The Border Lord and the Lady (27 page)

“ ’Tis the afterbirth, my lady,” Mab told her. “We’ll bury it beneath an oak so the bairn may be strong.”

The infant was wiped free of blood and rubbed down with oil. Then he was wrapped in swaddling bands and brought to his mother.

Maggie’s eyes filled with tears. “He looks just like Andrew,” she said, sounding both pleased and happy. She touched the baby’s cheek with the tip of her finger. “He’s perfect. Take him to his father now, and then bring him back to me.”

They handed the child to Cicely, whose face was suddenly filled with panic. “I’ve never held a baby before,” she half whispered. “What if I drop him?”

Maggie smiled. “You won’t. Tell my husband to come back with you, and thank you for giving us shelter, and such a good place for our son to be born.”

“There, dearie,” Mab said. “You’re holding him just right.”

Cicely walked from the bedchamber cradling the newborn infant in the crook of her arm. Orva moved ahead of her. They descended the staircase into the hall. The child had decided to howl loudly once again, and Cicely was terrified she was doing something wrong, but Orva assured her she was not.

As they entered the hall Lord Grey ran forward. “Is it . . . ? he asked.

“A boy, my lord,” Cicely told him.

Andrew Grey looked down into his son’s face. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Maggie?” he asked.

“Well, and anxious to see you,” Cicely said.

“She said she would give me a son,” Lord Grey said wonderingly.

Then, pushing past Cicely and the baby, he ran up the stairs to see his wife.

Cicely brought the baby into the hall for the others to see. The Grey heir was suitably admired, and then Orva took him from her mistress.

“I’ll take him back upstairs to his cradle,” she said.

Cicely suddenly found herself with Ian Douglas. Sir William seemed to have disappeared. “They wouldn’t let me see the birth,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s a fine strong lad Maggie’s given her husband,” the laird said quietly.

“You want children,” Cicely said.

“Aye, don’t you?” he responded.

“Aye, but I don’t know how many, and I pray I am not like my
own mam. She died after I was born. If I loved you I wouldn’t want to birth your son and then die,” Cicely said. “It would be far too sad, my lord.”

“Could you love me, ladyfaire?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she answered candidly.

“But do you like me more than when I first brought you to Glengorm?” he wondered. His warm hazel eyes searched her face.

“I might,” Cicely said, “if you did not smack my bottom publicly.”

“Might I do it privately?” he teased, and chuckled when she blushed.

“You are unseemly, my lord,” Cicely scolded him, suddenly shy.

He took her hand in his; raising it to his lips, he kissed the back of it, and then, turning the hand about, he kissed both the palm and the wrist.

“Oh!” Cicely exclaimed as a shiver of pleasure traveled down her spine.

He drew her close, still holding that hand, placing it upon his chest over his heart. He smiled gently at her. “You are a prize to be treasured, ladyfaire. I am going to teach you to fall in love with me now that Sir William has solved the problem of the laird of Fairlea for us.” Then he took her face between his two hands and began to kiss her slowly, his warm lips traveling over her face first, and then reaching her lips.

Cicely sighed. She was simply helpless to this man’s kisses. She kissed him back, feeling his heart beneath her hand begin to race. He released her face, one arm slipping about her waist to bring her even closer to him, the other lightly caressing one of her small round breasts. Cicely stiffened. Not even Fairlea had been so bold with her.

“Nah, nah, ladyfaire,” he crooned against her mouth. “Am I the first then?”

She was speechless with the emotions now overcoming her. Jo had never shared with Cicely the intimate details of her courtship, and
Cicely had never asked, fearing to intrude upon her friend’s privacy. Was he supposed to be touching her? Should the hand cupping her breast feel so good? “Should you be doing this?” she finally managed to gasp. “You are not my husband. Oh, Blessed Mother!”

“It is part of courtship, ladyfaire,” he told her gently. God’s balls, her breasts were so sweet. Perfectly round and firm, yet soft. Unable to help himself, he pinched her nipple lightly. His cock was already straining against the fabric of his breeks.

“Please,” Cicely said, “I did not know, my lord.”

His hand fell away from her breast. So Fairlea had not gone as far as caressing her. That was to the good, for then his were the first hands to touch her. And now no others would. She was his alone.

“Why have you stopped?” Cicely asked him.

“Because I would not frighten you,” he told her. “No man has ever fondled you, my ladyfaire. But I long for much more. Do not, I beg you, keep me waiting too long.”

“How can you know I have not been touched before?” Cicely demanded.

“Did you not tell me
‘I did not know’
? Had another touched you as I did you would have known that after the kissing came the caressing, ladyfaire,” the laird said.

“I am not easily seduced, my lord,” Cicely said.

“Nay, you are not easily seduced,” he agreed, his hazel eyes twinkling at her. “If the truth be known you have been extremely difficult to approach.”

“You are a rogue,” Cicely told him.

“Aye, I am,” he replied, close to laughter now. “But I suspect you are discovering that you like a rogue.”

“You had no right to kidnap me, my lord,” she said sternly.

“My name is Ian, and as I fully intend winning you over, ladyfaire, I should like to hear you say my name.”

Cicely looked directly at him with her big blue-green eyes.
“Ian,”
she said.

“How sweetly you say it,” he replied. “Soon you will cry out my name in passion, my ladyfaire. We shall bind our bodies together, and you will cry my name.” His gaze had suddenly become very intense.

“I am a virgin, you must know,” Cicely said nervously, stepping back a pace. “I know nothing but that if you become my husband I must submit my body to you for whatever purposes you devise. I do not know if I am ready to consider such a thing.”

