by Amanda Scott
“Is anyone else going with you?” Marsi asked. “Any of Jamie’s gentlemen?”
“Nay, for his grace kens fine that some of them be in Albany’s pay. And nae one save Albany kens which ones. We’ll leave afore they arise, I expect.”
“Then there is naught to stop me,” Marsi said. “I must collect some of my things, but I’ll come right back.”
“Ye’ve nowt that be suitable for a maidservant to wear, my lady! Nor would ye fool anyone for long in any menial guise. Ye were no born to it.”
But now that she had made up her mind, Marsi dismissed those objections without hesitation. “I can easily talk as a maidservant would, Hetty. Having often scolded me for doing so, you know that I can. I shall say that I served Annabella and that she gave me some of her cast-off clothing. She did give me some, my fur-lined cloak for one. I can say that, when my position ended with her grace’s death, I offered to help you because you and I come from the same part of Scotland.”
“I can say that I know Marsi well, too, Hetty, because I do,” Jamie said.
“I can also say I just want to go home,” Marsi said. “We will likely go north or east from here, so if worse comes to worst, I can ask whoever escorts us to take me to Uncle Malcolm in Perthshire. He wants me to marry his second son. And I vow to you, Hetty, if the choice is between marrying a boot-licker of Albany’s and my dullard cousin Jack, I’d prefer Jack.”
Two hours earlier
Striding across the flagstone floor of the royal audience chamber at Turnberry, the tall, broad-shouldered young knight filled the room with crackling energy even as he dropped to a knee before its sole, elderly occupant and bowed his head.
“You sent for me, sire?”
“If ye be the knight that men call Hawk, I did, aye,” the King of Scots said, his raspy voice little more than a whisper. “I have need of ye.”
“I am Hawk,” Sir Ivor Mackintosh said, fighting to conceal his dismay at how much the King had aged since he had last seen him, three years before, and how frail he looked. “How may I serve your grace? Your messenger said it was urgent.”
“ ’Tis Jamie,” said the King, who had never sought his exalted role or enjoyed it.
Into the silence, Sir Ivor said gently, “Jamie, my liege? Your younger son?”
A log shifted in the nearby fireplace and sparks leaped before the King said, “Annabella…” Pausing when his voice cracked, he added with tears welling in his pale blue eyes, “My Annabella feared mightily for Jamie’s future. The lad be only six months into his eighth year, and she feared that after she was gone, my brother Albany would take charge of him and keep our laddie under his thumb.”
“Many people do fear Albany, my liege.”
“Aye, perhaps, although few say such things to me, and I canna believe that he would harm a child, his own nephew. It would outrage the country and gain him nowt whilst our Davy, who is years older and wields much power of his own, remains heir to the throne. Albany says only that Jamie would fare better under his eye than under mine, and as frail as I am, he may be right. But ’tis better, I trow, to keep Jamie safe than to weep for him if Annabella should prove to be right.”
“What, exactly, do you want me to do, sire?”
“I received word a fortnight ago that Albany would be coming tomorrow or Tuesday to take the lad into his charge. I do not want that, but he is nearly impossible for me to oppose, and he said that if he does not take charge of Jamie, other powerful nobles may seek to do so. However, the Bishop of St. Andrews assured me that he can keep Jamie safe from them all at St. Andrews, so I sent word to him as soon as I learned of Albany’s intent. Ye ken Traill fine, I think, and St. Andrews, too.”
“I do, aye. I studied under him there. When he received your message, he sent word for me to hasten here to you. Have you a plan in mind, your grace?”
With a feeble gesture, the King said, “I want to ken nowt of any plans, for I am incapable of lying to my brother. His will has ever been stronger than mine, and as ye must ken, until I named my son Davy to govern in my stead three years ago, Albany had ruled for me. I owe him much. But ye must take Jamie to St. Andrews.”
“I can be away in the morning if he can be ready by then,” Ivor said.
“You need only give the nursery mistress your orders when ye arise,” the King said. “Henrietta kens fine that Jamie may be leaving tomorrow and is prepared to accompany him. Her family has long and faithfully served the Drummonds, and she was fiercely loyal to Annabella. I trust her implicitly.”
