The Border Lord and the Lady (24 page)

“After the meal I’ll take your garments, my lady, wash what I can, and brush what I can’t,” Mab told her. Then she bustled off, leaving Cicely to examine her chamber more closely.

The meal that evening was a merry one. Suddenly there were men-at-arms coming into the hall to be fed. The word had quickly spread that Bethia had been sent home, and that Mab was cooking again without interference. There was venison stew, bread, and cheese below the high board. There was a capon and trout at the high board, along with a salad of braised lettuces, bread, butter, and cheese. And Mab had found the time to bake apples for the laird, which she knew were his favorite. Ale flowed generously to the men. Cicely drank red wine.

Father Ambrose, true to his word, was the first into the hall, and ready for his meal. He did it full justice, mopping his pewter plate with bread until it seemed as clean as if it had been scoured in the kitchen sink with sand. There were six baked apples, and having devoured two the priest gleefully took the last one from the platter as the laird eyed it for himself. Ian’s look of disappointment, and the priest’s chortle of triumph, made Cicely laugh. Ambrose Douglas grinned conspiratorially at her.

“Is not greed a sin?” the laird asked dryly.

“I’ll give myself a penance,” Ambrose replied. He turned to Cicely. “Will you come to Mass in the morning? I have a small church in the village, and I say the Mass daily. If you follow the path from the
house down the hill you will find the church at its foot. I will absolve you from daily attendance for now, but do come and satisfy the villagers’ curiosity. Bethia is claiming you are a wicked whore, while those who have met you cannot say enough good things about your character,” the priest told her.

“I’ll have Mab awaken me,” Cicely said. Then she arose from the board. “I would go to my chamber, my lord. I am exhausted, and I have a lovely bath waiting.”

The laird nodded. “The hall has not looked so well in my entire lifetime,” he told her. “Thank you.”

Cicely curtsied, and departed their company.

“She has a bath waiting? How did she manage that?” Ian Douglas said to his uncle. “If I want a bath I have to swim in the loch.”

“Perhaps you have never asked as nicely as she has for what she wants, nephew. You roar your orders. The lady is courteous. She asks and she says thank you. I am pleased you thanked her for what she did this day. It was well-done, and if you continue to behave in a civilized manner you may have a chance with her.”

“She’s sleeping in my mother’s chamber tonight,” the laird said slowly.

“Aye, Mab and her kin spent the day cleaning. The lad Gabhan swept the chimney directly after the morning meal. I am told he removed three rooks’ nests,” the priest said. “Then the women cleaned and freshened the chamber for the lady. She will be comfortable tonight, and if she begins to become more content and your rough manners improve, you will please her well.”

“Ambrose, I have never felt this way before,” the younger man admitted. “It isn’t just lust, though I will admit to wanting to bed her. I know that compared to Gordon I am roughshod and wild. But if she came to me in nothing but her chemise I would want her to wife. She is beautiful, is she not? That rich auburn hair! Those blue-green eyes! I could lose myself in those eyes forever, Uncle. At the sound of her sweet voice my heart leaps. Even when she is scolding
me.” He laughed ruefully. “I do not believe that I can live without my ladyfaire.”

“God’s balls, nephew!” Ambrose Douglas exclaimed. “You are indeed in love, and may God and his Blessed Mother have mercy upon you. Well, you probably have two or three days in which to win your ladyfaire over. I will pray that you can.” He arose. “Well, I am off to my bed, having been so well fed. It probably wouldn’t harm your cause to come to Mass on the morrow.” Then the priest strode out of the hall.

The laird came down from his high board and sat for a brief few minutes by the fire. Aye, he would go to Mass tomorrow. It would please his ladyfaire, he had not a doubt. He thought of Andrew Gordon. He didn’t want to be like him, but certainly he could change enough to win Cicely over.
“Cicely,”
he whispered her name aloud.

“If you need nothing more, my lord, I will go to my kitchens.” Mab was by his side. “The lady is settled.”

