A Rough Wooing
Page 1
A ROUGH WOOING
Novella by Virginia Henley
Ebook copyright Virginia Henley, 2011
Cover Copyright Marsha Canham, 2012
Smashwords edition published February 2012
This short story is a work of fiction and originally appeared in the full length anthology, Masters of Seduction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing.
CHAPTER ONE
Beaumont, Northumberland
March 1603
“You are trespassing.”
Douglas Elliot threw back her head and laughed at the dark-visaged male astride the sleek black Thoroughbred. “Don’t be ridiculous. You cannot possibly own Hadrian’s Wall. Who the devil do you think you are?”
“Sir Lancelot Greystoke. This land happens to be mine.”
Douglas laughed again. “Lancelot? How ironic. Your namesake was known for chivalry not arrogance.”
Greystoke stared at the beautiful young woman standing atop the ancient Roman wall. Her flaming red hair was disheveled by the wind and she seemed to be relishing this confrontation with him. Her amusement was infectious. The corner of his mouth twitched. “May I know your name?”
“Indeed you may not, Sir Lancelot.”
His dark eyes kindled. He noted the fine wool riding skirt, the leather boots, and the green velvet doublet and matching cloak. “Then I shall call you Firebrand.”
She tossed her head and her glorious hair streamed like a banner in the wind. Douglas Elliot had more good sense than to tell the English noble her name, for then he would know she was a Scot who lived a few miles across the Border at Castle Elliot, near Langholm. The English and the Scots were born enemies.
“What brings you to Beaumont?”
Ah, so that grand abode is Beaumont Hall as I suspected, and its owner is the nephew of Clifford, the Earl of Cumberland. She shrugged a shapely shoulder. “Curiosity.”
Almost against his will he admitted that he found her earthy attraction irresistible. He wanted to lure her closer. “Then allow me to satisfy your curiosity.” His arm swept toward the hall. “I invite you to have a closer look.”
Her thoughts darted like quicksilver as she weighed the risk and came to a decision.
He watched her face as she quickly assessed his offer. When she accepted with no discernible hesitation, he knew she loved a challenge. Does danger excite her?
Douglas watched him dismount, and noted he was tall. Well over six feet.
He strode toward her and raised his arms.
She laughed again, delighted to thwart him. “I can’t leave my mount untethered.”
He experienced a stab of disappointment. “There’s a gap in the wall about two hundred yards in that direction you can ride through.” He watched her leap from the wall and disappear, before he remounted and galloped toward the gap.
Her sure-footed Border pony confirmed his suspicion that the fiery beauty was a Scot.
They rode side by side toward the hall, and when Douglas saw at least eight thoroughbreds grazing in the paddock she experienced envy for the first time. Why should this arrogant English noble own such fine horseflesh? Langholm near Castle Elliot was known for its horse racing, but Greystoke’s animals were far superior than anything in Scotland. The Scottish Border Marches have felt the onslaught of English invaders for decades. No wonder they are wealthy!
Douglas conveniently overlooked the fact that Scots Borderers raided cattle and robbed the English on a regular basis. The Elliots, and their neighbors the Grahams and the Armstrongs used the code words “There will be moonlight again” to pass along the message that a raid was being planned.
“Your thoroughbreds are magnificent, but don’t you worry about reivers?”
“Constantly. I am a Border Warden. I patrol Cumberland to keep it safe from the Scots.”
Douglas felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck. She ignored the urge to flee.
“Knowing that makes me feel safer in my bed. I thank you for your service, sir.”
He felt himself harden. Bed is the last place I’d keep you safe, Firebrand.
Lance Greystoke drew rein before the grand steps that led up to the mansion. The portico boasted elegant columns that rose the full two-stories of Beaumont. The stone hall had an attractive pink cast because it was built from the same sandstone as Carlisle Castle, the great English stronghold that lay four miles to the south.
“Would you like to see inside? The Great Hall boasts a massive fireplace at each end and high mullioned windows.”
“Do you have a library?”
He heard the eager note in her voice that told him she loved books. “Indeed I do have a library whose bookshelves reach to the ceiling.”
She gave him a radiant smile. “Then how can I resist?”
He dismounted in a flash, quickly tethered their mounts, and came to her side. He took a deep appreciative breath, inhaling her fragrance of lemon verbena. This time he did not offer his arms because he knew she was perverse enough to reject him.
Douglas suspected it was a shrewd calculation on his part, because that is exactly what she had planned to do. She slid from the saddle, making sure her shapely legs clad in the soft leather boots were displayed for his enjoyment. As they climbed the steps together, she realized she only came up to his shoulder, and his powerful build made her feel extremely feminine.
He opened the heavy door and her skirt brushed against his legs as she walked into the entrance hall. A male servant nodded to the master, then discreetly disappeared. It made Douglas wonder just how frequently females visited Beaumont Hall.
She was drawn to the Great Hall by the crackling fire. He towered beside her as she held out her hands to the welcome heat.
I could warm my hands at your blazing hair.
