Stuart, Elizabeth (32 page)

Jonet
watched the boy walk away.
A
miracle. She'd just been granted a
miracle.

And
as a soft June dawn pearled the skies above the Cheviots next morning, Jonet
was riding for Edinburgh. An English mercenary captain, Patrick of Smithfield,
kept an eye to her, delighted with the arrangement. His job was the same, yet
he rode with a ruby earring tucked into his belt worth more than his pay for
the journey.

And
at Stepton Castle, Diana Hampton watched the dawn with eyes that were shadowed
and sleepless. She turned from her window. "Here, Marie."

She
held out an oilskin pouch. "You'll find a man dressed for travel waiting
below. You'll know when you see him. Tell him there's money here for a change
of horses. He's to make all possible speed for Edinburgh."

"Out,
madame." The woman paused to shake out a gown Diana had left on the floor.

"Go!"
Diana snapped. "For God's sake, just go! Before I've a chance to change my
mind again."

***

"That's
enough for today, Your Grace."

James
Stewart slid his sword back into its sheath. "We've worked a week now,
Hepburn. Do you think I've any skill or should we call a halt to these
exercises?"

Alexander
studied the boy, a slender lad with cat-quick reflexes, cool eyes and a wide,
petulant mouth most often seen frowning. James V, by God's Grace King of
Scotland and the Isles, but a lonely heartsick boy for all that, a boy
manipulated by power-hungry men since he was scarce out of swaddling bands. A
boy so closed and so wary it would take a miracle to gain his trust. "I
think any man crossing swords with you had best look to himself, else he'll be
soundly trounced by a lad not yet dry behind the ears."

James
stared at him guardedly, wanting to believe but little used to the luxury.
"Men make a habit of telling me what I wish to hear. I don't want that.
Not from you."

Alexander
smiled. "I seem to recall something, Your Grace. Something about Hepburns
of Durnam not being overly respectful of kings. If you fenced like a cow-handed
chambermaid, I assure you I'd tell you just that. But I'd also consider it my
duty to make you the best fencing chambermaid Scotland has ever seen."

James
grinned. "I'm sorry I said that, Hepburn. I'd no right."

"On
the contrary, you'd every right. You know me by reputation and there are tales
aplenty of the scurrilous Hepburns. Just don't believe all you hear."

"I'll
remember that," James responded, meeting his eyes. "And it would
please me, Hepburn, if you would call me James. God knows everyone else here
takes the liberty."

Alexander's
gaze shifted a few yards away where a group of men sat dicing and
talking—Angus's younger brother, the ubiquitous George, and a half dozen of the
king's guards. There would be another half dozen, he knew, outside in the
hallway. "I doubt that would be wise, Your Grace. At least if we wish to
continue our fencing."

"You're
right, of course. If they thought I liked you, they'd send you away quick
enough. God, if I live to get out of here they'll rue the day—"

He
broke off and spun away, jerking his sword from his sheath and pretending to
rub at a stain. Alexander knelt and worked at the imaginary blemish. "May
I suggest you not mention those plans. Not to anyone. No matter how
trusted."

James
drew a deep breath. "They spy on me, you know. Everyone does. Even the
women they bring me." He stared at Alexander. "You too, I suppose.
God of course, you do! You work for my stepfather." His eyes dropped.
"Don't tell me," he said at last. "I don't want to know."

Alexander
rose to his feet. "I can safely say I don't spy on sixteen-year-old lads.
And if George Douglas has nothing to stir his blood save reports of your
whoring exploits, I pray God's pity on the man, for he's obviously no Scot but
a changeling from over the border!"

James
laughed.

George
Douglas rose and moved toward them. "You, Hepburn, share the
amusement."

"His
Grace was just wondering about my reputation and how I came to be working for
Angus. I told him you Douglases consider me unwelcome, but necessary. Rather
like the castle privies. And like them, I'm not choosy. I accept whatever
contributions are offered. Even from you."

George
Douglas grinned. He was a big, coarse man with all of Angus's ruthlessness and
none of his saving charm. "An apt comparison. Now I believe our lad here
looks weary of your company, Hepburn." He turned to the king and added
carelessly, "Angus left some papers for you to sign, boy. Come along.
We've work to be done if we want to eat."

"Very
well." James glanced toward Alexander, but his eyes were cool, the mask in
place once again. "I'll expect you tomorrow, Hepburn. The same time
pleases me."

Alexander
bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace."

He
watched the boy walk away. A good conspirator for sixteen. But would he be good
enough? And how in God's name were they to evade a castle full of guards and
George Douglas's prying eyes? He pursed his lips and began to study the
subject. The lad deserved better than this.

He
was still pondering the matter that night when a knock sounded against his
door. He put a hand to his dagger and opened the door.

A
woman was standing outside, dark haired and shapely, beautiful in an overblown
way. "The king desires your presence In his apartments," she said
softly. She touched his chest, slid her hand suggestively down the front of his
doublet. "And I do as well. Call me Nan. All my closest friends do."

Alexander
forced a smile, catching the woman's hand as it reached the hem of his doublet.
"Well, Nan, I'm game."

They
moved through the castle, past barred doors and unprotesting guards. Obviously
the woman had George Douglas's approval. His room had been surreptitiously
searched the day of his arrival. He suspected it was happening again.

They
passed the last guards, the ones outside James's door. The king lounged in bed.
He was naked from the waist up, auburn hair tousled. And he was obviously well
on his way to being roaring drunk.

Alexander
bowed. "Your Grace has need of me?"

"No,
but Nan seems to." James giggled. "Says she's been watching you all
week and needed an introduction." He waved his arm. "Nan meet
Alexander Hepburn... Hepburn, Nan."

