Stuart, Elizabeth (31 page)

She
rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. "Get yourself off now. And be
careful," she murmured, not mentioning his lack of response. "Lyle's
been in a frenzy all afternoon. I'm not the only one you've had worried."

She
nodded in the direction of the horses. Alexander could just make out his
friend's slender figure alongside the shorter, bulkier one of Grant.

He
took a quick leave of Diana and headed for the horses and Lyle. Taking up his
reins, he turned and checked his girth strap. "You'll let me know, Lyle?
About the letter, I mean. I'll not move the lad one inch till I know."

"Certainly,
Alex. Keep in touch with Diana. I'll send word through her. Stepton's so close
to the border, we can make it our base. I'll have troops waiting here to see
you and the boy to London."

Alexander
nodded and the men clasped hands. "Take care of yourself, Alex."
There was real concern in Lyle's voice.

"You
too, Lyle. And take care of the lass."

"Alex!"

Alexander
glanced up. Jonet was hurrying across the courtyard. His heart skipped a beat.

"Alex,
wait!"

Lyle
stepped back circumspectly. Grant discovered a pressing need to speak to one of
the stable boys.

"I
know we've said our good-byes, but I... I couldn't stay upstairs," she
uttered breathlessly. "I promise I'll not weep and embarrass you."

His
heart was pounding uncomfortably. The ache in his chest had grown worse. He
forced a light tone, though it was growing much harder to do. "I thought
you knew by now, lass. A Hepburn of Durnam can't be embarrassed. We've
absolutely no shame."

She
was smiling. He could see her features clearly in the torchlight, the rumpled
hair, the wide perfect mouth, seductive and swollen still, from his kisses.
"That's not true and I know it. I know a great deal about you now."

"Aye,
lass, that you do." He thought of the way she touched him, the way her
body moved beneath his. How could he endure a lifetime of not loving her?
"Just don't let on how you came by that information, sweetheart. I've no
wish to hear you've shocked any pious court dames into fits."

She
smiled again and his heart twisted. Turning, he swung into the saddle before he
could lose his resolve. If he didn't leave now, he was apt to say words he'd
regret, words he'd no right to say to any respectable woman. Most certainly not
to Jonet.

"Alex,
wait. I've something for you." She had stepped up beside his horse, held
one small fist to his knee.

He
reached down automatically. She placed a hard round object on his palm. He held
it up. It was a ring, a large square cut stone placed in a setting of heavy
gold. He recognized it from her small collection. A ruby of great fire and
brilliance and a very great deal of value.

"Jonet..."
He swallowed against the ache. "No, lass." He squeezed the ring once,
then held it down to her. "This is far too valuable. I—"

She
caught his hand, closing his fingers around it. "It's been in the
MacDonald family for generations. Passed down from the Lords of the Isles, so
they say. My mother gave it to my father on their wedding day." She looked
up. "Well, I've had mine, Alex. The only one I'll ever have."

"Lass,
no. I can't—"

"Please,
Alex," she whispered tightly. He could hear the tears pressing close. She
folded his fingers around it. "If this last week meant anything to you,
please say you'll wear it."

He
opened his hand, swallowing hard. The stone caught a glimmer of torchlight,
flickered a smoky red-black. He slid it onto his finger. "A perfect
fit," he got out.

"Aye.
We were, weren't we?"

With
a muttered oath, he bent and caught her up in his arms, swinging her into the
saddle and crushing her tightly against him. "Jonet, damn you!" he
whispered against her hair. "You'll give me no peace, I expect."

"As
little as possible, Alex. Do unto others, you know."

He
smiled at the suffocated voice against his chest. "I'll wear it on one
condition, lass. That you allow me to offer it back to you in London before you
sail."

For
a moment she didn't speak. "You'll come then?"

"If
it's humanly possible." He eased her back, adding softly, "If you
still want me, that is. As I said once before, it'll be your choice."

Jonet
said nothing. She leaned forward instead, putting her arms around him, letting
her kiss tell him wordlessly just how she felt.

He
caught her against him, wanting her so badly he ignored his nervously sidling
mount, the watching eyes all around, the hellish decisions he faced. For a
moment he allowed himself the bliss of pure peace.

He
would see
her again.

