A Dangerous Love (37 page)

“This is my mistress, Adair Radcliffe,” the laird said.

“Adair, this is Lord Home, and Patrick Hepburn of Hailes.”

“You have refreshment? Ah, I see that you do,” Adair said. “What brings you to Cleit? We do not often have the pleasure of visitors, my lords.”

“Jesu!” Patrick Hepburn burst out. “No wonder your cousin covets her. Madam, I do not believe I have ever seen so fair a woman as you are.” He caught up her little hand and kissed it.

Adair colored becomingly as she withdrew her hand from his grasp. “My lord, you flatter me, but you must cease, for the laird is a jealous man, are you not, Conal?”

Her eyes were twinkling mischievously.

Patrick Hepburn chuckled and said, “He tells us that you will not wed him.”

“I will wed him when he learns to love me, and admits to it,” Adair said seriously.

“But what if you find yourself with child, madam?”

the Hepburn asked.

“Then it shall be born on the same side of the blanket that I was,” Adair told him.

“I cannot believe a lass as well-spoken and mannerly as you are, madam, was bastard-born. Your very looks belie a common background,” the Hepburn answered.

Adair laughed. “While I was bastard-born, my lord, neither of my parents were common folk. My mother, God assoil her good soul, was Jane Radcliffe, Countess of Stanton, a baron’s daughter.”

“And your sire?” Lord Home inquired, now curious.

There was something about the girl that was vaguely familiar.

“My sire was King Edward, Lord Home. We have not met, but I remember seeing you at his court when I was a child. I remember thinking you very impressive in your black-and-red tartan. After my parents were slain I was raised in the royal nurseries.”

“Of course!” Lord Home exclaimed. “You are the child they called the king’s brat. You do not look at all like your sire, but you have a way of holding yourself, of tilting your head, that is very reminiscent of Edward of York.”

“But how did a lass such as yourself end up here at Cleit?” Lord Home asked.

“Come and sit by the fire with me, my lord, and I will tell you,” Adair replied, seeing his cup refilled, and she did. The Hepburn of Hailes listened to her story as well.

Conal Bruce was surprised that these two border lords, every bit as rough as he was, albeit more powerful, were so interested in Adair’s story. Women were useful, and they could certainly give pleasure, but to sit and listen to them prate was something he had not anticipated of his guests. But they were not only curious about Adair’s tale; they were openly fascinated. The laird wasn’t certain he shouldn’t be jealous.

Finally Adair concluded her history, and she arose. “I must see to the meal, my lords. Please excuse me.” She curtsied to them and hurried from the hall.

For a long few moments no one spoke, and then Lord Home said to Patrick Hepburn, “She can be valuable to us. What luck to find her here. At Cleit, of all places!”

He turned to Conal Bruce. “Your mistress was raised in Edward IV’s court, and her knowledge of the people now there will help us in dealing with the English.”

“My lord, what do you mean? I do not understand you,” Conal Bruce said.

“Adair Radcliffe will know intimate details of the new king and his queen. Details we could not possibly learn except from one of their intimates. This can aid us in our diplomatic efforts with England. We cannot afford a war.”

“I will not let her go,” the laird said. “You cannot take her from me!”

“Nay, nay, man, we only want to talk further with her.

And not this visit,” Lord Home reassured him.

“I thought you did not know what love was?” the Hepburn of Hailes said.

Conal Bruce looked puzzled.

Patrick Hepburn laughed. “You love the lass,” he said simply, “else the thought of her leaving would not disturb you so, Conal Bruce.”

“Nay,” the laird declared. “It is just that I do not want the keep to return to the state it was in a year ago. Adair keeps order here.”

The Hepburn laughed all the harder. “I suppose,” he remarked, “that there is no help for a fool who cannot face the truth, but, my lord, you had best admit to it before you lose her. And she would not want love from you if she herself did not feel a certain gentle tender-ness toward the laird of Cleit.”

“You think she loves me?” Conal Bruce asked, surprised. What was this love they all talked about? He didn’t understand it, or what was meant by the word. He needed Adair. He lusted for her. Was that not enough?