Now he laughed at her proper speech, which he suspected she had been taught by some priest.
A woman must submit. Coupling is for the purposes of procreation only.
“As you submit to me so will I submit to you, ladyfaire. And there will be pleasure between us, for while the Church wants more souls to baptize, there is no reason we cannot enjoy each other while we give them what they want,” the laird told her. “For now, however, I am content to learn all I can about you, and you must learn about me.”

Lord Grey returned to the hall. “Maggie is well, and says we must have more bairns,” he said, grinning delightedly. “Our son is strong, but I would like Father Ambrose to baptize him before we return to Ben Duff. And if you two will stand as his godparents, both my Maggie and I would be honored.”

“I’ve never had a godchild,” Cicely said. “Aye, ’tis I who am honored, my lord.”

“And I also, old friend,” Ian Douglas said, and he smiled at Cicely, for being godparents to Lord Grey’s son was the first act they would perform together.

Sir William left in the morning to return to Perth. He wanted to go home to Drumlanrig, but this duty came first. Lord Grey departed as well so that his Ben Duff folk might know of the new heir, and his home be prepared for his wife and son. But on the following day it began to snow in the borders. As much as Maggie MacLeod wanted to go home, now she knew that she would probably have to remain at Glengorm until spring, when her son would be able to make the day-and-a-half journey. Cicely was happy to have her company.

And the laird of Glengorm realized that it was very unlikely Sir William would be able to return from court with whatever decision the king rendered. Cicely would have to spend the winter with him, but she did not seem unhappy about the news. Christmas came. A Yule log was dragged through the snow into the hall. There was greenery hung, and candles that Cicely had made earlier in the month for the holiday. Father Ambrose had decided it was safe to wait to baptize Torquil Grey until his father could be there.

On Christmas Day, Lord Grey managed to ride from Ben Duff to join his wife and son. As he had a responsible bailiff he had decided to remain at Glengorm with his wife and son until spring, when they might journey safely home. Ian could not remember when his home had been so filled with life and laughter. His younger brother, Fergus, came from the village with his wife, Marion, their two-year-old daughter, and their newborn daughter who had been born on the first day of December, as had Torquil Grey.

And for the first time in all of her life Cicely felt as if she had a real family. Living in a cottage with Orva on her father’s estates had not been the same. Neither had her formative years in Queen Joan of Navarre’s household, or the brief time she had spent at the court of England’s French queen, Katherine, or her even briefer time at the Scots court. Maggie MacLeod and Marion Douglas were like sisters to her. And there were the children, little Mary Douglas, and the two wee bairns. Lady Cicely Bowen suddenly realized that she was happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life. She found the informality of Glengorm more comfortable than court life had been.

If only she could decide what to do regarding Ian Douglas. She already counted Andrew Gordon gone, but had not really sorrowed over the loss. It was the laird of Glengorm who was driving her to distraction. She couldn’t make the most important decision of her life just because his kisses drove her wild. Or could she? But she had to admit to herself that she was coming to like him very much. Was he the man for her? Or should she return to court in the spring and seek
further for a husband? She had to be sensible, practical. Certainly she wasn’t some silly lass who could be easily cajoled.

But in the meantime his caresses were becoming bolder, and Cicely found herself considering that it might be very nice indeed to be seduced by Ian Douglas. Or perhaps she should allow Jo and the king to pick a husband for her. Demonstrate her loyalty to them both for their kindness to her. But then if they chose her man, would he love her? Cicely had found she was becoming quite used to being loved. And she liked it. She wasn’t certain what to do. But then Ian Douglas made the decision for them both on a snowy late February day, and her fate was suddenly decided.

T
he day had begun like any other winter’s day. Outside the skies were gray and lowering, with promise of another snow to come. The ewe sheep were beginning to drop their lambs in the small barn that kept them safe from the predators outside. When Lord Grey had returned from Ben Duff at Christmas he had brought with him two small white terrier pups, a male and a female but half-grown, for Cicely. The active little dogs had bedeviled the larger dogs in the hall until the single big wolfhound among the pack had taken the little male terrier by the scruff of his neck, shaking him gently several times before he set him down with a warning growl. Witness to this act, Cicely had laughed until tears came to her eyes, but from that moment on the terriers had behaved. Now they followed her wherever she went, sleeping at the foot of her bed at night.

The day was quiet. With little work to do the villagers were cooped up in their cottages. The house servants under Cicely’s firm hand kept the house in perfect order now while Mab dozed by the hearth in her kitchen, the main meal of the day already in progress as Bessie and Flora sat at the large table working and gossiping. Fergus and his family were back in their house in the village. Lord Grey and his wife were seated by the fireplace in the hall admiring Torquil, who, at two months, was becoming active. The baby had been baptized immediately
after Christmas, for winter could be a dangerous time for a newborn infant.

The wolfhound, two greyhounds, and a deerhound sprawled sleeping before the large open hearth, their snores audible. Now and again one would open an eye to view the infant, who waved his arms about as he began to discover what he could do. Cicely sat quietly sewing on some new shirts for the laird. Entering his hall, Ian Douglas looked about and found he was a contented man but for one thing: He was not yet a married man, and he very much wanted to be. But Cicely insisted that she was not ready to make the decision that would bind them together for life. Oh, she encouraged his kisses and caresses, but nay, it could go no further than that, she insisted.

He looked at her now, her deep auburn hair plaited neatly into a single thick braid, her beautiful face set in serious contemplation as her head was bent over her sewing. He longed to take her to his bed, remove her gown, undo that braid, and spread her glorious hair about her shoulders. Then he would kiss her until she submitted willingly to him and admitted her love for him. The cock in his breeks tightened with his thoughts. Winter was half gone. Would she wed him in the spring? Or would she return to Perth? Yet there was nothing for her there now, and everything she could desire here at Glengorm. And then, realizing someone was standing by his side, he looked down to see Orva.