Legacy (30 page)

From across the room, Mairi could see the startling color of Edward’s eyes. There was regret and something else in the ice-blue depths. Something that her mind refused to identify. Sweet Jesu, the king of England!

Why couldn’t she feel? She should be outraged, humiliated, shocked, anything but this dull, vacuous ache filling her chest. The knife she clutched in her hand slid out of her numb fingers and clattered loudly on the oak table. People were beginning to stare. Besides the king, she was the only one still seated. Dear God. Could it be true? Her brain began to work again. Edward wasn’t Lord Durbridge from the south of England. He was the king. The nobleman who had fallen in a bloody heap at her feet, the teasing companion who sat with her in front of the fire demanding a border ballad, the man who had shared her bed and cut his teeth on her heart, was none other than the king of England.

David stared at her, a troubled expression on his face. Blood rose in her cheeks. It seemed as if the eyes of the entire world were upon her. Rage and shame warred with each other in her breast. Carefully, she stood, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. For a long moment her eyes met and held the anguished gaze of the king. Then, with a glittering smile and a murmured apology to David, she turned and walked down the long hall, through the suffocating silence, and out the door.

Eleanor looked out over the sea of pale, curious faces. Her color was high, but she had been bred from birth to maintain composure at all costs. Raising her glass in salute, her voice rang out in a clear command. “Northumberland has proposed a toast. Drink, everyone.”

Dutifully, goblets were tilted. Everyone sat down, and conversation resumed. The queen spoke to the lord high chamberlain on her left and then turned toward her husband. “Find her, Edward,” she said through smiling lips. “Find that woman and take her away. I care not how long you dally, but never allow her to set foot in London again.”

Edward heard his wife’s voice through a fog of guilt. The look on Mairi’s face haunted him. By his enormous conceit, he had betrayed the one woman who had valued him as a man without the trappings of wealth and power. His actions were not honorable and the knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Have you nothing to say, Edward?” Eleanor’s grating words interrupted his thoughts. “No apologies, no remorse?”

His lips thinned. “Aye, my lady. I have much to say but none of it to you. However, I am most grateful for your understanding.” He stood and looked down at her, his eyes a distant, wintry blue. “I know you will forgive me for retiring early.”

Her face whitened. “You cannot be serious. Where are you going? What of the christening?”

“I shall return for the ceremony. Nothing else need concern you.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she began.

The stark rage in his expression stopped her. “I beg your pardon, Edward,” she whispered. “Godspeed.”

With a curt nod, he shouldered his way through the crowd, beckoning David Murray to follow him. Outside the hall, in the torch-lit darkness, he spoke directly, wasting no time on explanations. “Where can I find Mairi Maxwell?”

David frowned. “In her south tower apartments, Your Grace, but surely you know she meant no offense. She was taken ill,” he lied. “Mairi is a loyal subject, devoted to Your Grace.”

Edward grinned. “Is she now? She must have changed a great deal since I saw her last.”

“How do you know my betrothed?” David asked, surprised into rudeness. Immediately he realized his mistake. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” he stammered.

“Your betrothed?” Edward’s voice was dangerously soft. “I think not.”

“Indeed, ’tis true,” David assured him. “Mairi has finally agreed to our marriage. We came to London to request your permission.”

Edward’s expression would have frozen the fires of hell. From his superior height, he looked down at the earnest young man who dared lay claim to the woman he wanted. “I’m sorry, lad,” he said at last. “You are too late. Permission denied.”

Struck dumb with shock and confusion, David watched the king climb the stairs to the south tower.

Edward didn’t bother to knock before throwing open the door. He heard her outraged gasp and from across the chamber saw the blazing fury in her eyes.

“Get out,” she ordered, pointing back to the hall from where he came.

“Lass.” He spread his hands in a gesture of supplication. “I did not intend for it to be this way.”

