The Captive Heart (21 page)

“Malcolm, my dear lord,” she said softly. “Colm! And again, Colm!”

He laughed joyously, and Alix realized that she had never before heard him utter such a happy sound. In fact, he was laughing and smiling more of late than anytime since she had come to Dunglais. “I will leave you now, my lambkin,” he said. “And you will no longer be afraid of the coupling, will you?”

“Nay, I will not, Colm,” she promised him.

He arose from her bed and wrapped the length of plaid about him. Then, bending, the laird kissed her and bid her a good night. Unbarring the door, he departed, and Alix lay awake for some minutes reliving the first passion she had ever known. The passion she had shared with Malcolm Scott. She had been so afraid although she had concealed it well, she knew. While she had enjoyed his kisses and his hands upon her body when he had mounted her, she had waited in silent terror for the cruel pain that would shortly tear into her. But there had been no pain. None at all! He had used her gently and he had given her the first pleasure she had ever received from a man.

She wept again briefly as she considered how sad it was that her husband could not have given her that pleasure. That he could not have loved her as sweetly as Malcolm Scott had made love to her. And Alix wondered if Hayle Watteson had not hated her for not being his beloved Maida, would their marriage have been a fruitful and happy one? But he had hated her, and there was no changing the past.

But there was the future to consider. She was lying with a man not her husband. She had agreed to be his mistress. Alix knew that both her mother and the queen would have been shocked, would have been disappointed by her behavior. But if she had not allowed the laird to become her lover she would have never known the delights of passion. And tonight, Alix suspected, was but the beginning of her education in the amatory arts. Tonight the laird had opened the door for her, and Alix found that despite the less than suitable situation in which she found herself, she was eager to know what else lay on the other side of that wonderful door. Had Hayle Watteson been an exception to the rule? Were all men like Malcolm Scott? She didn’t care as long as she might be in his arms, his delicious kisses rendering her dizzy with delight.

The following day the servants moved her few small belongings into the bedchamber next to the laird’s. When Fiona asked why, for she was a curious child, the laird told her it was because then Alix would be closer to her, for Fiona’s bedchamber was on the other side of the laird’s.

“We shall be like three little buglets all in a snug row,” Alix added.

“I like that!” Fiona enthused and Alix actually felt a tiny twinge of guilt for beguiling her small charge.

The border was quiet that year, and as the summer waned the Laird of Dunglais found his lust for Alix Givet burning brighter with each day. It was not enough that he shared her bed each night now. They rode out one day alone while Fiona remained behind with Fenella, learning how to stuff a mattress, an absolute necessity for any lady, Alix assured her, and the housekeeper agreed.

On a hillside Alix and the laird sat watching his cattle grazing peacefully. She lay back and looked up at the sky, where clouds scudded back and forth sometimes blocking the sunlight, sometimes letting it blaze bright down upon them. She saw the lust in his eyes as he looked down upon her and held open her arms to him. In no time at all Alix found her skirts about her waist and her lover vigorously fucking her. Her legs about his torso, she ran her nails down his broad back as he brought her quickly to pleasure and then did it again as her cries echoed about them.

“I did not know you could share passion on a hillside,” she told him.

“Passion can be shared at any time, in any place,” he assured her.

He proved the point again several days later when he found Alix in the stables brushing her mare’s roan coat to a fine shine. Standing behind her, he played with her breasts as she worked and her breath began to come in quick pants. Then, as there was no one about, he put her down upon her back on a fat bale of fresh hay and entered her.

“I am your stallion,” he told her as he used her vigorously, and then he put his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries, for her arousal was very great.

“You are a wicked man,” she said afterwards, but she was smiling.

He laughed at her admonishment. “You enjoyed it every bit as much as I did,” he teased her wickedly, pulling a bit of straw from her hair.

In early autumn a rider came to Dunglais wearing the badge of Queen Marie. The directive he bore commanded the Laird of Dunglais to come to her castle of Ravenscraig in Fife as soon as possible. The laird sent the queen’s man back with a message saying he would be honored to wait upon her and would bring his little daughter to meet Queen Marie. “You will come with us,” he told Alix as they lay abed that same night.

