Stuart, Elizabeth (20 page)

"That
next night, the very eve of the battle, the map was brought in by a sentry.
He'd found the damned thing on the ground near our lines. When your father was
questioned, he claimed he'd taken a walk around the perimeter. That it must
have fallen out of his doublet.

"I
didn't believe him of course. There were several of us who didn't." Mure
looked up, eyes cold. "You know the rest. The English marched onto the
field, coming up under the range of our guns. The cursed artillery we had
worked and sweated to get all those miles fired harmlessly over their heads,
scarcely even frightening their horses. The English guns opened fire, wreaking
havoc on our infantry. We were forced out of our position in the hills and down
onto Flodden field. And ten thousand Scotsmen died that day. My God, Hepburn,
ten
thousand men!"

Mure
was quiet for several moments and Alexander lifted his head. "That's
it?" he asked coldly. "That's the evidence?" He took an angry
step forward. "You stupid self-righteous ass! There's nothing to this but
circumstance and conjecture and damned, bloody prejudice on your part! You
don't even know the English had information on the guns. Their position could
have been pure luck. Sweet suffering Christ, no court would have convicted him
on your precious evidence! He'd never have been arrested had anyone but you
been appointed warden."

"There's
more," Mure said coldly, "from the English themselves. It was several
weeks after the battle and all of Edinburgh was in confusion. Margaret and
Arran were trying to arrange a truce, but we still didn't know if Surrey would
march on the capital. God knows it would have been theirs for the taking. We'd
nothing left to throw against them.

"As
luck would have it we managed to take one of Wolsey's people. The damned man
was inside the castle itself. He must have been important because the English
wanted a trade. Their man for a letter—a letter revealing a traitor who'd sent
information before Flodden."

"So
you made the trade?"

"We
weren't such fools!" Mure snapped. "The man went to the block. Do you
think they'd have offered to reveal their source if we hadn't already known who
he was? Besides we couldn't risk letting anyone get back with word of just how
vulnerable Edinburgh was."

Alexander
leaned against the wall. "So you had a way to discover the truth and you
threw it away. Now why does that not surprise me—given that the man you
suspected was my father."

"It
wasn't blind prejudice!" Mure snapped. "The others on the council
agreed."

Alexander
leaned forward. "Who were they?"

"Margaret,
my brother David, the earls of Lennox, Douglas and Arran. They all thought
Gavin Hepburn the traitor." Mure smiled grimly. "You see all but
Margaret had been in that room at Ford. They'd all seen the map."

"And
all of you wanted a scapegoat for the stupid way that whole campaign was
bungled. If it hadn't been my father it would have been somebody else."

"God's
death, man, can you really be so blind?"

"No.
I just know my father."

The
two men studied each other. "Will you live up to your side of the
bargain?" Mure asked at last. "Will you get Jonet out of
Scotland?"

Alexander
was tempted to say no just to watch the man's face. "Yes," he
responded instead. "After all, I did swear it. And you might as well know
I was going to anyway. You see, I don't believe that old saw about the sins of
the fathers..." He smiled sweetly. "Not to mention the uncles."

He
banged on the door for the guard, turning to face Mure one last time. This was
the man who had ruined his family, who had refused him and his mother any shred
of mercy. And this was probably the last time he would ever see the bastard.
"What a choice for you, Mure," he murmured. "Thomas Douglas or
Alexander Hepburn. Which man for a lass you treasure more than life
itself?"

Mure
jerked to his feet. "You said you wouldn't hurt her. You swore it,
Hepburn!"

The
guard had opened the door. Alexander stepped through and turned around,
eyebrows raised in amusement. "I don't believe any of my women have yet
called it hurt."

"You
damned son of a bitch!"

The
door slammed shut and, with a cordial nod to the guard, Alexander slipped him a
coin. He moved off down the corridor, hearing the remaining doors of the prison
slam shut with a solid, satisfying sound.

