The Magnificent Rogue (46 page)

Craighdhu
October
30, 1588

“Here’s a letter for you, Kate.” Gavin came into the hall and started toward the hearth where Kate sat on the floor playing with Patrick before the fire. “The courier is waiting at the dock for an answer.”

“From Robert?” she asked eagerly. Robert had been in Ireland for more than two months, protecting their holdings from the ruthlessness of Sir William Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth’s lord deputy of Ireland. It was the longest they had been separated since they had returned
to Craighdhu. As she rose to her feet, her son immediately gave a howl of outrage and started pulling on the skirt of her gown. She gave him a wooden soldier to distract him as she watched Gavin come toward her.

Disappointment surged through her when Gavin shook his head. “The courier came from the mainland.”

“You’re limping again,” she noticed with a frown. “Is your leg hurting?”

“A wee bit. It always aches when the wind blows from the north. Of course, Jeanie says I only limp to arouse sympathy.” He grinned. “She’s partially right. With a wife like her a man must use any weapon at hand to get his own way.” He pulled a wistful face. “If I limp a little more, will you tell me where you hid my bagpipes?”

“No.” She took the letter. “Jock says you must rest those poor wounded fingers.”

“It’s been more than a year.” He wriggled his fingers. “See? No stiffness at all. I could play as well as ever.”

“That’s what I fear.” She opened the envelope and took out the note. The smile that lingered on her lips vanished as she read the two lines scrawled on the parchment.

“What’s wrong?” Gavin asked.

Very much could be wrong. If the earl of Leicester was dead, then Kate’s hold over Elizabeth was nonexistent.

She handed the letter to Gavin, went over to the desk, and picked up a pen.

“Bad,” Gavin murmured as he looked up from the letter. “Are you going?”

“Of course.” She scrawled a few lines on the paper, placed it in the envelope, and sealed it. “What else can I do? Give this to the courier and tell Jock we’ll be departing immediately.”

He took the letter. “I could go with you.”

She shook her head. “I’ll take Jock. I want you to be here when Robert returns and keep him from following me.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“You’ll do the task better than Jock. Both of their instincts would be to attack instead of waiting to see if there’s another way.”

He puffed up his chest. “While I, on the other hand, am the virtual soul of diplomacy.”

“Well …” She decided not to deflate him. “Will you ask Jean if she will take care of Patrick?”

“I promise we’ll devote our full attention to the lad. It will be good practice for when we have our own bairn.” He smiled beguilingly. “Now I know Patrick’s a little young, but this would be a fine time to further his musical appreciation. If you’d only tell me where my bagpipes are?”

When Kate was shown into Elizabeth’s chamber, she found the queen sitting by the window, idly toying with the strings of the lute on her lap. Elizabeth appeared smaller, almost shrunken, her skin parchment pale and her eyes swollen with weeping.

“You look well,” she said listlessly. Then she snapped, “No, you look disgustingly radiant. It offends me.”

“My apologies,” Kate said. “I did not know my father, so I cannot feel distressed at his passing.”

Elizabeth scowled. “You should at least have the grace to look anxious now that you no longer have a weapon against me.”

“I’m concerned, but it’s never wise to reveal weakness. We both know that.”

“Yes.” For an instant a fleeting smile crossed Elizabeth’s face. “We do.” She sat up straighter in the chair. “I will make this short. I have taken pity on your plight. I will extend the protection I have given you.”

“Indeed?” Kate asked warily.

“However, you must pay the price. You must come here to London.”

“Impossible.”

“You say impossible to me?”

“Impossible,” Kate repeated. “I will not leave Robert, and I will not ask him to leave Craighdhu.” She paused. “And I now have a son.”

“I’m aware of that. A boy.”

Kate nodded. “Patrick’s a fine healthy lad.”

“Bring them with you.” Elizabeth held up her hand. “Don’t protest until you hear me out. I have no liking for handing this land over to that sniveling boy on the Scottish throne. I’ve not labored all my life to enrich this realm to have him squander it.” She lifted her chin. “But, with proper guidance, you might prove adequate to the task.”

Kate could see where the conversation was leading, and relief rushed through her. It was going to be all right. Elizabeth was handing her another weapon. She smiled. “I’d be more than adequate. I’d make the things you’ve accomplished during your reign seem trifling in comparison.”

“Arrogance,” Elizabeth snorted. “Living with that insolent pirate has not improved you.”

“But it has infinitely enriched me.”

“At any rate, I’ve decided I will name you my heir. It will cause a great deal of trouble, but between us we can—” She stopped as she saw Kate shaking her head. “You
refuse
me?”

“I don’t want the throne.”

“Nonsense. You want it. Everyone wants it.”

“I have all I need at Craighdhu.”

Elizabeth studied her expression. “You do mean it,” she said wonderingly.

“But there’s always the possibility I could change my mind.” Kate grinned. “You’ll never know, so you must keep your protection in place to guard the future queen of England.”

“Oh, must I?”

Kate nodded. “It would not be to your advantage to do anything else.”

Elizabeth’s outrage gave way to a reluctant smile. “I should have taken you the last time I saw you. There’s nothing like that first taste of power. You were wavering—I could have swayed you.”