Without answering, she turned toward the window and folded her arms protectively against her chest. Edward swallowed and looked around the scented chamber. He needed whiskey, and there was none to be had. A servant cowered on her knees. He dismissed her, and she backed out of the room.

“Mairi,” he began and stopped. He had no words with which to defend himself. Nothing to save him but the truth. He could demand that she return to Scotland, of course. His peace of mind would be restored and his wife’s suspicions calmed. Tomorrow would dawn just as today had, without embarrassing complications. But was that really what he wanted?

Until an hour ago, Edward had believed that to be true. His tryst in the borders was his alone, a pleasant indiscretion to be brought out and savored late at night when the embers burned low and sleep wouldn’t come. If the truth were told, he had remained faithful in heart if not in deed to Mairi’s memory. He had taken other women to his bed, but when the candles were doused and the room blanketed in darkness, it was black hair that slid through his fingers and dark, feathery lashes that tickled his chest and framed light, cloud-colored eyes. It was Mairi’s mouth that opened to the demand of his questing tongue and it was her voice crying out her pleasure that brought his own release.

Edward watched her silently, a pale, still figure outlined against the wine-colored tapestry. His memory dimmed before the flesh-and-blood woman. She was here and so much more than any memory he could possibly evoke. He would not give her up again.

“You will hear me out,” he demanded, breaking the tension in the overheated room.

“Will I then have a choice?” she countered, turning to look at him.

“Aye.” He nodded. “I would not spoil what we had by taking you against your will.”

“Very well. Explain.” It was a mistake. Mairi knew it the moment she said it. She should never have agreed to hear him. He stood before her, just as he had in the beginning, in the courtyard of Traquair House, proud and vulnerable, the golden hawk-like ferocity of his gaze melting her anger. Firelight touched the planes of his cheeks and the silvery crown of his head. His eyes were bluer than she remembered and filled with troubled uncertainty. It was strange to think that the king of England had once told her that he loved her. Stranger still to realize that she had the power to refuse him. Mairi chewed the inside of her cheek and waited.

“My men and I were set upon by border reivers. I was wounded,” he began. “It would have been the height of foolishness to reveal my identity to anyone.” His voice was low and humble, the words haltingly forced from his lips. “Later, I was afraid.”

“Afraid? The mighty Hammer of the Scots afraid of a woman?”

He winced at the scorn in her words. How could he make her understand? Wetting his lips, he crossed the room to stand before her. “’Twas not fear for my person, Mairi. I was afraid you would deny me.”

“It was you who denied me,” she reminded him. “Aye, more than once.”

“I did it for you,” he burst out in frustration.

“I don’t believe you.”

“’Tis true.” His voice gentled. “God knows I am no monk. I will not lie, Mairi. You are not the only woman I’ve bedded outside of my marriage, but I swear, you are the only one I have loved.”

She didn’t speak, but she was listening. Her mouth had softened, and her arms were at her sides. She was so lovely. Edward ached to touch her.

“Why did you not tell me later?” she whispered.

The blood rushed to his cheeks, turning the sun-darkened skin even darker. “I am the king,” he said gruffly. “Sometimes a king forgets what it is to be a man.”

She stared at him for a long time, judging his words, weighing the truth in his soul. Then she smiled, the brilliant wide-toothed smile immortalized by the bards. “No one could ever doubt that you are a man, Your Grace.”

Stunned and speechless, he stared at her. Had he imagined her words? Could she possibly be so generous, so quick to forgive? “Mairi,” he asked in wonder, “can you trust me?”

She held out her hand, and he took it in both his own. “I made a scene tonight,” she said. “I’m dreadfully sorry.”

He grinned, lighthearted as a boy. “No matter. ’Tis a small price to pay to have you here with me.”

Her eyes widened. “But I am not with you, Edward. I came with David to ask the king’s”—she corrected herself—“
your
permission to marry. David Murray has waited an ungodly length of time for my answer. I can put him off no longer, nor would I even if it were possible. I am two and twenty, nearly past the age for childbearing. I want children of my own.”