She glanced up at him as if she had heard his thought.
“My hospitality is remiss. Would you prefer wine or mulled ale?”
She stared about the room and saw the wine table with its crystal decanters. “Mulled ale, please.”
He hid his amusement. “I thought you would. I’ll fetch a barrel of ale from the still-room. Why don’t you wait for me in the library?”
“A brilliant suggestion.” The library opened off the Great Hall, and when Douglas saw the spacious room with its leather-bound volumes stretching up to the ceiling, she was once again consumed with envy. There were almost too many books to comprehend.
Her attention was caught by a silver reflection of light on the polished oak desk, and it drew her like a lodestone. The exquisite object was a large mirrored pendant. She picked it up reverently and stared into its depths in awe. She had never seen anything quite like it before and she coveted it with all her heart. She ran her finger over the delicate silver filigree and touched her fingertip to the glittering emeralds that formed a vine. She wondered if the flowers could possibly be cabochon diamonds.
Suddenly, she saw the reflection of a dark face in the mirror. She gasped and spun around guiltily to find Greystoke behind her.
“I thought your fascination was books, but I see you are also drawn to objets d’art.”
“Only if they are priceless!” she assured him.
He set down the two mugs of ale he was carrying on a small table before the library fire, took the poker and shoved it into the coals. When it glowed red he thrust the poker into the ale, heating it until it foamed. He handed her a mug and gestured toward a pair of cushioned chairs beside the desk.
He nodded. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s almost as good as the ale my brother brews,” she teased. Her eyes were drawn back to the mirrored medallion. “How old is that lovely pendant?”
“I would guess it is quite ancient. I believe it is a Byzantine treasure brought back from the Crusades. It belonged to my grandmother.”
“A gift from a besotted lover perhaps?”
His dark eyes licked over her like a candle flame. “Perhaps.”
Douglas stood up and strolled to the bookshelves, avidly reading the titles as she drank her ale. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s library, she admonished herself with a sigh, but I could stay in this room for weeks and never want to leave. She drained her tankard and threw him a reluctant glance. “Unfortunately, all good things must end. I thank you for your hospitality Lance Greystoke, but now I must bid you adieu.”
“The pleasure was mine, Firebrand.”
Her mouth curved. “Yes, I rather think it was.”
~~~
“Where the devil have ye been, Douglas?” Young Rob Elliot put the salmon he had just caught into the deep basket attached to his saddle. “Yer a right bitch of a sister, roaming off for hours. We’d best get back over the Border before the light starts to fade.”
She tossed her head. “Neither England nor her inhabitants intimidate me.”
“Then yer daft. We could be accused of poaching salmon from the River Esk.”
“We simply followed the Esk from beside our own castle, when we saw the salmon were running. How are we to know where Scotland ends and England begins?”
“We know, all right. You know these Borders like the back of yer hand.”
“I’ll give you the back of my hand, Rob Elliot, if you don’t shut your gob!”
Rob thought Douglas looked like a cat that had swallowed the cream as they rode the dozen miles back to Castle Elliot and he wanted to wipe the smug look from her face.
“Jock should be back from Edinburgh this week. That will curtail yer freedom. You know how he likes to rule the roost.” Their eldest brother had been head of the family for the past five years, since their father had died in service to the Crown. King James had appointed Jock and his moss-troopers to his late father’s wardenship, patrolling the Scottish side of the Borders.
Douglas hid a smile. “You forget that Jock will likely bring Mother back with him.” Their grandfather, Sir Archibald Douglas, had bequeathed his Edinburgh townhouse to his daughter Katherine, and she spent the winter months there, often attending Court functions, returning to Castle Elliot in April each year.
Rob lapsed into silence. His mother’s return could curb his own freedom.
~~~
“Salmon—my favorite fruit!” Gavin Elliot sat at the head of the long trestle table in the Great Hall. “We have Douglas and Rob to thank,” he told the dozen moss-troopers, who were mostly Elliots and a few Grahams, who made the castle their home.
“Ye have me to thank,” Rob asserted. “Douglas buggered off and left me to it.”
“I was on a fishing expedition of my own.” As all eyes swung to her, she leaned forward and shared her news. “Once we crossed the Border into England, I took advantage and did a bit of exploring. A couple of miles beyond where the River Esk empties into Solway Firth lies the River Eden. When I saw I was at Beaumont, I scouted about for the grand English mansion known as Beaumont Hall.”
“When we go on our occasional night rides, Jock always insists we stay clear of the place,” Gavin declared. “Its owner is rumored to be the nephew of Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, who is high in the favor of the English Queen.”
Douglas licked her lips and shrugged a shapely shoulder. “His name is Lance Greystoke. He’s a Border Warden.”
“The Warden who patrols Cumberland has a fierce reputation—he’s hanged more than his fair share of Scots. That’s why we give Beaumont Hall a wide berth,” Gavin explained.
“Ah, but did you know that he breeds magnificent thoroughbred horses? The paddock at Beaumont Hall is packed with priceless horseflesh, ripe for the plucking.”
