Stuart, Elizabeth (41 page)

He
smiled, but it was forced she could tell. "I told myself I was only coming
to talk. And then I saw you, touched you, and I found myself... well..."
He grinned wryly. "I can't use the appropriate word in polite
company."

Jonet
bit her lip, tried her best to suppress a smile.

He
reached out and drew her against him, kissed her shoulder, her throat.
"Ah, Jonet, lass... what will I do without you?"

Her
arms went around him, holding him tightly. "If you think I'm letting you
leave after this, Alex, you've—"

She
broke off as he found her mouth, picked her up and laid her on her back.
"What I intend to find out," he whispered, "is just how right
the French really are."

***

"God's
death, it's already day!"

Jonet
opened her eyes and gazed around sleepily. The soft light of morning bathed the
room. Alexander was up and out of bed, had struggled into his hose.

"Damn
it all, half the court'll be about! It'll take a miracle to get out of here
without being seen." He shrugged into his shirt, fumbled vainly for the
neck fastenings no longer attached. "I must change and meet James
in..." He glanced at the window, cursed again, gave up on the shirt and
stepped into his breeches. "In half an hour or less."

Jonet
sat up, struggling to come awake. She hadn't meant to sleep either. They still
hadn't talked. Each time she had tried, Alexander had stopped her mouth with
kisses, had promised they would speak later. But the laters were all used up.

"Alex,
you can't mean to leave. Not now. You can't say you love me, spend half the
night proving it, then ride off and marry someone else!"

He
slid into his doublet, was tying the points of his hose. "Marriages aren't
about love, Jonet. Not for people like us. We're from vastly different worlds
and your precious Robert won't let you near mine. You know that and so do I, so
what's the use discussing it?"

He
had finished with the hose, was dragging on a boot. She was beginning to be
afraid. He really did appear to be leaving. "We don't have to have his
permission. I'll leave with you. Now if you like. He'll have to let us be
married."

That
stopped him. "You know what that would mean?"

"Yes."
She held his gaze, amazed herself at what she had said. "Yes," she
repeated more firmly. "He might not forgive me."

"He
would never forgive you, Jonet. Never! You'd be cut off from home, family,
friends. You'd be ruined in the eyes of the world, an outcast married to a
traitor."

He
lowered his eyes, tugged on the other boot. "I said we're from different
worlds, Jonet, and for God's sake, I'll not drag you down into mine! You'd not
like living in the gutter, lass. Not even with me."

"Don't
say that!"

He
stood, eyes cold. "Why? You did once, I recall."

"Alex,
don't." She swallowed hard. He really was going to leave. "Alex, I'd
marry you in a second if you asked. With or without Robert's permission."

"But
I haven't asked and I don't intend to." He stared at her a moment.
"I've kept my promise, lass. We've had our good-bye and an unforgettable
one it was too." He swung around and headed for the door.

Jonet
scrambled out of bed, still clasping the sheet against her. This was
impossible, insane! He couldn't be leaving now. "Why Diana, then, Alex?
Why her and not me?"

He
turned. "Diana's been her own mistress for years, lass. She's much
married, much talked about and doesn't give a damn. She has powerful friends
and is rich enough to buy anyone or thing she chooses. Besides, she's English.
It's what they expect. If I marry her, men'll say I was lucky. You," he
hesitated, "that I ruined an innocent for revenge. It's the way of the
world," he added cynically.

"I
don't care what they say... about either of us."

"But
I do."

"Then
it's your own damned reputation you're worried about. Not mine!"

He
reached for the door.

"Alex,
for God's sake, don't leave! We'll think of something!"

He
looked back. "You're going to be the next countess of Worrell, my love. I've
nothing to offer even remotely comparing with that. I wish you joy of it, I
honestly do. I want you to be happy, lass. Just don't expect me to stay in
Scotland to see it."

"That's
ridiculous, Alex. I'm not..."

But
he had already slipped through the door and gone.

Jonet
stared at the door in a fury, looked around for something to throw. She'd never
had anything even remotely resembling a fit of temper, but she wanted to have
one now.

And
then it struck her.
He
really was gone.

She
sank to the floor, stunned, still clutching the sheet around her. How could he
leave? If he truly loved her how could he leave? And what was that ridiculous
remark about John Galbraith?

She
reached for her robe. Merely touching it summoned memories of the way Alexander
had looked at her, made love to her. Was he fool enough to believe she would
ever wed anyone else?

She
stood and slipped on the robe, began aimlessly straightening the tangle of bed
covers. Robert must have told him some preposterous plan to wed her to John.
She would stop it of course, would tell her uncle the truth and be damned to
the consequences. But Alexander would be gone. And once over the border with
Diana, she doubted she would get him back.

She
bent and picked up a blanket that had slid to the floor. Alexander's jerkin lay
beneath it.