“I’ll give you children.” He had not intended to say it, but there it was, out in the open between them. He would not take it back.

She stared at him in amazement. “Is that how you think of me?”

“’Tis not such a bad life, to be mistress to the king. I will take care of you, Mairi. You’ll have gold and jewels beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Our children would be bastards, tainted by our deed, condemned by holy church.”

“A royal bastard is not the same. I shall bestow titles and lands—”

“Stop.” She pressed her hand against his chest. “You say that you love me. ’Tis a poor sort of love you offer, Your Grace.”

“Once you didn’t think so.” His voice was low and intimate, evoking the memory of a night filled with warmth and magic.

Mairi closed her eyes against the pain of it. She had put that time behind her, content that because of one man and one night she would go to her grave knowing that bit of life all women long for and too few experience. The man she wanted was unattainable. David loved her. He would ask no questions, and she would be a good wife to him. What cruel act of fate had brought Edward back into her life now when she was reconciled to her future? Why had she come to London? No good could come of this.

Her hand moved to her throat. “You said you wouldn’t force me,” she whispered.

“Nor will I.” He stepped forward and placed his hands against the wall, imprisoning her against the tapestried panels.

He was very close. Mairi could smell the clean smell of soaproot on his skin. His golden beauty overwhelmed her. In an effort to avoid his eyes, she focused on his mouth and too late realized her mistake. He lowered his head to within a fraction of her lips and stopped. Her breathing altered. Unconsciously, she tilted her head and wet her lips with her tongue.

With an inarticulate groan, Edward set his mouth against hers, hard. The kiss that he intended to be exploratory and tender was nothing of the sort. It was bruising and sensual, with all the power and yearning of his need. She answered with her own.

Their teeth scraped and tongues mated. Limbs entwined and bodies joined as frantic hands searched and stroked in their quest for the heated silk and steely muscle of bared flesh. Neither knew how their clothing came to be removed or how they found their way to the feather mattress beneath the bedcovers.

Edward lost the restraint for which he was renowned. Gone was the desire to caress and bring pleasure. Every inch of him was on fire. His body cried out for possession. Without releasing her mouth, he moved between her legs and thrust deeply. He felt her tense beneath him and heard her swift intake of breath.

Grateful for the lighted room, Edward lifted his head and looked down at her face. He’d hurt her. Her lip was caught between her teeth and she was holding back tears. Cursing himself for a clumsy fool, he stopped moving and kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and the tip of her nose.

Mairi stared at him with solemn eyes. After a two-year abstinence, she had been unprepared for the sudden invasion of turgid flesh inside her body. Edward had changed. Her memory of their coupling did not include pain nor this raging tide of emotion that consumed him. He had been a passionate, but skilled lover. Now he seemed driven, almost desperate, as if he hadn’t had a woman in a very long time.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he murmured as his lips skimmed the smooth column of her throat. “You are so lovely, and I came so close to losing you.”

Willing herself to relax, Mairi stroked the winter-bright hair. She would tell him now and be done with it. Tomorrow she would break David Murray’s heart, an ugly thought, but the alternative was worse. Edward needed her, and if the passion awakening in her bruised body was a sign, she needed him as well. Cradling his head in her hands, she brushed her lips against his ear and felt him shudder deep inside her. “You will not lose me, my love,” she whispered. “I could not leave you even if you commanded me.”

Something inside Edward came alive, piercing his heart with its brilliance. Folding her in his arms, he held her tightly against his chest, moving gently, rhythmically, until her desire matched his own. Only then, when he saw the look of wonder in her eyes, did his control break. For the first time in two years, he stayed the entire night with a woman.

Traquair House

1993

It was an hour before dawn when I peeked into the guest room where my parents slept. The two dark shapes huddled close together in the four-poster bed looked peaceful and familiar.

I closed the door, careful not to wake them. They would know I was home when they saw the car in the port. I’d break the news about Kate later, after I’d found what I was looking for.

