Kathleen Harrington (33 page)

“I can understand why you kept you sister’s child a secret,” he said one evening. “What I don’t understand is why you remained a virgin during your marriage. Did you refuse to allow Walsingham into your bed?“

Cradled in his embrace, Francine tipped her head back against Kinrath’s shoulder and peeked up at him from the corner of her eye. “If you remember,” she reminded him with a smile, “I told you that I was the one who proposed, not Mathias.”

With a chuckle that reverberated deep in his chest, he kissed her temple. “I assumed you did it to avoid being forced into marriage with Lychester.”

Francine sighed in contentment, as he smoothed his calloused palm up and down her bare arm. “When my father died, I became a ward of the crown. Whoever received King Henry’s permission to marry me would become my husband. Knowing that Elliot planned to hurry to London to ask for an audience with the king, I raced to Whitehall before him, where Mathias, as chancellor, lived in Henry’s London palace. I begged Mathias to marry me.”

“Why did you want to marry a man that old?”

Francine interlaced her fingers with Kinrath’s and answered thoughtfully. “I had known both Mathias and Elliot since childhood. I knew each man’s character well. I much preferred a wise and kind elderly husband to a young one who’d shown an ungovernable temper and a single-minded selfishness since the days we had played together as children. When I proposed to Mathias, he explained that our marriage could never be consummated because of his age and poor health. But he agreed to my wishes, saying our alliance would buy me time. Upon his death, I would then be free to choose a second husband, my choice motivated solely by love.” Sitting up, she brought Kinrath’s hand to her lips, kissing his fingers absently, as she thought back to that time, which now seemed so long ago. “We believed that Elliot would have already taken a wife before I lost Mathias.”

“And you were both wrong on that score,” he added compassionately.

Lachlan pulled Francine down on the pillow and leaned over her. “You had me completely baffled from the start, darling lass. I assumed you’d had lovers, if not during your marriage, certainly after Walsingham’s death. Yet you seemed to react to my wooing as though you were completely inexperienced. Every time I touched you, every time I caressed you, you reacted in astonished disapproval. I couldn’t understand how someone so high-spirited, so filled with the joy of life, could act so judgmental when it came to having an affair that would harm no one.”

She smiled up at him, her adorable dimple flashing provocatively. “I must admit,” she said with a laugh, “I was very curious about everything you did. And everything you proposed to do. When I realized that I could trust you to live up to your promise never to force me, I was tempted to take advantage of your sense of honor and duty. But my vow to Cecilia to keep Angelica’s parentage a secret kept me from acting on my salacious desires.”

Lachlan took her earlobe in his teeth, pretending to bite her in retaliation. He pulled her downward, pinning her beneath his much larger body. “Let’s act upon your salacious desires now, love, and you can take full advantage of me. I promise, I willna resist your efforts at seduction.”

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

A
week later, Lachlan and his twelve battle-hardened men left York, with the three females entrusted to his care clustered in the center of their column. Cuthbert and Colin guarded the rear of their train, while Walter remained close to Francine and Angelica. Lachlan rode up front with his gillie. Scouts raced ahead to scour the countryside for any armed force that might be lurking in ambush. Every man, including Lady Walsingham’s liveried servants, had been instructed to stop for nothing and no one. Lachlan wouldn’t be lured into a trap again.

Riding through the countryside of North Yorkshire, they crossed great moorlands covered in purple heather. In an area of wide vistas and deep gullies that stretched across rolling hills, they would reach a crest and look out on forty miles of open country.

They stopped in Northallerton, Darlington, and Durham, always at an inn which Lachlan had leased, or a monastery large enough to provide the safety of a fortress. He took no chance in lodging with the royal princess and her English courtiers.

Margaret’s entourage had become a living river of lords, ladies, knights, clerics, sheriffs, aldermen, squires, heralds, musicians, pages, footmen, and servants. Somewhere in the midst of that milling mass of humanity rode the noblemen who had plotted to murder Francine and her daughter.

Lachlan fought the urge to take his party straight to the Scottish border and wait for the royal train to catch up with them there. Convincing Francine would be difficult. She’d resist the idea of abandoning her promise to the Tudors to present magnificent spectacles or pageants in each of the major cities along Princess Margaret’s journey to Scotland.