“You would have to ask her that question, my lord,”

the Hepburn said with a smile. “But the lady appears to me to be as stubborn as you are. If she has said she will not wed you without the assurance of your love, then she is unlikely to admit to her own feelings for you, I fear. Love, Conal Bruce, is a game of both emotions and power.”

Adair returned to the hall, and the meal was served.

The two guests were very impressed with the meal put on the high board. There was a large bowl of freshwater mussels with a mustard sauce, and a trout broiled with butter and white wine on a bed of watercress. There was a capon that had been roasted stuffed with bread, onions, and apples. It sat on its platter surrounded by a sauce of lemon and cherries. There was a small ham, a rabbit pie with a flaky pastry crust, a brown gravy that was flavored with red wine, and a potage of vegetables.

There was fresh bread, sweet butter, and two cheeses.

The cups were kept filled with good wine. And finally 
there was a plum tartlet that was served with heavy golden cream.

When he had finished the last bit of the tart, Lord Home sat back with a sigh. “Even in your mother’s day, God assoil her good soul, the food at Cleit could not be described as superlative, Conal, my lad. But tonight’s meal was one of the finest I have ever eaten. I may be forced to steal your cook,” he said.

“Alas, sir, you cannot,” Adair told him with a smile.

“Elsbeth is my old Nursie. She has been with me my entire life, and when Conal bought her from Willie Douglas she would not go with him without me. I shall tell her how her meal pleased you, though.”

“Was she with you in the royal nursery?” Lord Home asked, curious.

“Aye, she was,” Adair answered him. “She is all I have left of what once was my life, my lord. I could not do without her.”

“Is the life you live now so unhappy for you, then?” 
Lord Home wondered.

“In England I was her ladyship the Countess of Stanton. Here at Cleit I am the laird’s whore,” Adair said bluntly. “I know that Henry Tudor will not relent in his judgment, and I shall never again bear the title I was born to, but I would aspire to more than just the laird’s mistress, my lord. Every woman is bound by a certain modicum of pride in who she is, and my honor, like yours, has its limits.”

Lord Home was very affected by Adair’s words, for it was not often that a woman impressed him. This young woman, however, did. “I had planned to speak with you on a certain matter another time, my lady, but perhaps, as you speak of honor, now might be the time for me to ask you if you would be willing to tell me what you might about the new English king. He had made a certain treaty with our king, and I am curious as to whether he will keep his word, or if he means to keep Scotland at bay in this manner.”

“We hear nothing of the world here, my lord,” Adair replied. “As for my loyalties to Henry Tudor, I have none, despite the fact that I am English. This king is clever. His throne is not yet entirely secure. The mon-archs in Europe think his claim weak, and will, given the chance, seek to destroy him. He needs to prove that he is strong. That he is capable of successfully defending his throne. He does it in ways that make him appear strong, yet in ways that will not offend those who did not support him, but are powerful and wealthy. Those who can eventually be brought over to his side, men who can be of aid to him at some time in the future. He listens to his mother, who is most clever.

“So he permits those new men who have come to his court to libel and defame his predecessor in an effort to bolster his own legitimacy. He listens to it said that King Richard, his own wife’s beloved uncle, murdered my half brothers, when he knows it is not so. But he will not say it. The princes were safe at Middleham while my uncle was king. The page who slept in their chamber at night told me of two men who entered the castle with word that the king was dead, and Henry Tudor was England’s new king. And that same night he was awakened and, from the dark corner where he lay, he saw the poor helpless princes smothered, and their lifeless bodies removed from Middleham. He came to Stanton for safety, and was killed when the blackhearted Douglas raided my home. But I digress.

“You ask about Henry Tudor. He makes harsh examples of those without the power to defend themselves so he might appear resolute in his intention to rule. I stood before him and he was cruel. Having taken the title that was mine, and not my husband’s, having taken my lands, he told me to whore for my bread as my mother had, and sent me from Windsor. And my half sister, now England’s queen, remained silent by his side. I made my own way back to Stanton.

“Henry Tudor is a hard man. He will do whatever he 
must to hold on to what he has taken. There are those with stronger claims on England’s throne who still live.