The priests’ chamber was my destination. I didn’t really expect to find anything momentous, but I couldn’t sleep and I had a feeling, call it a premonition, about that room. Every one of my ancestors who came close to finding the stone had started there. I had nothing to lose.

By now I knew that I could do nothing to expedite the process of events unfolding inside my mind. Janet Murray’s diary and the Bible where I’d found the entry of Jeanne’s twins were nothing more than mediums by which I entered the lives of people who had lived before me. It was there, in my visions of the past, that I’d learned everything I knew. It was there that I would find the stone. Mairi would show me, just as she had the others. She would come when she wanted, but there was no harm in being ready. My chances were good. I’d figured out more than either Jeanne or Katrine. Unlike those poor doomed women, I knew who my enemy was.

From the darkened hallway, I turned the knob and pushed open the door. The first uncertain fingers of dawn filtered through the window, lighting the room and its contents to varying shades of gray. The mysterious silvery essence reassured me. Steeped in foggy shadows, the moldings, the paintings, and the ornate, ancient furnishings whispered in the language of another lifetime, persuading me to stay awhile, to rest my mind, to gather myself before beginning the final lap of my journey. I followed my instincts and sat down on a sheet-covered chair to wait for further inspiration. It seemed right somehow that this hazy, half-toned world should match my mood.

I must have drifted into that place between waking and sleeping when I heard a noise. It was the sound of footsteps in the hall. They were tentative, coming on slippered feet to an unfamiliar place. The doorknob turned, and I tensed. When I saw whose head peeked around the doorframe, I relaxed.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. My meticulous parent hadn’t bothered to pull a robe over her plaid flannels, and her blond hair was disheveled.

“Christina. You scared the life out of me. What on earth are you doing up at this hour?”

I looked at her in amazement. “You’re up early yourself.”

She stepped all the way into the room. “Something woke me. I don’t really know whether it was a noise or not. I can’t remember now.” She dismissed the thought as if the reason for her waking and finding her way to the most remote part of the house was of no importance. “Kate usually has coffee brewing in the kitchen, but I was just there and nothing’s started.” She looked around the room and rubbed her arms. “It’s cold. What are you doing here?”

Something in the misty light and soft worried expression in her eyes made me tell her. If I couldn’t trust my own mother, the woman whose blood and bones I shared, the woman whose Maxwell genes had given me life, there was nothing left. “Sit down, Mom,” I began. “It’s a long story.”

She sat, and I told her. Beginning with the letter from Ellen Maxwell and the terrible horror in her face when she first saw me to my meeting with Ian and the step-by-step unraveling of the curse. I told her of the diary and my dreams and the Bible and Professor MacCleod. I told her of Ellen and Ian’s father and of her link and my own to Kate Ferguson, housekeeper of Traquair. There was a long silence when I’d finished.

“It’s over then, you and Ian?” she asked after a long time.

I nodded.

Mother stood up, crossed the space between us, and knelt before me, taking my hands in her own. She wet her lips. “Your father and I were concerned when you left us the note the other day. We did some investigating on our own, beginning with Ellen Maxwell’s lawyer. He told us about Kate. I won’t say that I’m over the shock of learning who my father was and that I have a half sister, but at least I’m reconciled to it. It really has nothing to do with my life. It does have something to do with yours, Chris. That is, if you intend to stay here in Scotland and raise your child. Surely you can see what motivated Kate. As for Ian, I don’t believe he’s done anything so terrible. For the sake of the baby, I’d give him another chance.”

I stared at her in amazement. How could she have lived with me for eighteen years without really knowing me?

“The rest of this is impossible,” she continued. “I can’t believe that you’ve allowed it to go this far without seeking out some sort of professional help. Why haven’t you spoken with your father? You’ve confided in him since you were a little girl. He could have helped you.”

“I don’t need professional help,” I said through set teeth.