In each town, King Henry’s loyal subjects crowded along the streets. When Margaret grew tired of riding her white palfrey, she would sit beneath the gold-fringed awning of her litter, which swayed gently between two horses. Children ran alongside the road. Townspeople brought offerings of fruit and flowers. Choirs sang hymns for her well-being.

The pampered nobility enjoyed banquets, pageants, spectacles, dancing, and games at every stop. Francine and Charles Burby worked to the point of exhaustion.

When they reached the little market town of Hexham, Lachlan placed his small group in the guest quarters of its historic abbey. The original church had been built on that site in the seventh century but had been destroyed by the Vikings. The present Augustinian priory, its tower rising high over the town, had been erected by the Normans.

Inside the church’s soaring edifice, Francine took the opportunity to attend an early-morning mass and pray for the well-being of her party. She included the Scots. She’d become personally acquainted with every one of Kinrath’s men during the journey from Collyweston. In her eyes they were no longer rapacious sea raiders, but honorable men, willing to protect her and her child, even to the death.

That afternoon, Princess Margaret and a large party rode out to view Hadrian’s Wall. The weather proved spectacular, and Francine decided that her daughter and nursemaid could accompany them. Lachlan agreed to the idea, as long as Walter and Colin came along as well. And everyone knew that if Colin came, Lady Pembroke would be right by his side.

The atmosphere was filled with gaiety. Servants took baskets of food and wine, so the lords and ladies could enjoy their midday meal at the ruins el fresco.

“Angelica has never seen the great wall,” Francine told Lachlan as they rode in the vanguard of the royal party. “Have you ever been there?”

“Oh, aye,” he replied, but didn’t expound on his answer. There was no point in reminding her that his countrymen had often made forays into England during the past, sometimes with disastrous results.

“Who built the wall, Mummy?” Angelica asked as the winding stone edifice came into sight. “Did King Henry build it?”

“The fortifications were built by the Roman emperor Hadrian,” she told her daughter, flashing a mischievous smile at Lachlan. “To keep out the wild men of Scotland.”

“How well did that work for the Romans?” he queried with grin.

“Apparently not too well,” she admitted, “since the Romans are long gone.”

“Where are the wild men now?” Angelica asked, looking at the countryside around them. “I don’t see any wild men, Mummy. Where are they? Where are they? Where are the wild men of Scotland?”

“I believe they are somewhat more civilized now,” her mother said.

“Not
too
civilized,” Lady Pembroke added with an infectious giggle. The brunette glanced at Colin. “Isn’t that right, sir?”

Walter snorted at the vivacious lady’s remark and waited with glee for his bashful son’s reply.

Colin refused to acknowledge her question. He stared straight ahead, pretending he hadn’t any idea what she was talking about.

Arriving at the ruins, they dismounted. Angelica hurried to stand beside the wall, which rose sixteen feet above her head. Signora Grazioli and Walter followed close behind.

When Francine started to hurry after her, Lachlan caught her arm. “Let Angelica kick up her heels a bit,” he advised. “She’s been on horseback most of the time these past days. ’Tis good for her to run and play.”

The marquess of Lychester had been riding in the larger group behind them. He’d accompanied his uncle, Northumberland, whose duchess had ridden next to the princess.

Dismounting, Lychester walked toward Angelica, who stood with her nursemaid and guard beside the stone wall.

Lachlan felt Francine stiffen.

“Elliot shouldn’t go near her,” she stated with unexpected vehemence.

Lachlan shrugged. “The marquess will do the lass no harm. Nor you either. ’Tis me he’d like to kill. He had nothing to do with the ambush on the roadside. He’d never risk your lives that way.”

“Still, I’m going over there,” she said with mulish determination.

Shaking his head at her stubbornness, Lachlan followed behind.

Before Lachlan and Francine could reach them, Elliot approached the small group standing near the wall. He dropped to one knee in front of the little girl and held out a doll.

“Here, Lady Angelica,” he said with an ingratiating smile. “I bought this especially for you.”

She stared solemnly at the toy but made no move to accept his gift.