“What are you carrying?” he asked.

“Her clothing. It needs attention, for she had been wearing it for several days. I found a chemise that belonged to your mother, and gave it to her to sleep in. You mother has been gone for years, yet there this garment was, neat and clean, in the trunk.” She curtsied and left him after seeing there was nothing more he needed.

The laird stood up. It was time to make his rounds to ascertain that the house was safe for the night. He barred the doors. Snuffed the candles. Banked the fire in the hall and ascended the stairs to his bedchamber. In the upstairs hallway he heard her singing softly, and determined to stop so he might bid her good night. Knocking upon her door, he opened it and stepped into the chamber.

“My lord!”
Cicely scrunched down in the small oak tub, clutching the washing cloth to her breasts.
Blessed Mother!
She had never felt so vulnerable in all of her life as she did at this very minute. Would he force her to his will, thereby sealing her fate?

“I came to say good night,” Ian said, as if bidding such a sentiment
to a lady in her bath were quite normal, and something he did regularly. “Do not worry, ladyfaire. You are so hunched over there is little but the graceful angle of your back that is visible to me.” He grinned wickedly. “That and your beautiful, outraged face.”

“Go away!” she said, attempting to shrink herself further from his bold look.

“I can see you will need a larger tub,” he said thoughtfully. “I will order the cooper in the village to begin building one tomorrow, madam.”

“Do not waste his time,” Cicely snapped. “I will certainly be returning to Perth shortly, my lord. I’m quite certain the king’s men will be here for me tomorrow.”

Ian could scarcely take his eyes from her. Her rich, long auburn hair piled atop her head, obviously newly washed. The creaminess of her skin. And those blue-green eyes! He watched those eyes widen as he walked to where she sat in the small tub. She almost cowered from him as he reached out to tip her face to his. She was helpless to resist him else she reveal that which should not be seen. He bent, and his lips touched hers, gently at first, and then more fiercely.

Her heart was beating so rapidly that she could hear the sound of it in her ears, but when his mouth closed over hers Cicely could not resist kissing him back.
Blessed Mother,
she thought to herself.
What am I doing?
But she simply couldn’t help herself. There was something so compelling about his kiss, she was unable to withstand him.

He broke off the embrace, smiling down into her face. “Good night, ladyfaire,” he said, and then he left her.

Cicely sat in the cooling tub for several minutes. This was madness. It had to stop. His kisses left her weakened. And what would happen when he did not stop at one kiss? What would happen if one kiss blended into another and another? The very thought of it made her sigh with longing, and that was terrible. Did their kiss make him feel the same way as she did? Probably not. Men were freer with their kisses than respectable girls were. And again the notion slipped into
her thoughts that Andrew Gordon had never made her feel the way Ian Douglas did.

She had to escape the laird of Glengorm before she allowed herself to do something very foolish. Surely her rescuers would be here tomorrow.

But they were not. It wasn’t until the tenth day of her captivity that Sir William Douglas and his party rode into Glengorm, even as an icy rain was beginning to fall.

M
aggie MacLeod, wife to Andrew Grey, laird of Ben Duff, was helped into Glengorm’s hall, supported by her husband and Orva. The child in her belly was going to be born soon, and there was no denying it. The hall was warm and inviting. Once Maggie was safely seated by the hearth Orva looked about. She and Cicely spotted each other at the same time, and flew into each other’s arms.

“Ohh, my baby, have you been harmed?” Orva said, stepping back and looking her young mistress over carefully. “I will kill the brute myself with my bare hands!”

“Only my pride,” Cicely said wryly. Taking Orva’s hand, she walked across the hall to where her guests were being greeted by Ian Douglas. “Maggie.” She signaled to Tam to bring refreshments. “You are as pale as the moon.”

“I think my bairn is coming,” Maggie said softly. “Perhaps I’m just weary, so make no fuss lest you frighten my poor Andrew.” She accepted a small dram of whiskey that Tam offered her and, sipping it, closed her eyes.