He
lifted a wine goblet, tilting it to his lips. A trickle of red dribbled down
his chin. "Damn, it's empty!" he exclaimed, casting the goblet away.
"Fetch me—"

He
stared vaguely about. "You left the Mount Rose when we came upstairs, Nan.
You know it's my favorite. Fetch it at once!" His mouth drooped
petulantly. "And tell Alison she'd best hurry. I'm in no mood to
wait."

"Certainly,
James, if you insist." The woman turned, lifting her eyebrows expressively
as she passed Alexander. "I won't be a moment."

The
door closed soundlessly. James leaned forward. "Damn it, Hepburn, don't
look at me like that! This was the only way I could think to speak to you. They
watch me every second unless I'm drunk. I'm not, by the way."

Alexander
stepped closer. The boy was damned good. "My compliments on the
performance."

James
didn't smile. "Those papers George wanted me to sign. Angus is negotiating
away the border to the English, and he'll do it with or without my signature,
damn his soul!" He frowned at Alexander. "I've no notion if I can
trust you, but there's no where else to turn. You've got to help me, Hepburn.
You've got to help me get out of here!"

"Men
have lost their lives trying that, so I've heard."

"You're
not afraid. I've learned that at least. And I'll be risking as much,"
James hissed. "I'm getting too old for a regency. Don't think I've not the
wit to realize that." He hesitated, his eyes held Alexander's. "On
the night they murdered my friend Lennox, George Douglas told me himself that
he'd see me torn in two before he'd let me out of his hands."

"An
endearing man, George," Alexander remarked dryly.

"Get
me out of here, Hepburn. Get me out and you can ask what you will."

And
when Alexander still hesitated. "Damn it, man, I'm your king! I'd command
you but—"

He
broke off, took a deep breath. "But here I command only servants and
whores. The Douglases give me sport of all kinds, as many women as I can lay in
the hopes I'll stay quiet and leave them to run the country. They take me for a
fool, but I'm not. I'm not I say! I'll get out or die trying, with or without
your help. And I swear on my soul if ever I rule this land, the only Douglases
I'll abide will be those in the churchyard!"

"Have
you thought of asking Henry for help?" Alexander began, feeling his way.
"Your uncle in England is the one man Angus fears."

"And
exchange one captivity for another?" The lad's eyes narrowed shrewdly.
"I was born a king and I plan to die one, my lord. I'll be no man's puppet
sovereign. Not again. Never again!"

Footsteps
sounded outside in the hall. The door swung open and two women walked in,
George Douglas and several guards accompanying them. "Hepburn, I was
wondering where you might be."

"Ah,
George, I'm sure you knew for a certainty just where to find me."

"Wine,
Nan. Where's my wine?" James interrupted pettishly.

"Alison,
come give me a kiss."

A
redhead every inch as shapely as Nan took the flagon of wine and climbed onto
James's bed. She kissed the king, a long, intimate kiss, then picked up a cup
and poured him a drink.

Nan
took Alexander's hand, drawing him toward a settle. "Come," she
murmured, reaching for the first button of his doublet. "You've the look
of a man who knows how to enjoy life."

Alexander
thought of Jonet, sweet and fresh and overwhelmingly honest. He swallowed his
revulsion and bent to kiss the jade at his side.

The
woman had his doublet half off. He caught her hands and looked up. The guards
had ranged themselves on a bench against the wall, eager faces revealing the
bent of their thoughts. George Douglas was leaning comfortably against a chair.
His eyes met Alexander's in amused acknowledgment.

The
stage was set, the players acting their parts—obviously a farce that had played
many times. And the handsome boy half naked in bed with a flagon of wine and a
whore across his lap was Scotland's crowned king.

And
he was only
sixteen.

Disgust
swept Alexander and on its heels, anger. In that moment he hated George and
Angus, Henry and Wolsey, Lyle... yes, even Lyle, hated every man and woman who
had profited from Flodden, from a king's death and a boy's misfortune.

And
he hated himself for what an obsession had almost brought him
to.

He
was still staring at George. Slowly he began to smile. "I was never the
man for group sport. Always the solitary game for me, I'm afraid. My talents
lend themselves best in that fashion, I'm told."

He
caught the woman against him, felt her mold herself to his body. "With
your leave now, Douglas, the lass and I will take ourselves off. You can have
no objection. Your men must have finished my room by now."

George
grinned. "Certainly. It's a small room."

Alexander
swung about to face James, the woman still pressed to his side. "I thank
Your Grace for the introduction." He bowed, his gaze locked with his
king's. "I remain yours to command... by day or by night."

For
a moment the boy simply stared. Then his lashes swept downward hiding his eyes.
"I'll call for you tomorrow if I'm up to a passage at arms. Now off with
you if you're too exalted to join our company."

Alexander
nodded and left, his anger a more welcome companion than the woman clinging to
his arm. He ached for a woman all right, for the sweet clean beauty of loving,
really loving. He ached for Jonet.

And
how he was going to bring himself to bed this creature he wasn't quite sure.
But whatever he did, George Douglas would receive a report. And the man would
wonder if he sent Nan away.

He
swung into his room and stopped short. Grant was sitting on his bed,
accompanied by one of the Douglas guards.

The
dour Scotsman rose. "I've ridden hard to bring you news, though it's loath
I am to tell you. It's your mother. She was taken ill at Durnam and is asking
for you."

Alexander
held himself very still. His mother was nowhere near Durnam. "Mother? Dear
God!" He released Nan and moved toward Grant. "How ill?"

"The
physicians hold little hope."

Alexander
turned to the guard. "Send to the stables and have my horse brought
around. Nan, my love"—he spun about— "make my excuses to James and to
Douglas. I'll see you soon, lass." He bent and kissed her, swift and
light, then pushed her out the door after the departing guard.

He
closed the door. "Now, what's this about?"