Looking back on that day, Kate knew she might be right. “It’s possible.”

“I could have had you.” Elizabeth leaned back wearily in her chair, her forefinger plucking at the strings of the lute. Her fire was suddenly gone, and she was once more only an aging, sorrowing woman. She whispered, “Robin loved music. He gave me this lovely instrument. He gave me many wonderful gifts.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“But do you know the most valuable gift he gave me?”

Kate shook her head.

“He made me laugh. What a rare—” Her eyes glistened with tears, and she drew a deep breath. “Well, why are you standing there? The audience is over. You’re dismissed.”

Kate curtsied and started to leave.

“I named you after my father’s last wife,” Elizabeth abruptly called after her. “Kathryn Parr was very kind to me when I was a child.”

It seemed an odd thing for her mother to say to end this interview, but perhaps no stranger than the audience itself.

Kate opened the door.

“I loved her very much … Kathryn.”

It was the closest Elizabeth would ever come to admitting regret for giving up her child. Well, surrender was not easy for Kate either. Time might have lessened her hurt and resentment, but they were still present. Yet in this instant of parting she found she did not wish to leave without matching Elizabeth’s compromise with one of her own.

“I’ve never liked to be called Kathryn.” A smile lit her face as she looked over her shoulder. “Call me Kate.”

April 29, 1603
Craighdhu

Kate and Robert watched Percy Montgrave slip and slide on the wet hillside as he struggled up to the cliff where they were standing. He was carrying a large shawl-wrapped bundle in his arms, and the burden only made his climb more difficult.

“Should we go down and help him?” Kate asked.

“Not unless you mean me to help him off the cliff,” Robert murmured. “I have no kind memories of Montgrave.”

“God’s blood, this is an inhospitable place,” Montgrave said as he reached the crest of the hill. He looked down with revulsion at the seals below. “Blustery winds and wild beasts. It suits you well, MacDarren.”

“Aye, it does.” Robert drew a protective step closer to Kate. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought your wife a gift from the queen.” He handed the wrapped object to Robert as he reached beneath his cloak. “You heard she died on March twenty-fourth of this year?”

“Yes.” The word of Elizabeth’s death had filled Kate
with a confusion of emotions, foremost of which had been sadness and regret.

He brought out the envelope for which he had been fumbling and handed it to Kate. “She gave me this letter and the gift to bring to you a week after she took to her bed. She told me to tell you there are great riches to be found in music.”

“And that was her only message?” What had she expected? Kate thought ruefully. Certainly not a tender farewell or an admission from the queen that she had been wrong in her treatment of her daughter.

“You’re fortunate she made this much effort,” Percy said sharply. “She was not herself. She was tired … so tired.…” He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the memory. “She was a very difficult woman but … I shall miss her. It seems very … empty.” He turned and started down the hill. “I must get back to court. James set out immediately for London when he heard of her death. It was not wise of me to leave before I welcomed him, but my duty to her came first.”

Robert watched him leave as Kate opened the envelope. “He’s right, it wasn’t wise. They’ll all be vying for position at court now that James is king. Maybe Montgrave isn’t as bad as I thought.”

The letter from Elizabeth was brief and written in a weak, spidery hand.

Robert unwrapped the shawl covering the lute, parted the strings, and drew out the document inside the cavity. He unfolded and quickly scanned it. “It’s Elizabeth’s will, naming you the successor to the throne.”

Kate had thought that was what it would be. Elizabeth was too determined not to make one final attempt to get what she wanted. But maybe Kate was being too harsh. Perhaps this was another gesture of reconciliation like the one Elizabeth had made at their last meeting.

“What shall we do with it?” Robert asked quietly.

She looked down at the seals and the sea, the panorama of life and birth on the black rocks below.

A second chance to shift the balance. Power and glory against Robert and the children and a happiness that had shone like a brilliant sun these many years. The fact that those years had been spent under the shadow of the sword, with not one moment taken for granted, had only made them more precious.

There was no contest.

She took Elizabeth’s will and tucked the document back into the hidden depths of the lute. “I do believe we should give this lute to Patrick.” She kissed Robert lovingly on the cheek before linking her arm with his. “A distraction is definitely needed. That rascal Gavin has been teaching our son the bagpipes, and I believe the lad’s going to be even worse at it than Gavin himself.”

Turn the page for a preview of
Iris Johansen’s next tale of intrigue
and deception, introducing a
remarkable new heroine.

KILLER DREAMS

Coming in hardcover from
Bantam Books in June 2006

Fentway University Hospital
Baltimore, Maryland

W
hat’s going on? You’re not supposed to be here.”

Sophie Dunston looked up from the chart to see Kathy VanBoskirk, the head night nurse, standing in the doorway. “An overnight apnea study.”

“You worked all day and now you’re monitoring an overnighter?” Kathy came into the room and glanced at the bed on the other side of the double glass panel. “Ah, an infant. The light dawns.”

“Not so much an infant any longer. Elspeth’s fourteen months,” Sophie said. “She’d stopped having incidents three months ago and now they’re back. She just stops breathing in the middle of the night and her doctor can’t find any reason for it. Her mother is worried sick.”