But
by the time he stepped from the Tolbooth into the sunshine of High Street
Alexander was frowning. He had a great deal to do and very little time to do
it—at least if he was going to save Jonet. But then there wasn't any doubt about
that.

Now
he had letters to write, meetings to arrange, and a little high-stakes bribery
to indulge in. For if there had once been a letter revealing the real traitor
of Flodden, he knew the English well enough to wager it still existed
somewhere. And he was going to get his hands on that letter.

No
matter the cost.

Jonet
frowned into the mirror. The gown the maid had brought her was an unbecoming
shade of yellow, high-necked in an outdated fashion and so large it hung
loosely about her.

She
picked up a comb, dragging it hopelessly through her short hair. Not that looks
should matter, but she had wanted to appear to advantage when she met the king
tonight. She was hoping to make an appeal on Robert's behalf—to James, to
Angus, to anyone who would listen.

"M'lady,
the gentlemen are ready."

Jonet
turned from the mirror. "Very well. I suppose there's nothing more we can
do."

The
maid bobbed a curtsy and held up a light wrap. "Perhaps your things will
arrive tomorrow, Mistress."

Jonet
nodded. Murdoch Douglas had assured her he had sent to Beryl for her clothing.
She hadn't cared at the time, but now she'd have cheerfully turned over half
her jewels for one becoming gown. For gentlemen seemed more inclined to assist
attractive ladies, even in her innocence she'd noticed that. And tonight she
feared she would elicit little but scorn.

She
moved slowly down the stairs, almost hoping Alexander would avoid the court
tonight. His soft words, his experienced kisses made her long for him, ache for
him, in a way that made her feel a traitor to Robert. She felt confused now and
vulnerable and foolish beyond all forbearance. And when she thought of that
scene with Thomas this morning, she felt more than a little afraid.

For
Alexander Hepburn was a man she wanted but couldn't trust, and even with all
his convincing words, she half feared that last night was the performance and
this morning reality. And if that were the case then she truly had no hope.

The
Douglas party arrived at Edinburgh Castle, and Jonet found herself entering a
vast room filled with a dazzling array of lords and ladies, ambassadors and
court aides. Silks and velvets were the rule and everywhere, on men and women
alike, expensive furs were displayed and jewels flashed.

Music
played and there was dancing going on to her left. A man and woman swept by,
the woman so exquisitely blond, so ethereally lovely, Jonet turned to stare.
The couple made a graceful turn in the movement of the dance.
Alexander.

Jonet's
heart slid into her throat. So he was here, and elegantly dressed in sumptuous
black velvet with crimson satin peeking through the slashes in his sleeves—and
so darkly handsome, women followed him with their eyes.

He
nodded once, acknowledging Jonet, and the beautiful woman on his arm glanced
back. Then they were swallowed up in the dance.

"Who's
the girl?"

"Mure's
ward, Jonet Maxwell."

"She
stands out like a hen in a roomful of peacocks."

"More
like a lamb penned with foxes." Alexander smiled lazily. "Isn't it
delightful, Diana, my love, that Murdoch is such a fool? He doesn't want anyone
noticing the girl so he's dressed her like a pauper. Naturally, everyone will
be mad to know the gossip."

Diana's
brow furrowed slightly. "Don't underestimate him, Alex. He's stupid and
mean, a dangerous combination."

The
movement of the dance separated them, and Alexander looked back at Jonet. She
was staring out over the throng, great green eyes brilliant in the white of her
face.

He
frowned, wondering if Thomas had done something more to frighten her. The memory
of that scene at breakfast recalled all his earlier rage and he had an
overwhelming urge to go to her, to take her away from Edinburgh now. He had
been within a heartbeat of ruining everything by running Thomas through with
his sword. If the man had actually raised that whip, he wasn't sure what he'd
have done.

The
dance was ending and Alexander tucked Diana's hand through his arm, guiding
them both toward the Douglases. "You must meet our friend Murdoch,"
he murmured, "and use your considerable charms, my sweet. Dazzle
him."

Diana
threw him a laughing glance. "Do you think I can't?"