And
then he was swinging her down from the saddle, bending to tumble her curls with
one hand. "Back to bed with you now." He grinned. "Just see that
you go there alone from now on."

She
was hugging herself in the chill, smiling, he could tell. "And you, my
lord Hepburn. Try not to make any close friends while you're gone."

Grant
had swung onto his mount. Lyle and Diana moved closer. Another round of
farewells was exchanged.

He
stared at Jonet. One last time. Only it wasn't the last time, he reminded
himself. "Pleasant journey to London, lass. Give my mother my love when
you meet."

She
raised her head. "Yes, Alex, I will. I'll tell her you've been..."
She hesitated, said distinctly, "Charming. Quite charming. There's a great
deal to be said for the word you know."

Diana
turned, stiffened.

Jonet's
eyes never left his face, but the corners of her mouth edged higher. There was
an undercurrent here that he couldn't quite catch, and he damn well wasn't
going to ask. He swung his horse about.

And
then the overwhelming relief of it swept him. This wasn't good-bye... not yet.
And for some reason, he didn't know why, he threw back his head and laughed.

His
mount reared and Alexander lifted a hand. And then he spurred into the
darkness, still laughing.

Jonet
opened her eyes, but awareness was slow in coming. Her gaze focused on a tray
with wine and the crumbled remains of a meal. Supper last night, for her and
Alexander; they hadn't wanted to go downstairs. She smiled, wondering where he
was now. Nearing Edinburgh, she hoped. By the shadows it must be afternoon.

Sitting
up, she pushed her hair back. She'd meant just to close her eyes for a half
hour. She must have been more exhausted than she'd realized.

A
knock sounded. "Come in," Jonet said.

A
maid entered, carrying a tray with wine and the wonderful sugared wafers Diana
enjoyed. The countess was close behind. "I decided it was time to coax you
out. We're not going to eat you, you know."

Jonet
sat up straighten "I fell asleep. I've only just now waked up."

"Yes,
I can remember sleeping for hours after a day like you had." Diana
dismissed the maid and sat down, picking up a wafer and sinking perfect white
teeth into it. "Umm... satisfying, wasn't it?"

Despite
all her will to the contrary, Jonet felt a flush steal over her. "I'm not
ashamed of loving Alex," she said quietly.

"Of
course not. I wouldn't expect you to be." Diana finished the wafer.
"I would hope you are wise enough, though, to pull yourself together and
get on with your life. Lyle is leaving tomorrow. He's waiting downstairs to talk
to you now about your trip next week." Diana smiled. "We must all
tell the same story, you know."

"Of
course. Tell him I'll be down in a moment."

The
countess rose, studying Jonet shrewdly. "For a woman who just lost her
lover, you're bearing up well, I must say. Almost as if you knew something the
rest of us didn't."

Jonet
met her gaze. "Alex is coming to London. He promised to be there before I
leave."

Something
ugly flickered in Diana's eyes. Then the amusement was back. "Surely
you're not foolish enough—" She laughed. "Sweet Lord, yes, but of
course you are! You think he'll stop you from sailing."

Jonet
chose her words. "It's enough fight now just to know I'll see him again.
I'll deal with the rest when the time comes."

"I
hate to be the one to open your eyes, but someone certainly needs to. Just
because a man spends a week in bed with a woman, it doesn't mean he loves her.
It only means he's found someone who'll lift her skirts at his whim and tickle
him where he most likes to be tickled."

It
was hard, but Jonet kept her voice even. "You'd be an expert on that, I
suppose."

Diana
chuckled. "Oh, yes. Yes, I would. It looks like you're going to be as
well. Who'd have thought it?"

And
then Diana played her best card. "There's something you might bear in mind,
Jonet. Alexander and I are going to be married. The political arrangements
began months ago. And despite what he's told me, I believe it's high time you
knew."

Diana's
eyes were a little too bright, her smile a little too fixed. Jonet held her
gaze evenly. "You may tell Mister Barrow I'll be down in a moment. And
now, madam, if you'll excuse me, I must change."

***

The
ride to Edinburgh was arduous, made longer and more difficult still by a brief
detour to a village near Whitestone, where a trembling priest was rousted from
bed with the dawn. But the effort was worth it.