The mother who raised him was my governess, and educated me. She was ambitious for her son, and he learned from her. But she was also careful not to show that ambition, or offend any who might one day be of help to her. Lady Margaret is educated, devout, knowl-edgeable, and thoroughly skilled in politics. Though he would never admit to it publicly, nor would the lady acknowledge it, she is his most influential adviser. But tell me of this treaty your king has negotiated with England.” Adair sipped thirstily from her cup, her interest in what he would say open.

“Our good Queen Margaret died last year,” Lord Home began. “The treaty is still being negotiated, but I wonder if it should be signed when it is settled. Our king is to wed King Edward’s widow, Elizabeth Woodville.

Prince James is to marry one of the queen’s younger sisters. What is holding up the finality of this is the return of Berwick. We want it back. King Henry is not certain he wants to give it back.”

“Your king would be a fool to marry Elizabeth Woodville,” Adair said frankly. “She is still beautiful, I will admit, but she is venal and greedy. And from what I have heard of his character, he would leave her to her own devices as long as she left him to his. And her loyalties would first lie with Henry Tudor, not James Stewart. Heaven help your Scotland in that case.

“As for your prince marrying one of my half sisters, I would also advise against it. Mary and Margaret are dead. Elizabeth is England’s queen. Cicely is married.

There are but three left. Anne is almost thirteen, Catherine ten, and wee Bridget eight this year. Anne is closest in age to your prince, but my half sisters have been carefully raised by the king’s mother to be docile, domestic, and hopefully fecund. And any English princess married to Scotland would give her first allegiance to England. Is Berwick really worth the troubles
 
Elizabeth Woodville and one of her daughters will bring to Scotland?” Adair inquired. “If it were my decision, neither would put a silken slipper across the border.”

Both Lord Home and the Hepburn chuckled at her observation.

“Your counsel is invaluable, madam,” the older man said to her. “Women should be sent as ambassadors to all foreign lands, for as females are considered unimportant and lacking in intellect, no one pays a great deal of attention to them, and they listen, thereby learning a great deal more than a man.”

“How liberal and extreme you are in your thought, my lord,” Adair said dryly.

The Hepburn grinned at her bold words. “Nah, he is not really, madam.”

“Do you flatter me then, my lord, to gain more information from me?” Adair gently teased Lord Home.

“You are too clever for me, madam,” Lord Home said graciously. “You have been of great help to us, Adair Radcliffe. It is a pity your own king was so intent on solidifying his own position that he threw away someone who would have been a loyal friend despite her lack of importance.”

“I did not know Henry Tudor but from a distance until the day I stood before him. All I had heard of him had come from his mother’s mouth, and mothers are wont to speak only good of their offspring. It was my half sister’s betrayal that hurt me. We had been friends from the moment I came to court. We played and learned and shared secrets with each other. We shared a bed. Yet she said naught in my defense. She would not even look me in the eye. Lady Margaret was little better, but then, while I have intelligence I was never her best pupil, and I had no importance or stature any longer,” Adair finished with a small smile.

“Nay, I suspect you were her best pupil,” Lord Home observed. “Perhaps you are not docile and domestic like your half sisters, but you are clever, Adair Radcliffe.”

“Cleverness has done little for me, my lord,” Adair remarked dryly.

Conal Bruce had listened with growing amazement as Adair had spoken with Lord Home. Until this evening the pedigree and background of the woman he called his slave had meant little to him. But here he sat in his own hall while this slip of an English girl had spoken with authority and certainty with one of the most powerful border lords in all of Scotland on matters that were virtually foreign to the laird of Cleit.

Finally Adair arose. “I must apologize, my lords, but Cleit is small, and we can offer you but bed spaces here in the hall. I will be certain they are in readiness for you now. My lord’s brothers have seen to your men, and they will bed down in the stables.”

She curtsied, and went off.

“Do what you must, man, but get the wench to the altar,” Patrick Hepburn said. “You’re a fool if you don’t.

The children she gives you will bring much honor to your family. Now, what am I to do with your cousin, my lord?”

“Does he serve you well?” Conal Bruce asked.

“Well enough,” the Hepburn answered.