Walsingham stopped short.
“I’m skilled with this blade and unafraid to use it on a Sassenach swine like yerself,” Rob threatened him. “In fact, I eagerly await yer takin’ another step forward.”
“Rob, what do you think you’re doing?” Henry exclaimed. “No one draws a dagger on the queen’s man.”
“I’m verra sorry, Henry,” she said, her voice deceptively calm and pleasant, the dagger fortifying her with courage. “’Twould seem I’m a Highlander first and a lady second.” She flicked a glance at her uncle. Though he did appear ready to explode, she recognized the grudging respect gleaming at her from his eyes.
“Basildon, control your niece or our plans will go awry,” Walsingham ordered her uncle.
“Richard, her visiting the Tower for a few weeks would give me infinite peace of mind,” Burghley said. “I can guarantee her safety.”
Rob stared at her uncle who, in turn, was staring at her. He gave her an encouraging smile when their gazes met. What did that mean? she wondered. Was he about to hand her over to the queen’s men?
“If you want to send my sister’s daughter to the Tower,” Richard announced, “you’ll need to procure an arrest warrant.”
“Very well, but the queen will hear of this,” Walsingham replied. “I trust you can keep the chit quiet until the morning.”
“Of course.”
Without another word, the secretary of state marched toward the door. “I’ll await you in the courtyard,” he said to the prime minister, and then disappeared out the door.
“’Tis ill done of you,” Burghley chided her uncle.
The earl shrugged. “My sister entrusted her daughter into my care.”
“I understand,” Burghley replied. “I only hope that Elizabeth will understand too. Are you coming, Talbot?”
“No, I’m spending the night at Talbot House,” Henry answered. “I’ll return to Richmond in the morning.”
“As you wish.” At that, Burghley followed the secretary of state out.
With her blade still drawn, Rob stood motionless. She felt uncertain of what to do or say.
The earl walked to one of the windows behind his desk and watched the queen’s men cross the lawns to the quay. Finally, after long uncomfortable silent moments, he turned around and said, “Sheath your dagger, niece. Come over here and sit down.”
“You never told me you wore a dagger strapped —” Henry began to scold her.
“Henry, run next door to the Dowager House,” Richard interrupted him. “Fetch my nephew and the marquess, but tell them their companion is to be told nothing.”
Henry nodded and left the study.
A few minutes later, the two Scotsmen marched into the study with Henry. Behind them walked Lady Keely.
“What’s this aboot?” Dubh asked, crossing the chamber toward his sister.
“And what’s Talbot doin’ here before the first day of spring?” Gordon asked, one step behind Dubh.
“Thank God, yer here,” Rob cried, leaping out of her chair and running across the study toward them. Ignoring her brother, she flew into her husband’s arms.
Surprised, Gordon gathered her into the protective circle of his embrace. He felt her trembling and planted a kiss on the top of her head, then looked expectantly at the earl for an explanation.
“What I am about to tell you must remain a secret,” the earl began. “Not even your traveling companion can be told. If word of this leaks out, I will be arrested and thrown into the Tower. Can I depend upon your silence?”
“I swear to it,” Gordon vowed.
“Me too,” Dubh said.
Richard nodded. “Lords Burghley and Walsingham just informed me of Mary Stuart’s execution, but —”
“They’ve murdered our queen?” Dubh exclaimed. “How dare —”
“Let yer uncle speak,” Gordon interrupted him.
“As I was about to say,” Richard continued, “Rob was eavesdropping and —”
“I wasna eaves—”
Nonchalantly, Gordon reached up and covered her mouth with his hand. Then he grinned at the earl and gestured at him to continue.
“Thank you, Inverary,” Richard said dryly, the ghost of a smile flirting with his lips. “Rob failed to make her presence known to us. Walsingham is determined to send her to the Tower until Elizabeth sends official condolences to James.”
Gordon nodded in understanding. “We’ll take to the heather within the hour.”
“Take to the heather?” Lady Keely echoed, apparently unfamiliar with the phrase.
Dubh smiled at her. “Escape to freedom.”