“You would bring your mistress to meet the queen?” she asked him, slightly shocked. “I am not certain that is right, my lord.”

“You are my daughter’s companion and a former member of Margaret of Anjou’s household,” the laird said. “I would hardly introduce you as my mistress. But Fiona will need you, and it is an excellent opportunity for her to see how she needs to behave among her own kind. And meeting Queen Marie may be of benefit to you, lambkin.”

“Then it is fortunate that I have just made two new gowns from the material you gave me at Michaelmas,” Alix responded. She had to admit it. She was excited about going to court, but of course there would not necessarily be a court such as the one she had grown up in around the Scots queen mother; her young son, the king; and his siblings. And they were going to Marie of Gueldres’s own castle, not Stirling or Edinburgh, or even Falklands.

“How long are we to be gone?” Alix asked the laird.

“I cannot say, but I doubt it will be long. There is no reason for the queen to desire my company unless it has something to do with guns,” Malcolm Scott said. “And we will want to be back again before the weather turns.”

“I must have a few days to prepare,” Alix said. “I am not certain Fiona has the proper garments. She’s a country lass. Her clothing is reflective of her simple life.”

“This won’t be the court as you know it,” the laird responded. “Ravenscraig is the queen’s private home. Jamie bought it for her the year he died, and set his royal stone mason, Henry Martzioun, to make the repairs needed and fortify it.”

“Nonetheless you can hardly allow your daughter to meet the king’s mother looking like a tinker’s brat,” Alix told him. “You do not know who will be with the queen, or who will see your child. Remember you will eventually have to make a match for Fiona. As your heiress she will be considered to have a certain value. But if she displays well, her value will increase, my lord.”

“God’s foot, lass!” the laird exclaimed. “Your years at court have taught you well. Three days, and no more.”

Fiona was beside herself with excitement. “I am going to meet the queen!” she singsonged over and over again as she danced about her father’s hall. “Will I meet the king too, Alix? Will I?” she asked, twirling about the older girl.

“Stand still, you little minx!” Fenella said irritably. “How am I to take your measurements if you persist in prancing about? You can’t meet Queen Marie in your chemise, lass.”

“Fiona! Do what you are told,” Alix said sharply.

The little girl suddenly stood quiet. “I’m sorry, Alix, Fenella. I am just so excited to be going to court.”

“It isn’t really court,” Alix explained. “We are going to visit the queen in her own home. She wishes to speak with your father on some unknown matter. He is taking us so you may meet the king’s mother. And aye. You may meet the young king.”

“Does he have brothers and sisters?” Fiona wanted to know. “I’ve always wanted brothers and sisters, but unless Da will take another wife I don’t suppose I’ll ever have them,” she said with a sigh.

“But if your da remarried and had a son, you would no longer be the heiress to Dunglais,” Alix said to the little girl.

Fiona looked up at the older woman with wise eyes. “Alix, whether I am the heiress to Dunglais or no matters not a whit. I will be matched and married one day. And if I am the heiress my husband will take over Dunglais when Da dies. It isn’t really mine, and never will be. Either way I will have a good dower portion. I’d just as soon Dunglais remain in the Scott family, and in order for that to happen Da must wed again.”

Alix was astounded that her young charge had such a firm grasp of the situation. Her eyes met Fenella’s, and the housekeeper shrugged, but a small smile played about her lips. It told Alix that Fenella was Fiona’s font of information.

“Maybe the queen will have a nice lady for your father to wed,” Fenella said wickedly, and her eyes danced with mischief.

“Nay,” Fiona said. “I want Da to marry Alix.”

“Fiona!”
Alix turned scarlet. “Your father has been quite clear that he doesn’t want another wife.”

Fiona sighed dramatically. “I know my da loved my mother, but my mother is dead, and my da is still young enough to have a nice wife. And I like you. Da wouldn’t marry anyone I did not like, Alix. Wouldn’t you like to marry my da?”