The
unfortunate priest was cooperative, overwhelmingly so when he awakened to two
large and unsmiling Scotsmen bending over him. And Alexander now bore in his
jack a statement attesting to the fact that one Jonet Maxwell had been forcibly
wed to a Thomas Douglas of Whitestone. They had stumbled into Edinburgh and
into the meeting Lyle had arranged, then promptly fallen asleep at the first
inn they found. And now, midmorning, Alexander was on his way to face Angus,
not knowing just what to expect.

The
page showed him in through the door. Angus was seated at his desk, Murdoch
Douglas standing solidly beside him. Alexander bowed, his face carefully blank.

"So
you've decided to return at last."

"Yes.
My business was concluded."

"I
pay you to see to my business, as I recall."

Alexander's
poise didn't slip. "In this instance, my business was yours, my
lord."

"I
see." Angus's eyes flickered briefly to Murdoch. "Where's Lady
Douglas?"

"I've
not the remotest notion. Either with friends in London or on her way to France.
Not likely to return to her loving husband in either case."

"You've
not hurt the lass, Hepburn?"

"Certainly
not. However, you might ask that question of our lord warden. Both he and his
son have a penchant for knocking women about, so I hear."

Murdoch
almost came over the desk. "That's a lie!"

"Is
it? I think not."

"Enough
of this!" Angus snapped. "I've called you together to have everything
out in the open. Now and for the last time. Murdoch has admitted selling you to
the French, Hepburn. And you've had your revenge by robbing his son of a rich
bride. In so far as I'm concerned, you both got what you deserved.

"And
now"—he rose and leaned over the desk—"I happen to need you both, else
I'd clap you both up in prison to rot. Make no mistake, though, if there's any
mote of this plotting, I'll make good that threat. I don't need men in my
service betraying each other and me. God knows we've trouble enough with the
French against us and a good half of Scotland. Not to mention Henry's designs
in the south."

"One
enemy at a time. I've no trouble with it," Alexander said coolly.

"Or
I," Murdoch growled.

"Very
well." Angus returned to his chair. "Hepburn; you'll say nothing to
anyone concerning this embarrassing situation with Jonet Douglas. All Scotland
believes her to be enjoying a few weeks at Whitestone with her husband. I've
promised Murdoch that much at least."

"To
give Thomas time to plunder the Maxwell estates?" Alexander smiled grimly.
"Tell him to move fast. The lass is apt to make a bit of noise soon."

Murdoch
stared at him narrowly. "A pity the French were inept."

"Enough,
Murdoch! You'd best keep my warning in mind. I've forgiven you once, but not
again." Angus jerked his head toward the door. "Now be gone. I must
speak with Hepburn about this situation in the south."

Murdoch
glanced at Alexander, then bowed and was gone.

For
a moment the room was quiet. Angus stared thoughtfully at Alexander.
"How's the back?"

"Well
enough."

The
chancellor played with his pen a moment. "You were right, Hepburn. When my
men forced Murdoch's strongbox, it was full of French silver. He confessed to
everything. Of course, he didn't have much choice."

"The
plot to take James?"

"No,
not that. I didn't ask. I don't want him to think I suspect him." Angus
sighed heavily. He looked very worn. "I don't know that I do, really. He's
been loyal a very long time."

Alexander
shrugged and smiled. Almost, he could find it in himself to pity Angus.
"Perhaps it's not him."

"But
perhaps it is. It's something I'm forced to consider."

Alexander
nodded. "I'll nose about now in town and see if anything comes to my
ears."

An
altercation was beginning outside. Alexander swung toward the door, hand on his
sword.

"Is
it Hepburn? They told me it was." And then. "I'm the king, damn you!
I can enter my own audience chamber if I wish."

James
had shoved open the door and was moving determinedly across the room. Three
nervous guards and a couple of uncomfortable pages had obviously tried to stop
him. But not too hard.

"It's
all right," Angus called. "Of course the king may enter if he
wishes."

The
men nodded, moving gratefully back outside. Alexander went down on one knee.

"Rise,
Lord Hepburn. It pleases me to find you in Edinburgh."

Alexander
rose. "And it please me to please you, my liege."

