Stuart, Elizabeth (43 page)

Alexander
crossed the floor. "The lass I married didn't give a fig what people
thought. And she certainly wasn't a coward."

"The
lass you married didn't know who she was. Oh, Alex, you knew the truth. You
knew back in Edinburgh! How could you let me force you into this? How can you
even stand to look at me now? And that ring—that awful ring. For God's sake,
throw it away!"

Alexander
considered the ring. "Actually, I'm rather fond of it. It reminds me of a
sweet lass and a night that changed my life... forever."

He
looked up, his smile widened. "And looking at you is easy. My second
favorite thing to do as a matter of fact. As for forcing me into marriage, do
you really think me the man to be forced into anything? Especially a marriage
not to my liking? If there'd been a child, I'd of made you a generous
settlement, lass, not married you."

He
reached out and caught her chin, forcing her to face him. "I married you
because I wanted to, Jonet. Because I wasn't sure I'd the strength to live the
rest of my life without you. I don't care who your father is or what he did any
more than you cared about mine when we first began to love."

He
stared at her, his beautiful eyes shadowless and clear. "The hate's gone,
lass, all the bitterness and rage that have eaten my soul these last fifteen
years. There's no room for it, Jonet. I'm too wrapped up in you. In loving you,
wanting to make you happy."

He
smiled wryly. "Do you know my men think me daft? I just left the borders
where my lads and some of your Maxwells have the Douglases hemmed up. I left,
lass, because I wanted to get back here. Because I feared what you'd be
thinking if word of Mure's announcement had reached you.

"Two
months ago I'd of been the first to wash my hands in Murdoch's blood, but last
night I couldn't discover the remotest interest in watching him die. Just like
I couldn't conjure any desire to kill Mure when I held that sword back in
Edinburgh."

He
hesitated, added softly, "In that moment I knew there was nothing, lass,
no power on earth that could come between us. Just like I know it now."

Jonet
swallowed hard. "Do you know, you've a beautiful smile, Alex. A beautiful
smile and a way with words that could turn the head of a saint."

"Practice,
lass," he murmured straight-faced.

Jonet
smiled. And then somehow she was in his arms, crushed so tightly against him
she could scarcely breathe.

"I
don't want a saint, lass," Alexander whispered against her hair. "I
doubt she'd be near so accomplished at doing my most favorite thing."

Jonet
chuckled. And then she pushed back and met his eyes, serious once more.
"Are you sure, Alex? Are you absolutely sure that you want me? I'm a
traitor's daughter. I may have no lands, no wealth of any kind to bring
you."

"I'm
not worried about that, lass. If I'd wanted wealth I'd of taken Diana up on her
offer." He grinned. "Besides, Jamie Stewart likes you—a fellow
sufferer at Douglas hands. All his vengeance is turned on them at the
moment."

From
the security of Alexander's arms, Jonet found she could almost pity the men.
"So the Douglases will finally pay for their crimes. But what of Angus?
James hates him so much I'm almost afraid to think what he'll do."

Alexander
hesitated. "Actually there was a bit of trouble last night, lass. I'm
afraid Angus slipped through my fingers and made it over the border."

Jonet
studied him thoughtfully. "You let him go, didn't you? You let him
escape."

Alexander
met her eyes, then gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Angus still has
powerful friends. It seems Henry of England has a use for him, or so Lyle led
me to believe. So I let Lyle have him... he and Diana. I felt I owed them
something. Besides, I've never had anything personal against Angus. I found I
couldn't be party to the kind of death James was planning."

Jonet
nodded, her mind on matters far more important than Angus. "Did you see
her then? Did you see Diana?"

"Aye,
lass, but only for a moment. Only to say good-bye." He smiled.
"You've nothing whatever to be concerned about, Jonet. Even Diana accepts
that now."

Jonet
drew a deep breath. Alexander was right. No power on earth could come between
them. Not Diana, not Angus... not even a history like hers. For the first time
she believed that, really believed it. She leaned against Alexander and smiled,
her eyes wandering to the window, to the garden below. And then she went still.
Very still.

"Alex...
dear Lord, Alex,
look!
"

He
glanced out the window. Beneath the spreading boughs of a gnarled and ancient
apple tree, Elizabeth Hepburn sat on a bench. And at her feet knelt Robert
Maxwell, head bowed. As they watched, Elizabeth's hand crept out, rested
lightly on his auburn hair.