She
stooped and picked it up, brushed her hands across the leather. Then the tears
began to come, welling up from the anguish and outrage, sliding down her cheeks
in a bitter, briny fall to the leather. Alexander had made up his mind. And
there wasn't a damned thing she could do to stop him.

She
held the garment against her, squeezed it close against the pain. He actually
thought she'd be happier with the approval of the world than with him. And he
wasn't giving her any choice in the matter.

"Damn
you, Alex!" she whispered, brushing the dampness from the garment
impatiently. She slid her fingers inside, traced the broad lines lovingly. Her
hands found a bulge. She squeezed it, slipped a finger around it, discovered a
fold hidden in the cloth.

And
in seconds she had Robert's death warrant in her hand. She stared at the page
in disbelief. Alexander had a man in Murdoch's household, he'd as much as told
her that.

If
I've done anything right or good these last weeks, it's been
in
your name,
lass.

She
closed her eyes, trying to think. He'd saved Robert's life... for her. He'd
done it for her.

Just
like he had given her up.

She
bit her lip. "You
idiot
... you damned, honorable idiot! If you
think I'm going to let you go now—"

She
spun around, began dragging out clothes from her coffer, trying not to think of
the minutes ticking away. She splashed water onto her face, struggled into her
clothes as well as she could. She had to see him one last time. She had to
convince him to stay.

And
then she was holding up her skirts, hurrying along corridors, racing down
stairs, immune to the curious looks cast her way. The king was in his audience
chamber, a page told her. And yes, Lord Hepburn was in attendance.

Jonet
opened the door and slipped in. And there was Alexander taking his leave of
James with Diana at his side. Worrell was there and Arran, and a number of
other men and women as well.

James
made a remark about the Douglases, about needing Alexander at Tantallon for the
siege. Alexander said something she couldn't quite catch and the men around him
all laughed. Diana curtsied gracefully to James. They were leaving. She was too
late!

She
began to move forward, her heart beating wildly. She was going to stop him, she
had to.

Diana
looked up, caught her eyes and smiled triumphantly.
But he doesn't love you,
Jonet thought furiously.
It's me! He loves me.

She
bit her lip, searched for courage and found it in a small square of paper
clasped tight in one hand. "Your Grace," she called out. "I beg
a moment of your time... a bit of your justice."

Alexander
swung around. His cool gray eyes met hers.

"Certainly,
Mistress Maxwell. What is it you wish?"

She
drew a deep breath and lifted her head. "I ask that you keep Lord Hepburn
from leaving court. I'm carrying his child."

Alexander's
gaze didn't waver, his face didn't change. In that moment of stunned hush,
Jonet damned his control.

"She's
lying!"

Diana's
voice rent the silence, freed the rest of the court. A babble of noise rose,
spiraled around her. And in spite of her courage, Jonet felt the heat. It began
in her chest, crept up her shoulders, spread to her throat. She could feel her
face flaming. Diana started toward her, but Alexander stopped her.
"No!"

"Damn
it, Alex, she's lying!" Diana cried. "You know it and so do I."

Jonet
kept her eyes fixed on Alexander. He didn't move, didn't speak. Just that one
word.
No.

"Quiet!
Everyone!" James called out. "Mistress Maxwell, come forward."

Jonet
spared a glance for the king. He looked cold. Angry. A shiver slid down her
spine. She hadn't thought how he might take this accusation of a favorite. She
lifted her head and walked toward him, the target of every whisper, every eye.

"Is
this true, Mistress? Are you with child by Lord Hepburn."

Jonet
had never lied to a king. She chose to do it boldly. "Yes, Your Grace. I
am."

"Hepburn?"

His
handsome face was impassive. "Entirely possible, Your Grace."

"Is
it possible... could it be... a Douglas?" the king ground out.

"No!"
Alexander had moved to stand beside her. They faced James together. "I'm
aware of no divine powers Thomas Douglas could boast—certainly not in that
area. The child is mine. I'll swear to it, if you wish."

"I'll
take your word on it. And the lady's." James looked at Jonet, then
thoughtfully at Alexander. "Lady Jonet, I'll grant your request. Hepburn,
we shall welcome you at court a bit longer it seems."

"Aye,
Your Grace."

"She's
lying," Diana said again. She stared narrowly at Jonet's waist. "The
girl's no more with child than I!"

Jonet
met her eyes, those shrewd blue eyes that had wounded, ridiculed so many times.
"We'll have a problem then, won't we? And Lord Hepburn will be the richer
of two bairns instead of one."

Alexander
took her hand, threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed gently. She
hadn't been aware she was shaking until she felt the steadying warmth of his
hand.

"Diana,
lass, I'll speak with you later," he said softly. "Your Grace,
perhaps it would be best to continue these matters in private."