"I
was hoping we might fence a bit. Few here give me sport. Either not skilled
enough or too respectful of a king. I'm told I've neither to fear with a
Hepburn of Durnam."

Alexander
smiled. In one neat stroke he'd been both complimented and insulted, and
something in him responded to the lad's very boldness. "I'm held to have
some skill with a blade, Your Grace. As to the last, I reserve the right to
speak later. I've yet to measure the king... or the man."

The
king began to smile, his eyes shifting toward his step-father. "It would
please me if Lord Hepburn might join our household for a time."

"I
was just about to invite him when you entered," Angus said dryly. He sent
Alexander a long look. "We'll speak of those southern matters later,
Hepburn. My brother George is master of the king's household. He'll see you
settled in."

Alexander
nodded. "It will give me the greatest pleasure, my lord."

***

It
was a lie. Jonet knew it was a lie, so the words didn't bother her. She was
done with doubting Alex.

Yet
at times, in the vast, empty stillness of night when sleep refused to come,
they haunted her. And at times during the day when she sewed and smiled and
waited out the endless hours, they came back to her.

Alexander
and I are going to be married. It's high time you knew.

Jonet
walked through Stepton's garden, hugging herself against the afternoon damp.
Diana had done it on purpose. She'd planted that poisonous seed. It was obvious
in the way she would look up sometimes and smile, in the solicitous, pitying
attention she gave to Jonet.

Jonet
hated the look, refused to accept the pity. But most of all, she hated the fact
that Diana Hampton shared with her an intimate knowledge of Alexander's body.
And despite all her hopes to the contrary, Jonet wasn't entirely sure she'd had
more of him than that.

But
he was coming to London. She could only trust him and count the days... and
pray for good news about Robert.

She
had reached the far end of the garden where a mass of flowering vines were
trained over a circular arbor. She and Alexander had discovered the private
spot with a great deal of delight. Since his departure, she'd made it a habit
to come here to sit and sometimes to pray—for Robert and for Alex. It was better
than Mass in the tiny chapel with Diana's sonorous and well-fed priest.

She
was within a few paces of the arbor when a flash of blue caught her eye amid
the leaves. She hesitated. A whisper of voices carried.

"No,
of course he doesn't suspect. He's always been a fool for a pretty face...
witness the way he's carried on with that little whore he's had me keep for
him."

Diana.

Then
a man's voice was replying in French, too softly for Jonet to catch.

"Just
be sure you get that letter to Murdoch Douglas. Tell him he'd best succeed this
time. I don't want Hepburn in London. One more stupid mistake and the money
will stop. We've no need to pay Scots fools as well as French."

A
discreet rustle of skirts sounded. Diana must have stood.

Jonet
spun and ducked behind a hedge, her heart hammering so violently she wasn't
sure she could breathe. Light footsteps sounded, the whispered brush of skirts
against the path. Jonet sank to her knees, made herself as inconspicuous as
possible. Diana Hampton in league with Murdoch?
Impossible!

But
as the long, slow minutes passed, she realized it had to be true. There was no
other way to interpret what she'd heard. Diana was in league with Murdoch and
the French. And they both wanted Alexander dead.

And
she realized something else as well. She was going to have to find a way to
ride to Edinburgh and warn Alex. She didn't dare send a message; she'd no idea
whom to trust. But by the blessed Virgin, how would she ever manage alone? And
Thomas... Thomas Douglas was in England. And in England she legally belonged to
the man.

For
a long time Jonet sat in the grass. No plan seemed even remotely possible, yet
she had to do something. A chill entered the air and the quiet of evening began
settling over the garden. She rose to her feet. She'd best get back, else Diana
might come looking for her. And she couldn't face the woman just now and
pretend not to know.

She
was crossing the courtyard when an unusual bustle of activity caught her
attention. Horses were being led away, a number of men in unfamiliar livery
lounged about near the door. Her escort for London? But they weren't to arrive
until the day after tomorrow.

She
caught a passing stable boy. "What's happening, lad? Whose men are
these?"

"A
group of York merchants, m'lady. They band together now and again and hire
soldiers to see their wares to Edinburgh town. Mistress heard they were passing
close by and offered food and lodging for the chance to buy first." He
grinned. "Buy a few baubles tonight, if you've a mind. First light and
they'll be off across the border."