Alix could feel her face burning. What was she going to say to the child? She couldn’t say she hadn’t liked being married. Fiona should not be swayed from the path chosen for her. But the truth was in the few months since she and the laird had become lovers she had begun to consider that a life with Malcolm Scott by her side would not be a bad thing. Fiona was looking at her expectantly, and so Alix finally said, “It isn’t up to a lady to decide whom she will wed, little one. It is the gentleman who must want to marry, and your da does not.”

“But would you marry my da if he asked you?” Fiona wanted to know.

Oh yes!
Alix thought to herself. But then she said to the little girl, “A lady never reveals her heart until the gentleman has, Fiona. Remember that when you are grown.” And Alix was shocked by what she had suddenly come to learn about herself. She had fallen in love with Malcolm Scott!
“Le bon Dieu aidez moi,”
she whispered to herself. It was impossible! From what Fenella had said, the laird no longer trusted women because of his wife’s betrayal. He had been willing to take a mistress who could be cast off if necessary, but he wanted no wife. And Alix found herself surprised to realize she wanted no other man but Malcolm Scott.

Two new gowns were quickly made for Fiona. One was a bright scarlet red that complemented the child’s coloring. The other a medium blue that was particularly flattering with Fiona’s lovely blue eyes. The gowns were carefully packed. Alix saw to her own wardrobe. When she had first come to Dunglais almost a year ago the laird had immediately noticed the paucity of her wardrobe. He had instructed Fenella to let Alix choose some material for two more gowns. She had chosen some velvet for a more elegant gown, and a practical jersey. And then just a few weeks ago at Michaelmas he had given her her wages for the year, and she had been invited to choose materials for two more gowns from the peddler who came each early autumn with his wares. She had been unable to resist a lovely deep green velvet and another velvet brocade in a dusky orange.

And Alix had quickly set about fashioning her new gowns. The peddler had told her that the fashions were changing. Sleeves were now more closely fitted and necklines were much lower. Alix made her new garments to reflect what the peddler had told her. And among her clothing she packed the small silk pouch with her few bits of jewelry. She might not be a great lady, but she had learned from Margaret of Anjou and her own mother that less, especially if it was of the best quality, was far more impressive to the eye of the beholder.

“Such a great fuss over such a brief visit,” the laird grumbled as they finally departed on a clear autumn morning.

“But, Da, we must look our best before Queen Marie and the king. Perhaps when he sees me he will decide a good Scots lass is more suitable than that foreign princess he is to wed,” Fiona said with great confidence.

“I think the king will honor the commitment his good father, God assoil his soul, made for him, Fiona,” Alix said. “Kings must always keep their word. But the king has three brothers. One is a duke and the other two are earls. Perhaps one of them will suit you.” And she smiled over the child’s head at Malcolm Scott, who smiled back at her.

Their trip took them three days, but the weather held and was pleasant. They avoided the city of Edinburgh with its great castle and bustling streets by adding a few more miles to their travels and skirting about it. Big cities were rife with many dangers and illnesses. The Laird of Dunglais had twenty men-at-arms with him, but traveling with a woman and his beloved child, he sought no difficulties if he might avoid them.

Queen Marie and Bishop Kennedy between them had as firm a grip upon Scotland as any regency might have. The lowlands and the cities were peaceful. In the north the Highlands were a law unto themselves, but most of their difficulties were between feuding clansmen. As long as those local troubles did not spill over into the few towns there, or into the south, the government was content to allow the local lords to hold sway over their people.

And as for that great enemy, the English, they were too busy with their own problems, the least of which was a deposed king who had fled to Scotland. But as Queen Marie had switched sides, moving her tacit support from the House of Lancaster to the House of York, the new Yorkist king, Edward IV, was content to leave things as they were. And besides, he was too busy solidifying his support in the south to be bothered with what was happening in the north as long as the north would not prove a threat. Henry VI was a toothless old lion and was unlikely to ever reign again. And Scotland’s king was a child unlikely to lead his armies over the border.

Each night of the first two they traveled, they stopped at a monastery where they were welcomed in a guesthouse, the men in one, the females in another. They were served a simple meal each evening and again in the morning before they departed. The Laird of Dunglais would leave a donation in keeping with his station, but one that erred more on the side of generosity in order that when they returned they might be welcomed back.