“I’d rather brave the Tower than return to Scotland,” Rob announced, lifting her chin a notch.
“No one asked ye what ye preferred, angel,” Gordon said.
“Rob, nothin’ will bring our queen back from the dead,” Dubh reasoned with her. “Placin’ yerself in danger can only complicate matters.”
“Verra well, I’ll keep the silence,” she agreed. “I wouldna want to be the cause of Uncle Richard bein’ locked away.”
“Ye willna be thrown into the Tower when the queen’s men discover Rob missin’?” Dubh asked his uncle.
“I’ll tell them she escaped with you in the night,” the earl answered. “Burghley will not doubt me, and Walsingham doesn’t have the courage to challenge Elizabeth’s most trusted advisor.”
Gordon turned to the countess and asked, “My lady, will ye help Rob pack a few necessities? Whatever she leaves behind can be sent to Scotland later.”
Lady Keely nodded. “I think ’tis best Rob dress as a boy until you’re safely away from London.” She turned to her brother, asking, “Do you still have any older clothing at Talbot House? I mean, from when you were a boy.”
“I’ll scrounge something up,” Henry answered, and headed for the door.
* * *
An hour later, Rob arrived at the stables with her uncle and her aunt. Dressed completely in black, she looked like a scrawny stableboy in raggedy garb much too big for her. Matching her breeches, shirt, jerkin, and cloak, a black woolen cap hid her ebony mane. A leather satchel served as a carrier for Smooches and had been strapped to her chest beneath the cloak. Her uncle carried a second satchel with two changes of boy’s clothing as well as a few other necessities.
Gordon, Dubh, Mungo, and Henry stood silently in the stableyard. Four horses had already been saddled and only awaited her appearance.
Gordon looked up at the dark, moonless night and said, “’Tis a Highlander’s night, created for raidin’ and takin’ to the heather. Are ye ready to ride, angel?”
Rob nodded at him, but his apparent eagerness irritated her. How like a Highlander to enjoy dangerous escapades and mad flights to freedom. She turned to her uncle and her aunt and said, “Thank ye for the best year of my life. I hope the girls willna be hurt or angry that I didna say farewell to them.”
“I’ll make certain they understand,” Lady Keely answered her.
The earl flicked a meaningful glance at Gordon and then said to her, “Devereux House is always open to you.”
Rob hugged and kissed them, and then turned to Henry. “My lord, I’m verra sorry —”
“You’ve done nothing for which you should apologize,” Henry interrupted her, pressing a finger across her lips. He planted a chaste kiss on her cheek and said, “Be happy, darling.”
Rob felt like weeping. In an aching whisper she said, “Thank ye for yer understandin’, my lord.”
Rob turned to her husband to tell him she was ready, but stepped back when she caught the foul smell emanating from her brother and him. Gordon reached out and placed an object in each of her two pockets, but she couldn’t see what it was.
“’Tis nasty like swill,” Rob cried, as Smooches began sneezing. “What is it?”
“Horseshit.”
“Are ye cursin’ me already?” she asked, making the others chuckle. “We didna even leave yet.”
“I wasna cur
sin’ ye,” Gordon answered, wearing a mischievous grin. “Horseshit in our pockets will discourage the curious we pass.”
“’Tis revoltin’, and I dinna want my pockets fouled,” Rob said. “’Twill make Smooches and me sick.”
“Sorry, angel.” Gordon led her toward her horse and helped her into the saddle. “I promise we’ll clean ourselves once we’re well away from London.”
Dubh and Mungo mounted their horses. As Gordon reached for his reins. Henry Talbot stopped him.
“Inverary, I want five words with you.”
Gordon turned around and nodded. He walked over to the other man. “Well?”
“Take good care of her,” Henry said, his voice low.
Gordon looked the English marquess straight in the eye and told him, “Rob willna be returnin’ to England.”
“I know.”
Gordon offered the other man his hand in friendship and assured him, “I swear I’ll be guardin’ her with my life.”
“See that you do,” Henry replied, shaking his hand. “Or you’ll answer to me.”
