She would talk
to Elizabeth. The woman knew how Jonet felt. Most probably she would know the
same about her son.

Elizabeth
Hepburn answered the door when Jonet knocked. She smiled. "Good morning to
you, Jonet. But I have to ask. Does Robert know you're here?"

As
easily as that, it was said. The name they had never spoken between them.
"He doesn't, but soon will. I'll tell him once he returns."

Elizabeth
nodded and stepped away from the door. "Very well then. Come in. I'd not
have you here in secret."

Jonet
stepped inside. She held out the package of clothing. "I wanted to return
your things. To thank you again for your kindness, for everything you've done
for me."

Elizabeth
took the package and Jonet hesitated. Where did she go from here? How did she
start?

Elizabeth
placed the package on a chest. "You didn't have to return it in person. I
doubt your uncle will approve." And when Jonet still said nothing,
"Sit down, child. Since you're here we might as well enjoy a visit."

Jonet
sank gratefully onto a stool while Elizabeth drew up a chair. The bedchamber
was one of the better ones at court, boasting two chairs and the luxury of a
fireplace. It had begun to rain a short time ago and a small fire was burning
now against the damp of the morning. Jonet listened to the small comforting
sounds it made. She hadn't realized until now just how frightened she'd become.

She
looked up at last. Elizabeth Hepburn was watching. "I don't know what to
do," she blurted out. "My uncle is impossible and Alexander appears
not to care, and... and I don't know what to do!"

"Your
uncle is doing what he thinks best for you. Alexander is doing the same."
Elizabeth smiled. "Sometimes, my dear, it's a terrible nuisance to be
loved."

Jonet
bit her lip. "You think Alexander loves me?"

"Most
certainly."

The
fear eased a bit. "I did but..." Jonet swallowed. "But he hasn't
come neat me in so long I've begun to wonder. He hasn't tried to speak to me or
even to send me a message. I've even seen him flirting with other women. At
least it looks like he's flirting," she added honestly.

"Yes,
it does," Elizabeth agreed. "Alex is doing everything possible to
stop the gossip about you, to make it appear there was nothing whatever between
the two of you. He's defending your honor, Jonet, in the only way he can. I
assure you he wouldn't be working so hard if he didn't care. As a matter of
fact, considering who you are, I fear he might be doing just the
opposite."

Jonet
met her eyes. "Alex told me, about you and my uncle I mean. About his
father. I'm sorry, madam. I'm so very sorry."

"I
thought we were agreed you would call me Elizabeth."

Jonet
nodded.

Elizabeth
sighed. "And yes, I'm sorry too. There was a great deal of hurt caused a
long time ago. A hurt that's done immeasurable harm through the years. I'm
beginning to fear it will do more before it's put to rest."

She
rose and walked to the fireplace. For a moment she stood staring into the
flames. "I cared for him once, your Robert, though he'd never believe it
now. It is possible to love two men at the same time, though in vastly
different ways."

Jonet
didn't speak. She wasn't quite sure what to say.

"He's
a good man, Robert Maxwell," Elizabeth added. "He'll always do what
he believes to be right. The danger in that, Jonet, is in what he convinces
himself to be right, in his inability to bend once the decision is made."
She smiled. "In his rigid belief that concepts are more important than
people."

She
caught up a poker and shifted the burning peat. "Robert can't forgive me
for my betrayal, and I suspect, knowing Robert, that he can't quite forgive
himself for allowing a man to be murdered. Alexander can't forgive Robert for
letting his father die, for branding him a traitor and sending us into exile in
England."

She
glanced up. "And you and I, my dear, are caught up in the middle, caring
for them both."

Jonet
met her eyes. "You care?
For Robert?
I would think you would hate
him far more even than Alex. If anyone ever hurt Alexander, if he died,
I—"

She
broke off and drew a deep breath. "I'd hate them till the day I
died," she finished, smiling a little to cover the ache. "But then I
remember Alex once told me you had never blamed my uncle, that you'd always
blamed yourself instead."