"I'd
never wager against you."

Alexander
came to a halt before Murdoch. "My lord warden, the countess of Lynton
begs to be presented to you."

Douglas
eyed him suspiciously, but Diana gathered her skirts, sweeping a curtsy so low
it might have been to the king. The movement showed off her exquisitely white
shoulders and the deep décolletage of her gown.

She
held out a hand and Murdoch took it on instinct. "I've a favor to beg of
you, my lord. My lands front the border, and we've had trouble of late. Might I
ask your advice?"

Alexander
was hard-pressed to keep from smiling as Diana eased Murdoch away. He turned to
Thomas. "The French ambassador is talking not-so-polite circles around
your new employer. It might be wise to stroll by."

Thomas
scanned the crowd, easily locating the dark, saturnine Frenchman. "Perhaps
I'd best. D'Estaing's a smooth-tongued adder." He frowned at Jonet.
"Watch the girl. Don't let her stray off."

"Actually,
I've a mind to a dance if you don't mind sharing your lady's favors."

"Just
keep her away from our enemies."

The
music was beginning again. Alexander held out his arm. "Mistress
Maxwell?"

Jonet
placed her hand on his and they moved together into the glittering throng.
"Don't do that!" she said sharply. "Don't call me his
lady."

"Play
the game, lass. Just a little longer."

"Oh,
and is it a game?" Jonet stopped short and swung about, forcing him to do
likewise. "Then tell me the rules. I'm tired of losing!"

"Jonet,
lass, people are staring." Alexander caught her elbow, propelling her into
the dance that was forming.

"Of
course they're staring. I look like a spit boy someone's dressed up for a
maid!"

Alexander
smiled, but his heart twisted. He was well acquainted with the blistering
effects of ridicule, but humiliation was obviously new to Jonet. It wouldn't go
down well with a Maxwell. "You look beautiful, lass, and it hasn't a thing
to do with your clothes."

He
brought her fingers to his lips, his eyes holding hers. "I can say in all
honesty you're one of the three most beautiful women in the room."

Jonet's
eyes widened incredulously, but she took her place across from him without
speaking. And when they came together in the first movement of the dance, he leaned
closer to whisper, "Pretend you're dressed in your best gown, lass. Green
to match your eyes. My preference."

Her
head came up and she tried to smile. His heart twisted again. Lord, but she
really was beautiful.

They
danced together to a swift galliard, then again to a dance more stately. And
for a few moments Alexander forgot the intrigue and deception, the dangers that
swirled around them. There was only Jonet with her great green eyes and the
mouth that had met his last night with such passion. There was only the meeting
of their hands and their eyes and the perfect complement of two bodies moving
as one.

Around
them eyes narrowed and tongues hissed in speculation, but neither of them took
note. And as the music died away, Alexander led Jonet, flushed now and smiling,
to an uncrowded spot at the back of the room. "You should always wear
green," he murmured, eyes laughing down into hers. "It becomes
you."

Jonet
fingered the rich black stuff of his sleeve. "As black does you." She
gave him an impudent grin. "I wonder what that says about your
character."

Alexander's
smile died. For a moment he had almost forgotten why he was here. "Too
much, I fear. How canny of you to notice."

"Oh,
Alex, I didn't mean it like that!" She hesitated, her fingers tightened on
his arm. "Alex, I'm sorry. For what I said last night. I... I didn't mean
it, you know."

Alexander
looked away. "It's true nonetheless. I'd best get you back to the
Douglases."

"Wait,
Alex, can't we talk? Can't you tell me what's going to happen?"

"A
great deal you won't understand. I wish I could explain it but I can't."
He stared out across the room. He was gambling tonight, gambling with his life
and Jonet's future.
And sweet,
merciful Christ, what if he'd, guessed
wrong?

He
stared down at Jonet, wishing he could tell her the truth, wishing a great many
conflicting and impossible things right now. "Just trust me and do as I
say. And for God's sake don't antagonize the Douglases!"

Jonet
released his arm. "You're certainly careful not to."