"Certainly.
I'll—" James broke off, staring toward the door.

Alexander
swung around, taking Jonet with him. And there was Robert Maxwell, holding
himself still as death just inside the entrance.

The
room went quiet, unnaturally so. In the strained hush, Mure crossed the floor,
his booted feet sounding loudly against the flags.

Jonet
held her breath. This was it, the hardest part. How would she ever make Robert
understand?

But
he wasn't even looking at her. "I was beginning to think I'd misjudged
you, Hepburn. I was beginning to think I'd been wrong. But I wasn't. This was
it—your game all along. The final revenge. You've taken...
everything,
"
he finished softly.

Alexander
held his eyes. They might have been the only two souls in the room. "I
know how this seems, Mure, but it isn't like that at all. Jonet wasn't
part—"

"Shut
up!
Shut
your damned deceitful mouth!" Mure snarled. "And don't say her name.
It's profane on your lips."

"Robert,
please, listen to me before you judge us," Jonet begged.

He
turned toward her, seemed to notice her at last. The rage in his eyes softened,
became anguish instead. "Ah, Jonet, you bear no blame, lass. Don't you
think I understand? He's used you, used you to punish me. And damn if he didn't
tell me exactly what he was going to do two months ago. But I was in prison. My
God, I had to sit there and imagine it, couldn't do a damned thing to stop
it!"

"What
I told you was wrong, said to hurt," Alexander said quickly. "And
damn it, man, I owed you. I owed you and you bloody well know it!" He drew
a deep breath. "But you're wrong about the lass. That's not how it was at
all. But I suggest we discuss it in private. We're creating a spectacle."
He turned. "Your Grace, if—"

"But
isn't that what you intended?" Mure bit out. "Well, I'll give you a
spectacle, damn you. Damn you to hell, everlasting!"

And
with that, Mure drew his sword and lunged.

Jonet
screamed. James shouted. The room erupted in chaos.

But
Alexander had sensed the danger, had already moved. He dodged back and away
from Jonet, drew his sword in a blur of glittering steel. "At your
service, my lord," he hissed. "At your service at last."

For
the space of a heartbeat, the two stood motionless. Then Mure lunged again and
the long, shimmering blades exploded in fluid motion.

"Stop
it!" Jonet cried. She grabbed James's arm, forgetting herself.
"Please, they'll kill each other!"

James
shook his head. "They need this, have needed it for years so I'm
told." Then the young king turned back, his eyes narrow and shining a bit
with excitement.

At
the first sign of the fight, Worrell and Arran had jumped forward. Now with a
glance at the king, they fell back. This fight was to be allowed.

"For
God's sake..." Jonet swallowed and turned, unable to drag her eyes away.
And then she began to pray.

Mure
attacked swiftly, savagely, bringing every ounce of strength, every bit of art
and instinct the years had won him into the fight. But every blow he struck,
his opponent parried, every thrust he made, Alexander blocked.

The
two men circled, spun. The sunlight reflected off their blades, danced and
flashed in myriad blinding images. The sound of breathing was loud—the panting,
the rasp, the sharply indrawn breaths.

But
above it all was the repetitive clatter and clack of matched blades, the
scouring grate of steel meeting, testing, sliding against steel. It sounded in
Jonet's head, flayed every nerve in her body.

"He's
not fighting, damn it! He's not half fighting."

Jonet
turned. Diana had moved to her side, was staring bitterly at the men. "If
that damned ungrateful wretch of an uncle of yours kills Alex it'll be murder.
And it'll be your fault!"

Jonet
sucked in her breath. Alexander feinted and parried, kept up a brilliant,
powerful guard. But he dealt no jarring blows, made no dangerous lunges.

Diana
was right. He wasn't half fighting.

Sweat
soaked Mure's shirt and stained the cloth of his doublet, but still he fought
on. Alexander was breathing heavily, a film of perspiration sheened his brow.
But it was obvious he was shepherding his strength, that he hadn't come near to
plumbing his powers.

It
was obvious to Mure as well. His eyes met Alexander's, impotent, outraged. He
swung once more, calling up every reserve of strength he possessed.

Alexander
parried.

The
impact was one to shatter. It resounded through the room, jarred both men back.
Mure dropped the tip of his sword to the floor, leaned on it panting.
"This is... pointless," he got out. "You won't fight... and I...
can't. Not anymore."

"Enough!"
James cried, stepping forward. "A fair fight as we've witnesses aplenty to
prove. Now out, everyone. All save those concerned."

Jonet
drew a tortured breath, moved blindly toward Alexander. And then his arms were
around her, his cheek pressed against her hair. She felt his chest rise and
fall, felt his breath, shallow and tagged against her forehead. "It's not
like he said. I swear it, lass... before God! Jonet, I love you," he
whispered. "Whatever he says, believe that."

