Amanda Scott (13 page)

Nevertheless, and despite reassuring himself that he was only doing what was necessary, when she bade Mackinnon good night
after supper and spared only a nod for Fin on her way out of the hall, the evening suddenly seemed dull beyond bearing. It
grew worse, for his host beat him soundly at chess, twice.

At Stirling Castle, the court of James the Fifth, High King of Scots, was also sitting down to its supper. The King, however,
was otherwise occupied, entertaining himself in the way that he had most favored from about the age of thirteen, when his
otherwise objectionable guardian, the Earl of Angus, had introduced him to the wonders of the female form. Since then, James
had relished sexual encounters of every description.

Despite now being twenty-seven years old and a bridegroom of less than a year, he had not altered his predatory habits.

To his present companion, he said, “Faith, but you are a bonnie lass, Nell! I vow, I have never seen bubs as firm and smooth
as yours, nor ones so perky.” He stroked her breasts gently for some moments and then bent to savor them at length.

His grace showed every sign of being deeply enamored, and Eleanor Douglas Gordon, now Lady Percy, sighed as much in relief
as in feigned passion.

She had taken a great risk in coming to Stirling, for she could not doubt that Henry Tudor would learn of her visit. The King
of England had spies everywhere. And when Henry learned of it, her brother Archie, Earl of Angus, would hear of it soon afterward.
If she feared Henry the Eighth—and any sensible person who had contact with him did fear him—she feared her brother far more.

Everyone knew that James of Scotland was fond of the fair sex. However, as a result of his unabated fury with Angus, no one
who bore the name Douglas was safe, least of all Angus’s sisters—legitimate or otherwise. That their father had never married
Nell’s mother had posed no obstacle when Angus arranged her first marriage to Lord Gordon or her second to an elderly knight
in the powerful English Percy family, now thankfully deceased. Her birth would pose no obstacle to James, either, if he should
decide—as he had two months before in the case of her half sister Janet Douglas—to try Nell for witchcraft and burn her at
the stake.

Still, the success of her present mission was vital. She had ridden all the way from Northumberland, reaching Edinburgh the
previous day. Upon learning that the court had moved, she had followed it to Stirling after a short night’s rest, and by the
time the sun had risen that morning, she and the three other members of her party were close enough to see the thrusting skyline
of Stirling’s massive fortress, perched like a sleeping lion atop its rocky plateau.

Clattering up the steep streets of the town, the party of four had drawn little attention from townsfolk who had enjoyed a
royal procession only days before. Nell was glad they ignored her, certain she must look a fright.

She had not visited Stirling for years—not since Angus had ruled the King’s household—but everything looked much the same.
Hammers banging and a clatter of wooden planks suggested changes in the making, but the only notable difference she saw was
that, unlike the days when Angus ruled, the portcullis was up and the drawbridge down.

The double gates were shut, of course, but it took no more than her name being shouted to open them, and in moments the horses’
hooves thudded across the timber drawbridge. The castle forecourt was as she remembered it, but renovations were indeed occurring,
and workmen hurried to and fro.

Inside, however, all was in order, albeit bustling. She excused the two men-at-arms who accompanied her so that they could
see to the horses and baggage and then to themselves. Then she and her woman followed a servant who showed them to a private
apartment, where Nell spent the morning preparing to greet the King.

When she made her way to the great hall shortly before one, the castle seemed to be overflowing with fashionable people, but
she paid little heed to any of them. She had come to see James.

At thirty-four, Nell was still a remarkably beautiful woman, but she had known she could leave nothing to chance. James had
a judicious eye for feminine beauty, and although she was seven years his senior, she did not think she would disappoint him.
She rarely looked her age, and it would not bother him in any event, for his only interest in a woman’s years was his desire
to discover how much experience and imagination she had managed to acquire. Nell possessed both, and thus far, as she had
hoped, his grace had been as wax in her soft, smooth hands.

She realized as soon as she clapped eyes on him that she had forgotten how handsome James was, how tall and well built—and
how charming of manner. She had not seen him since his stripling years, though, and a redheaded, blue-eyed stripling’s promise
was not always kept as the man acquired height and bulk. James’s looks had fulfilled their promise and more.

Aware that he recognized her name when his herald announced it, and that he knew exactly who she was, she held her breath
until, with relief, she saw his interest stir when she curtsied deeply before him. She bent her head to make the obeisance
look as yielding as possible. Then, daringly, she looked up from beneath fluttering, dark lashes and was well satisfied to
see his gaze fixed on the softly thrusting swell of her breasts above the low-cut neckline of her blue velvet bodice.

Drawing a deep breath to increase the impact, she hid her satisfaction at hearing his gasp. Since she had ordered the gown
cut daringly low on purpose, so that her magnificent breasts would look to him as if they threatened at any moment to pop
free of the gown, she knew in that moment that she had judged her man well.

Smiling appreciatively, the King offered first his hand to assist her to rise and then his arm, but to her disappointment,
he relinquished her soon afterward to one of his nobles. That gentleman squired her to table, where she did her best to look
as if she were pleased with the arrangement. She even managed to deal patiently with the inane comments of a particularly
annoying, elaborately coiffed and garbed woman who presented herself and her two homely daughters to Nell in an unbecomingly
forward way. Nell did not bother to remember their names.

The hall was crowded, and people lingered into the late afternoon. The King lingered with them, although his advisors frequently
sought him out, since rumors were flying about trouble in the western Highlands, where Donald Grumach apparently was stirring
clans to support his bid to reclaim the Lordship of the Isles.