Gordon turned away and then mounted his own horse. The four young Highlanders rode out of the stableyard and started down the lane that led to the Strand.
Rob glanced over her shoulder once to catch a last glimpse of Devereux House and said a silent farewell to her dream of acceptance. She knew she’d never return to England; her husband would never permit it.
Summoning every ounce of her Highlander’s fierceness of spirit, Rob decided to meet her destiny bravely and challenge it at every opportunity. She fixed her gaze on the road ahead and schooled her features into a grim look of determination.
Never would she surrender to the inevitable and meekly accept a life of lonely misery.
Never would she permit cruel destiny to defeat her and destroy her spirit.
Chapter 8
Never had he been more miserable in his life.
Damn, but his wife was a terrible pain in the arse, Gordon thought. How would he keep his sanity during the next two weeks on their journey across the long length of England and Scotland from London to Argyll? For that matter, how would he survive the next forty years married to her?
Murder leaped into his mind, but Gordon dismissed that outrageous idea out of hand. Gone were the good old days when a nobleman could dispatch a nagging wife and never answer for the deed in a court of law.
Reaching the end of the Strand, they’d veered to the left at Charing Cross and started down Oxford Street. The more distance they put between Devereux House and themselves, the safer his wife apparently felt. Her complaints grew in direct proportion to the miles they placed between her and the queen’s men.
She was cold. She was tired. She was hungry — in spite of the nausea that the smell of the horse droppings elicited in her.
Did she think that he actually enjoyed smelling like shit?
Gordon flicked a sidelong glance at her, the hint of a smile flirting with the corners of his lips. Rob appeared pink cheeked, sultry eyed, and expectant rather than cold, tired, and hungry. Hardship became her.
Aye, her nagging was a royal pain in the arse, but he was unable to envision Lavinia Kerr enduring what Rob was. Perhaps the difference between the two women lay in the fact that Rob was a Highlander and Lavinia a Lowlander. Whatever the reason, his wife was stouthearted enough to be his marchioness and, eventually, the Duchess of Argyll.
“Smooches and I need to stop,” Rob announced suddenly, her voice sounding overly loud in the night.
“No,” Gordon and Dubh said simultaneously.
“’Tis an emergency.”
“No.”
The four of them rode on seemingly endlessly, trying to put as much distance as they could between Devereux House and themselves by daybreak. They passed through the villages of Harrow, Cookham, Marlow, and Henley.
“Tell me, angel,” Gordon said, making conversation in order to keep his wife’s thoughts off her physical discomfort. “How did Basildon keep Walsingham and Burghley from takin’ ye away?”
“Uncle Richard insisted Walsingham needed an arrest warrant, and Lord Burghley reluctantly sided with him,” Rob answered. “Besides, I —” She broke off, embarrassed to reveal her own unladylike behavior.
“Besides what?”
Rob felt the blush rising on her cheeks. “I kept Walsingham at bay with my last resort,” she admitted.
Both Gordon and Dubh burst out laughing.
“Ye drew yer dagger on Queen Elizabeth’s secretary of state?” Mungo exclaimed, his voice mirroring his appalled surprise.
“I said it before, bright angel, and I’ll say it again,” Gordon spoke up before she could reply to his friend. “Yer lips say English lady, but yer habits positively scream Highlander.”
“But why did ye pull yer dagger on him?” Mungo asked.
Rob cleared her throat and tried to think of a plausible reason other than the truth. She’d promised her uncle she’d keep the secret of Mary Stuart’s execution and intended to honor her solemn word.
“I didna care for the way the man looked at me,” Rob lied unconvincingly. “’Twas highly insultin’.”
She peered at her husband’s friend. The grim set to his jaw told her that he didn’t believe a word she’d spoken. Even more, he appeared irritated at being left out of what the three of them obviously knew.
“We’ll stop for a couple of hours’ rest once we reach Oxford,” Gordon said, changing the subject. “What d’ye think, Dubh?”
“Aye, the horses need feedin’ and waterin’,” her brother replied. “Thirty miles from Devereux House is safe enough to grab a couple of hours’ sleep.”