Her black eyes glittering with umbrage, Signora Grazioli moved to stand directly behind the child. She placed her hands on Angelica’s shoulders protectively and glared at the marquess. “Keep your distance,
diavolo,
” she told him sharply. “You must have her mother’s permission before you offer the child a gift.”

By then, Francine was right beside him.

Lychester rose to his feet. “I merely wanted to give your daughter a toy, Francie,” he said with a scowl directed at Lucia. “The old witch here needs to watch her tongue, especially before an impressionable little girl.”

Francine took the doll. “Thank you for your gift, Elliot. But my daughter has plenty of toys. Should she need anything, I will purchase it for her.” Not wanting to disappoint her daughter, however, she handed the toy to Angelica.

Angelica took the doll and held it up for her inspection. It had blonde hair and brown eyes just like her. She smiled happily. “Thank you, Lord Lychester,” she said.

“What will you name her?” he asked, beaming with pleasure that she liked his gift.

“Cecilia,” she said blithely. “That was the name of my auntie who died.”

Lychester grew pale under his dark beard. He made a choking sound at the back of his throat, but didn’t say a word.

Clutching her dolly, Angelica moved to stand beside Lachlan. She buried her small hand in his. “Will you lift me up on your shoulder, Laird Kinrath, so I can see over the wall? I want to see the wild men of Scotland.”

Everyone laughed, grateful that the strained moment had passed.

“I’ll lift you up,” Lachlan told her, “but you willna see over the wall. ’Tis far too high, lassie.”

Lychester whipped around and stomped toward the main group.

“
Demonio,”
Signora Grazioli muttered under her breath as she made the sign of the cross.

Lachlan met Walter’s astonished gaze. She’d labeled the Scots barbarians the first day she’d met them. For some unknown reason, she’d saved the worst epithet possible for the English marquess. The halflin’s nursemaid more than disliked Lychester. She feared and hated him.

L
eaving Hexham Abbey behind, Laird Kinrath continued to push his party along The Great North Road. They arrived at Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the early afternoon, several days ahead of the royal entourage. This would be the last time Francine and Charles Burby would be responsible for a lavish spectacle. The next major stop would be Alnwick Castle, the Percy family’s ducal seat, where the duke and duchess of Northumberland would host the festivities.

After that, they would reach Berwick-upon-Tweed, and the Scots would assume the entertainment of the English nobility for the rest of the pilgrimage.

On their arrival at Newcastle, Francine expected Kinrath to direct them to an inn or monastery. Instead they rode along the quay. The hooves of their mounts thundered on the wooden docks that lined the River Tyne.

Ships of all kinds were anchored alongside the docks: merchant ships, men-of-war, passenger ships, and fishing boats. The Tyne emptied into the North Sea, and its port had grown during the peace of Henry Tudor’s reign. Pennants snapped in the breeze from the highest points in a forest of masts.

Kinrath’s party halted on the dock across from a magnificent galleon, her sails furled. She rode at anchor in the deeper waters of the river. At the bow, Francine could see a carving of a hawk in full flight and the ship’s name, the
Sea Hawk
.

Francine turned in the saddle to stare at Kinrath. She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. “How did your ship come to be here?”

He smiled at her complete surprise. “As I am now an official representative of King James, my ship and crew have been awarded diplomatic immunity. We sailed from the western Highlands, and I disembarked in London. Then the
Sea Hawk
sailed on to Newcastle to wait for my arrival. How would you like to sail from here to Edinburgh with me?”

“Oh, the thought is tempting,” she admitted, “but I cannot shirk by responsibilities and leave the Master of the Revels to shoulder them all on his own. Even though our last big pageant will be here at Newcastle, we’ll still be responsible for the protocol at banquets, the disguisings, and the music for the dancing.” She lifted her shoulders and gave him a rueful smile. “And, of course, I’m expected to entertain the Spanish and French ambassadors, since I speak both languages fluently. They asked King Henry for me, specifically, to be their translator.”

Kinrath chuckled. “Aye, I’m quite sure ’tis your fluency they are so enamored of.” He dismounted and came to lift her down from the saddle. “I thought you’d enjoy a visit to my ship,” he said. “My men can use the rest. The ship’s crew will stand guard, while the rest of us get a good night’s sleep.”