The Queen's Lady (21 page)

Her lashes fell, thick and radiant, over her eyes. “It is still wrong,” she whispered.

He winced. “Nay. For I have truly mourned my wife. And I loathed myself long enough for wanting you—aye, hating you, even, that I could not be what Catherine needed when she died. Hating myself more. I could forgive myself many things, but not betraying her with my heart.”

She stared at him, searching his eyes, as if she was as tormented in her own soul as he was in his.

“If you would seek my remorse that you came here, I fear I cannot give it,” he told her.

“I was wrong,” she said softly, and a rueful smile played upon her lips, though her eyes remained grave. Her words came as a bare whisper. “I could not allow such an admission, even in my heart, but I came here…for this.”

He needed nothing else.

He kissed her again.

And made love to her again. She was even more adventurous, and just as passionate, as beautiful, arousing and exciting. If he had a lifetime, he thought briefly, he would never have enough of her, never tire of the sweet, provocative scent of her flesh, the taste of her lips….

But later, as she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, he feared that regret was slipping into her heart and cradled her against him. “What?” he whispered. He didn't add the words that whispered in his mind: What,
my love?

Did he love her? Aye. He loved her as he had loved Catherine. Loved her because she was like Catherine, kind and eager that life should be good, that none should be hurt.

And he loved her because she was nothing like Catherine. She was quick to passion, quick to throw herself into danger at the behest of or for the sake of another. She was a fighter, such a fighter, and she would never admit defeat, even with her dying breath.

“I…” She turned to him. “I should not have come.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Very gravely, she shook her head. “You don't understand. The queen is the most chaste of women. And her maids…yes, they all love to sing and dance, love costume and pageantry and flirting. But they are…they are good.”

“You're very good,” he told her, and he bit his lip, knowing the words could mean many things.

“This makes me…. a…”

“No. It's all right. I will make an offer of marriage.”

He was stunned when she shook her head vehemently.

“No?” he inquired in shock. He had known that, one day, whether for mutual benefit following long negotiation, or perhaps even through liking, he would marry again. He needed an heir, and for an heir, he needed the proper woman.

He certainly hadn't imagined he would propose—to anyone—so soon. And he certainly hadn't imagined that a woman with a
lesser
holding than his own would turn him down, especially after coming in her nightclothes to his chamber.

“I cannot marry without the queen's permission.”

“You think she will not allow you to marry me?” He was indignant.

That, at last, brought a smile to her lips. “I came here of my own free will and desire,” she said very softly. “You do not have to feel compelled to marry me.”

“I must marry again, no matter what,” he told her.

She stiffened. Wrong words again.

“But you are not compelled to marry me, nor must I marry you, m'laird,” she said firmly, and rolled out from under him, ready to rise.

He gently caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

“I have to return. I am one of the queen's ladies. If she awakes, if she feels that she needs me and I am not there, she will worry. And send guards out.”

He smiled. She was so grave. Today had been a tremendous victory for the queen. Mary had not just won a battle, she had won her Highlanders. Tonight, if ever, she would sleep well and deeply.

“Not yet,” he told her.

“I cannot stay.”

“Just a little while longer.”

For once, she was easily convinced.

S
HE LOVED HIM
.

She had loved him for so long that she did not even know when it had begun.

And in that, she understood what it was the queen longed for so deeply. A marriage that would suit the state—and more. One that could offer her the radiance, the ecstasy, that Gwenyth had found that night. To love, to be in love, to be loved in return….

She fell suddenly back to earth. He had offered to marry her. He had never said that he loved her.

Gwenyth spent the next morning in a haze. She could talk about it to no one, of course. Not even Annie, who had helped her slip out, and who had found out the name of the dairy-maid who worked in the kitchen at the lodge, the sweet girl she had impersonated when she slipped in.

Annie was certain her pure and chaste charge had gone—fully dressed—to explain to Laird Rowan that she had gone out in disguise only to prevent the queen from doing so. Gwenyth wasn't at all sure how she had managed to keep a straight face as she told Annie that they had
talked
things out very politely, but somehow she had done so.

Then she had helped the queen to dress in her finery and attended to her when she went to the castle and addressed her people. The queen was clearly elated at her victory and their support, but was also very serious, making certain her people knew the importance of what had taken place, that she wished no ill to anyone, that all she craved was prosperity and happiness for
all
her people, no matter how they chose to worship, and a Scotland that was respected by the world.

Gwenyth had done this while trying not to look over at Rowan, who stood with Laird James and the other military advisors, no sign upon his features that something so…unusual had happened in the night. Or perhaps it was not so unusual for him.

But she…she was
different.

She was changed entirely.