"I
do," she murmured. "Oh, Alex, I do!"

His
arms tightened around her. He drew a steadying breath. "I would ask, Your
Grace, that you press for an early ruling on the lady Jonet's Douglas marriage.
That you intercede for me with Mure. I would formally request his ward's
hand."

"I'll
see him in hell first!"

Jonet
turned in the circle of Alexander's arm. Robert looked bitter, old. It hurt her
to see it. She pulled away from Alexander, feeling a traitor to the man who had
raised her, loved her.

"Robert,
listen to me. I didn't want it to happen like this. I love you..." She
swallowed. "But I love Alex, too. We need to sit down, talk this
out."

"Don't
be a fool, Jonet." Mure was speaking to her, but his eyes rested on
Alexander. "Hepburn set this up from the beginning. He told me that day we
first came to Edinburgh, bragged he'd get a bastard on you. Well, I won't let
him punish you, lass, not for a lifetime. You've paid enough for my
mistakes."

"I
said a number of things two months ago," Alexander began. "I said
them to hurt you. Not Jonet. Well, I was wrong, Mure. I've done what I could to
atone. Everything within my power." He hesitated, sent the earl a long
look. "Haven't you ever done anything you regret?"

"Yes...
deeply. But this isn't going to be another." Mure's eyes narrowed.
"You're no fit match for the lass and you'll not have her. Go on, do your
worst if you like."

"But,
Robert, you don't understand," Jonet cried.

"No!
You
don't understand, Jonet. You've been blinded by that bastard, just
like Eliz—"

"Quiet,
all of you!" James interrupted. "There's something you all seem to be
forgetting. Lady Douglas's husband is under attainder. Her person and
possessions exist at the will of the Crown, to be disposed of at my pleasure
and mine alone." The king smiled thinly. "You may consider yourself
my prisoner, madam. Until I say otherwise."

All
three looked up, stunned.

"Everyone
thinks me too young to rule, but rule I will," James said softly.
"I'll have no haughty, overproud Scotsmen ruining my country, bleeding it
dry with quarrels among themselves. We've had enough of that. Enough I
say!"

He
hesitated, stared at both men in turn. "Those who ignore my warning do so
at peril of their estates and their lives. I intend to make an example of the
Douglases... one all Scotland will remember. I hope one will be enough.

"And
now," he added. "Take yourself upstairs and await me in my privy
chamber, Mure. We've matters to discuss." He glanced back at Alexander.
"Hepburn, I'll have a word with you now."

Jonet
stood watching her uncle walk away. He hadn't tried to speak to her. He didn't
even look back. She couldn't understand how he could just walk away, but
perhaps it was best for now. He was still far too angry for reasoning.

"I
suggest you return this to Alex. He wouldn't want word of it getting
about."

Jonet
turned. Diana was holding a folded square of paper toward her. "You
dropped it during the fight," Diana continued. "When I saw what it
was I held onto it."

Jonet
took the writ, curled her fingers gratefully around it.

Diana
held her eyes. "He really does love you, you know. If ever you needed
proof, you saw it just now... are holding more of it in your hand." She
drew a deep breath. "That's the reason I'm walking away, letting you get
by with this ridiculous lie. I want him to be happy. But if ever I hear you've
betrayed him, hurt him in any way—"

She
broke off, glanced quickly downward. "Let's just say I'll take steps to
make sure you never have the opportunity again."

Jonet's
eyes narrowed, but she wasn't as offended by the threat as she might have been.
She'd seen the pain, quickly hidden, and she knew that pain firsthand.
"Then I suppose we won't be seeing each other again, Lady Lynton. For I
assure you they'll be no need to come looking for me."

Diana
looked up, smiled wryly. "I must admit I misjudged you, Jonet. I never
thought you'd be so formidable an adversary."

Jonet
smiled too. "I'm a Maxwell, Countess. Don't ever underestimate us."

Diana
nodded, glanced across the room at Alexander. "I'm leaving now. Tell him
good-bye for me if you will. And take care of them..." She shot a shrewd
glance at Jonet. "Alexander and all the bairns to come. I can't have them
you know. Perhaps it's better this way after all."

She
spun quickly and walked away. But not before Jonet caught the glitter of tears
behind her lashes.

Jonet
watched Diana Hampton slip from the room, feeling a totally unexpected ache.
Life was hard, unbearably so at times. You fought for what you wanted with all
of your wit and all of your heart. Sometimes you won and sometimes you didn't.
And sometimes you did a little of each.

"I'm
sorry, lass, about Robert." Alexander's hands were on her shoulders, he
was turning her around to face him. She heard the door close softly as James
exited. "If there's any way you can reconcile him to this, you know it's
all right with me."