"Alexander
didn't know," Elizabeth said softly. "I hid it from him, tried not to
burden a ten-year-old boy with my sin. But there was a time I blamed Robert.
There was a time I hated so much I was eaten alive with it, when I lay in bed
aching for Gavin, remembering how he had loved me and how he had died, when I
patched up the cuts and bruises of a sobbing boy who'd been soundly trounced
for defending his father's nonexistent honor." She hesitated, drew a deep
breath. "When I bit my tongue and tried not to weep for the hurts I
couldn't patch up."

Her
eyes narrowed, she stared silently into the flames. "Yes, I hated him
once, but I tried to keep it to myself. Gavin was never a vengeful man, I fear
Alexander has his taste for it from me. For if I could have taken a knife to
Robert that first year, I would have ended his life, Jonet, and as painfully as
I could have devised."

She
closed her eyes then, as if looking back over time. When she opened them again
she began to speak softly. "That first year was a school, Jonet, a
terrible school, but I learned things that have stood me in good stead. Pain
doesn't kill. You can live through the worst of it. I know.

"The
thing to fear, Jonet, is hate. It sickens you from the inside out, ruins
everything that makes life worth living. Hate can destroy you, child, hate and
guilt. I know those demons well. They were my constant companions for a
time."

She
looked up and smiled. "But I was given a second chance. Our Lord can
forgive the hate, can erase it as if it had never been. And we're our own worst
enemies where the other is concerned. We must learn to forgive ourselves, to
use what God gives us to make a life for ourselves and those we love. In my
case, a son I loved dearly, the only child of the man I had lost.

"I
learned to stop torturing myself with 'what ifs.' I began thanking God for the
years Gavin and I had had together. And I began to realize something, Jonet.
Just how very lucky I was. Few women are blessed with so much as a day of the
kind of love I'd had for nearly eleven years."

Elizabeth
was still smiling, but her eyes brimmed with tears. "And I wouldn't trade
so much as a day of those years, Jonet. Not one day! Not for a lifetime of
happiness with anyone else. And the most wonderful thing of all is that I know
Gavin would have said the same."

Jonet's
eyes blurred with tears. "That's how I feel about Alex. I know it's
ridiculous. We've known each other just over a month. But I love him. There'll
never be anyone for me but him."

Elizabeth
crossed the floor to Jonet, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's not
ridiculous. I think it took me an hour to realize I loved Gavin like
that."

"It
was a bit longer with me. Alex threatened me with immediate, irreparable harm
at our first meeting." Jonet looked up and smiled. "As I recall, he
promised to cut my throat."

Elizabeth
began to laugh helplessly and Jonet joined in, wiping her tears with the hem of
her skirt as she laughed. She hadn't felt this good in days.

Elizabeth
dragged up a stool and sat down. "I can see why Alex loves you," she
said. "And you're good for him. You bring out qualities I feared he was
losing, qualities I feared he was deliberately destroying. You bring out the
good in him, child. Whatever the future, I'm thankful you came along. I pray
you'll be able to say the same."

"I
plan to," Jonet responded. "I haven't gone through all this to give
him up now. My uncle will come around. He'll have to." She hesitated, then
reached for Elizabeth's hand. "What I fear is that Alex won't be there
when he does. Speak to him for me, Elizabeth. Tell him to stop ignoring
me."

"Very
well, but I can't say what he'll do." Elizabeth frowned. "It can't
have escaped your notice, Jonet, that Alexander is an outcast here. That any
number of men, your uncle included, would like him banished from court, from
Scotland itself, for crimes both real and imagined."

"But
the king favors him. Bothwell and Home stand by him and I've seen a number of
the younger men in his company."

"Yes,
he and Bothwell are friends. The border lords have always stood by us. They
know the delicate balancing act of living at England's back door. But not even
James can make Alexander acceptable to the majority of this court.

"And
you're a Maxwell, Jonet, with all the wealth, the power, the honor that
commands. Alexander doesn't consider himself a suitable match. The rest of
these gentlemen wouldn't either. And believe me, Jonet, it's no advantage
belonging to the family of a man believed a traitor. Not on either side of the
border," she finished softly.