That night, when they continued to celebrate in the hall, she managed to convince the queen that the Highlanders would be far more entertained if they were invited to sing and dance. But when the queen agreed and invited everyone to take the floor, Gwenyth was asked first by the Laird James, and she felt as if her heart would tear apart when she saw Rowan with Mary Livingstone. In time, however, she was in his arms, and then she was afraid again she would give herself away.

“How was your day?” she asked, as they drew together, but they moved apart in the steps of the dance before he could reply.

When they came together again, he smiled and said, “I had a lovely day, m'lady. But not near so lovely as my night.”

She felt her cheeks flood with color. “You mustn't say such things.”

“Every man should speak the truth.”

They drew apart.

They came together.

“We need to speak to the queen,” he said gravely.

“She has been jubilant throughout the day,” she replied. “But I must repeat—you are not compelled to marry me.”

“I give the offer freely.”

Something tugged painfully in her heart. Aye, he offered. It was the right thing to do. And she was insane if she did not accept.

But…she wanted to be loved, not just desired. She wanted to be craved as a wife, not given the title because she was entertaining between the sheets and, given his position, it was necessary that he marry again.

They drew apart, and when the music brought them together again, she said only, “Perhaps.”

“Oh?” he arched a brow in amusement.

“Time will tell,” she told him.

The music came to an end, followed by a burst of applause. Rowan smiled at her, but then, to Gwenyth's surprise, the queen summoned him. He bowed deeply and went to do her bidding.

Gwenyth escaped the floor, hurrying back to her seat on the dais, not wanting to dance with any other man. But the Laird James sat down beside her and let out a sigh. “My sister, the queen, can be reckless,” he said.

She looked at him. He waved a hand dismissively. “My dear, I know full well you were sent out on a ridiculous mission the other day.”

“But…I was able to ascertain where Laird Huntly meant to gather his troops. Though I was unable to return with that information,” she admitted.

James looked ahead, brooding. “She would have gone herself.”

Gwenyth merely nodded in reply, though she had no idea whether he had turned back to her and saw her response or not.

“She intends still that you should travel to London.”

“Aye.” Had she meant it as a question or a statement? She did not know.

“The sucession is very important,” James said.

“Of course.” Was it so very important, though? Gwenyth wondered. Wasn't it enough to rule one nation?

But looking at James, she thought sadly that even the best of men always seemed to want more.

And how did she know that Rowan wasn't the same? In his heart, did he crave another English heiress, someone to balance out the richness of his Scottish holdings?

“Take care—take the gravest care—in your dealings with Queen Elizabeth,” James warned her gravely.

“Of course,” she said again.

“You are not an ambassador.”

“No, my Laird James, I am not. Nor did I ask that I be sent. Mary said that I should go.”

James nodded, rubbing a finger along the stem of his goblet. “I am not against the undertaking. Laird Rowan is one of her favorites and will no doubt keep you safe so long as it is in his power to do so. I am just warning you to take care.”

“Of course, Laird James.”

He rose then. A few minutes later, flushed, and followed by several of the ladies of the court, Mary returned to the table. “How I love to dance,” she said.

Gwenyth stood at the queen's approach, as protocol dictated, and smiled. “Indeed, and you do so extremely well,” she said. It was not flattery; Mary truly was an excellent dancer.

“So do you, my Highland poppet.” The queen lifted her chalice in toast. “To my Lady Gwenyth, ever loyal and brave. Tonight we say goodbye to our dear friend once again. Tomorrow she heads south to visit my dear friend and cousin, Elizabeth of England.” She spoke gaily. Around her, her courtiers applauded in approval.

Gwenyth bobbed a curtsy, once again wishing that the queen would not take her so by surprise. She had known she was going, just not so soon.

No matter what she had said, she longed to marry Rowan. To be his wife. But now….

Rowan returned to the dais with Laird Lindsay.

“My Laird Rowan, I have just informed my Lady Gwenyth of what I discussed with you only a few minutes ago: that you will begin your travels tomorrow. I ask you to convey my deepest love and respect to my cousin. And you will, of course, protect my Lady Gwenyth.”

Rowan bowed handsomely to her. “It shall be as you command, my queen. And I serve you, as ever, with my life.”

Around them, there was applause and cheers. Gwenyth met Rowan's eyes, and she knew she should have been happy. He was handsome, one of the finest warriors in the country but also a well-educated man. He was pleased with his assignment. Pleased to be her protector.

But she wanted so much more. And this meant a long journey. A long time before they could even approach the queen.

Queen Mary set her chalice down. “Tonight, I bid you all rest well. I thank you again for your support, and I pray God watch over Scotland. Gwenyth…will you tend me this last night?”