“I’ll have a chamber made ready for you,” Cicely said. “Tam, fetch Sine to me.”

“You speak like the mistress here,” Maggie noted.

“I have spent my time awaiting my rescue putting the laird’s house in order. It was a pigsty when we arrived ten days ago. I’ve brought
in staff from the village, and the laird sent the housekeeper, a nasty creature named Bethia, packing. The cook, Mab, has been a godsend. Who is that with your husband?”

“Sir William Douglas, clan chief of this branch of the Douglases. He’s been sent by the king to reason with your laird,” Maggie said.

“There is no reasoning with Ian Douglas,” Cicely replied tartly. “The man is impossible! He insists he loves me, and that he will wed me.”

“Well,” Maggie said, “you must have a husband, and you couldn’t seem to make up your mind about the Gordon of Fairlea. Do you like Ian?”

“I don’t dislike him,” Cicely evaded.

Maggie laughed softly. “I can see his charm is beginning to touch you,” she said. “Has he made any overtures towards you?”

“He kisses me,” Cicely replied.

“And do you like it?” Maggie probed.

“Aye, I do,” Cicely admitted. “I shouldn’t! But I do. He doesn’t force himself on me. Suddenly he is there, and kissing me. One kiss. No more, but oh, Blessed Mother, how sweet that kiss is. ’Tis nothing at all like Andrew Gordon. His kisses were quite nice, but after the first time I never tingled. With this wretched border lord I tingle from the top of my head to the soles of my feet each time he kisses me. And I shouldn’t!”

“Why not?” Maggie asked innocently.

“Because I shouldn’t!” Cicely said vehemently. “He’s practically no better than a bandit, Maggie.”

“I’ve known Ian Douglas ever since I came into the border from my Highlands and married my Andrew Grey,” Maggie said. “He is respected, and well thought of by his fellow border lords, Cicely.”

“He isn’t a suitable husband for me at all,” Cicely said.

“Why not?” Maggie inquired.

“He’s a ruffian,” Cicely declared.

“Most Scotsmen are.” Maggie chuckled.

“His family has no stature,” Cicely said.

“The Douglases are very loyal to the king. If they were not he would not have entrusted Sir William to come and reason with his kinsman in this matter,” Maggie pointed out. “The Gordons, on the other hand, cannot always be trusted. They live in the eastern Highlands, and their loyalties are often torn between Scotland’s kings and the great Highland lords who rule more like kings from their lands.”

“The king, I think, wants me to marry Andrew Gordon,” Cicely said.

“Do you love him?”

“Nay, I don’t, but is not love the exception to the rule when one marries? The queen is the best friend I have ever had. I was sent away when I was barely seven, because even though I did not live in my father’s house, I lived on his estates. My stepmother, Luciana, hated me before she even met me. She was very jealous of any attention my father lavished upon me. She accused me of trying to kill my little brothers. My father knew then that if I were to be kept safe I would have to be sent away. I entered Queen Johanna’s house at the same time Lady Joan Beaufort did. We became friends immediately.

“Jo did not have to bring me to Scotland with her. I might have been left behind. But my stepmother bore my father a fourth child, this time a girl. My father begged the Beauforts to see that I went with the new Queen Joan, for Luciana began anew to fret about my small presence in their life. Oh, she had been happy enough when I used my tiny influence to get my little half brothers places at court. Fortunately King James agreed I might go with them. While it is my decision whom I marry, my father asked the king to see that I married well. I think, like the king, he would want me to wed where I might be of use to the Stewarts.” Cicely sighed. “But I will admit, Maggie, that after these few days Ian Douglas is growing on me. The
canny
Douglas does have his charms.”

“If your father gave you the right to choose your husband, then you must choose the man who will make you happiest, Cicely. But if you
would be practical, be warned that the Gordons will do what is best for the Gordons, and not necessarily Scotland,” Maggie advised the young Englishwoman. “The Douglases stand firmly for King James.”