Orange light streaked the eastern horizon as they rode through the Chiltern Hills and into the heavily wooded county of Oxfordshire. Rob’s mood brightened at her first sight of Oxford, a market town that offered plenty of accommodations for weary pilgrims. In the distance beyond the town rose the forbidding walls of Oxford Castle, but the town itself was invitingly picturesque with its partly stone, partly timber-framed houses.
“Let’s stop at that inn over there,” Rob suggested.
“Och, lass. We havena the time to spare,” Gordon replied, leading them across a stone bridge over the Thames River.
Rob grimaced and sighed, but said nothing. She’d already realized that her complaints fell on deaf ears.
On the opposite side of the Thames River stood the royal forest of Wynchwood, better known as Shotover Wood. Here they sought refuge from the possibility of prying eyes, and finally halted their horses in a small clearing beside a gentle stream.
“I’ll feed the horses,” Dubh said as they dismounted.
“I’ll help ye,” Mungo offered.
Gordon lifted Rob out of the saddle and set her on her feet. Her legs wobbled from the long hours of riding.
“We’ll find a place for Smooches and ye to take care of yer private needs,” he said, removing the pieces of dung from her pockets and tossing them away.
“Dinna worry aboot Smooches,” Rob informed him, an impish smile lighting her weary expression. “He satisfied his needs about ten miles back.”
“The pup soiled the satchel?”
“No.” Rob lifted Smooches out of his nest and removed his woolen wrapper, a Campbell plaid. Beneath that, the pup wore the sweater she’d knitted for him and a baby’s nappy. Divested of his confining garments, Smooches scampered around wildly like a man released from the darkest dungeon.
Gordon’s smile told Rob that he appreciated her ingenuity. “I’ll put another nappy on him before we leave,” she said as her husband took her arm and led her away from the clearing. “’Tisna necessary to accompany me.”
“A woman alone is always in danger,” he replied.
“Well, if ye promise not to peek.”
Gordon flashed her a boyishly wicked smile and asked, “What’s a bit of bared arse between husband and wife?”
Rob refused to blush at his vulgarity. No, that would only
encourage him. Instead, she gave him a sweet smile and countered, “Have I told ye yet today how exceedin’ly crass ye are?”
“No, angel, but thank ye for noticin’ my finer points of character,” Gordon said dryly. Then added, “Dinna ye realize that men have ‘needs’ too?”
Rob did blush then. She hadn’t thought of that.
“Take that oak tree over there,” Gordon ordered. “I’ll use this one over here. Scream if ye need me.”
Rob emerged from behind the oak a few minutes later. She blushed when she saw Gordon waiting for her.
“Feelin’ better?” he asked.
“Much.”
When they returned to the clearing, Rob knelt beside the stream and rinsed her face and hands in its frigid water. “I wish I had a hot bath,” she murmured wistfully.
“I promise ye’ll sleep in a bed tonight,” Gordon said, standing beside her. “Let’s eat now and then catch a nap.”
Rob sat on the ground between her husband and her brother, opposite Mungo MacKinnon. The four of them shared a cold meal of cheese, bread, and ham slices that Lady Keely had prepared for them. They passed one flask of wine between them.
“Tell us what happened at the royal menagerie,” Dubh said to her.
“Someone purposefully pushed me toward the lions’ pit,” Rob told him. “I know Gordon doesna believe me, but he never felt the hands on his back. My footin’ was secure, I didna slip.”
“What a coincidence that both of us should experience a near-fatal accident within hours of each other,” her brother remarked. “Just the other day at Richmond, an arrow almost felled me. Though Mungo and I searched high and low for the culprit, we couldna find him.”
“Two accidents dinna seem a coincidence to me. Perhaps someone harbors a grudge against yer family,” Mungo speculated. “Since he failed to dispatch ye, the villain aimed for yer sister.”
“Do ye really think so?” Rob asked, inching closer to her husband.
“I dinna believe the two events are connected,” Gordon said. “What d’ye think. Dubh?”
“I agree with ye,” her brother replied. “Who would want to harm Rob? She’s so sweet.”
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