Nell listened carefully to all she could overhear, dismayed to learn that they already suspected so much about Donald’s activities
but hoping to turn any new knowledge to good account. Whatever Angus or Henry might think, she had been right to come to Stirling
before blundering alone into the treacherous Highlands.

She had nearly given up hope of speaking to James again before supper, if then, when suddenly he appeared before her and gallantly
offered his arm.

As she smiled and placed a hand upon it, he bent to murmur in her ear, “I trust you will not mind if we seek privacy, madam.
We have much to discuss.”

“Your wish, sire, as ever, is my command,” she replied demurely.

James chuckled. “I shall test that, I promise you.” Guiding her to a private chamber, he had bolted the door and, turning,
had said only, “We understand each other, I hope.”

“Aye, your grace. I am yours to command.”

Without further ado, he bared her breasts and ordered her to help him undress. Entirely willing, Nell obeyed that command
and others, and now as they lay together in bed, James continued to savor her breasts for some minutes before moving atop
her and taking her with gusto. When he was spent, he lay still for so long that she began to fear that he had fallen asleep.

His weight was uncomfortable, but when she tried to shift him, he murmured, “Don’t wriggle, lass. Tell me instead how it is
that I do not recall having granted you permission to return to Scotland.”

“I did not know that I required permission, sire,” Nell murmured, hoping that he could not hear her heart thudding. “I was
but coming home, after all.”

“Then why come here to Stirling?”

“To beg your forgiveness if I require it and to beg a boon if I do not,” she replied, struggling to sound calm, and to keep
her increasing tension at bay.

James lifted his head to look at her.

“A boon, madam?” Mockingly, he quirked an eyebrow, adding, “I trust you do not ask this boon on your irksome brother’s behalf.”

“He would not thank me if I did,” Nell answered honestly. “Nor do I think you such a fool, sire, as to bid Angus back to Scotland,
if that is the boon you fear he would seek. In truth, I have no more reason to trust him than you do. He has used me abominably.”
And that, she thought, certainly
was
the truth.

James slid off her, lying on his side next to her, his intense gaze searching hers. “What would you have of me then?”

The moment had come. Her lips were dry, but she dared not wet them lest he deduce the extent of her nervousness and draw unwelcome
albeit possibly accurate conclusions. Thinking swiftly, she said, “I hope to be of some use to you, sire, and perchance to
serve my own end as well.”

“How might you be of use to me,” he asked, “other than as we’ve just seen?”

“Donald the Grim,” Nell blurted. “I…I am told that you fear he may be causing strife, may even be seeking to reclaim a certain
Highland title.”

“True.” He frowned. “I hoped to keep him friendly. Instead, the traitor has turned against me. Do you fancy yourself a spy
in his household, madam?”

“Mayhap you forget, sire, but Donald holds my daughter in ward.”

James was silent for a long moment, and then he said quietly, “Have you no other children, madam?”

Bitterly, Nell said, “I bore Gordon two daughters, sire, but the younger died soon after Angus took them from me. I had no
children with Percy, for he was elderly when we married. Molly is all I have left.” Having no wish to speak more of her past,
she added earnestly, “I am told, sire, that she is yet unmarried. It is my fondest hope that Donald might grant me permission
to visit her.”

“Do you know what became of her fortune, Nell?”

“Nay, sire,” she replied evenly, careful to look him directly in the eye. “I never knew where Gordon kept his wealth. After
his death, I discovered that he had hidden the jewels I wore. Other things disappeared, even the castle’s furnishings.”

James looked long at her before he said, “I find it hard to trust the word of any Douglas. Is it not likely Angus took it
all himself?”

“I certainly never saw any sign of that,” she said, glad she could speak honestly. “Pray, sire, grant me leave to seek my
daughter.”

“I suspect more in your yearning than simple mother’s love,” James said shrewdly. “I will grant this much, madam, that I shall
think on the matter. However, I should first mention one wee problem with your plan.”

She did not speak, refusing to let him make her beg for the information. Not only did she possess the Douglas blood but also
her share of the Douglas pride.

A glint in his eyes told her that he understood, and gentleness touched his voice when he said, “Your daughter is no longer
ward to Donald of Sleat.”

“Where is she, then?”

“In good time, madam, in good time.”

Nell forced a smile. If she let him know how important his decision was to her, he would only tantalize her more. As it was,
she hoped that she could continue to interest him long enough to get what she wanted. She had more freedom as Percy’s widow
than she had ever known before, and she did not intend to lose a jot of it. But continued freedom required continued independence,
and independence was no easily won commodity for any woman.

B
efore daylight, Fin and his men arose, broke their fast, and then went down to load Mistress Gordon’s remaining baggage into
the boats. The sky was black and starless, and the air was damp with a heavy mist that swirled eerily around the torches they
carried down to the shore to light their work.

Most of her things were already stowed in two of the galleys that Mackinnon was lending them—Highland galleys, nothing like
their great Venetian namesakes but more like Viking longboats of old. Narrow of beam and high of prow, they could be rowed
or sailed, which made them useful for inter-island travel.

He had not slept well, and as a result his temper was short. Not only had the Maid retired early, leaving him to Mackinnon’s
mercies at the chessboard, but the older man had taken it upon himself to offer advice.

“She’s a good, kindhearted lass,” he said.

“Perhaps,” Fin replied, seeing nothing to gain by arguing.

“If she doesna seem easy wi’ ye, ’tis doubtless because she fears leaving wi’ ye. She doesna ken ye, lad. Ye’d do well t’
treat her gently for a time.”

“I am scarcely an ogre, sir, but women have a duty to obey those who wield authority over them,” Fin said bluntly. “For her
own safety she must learn, and she will learn more easily if she does not continue to defy me.”