“This Greystoke and his moss-troopers are just going to sit on their arses while we ride in and steal him blind?” Neil Graham laughed. “Don’t be daft, lass.”
“But he isn’t sitting on his arse at Beaumont Hall every night. He and his moss-troopers are patrolling Cumberland—and Cumberland covers a lot of territory.”
The men fell silent as each one contemplated the tempting prize that lay little more than a dozen miles away, as the crow flies.
Douglas pictured the lovely antique mirrored pendant. She could see every detail of its silver scrolling, every precious jewel. Then she remembered seeing Greystoke’s dark reflection when she held it in her hands. He had an animal magnetism that was both compelling and dangerous. The image made her shudder.
~~~
At Beaumont Hall, Lance Greystoke pulled on his boots and donned his leather jack. The female visitor from earlier in the day lingered in his thoughts. He strongly suspected she was a Scot, and marveled that her family allowed her to ride about the Borders unescorted. His mouth curved. No doubt she’s a willful wench who’s difficult to control. I warrant she does exactly as she pleases.
Before he joined his men-at-arms who were in the stables, saddling their mounts for their night patrol, his thoughts drew him into the library. His spurs clattered on the oak floor as he crossed to the desk and picked up the antique pendant. As he gazed into the mirror, he saw her reflection as clearly as if she were standing before him. He could even smell her scent of verbena. She was the most tempting female he’d seen in a dog’s age. He set the jeweled mirror down, remembering how possessively she’d held it in her hands. She coveted this priceless bauble, all right. Then he mocked himself for a fool. And you coveted the Firebrand!
CHAPTER TWO
“Yer cousin Will is riding in, hell for leather.” A breathless Neil Graham rushed down from Castle Elliot’s ramparts where he’d been on watch. Will Elliot was Jock’s lieutenant and everyone realized he must be bringing a message from Edinburgh.
By the time Will arrived in the castle hall, everyone had gathered to hear what news he brought. Gavin poured his cousin a tankard of ale and thrust it into his hand.
“The Queen of England is dead!” Will blurted before he took his first mouthful. Then as everyone gaped open-mouthed, he thirstily quaffed the ale. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “James is now King of England as well as Scotland.”
The loud whoops of his audience almost raised the rafters.
When some of the racket died down, Will conveyed the rest of his news. “Jock won’t be returning just yet. King James intends to waste no time riding south to claim his inheritance. Within a sennight he will leave Edinburgh for Berwick. Jock and his men are to accompany him. The news is spreading like wildfire. The mobs have filled Edinburgh Castle, all jostling for appointments from the new King of England.”
Gavin Elliot spoke up. “Hells bells, this is a God-sent opportunity. When a monarch dies the laws of the land are automatically suspended. The Border families will ride into England in a mad dash for plunder.”
“Jock sends a warning. He says King James is determined to make it all one country. We are to keep the peace and bury the old quarrels between English and Scots. The king has named Lord Hume to be in charge of the Scottish Marches, and the Earl of Cumberland to be head of the English Borderlands.”
Douglas caught her breath. “Lance Greystoke will be the Earl of Cumberland’s lieutenant? But Cumberland’s monarch is no longer Queen Elizabeth of England, it is now King James of Scotland.”
Will Elliot reached into his leather doublet, brought out an envelope, and handed it to Douglas. “Your mother entrusted me with this letter for you. My orders are to return to Edinbur
gh on the morrow.”
“Thank you.” She was consumed by curiosity. She left the crowded hall and took the letter up to her own chamber so she could read it in private. Douglas closed her bedchamber door to shut out the raucous noise from below. She sat down at her desk, took up her letter opener and slit the wax seals on the envelope.
My Dearest Douglas,
I was about to start packing for my return home, when the momentous news arrived.
Elizabeth Tudor’s death will bring about great changes. Nothing will be the same ever again, now that James Stewart has been named King of England.
I know you were ambivalent about becoming a lady-in-waiting to Queen Anne, mainly because you feel that dark and brooding Edinburgh Castle would be as confining and inhospitable as a prison fortress.
But now that fortune has smiled upon the Scots, you are presented with the chance of a lifetime. Queen Anne and her chosen ladies will shortly be traveling from Edinburgh to London. At every stop that she and her entourage make on her journey through England, she will be greeted by throngs, and feted by the English nobility as they do their utmost to curry favor with their new, young queen.
To be part of the Queen’s Court in London, moving from Westminster Palace to Windsor Castle, from Hampton Court Palace to Greenwich would be beyond a young woman’s wildest dreams, and is guaranteed to satisfy your great love of adventure.
Your chances of making a good marriage will be expanded a thousandfold if you will take advantage of this splendid opportunity that now presents itself. I have every intention of joining Queen Anne’s Court, and hope with all my heart that you will join me.
King James will travel to London with all speed to claim the English Crown, while Queen Anne, and her children will make a more leisurely progress. My dearest Douglas, I urge you to pack your things and accompany Will on his return to Edinburgh.