It wasn't a question. It was the queen's command.

“At your pleasure, Your Grace,” Gwenyth said and, with a slight nod to the company, she hurried after the queen.

In the bedchamber Mary had chosen, the queen whirled around, clapping her hands together. “I am still on fire with victory. The people love me,” she said, beaming.

Gwenyth agreed. “So they proved.”

She stood behind Mary, finding the pins that held the head-piece in place, removing them and starting on the queen's own lustrous dark hair. She hesitated, wondering how to broach the subject of her own marriage. Or even if she should.

“Your Grace—”

“There is one thing that I now must have,” Mary murmured.

“Your Grace—”

“A husband. It is such a dilemma. But….” She let out a long breath and turned to Gwenyth, clasping her hands. “Thus far, all has gone well. But…I cannot rely on my brother forever. I feel that I am ruling alone, and I don't want to be Elizabeth. I don't want to be an unwed, barren queen.”

Gwenyth stared at her, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“I can think about nothing other than the fact that I need to make a proper choice—and that I must be acknowledged by Elizabeth.”

She turned around so that Gwenyth could help her from the stiff collar she was wearing. Gwenyth had long tended the queen, and knew all the proper care of her clothing and accessories.

“Marriage,” Gwenyth murmured. “It is something I've wondered about myself.”

Mary lifted a hand. “Dear Gwenyth. You mustn't consider such a step at this moment. You know that I will see to it that you are properly wed when the time is right, but that time is not now. You must get to know Elizabeth and, with Laird Rowan's help, win her to my side. Maitland and others have advised me that she loves Laird Rowan. And why not? My dear cousin, the fierce spinster, has never pretended that she is not thoroughly amused and entertained by handsome men—she simply chooses not to allow any of them to share her power. When you return…perhaps. In time. And it will not be so long, I promise, my dear, dear, Gwenyth.”

She spun around. Gwenyth barely let go of a hook in time to keep from ripping the queen's brocade bodice.

“I will not be Elizabeth! Now, my dear, off to bed with you. Laird Rowan has been given orders for the morning. The death of his dear wife delayed this journey far longer than I had anticipated. Do you know how long I have ruled now? And now I am triumphant! Such a victory will be sweet on his lips when he sees the English queen.”

Gwenyth nodded. “I will do everything in my power to further your cause, my queen.”

Mary was satisfied. She began removing her heavy skirt, quite capable of taking care of herself when she chose.

“I am the only proper heir to the English throne. Elizabeth must be made to see that although I am fiercely Catholic and love my religion, I am no threat to the English Church. Of course, the English will be furious if I seek a Catholic husband…they would prefer a man with English blood. But…should the English turn on us, as they are so wont to do, then we would need the power of a foreign king.” She broke off. “I repeat myself, I fear. You must go and get some rest. I am eager for you to reach Queen Elizabeth and to report back to me.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” Gwenyth replied.

“Come, hug me warmly and let me bid you the best goodbye.”

Mary was emotional. She was also determined. She said goodbye with a warm embrace, then shooed Gwenyth from the room.

 

I
N HER OWN QUARTERS
, Gwenyth discovered that Annie had been informed they would be leaving in the morning. Her night dress was set out, a riding ensemble set apart for the morning and her trunks were packed.

Annie rushed in from her small adjoining room, clapping her hands. “London!” she said excitedly. “Ah, m'lady, how magnificent to meet yet another queen.”

Gwenyth nodded. “Aye, to meet another queen,” she said, and tried to sound cheerful. At that moment, she wished she knew no royalty at all, that her father still lived and that she had simply met Rowan as any woman might meet a man.

She was a fool. She'd known all her life that duty came above all else, not just for the queen but for herself. Duty would always outrank love. The queen, in fact, had warned her.
Don't fall in love with him.

But the queen was related to Rowan! Surely she would understand, when the time was right; she would give her consent, and all would be well. Oddly, all Gwenyth could feel was a sense of foreboding.

 

R
OWAN HAD KNOWN THE LONG
weeks of travel would be difficult. Roads in Scotland quickly became impassable with snow or rain, and they were traveling with a large party: Gwenyth, Annie and ten men, Gavin among them. He was a favorite of Gwenyth, easily making her laugh as he himself could not.

She was also enamored of his performance on the day when he had played a lunatic to stall for time in the forest. He was young, closer to her age than Rowan's, and he was a fine musician, proficient with a lute.

Sitting one evening around a campfire, since it had been decided that they would sleep in the woods rather than ride hard and in darkness searching for an estate or a town, he watched as Gwenyth complimented Gavin on his performance. “You were excellent, so convincing.”

“My lady, you are a true mistress of disguise. My performance was but paltry in return.”