"You're
right. I've no desire to end up sharing a cell with Mure."

"At
least he was honest. He stood up for what he believed in!"

"Yes,
and just look where it got him."

Jonet
stared up into Alexander's narrowed, cynical eyes. Lord, he was bitter. But
then perhaps he had reason. "Does everything you do, everything you feel
have to get you somewhere, Alex? Don't you ever just do anything because it's
right? Because it's the way you feel?"

"Sometimes.
But I usually end up regretting it."

"God's
truth, Alexander Hepburn, I pity you!"

"No
need to, lass. I muddle along well enough."

Jonet
held his gaze. What was it about this man that made her want to trust him
despite the facts, despite all the lies that had gone before? "Well, if
everything is so calculated, I'd like to know this: How will you stop my
marriage and remain on the winning side? The days are dwindling and you'll soon
have to choose. And you'll pardon my saying that this sudden friendship with
Thomas makes me a trifle uneasy."

He
smiled then and a bit of the warmth returned to his face. "I can see that
it might, but you've nothing to fear, lass. As a matter of fact, the matter's
being arranged even as we speak."

"You're
not going to tell me, are you?"

His
eyes narrowed, his thumb briefly stroked her cheek. "You're a damnable
liar, lass," he said softly. "Murdoch would have my head by now if
you knew all."

His
touch sent a shiver of warmth down her spine. Jonet raised her head, ignoring
the overwhelming rush of memories from last night. "I'm not afraid of
Murdoch. He'd never make me tell anything."

"Well,
you should be, Jonet. The Douglases aren't the kind of men you're used to
dealing with."

Jonet
smiled. "And you are?"

Alexander
frowned. "Jonet, do you know how Murdoch found your uncle?"

The
abrupt change in subject surprised her. "Yes. Robert was betrayed by a
clansman, Gordon Maxwell."

"And
did you never stop to think what it took to cause that betrayal?"

Jonet
hesitated. Instinctively she steeled herself. "I guess I haven't really
thought about it. These last three days have been rather full."

"They
killed Maxwell's son. The eldest. In front of the whole family—a nice touch,
don't you think?" Alexander's eyebrows rose, the hazel flecks burned
golden against the beautiful silvery gray of his eyes. "And then they moved
on to the next one," he added softly.

Jonet
felt the blood drain from her face.
"No?
"

"He
lost two sons before he broke," Alexander continued. "The man was a
loyal fool. Now that's the kind of man Murdoch Douglas is, lass. And Thomas is
cut of the same cloth. He actually boasted to me that the whole thing was his
idea!"

The
music was screeching raucously in Jonet's ears; the dancers swirling past
became gaudy blotches of color. She turned away, feeling sick. "And that's
the kind of man who has Robert.
Dear
God!"

"Stop
worrying about Mure and think of yourself, Jonet!" Alexander leaned close.
"Promise me you'll do as you're told. No matter how humiliating, it's not
worth your life!"

She
stared up, shaken, thinking of the Maxwell men... all of them. "What happened?
To Gordon, I mean."

"Prison,"
Alexander said briefly.

"You
remember there was another man I told you of. Duncan Maxwell. He's a good
friend... or was." Jonet's eyes searched his desperately. "Have you
heard anything?"

"If
the man were dead I'm sure I'd have heard of it."

She
nodded and drew a deep breath. "All right, Alex, I promise I'll do as I'm
told. But I want a promise from you as well. If anything happens to Robert, if
they kill him or..." Her voice shook. "Or anything, I want you to
tell me. I can't stand this wondering and not knowing!"

He
looked at her oddly. "I have it from the best of sources, lass, that Mure
is in excellent health."

"Thank
God! Did you find out if Angus will let me see him?"

"For
now the answer is no. I'm sorry, lass. And with a wedding planned for next
week, I fear you'll be gone from Edinburgh before a visit can be
arranged."

"Next
week?"

"Aye.
Thursday next so Thomas tells me. Actually, I'm to stand as a witness."