Jonet
bit her lip. "Oh, Alex, I... I can't believe it. I was beginning to think
he would never—"

She
broke off and gazed up anxiously. "Do you mind? That he's here, I
mean."

Alexander
frowned and stared narrowly at the man below. They had a great many years
between them, years of hatred and anger, of bitterness and pain. Now it had
come to this—and he was surprisingly thankful to find it so.

"I
won't say Mute will ever be a favorite, lass, but I've been forced to admit
there's more to him than pride. Besides, whatever else he did wrong, he
certainly raised an incredible woman for me." He added softly, "I'll
thank him for that today if he'll let me."

Jonet
turned gratefully into his arms. "I thank
you
for that. For loving
me in spite of who I am. But you're wrong. Robert raised a girl. You made me a
woman, Alex."

"I
love you
because
of who you are, lass, not in spite of it." He
kissed her hair. "And I suggest, woman of mine, that we disappear for a
bit, leave those two time to talk. And I've just the place. As a matter of
fact, I was thinking about it all the way home."

He
tilted her face up, brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "I never
did teach you to swim, you know. There's a pool scarce a half mile from here.
The water'll be warm enough." A slow smile curled his mouth. "I assure
you, you'll like it."

She
stared at him. "Swim?
Now?"

"Aye."
He bent and caught her mouth with his own and the kiss was hungry and deep.
"Swim,"
he repeated softly.

"But,
Alex, what about Robert, what about—"

He
stopped her words with his kiss. "If I'm to be forced to offer Mure the
run of my house, I suggest you give me something pleasant to think about,
lass."

She
was still staring at him in disbelief. Slowly she began to smile. "Is that
extortion, my lord Hepburn?"

His
eyes narrowed, took on that smoky, seductive look she knew well. "Oh, aye,
lass. We borderers excel at the art... in every exquisite form." He
hesitated, grinned. "Now must it be kidnapping, or do you come of your own
free will?"

She
slipped from his arms and slid around the table. "Catch me and see!"

And
then they were running for the stairs, laughter echoing through the corridors
and down the stairwells of Durnam.

In
the hall below servants paused, smiled, then continued about their duties. It
was good to hear laughter in Durnam Castle again. The old lord would have been
pleased.

AUTHOR'S
HISTORICAL NOTE

In
September 1513, the battle of Flodden was fought between roughly equal forces
of English and Scots. The Scots King, James IV, was proud of his new artillery,
but his magnificent guns fired harmlessly over the heads of the enemy. The
English were eventually victorious, and James died on the field with ten
thousand of his men.

By
inventing the letter of a Scots traitor, I have used fictional license, but it
is well known that spies flourished on both sides. On the English side, Thomas
Wolsey, cardinal and Chancellor of England, was an exceptionally adept
spymaster. At the height of his power, it was said that no letter left any
foreign court but that Wolsey knew its contents before the recipient. As in the
matter of the letter, the plot to kidnap James is fictional, but rumors of such
plots existed throughout the king's childhood.

Little
is known of James's escape from the Douglases. Several accepted accounts agree
that he "disappeared" from Edinburgh Castle while hunting (though
some hold he slipped away from Falkland Castle disguised as a groom). No
conspirators came forward claiming to have aided the king, though it is known
that loyal lords were waiting at Stirling Castle. Obviously, others were
involved.

After
losing control of his stepson, Angus hid out in the border country until Henry
VIII became his patron. He lived in England at Henry's expense for thirteen
years, leading numerous raids against his own country. Only after James's death
did he return to Scotland, where he led his countrymen against the English and
became a Scots hero.

James
V ruled only thirteen years after his escape, but he cherished a hatred for the
Douglases throughout that time, going so fat as to have a sister of Angus
burned at the stake. At the age of thirty, in the prime of life, he died of no
apparent cause. It was said he died of a broken heart upon hearing of the
disastrous defeat by the English at Solway Moss.

James
is best known for the six-day-old heir he left, a baby queen who would later
style herself in the French fashion, Marie Stuart. She would come to be known
as Mary, Queen of Scots, and in an odd twist of fate would marry her cousin and
the grandson of Angus, the ill-fated Henry, Lord Darnley.