“Then, by your leave, sire, I would sleep now,” Ivor said.
“Aye, sure. My own man, Dennison, will take ye to a room near the nursery.”
Bowing, Sir Ivor bade him goodnight. Then, following the King’s man to a bedchamber and asking him to tell the captain of his fighting tail to be ready to go at dawn, Ivor retired, only to awaken betimes when the lass in his dreams became real.
Afterward, due to years of knightly training and preparing for battle, he soon slept again and woke when the dawn’s gray light crept into the room.
His bruised hand and aching cheek reminded him of the lass, but he dressed hastily. Then, deducing which door led to the nursery, he rapped lightly on it.
Marsi opened the door, having returned to her own room long enough to pack things and don a plain moss-green kirtle, a white apron, and a white cap large enough to conceal her long red hair, lest he whose bed she had invaded recognize it.
After one nervous look at the tall, well-formed, stern-looking man in leather breeks and jack who stood there, she quickly swept him a deep curtsy. Heat flooded her cheeks at the memory of his large hand on her thigh.
Speaking over her shoulder as she rose, she said, “Mistress, methinks ’tis the gentleman ye be expecting, though he ha’ come earlier than ye said he would.”
“Dinna chatter, lass, but come and help Lord Carrick dress whilst I speak with the man,” Hetty said. “I am Henrietta Childs, sir, mistress of the royal nursery,” she added in her usual dignified way.
As Marsi moved to help Jamie, she glanced back at them.
Without awaiting further invitation, the man stepped in and shut the door. “I believe you understand the situation, Mistress Childs,” he said to Hetty. “We must be away as soon as we can and without more ado than necessary.”
“I ken that, aye, sir,” Hetty said. “His lordship will be dressed in a trice, and someone should be along soon with food for us to break our fast.”
“That is good, but do not let his lordship dawdle.”
“As to that, sir, his lordship—” Breaking off at the sound of a sharp rap on the door, she added, “Prithee, sir, admit the gillie. He brings our food.”
Instead, the tall man stepped to the off side of the door and gestured for Hetty to open it. He had not spared a second look for Marsi.
Hetty opened the door and stepped back to admit Dennison, the King’s man.
“I thought you would be here, sir,” Dennison said mildly when their visitor emerged from behind the door. “You have a visitor below. I will take you to him.”
“One of my men, I expect,” the younger man said, nodding.
“I have also arranged for them to serve Lord Carrick’s breakfast at once, sir. Therefore, I would respectfully suggest that we go down straightaway.” With that, Dennison held the door open for their visitor, and the two men left the chamber.
Hearing their footsteps fade in the distance, Marsi said, “Faith, Dennison whisked that man off without presenting him. We don’t even know his name!”
As they walked away, the King’s man murmured, “I was sure you would prefer that the men who serve his lordship’s breakfast not see you with him, sir.”
“You thought aright,” Sir Ivor said, wondering if the captain of his fighting tail had encountered trouble. But when Dennison turned right at the end of the corridor instead of left, Ivor stopped him. “This is not the way to the yard.”
“No, sir. Your visitor insisted t
hat you meet him at the sea gate.”
“Sakes, I did not know that Turnberry boasted a sea gate,” Ivor said. “And I’d wager that my men are as unaware of it as I was. Who seeks me there?”
“I know only that he said you would know him, sir. And that he wanted to reveal his presence to as few as possible.”
Intrigued, Ivor followed him down a narrow, damp stairway to an enormous, torchlit, water-filled cavern. To his astonishment, it clearly served as a harbor. A fifty-foot Highland galley with Zee Handelaar on its stern rested at the main jetty.
As they approached it, a man in deerskin breeks and boots, a loose white shirt, and a leather vest emerged into the torchlight from nearby shadows. Grinning broadly, he strode toward them. Hatless, his soft, moplike, dark curls reflected the torchlight in orange-gold shimmers. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief.
Dennison said, “You will want to talk privately, sir. I’ll await you at the landing above this one unless you want me to fetch your charges to you here.”
“Nay, I’ll fetch them,” Ivor said. “I’ll take no more time here than I must, and the boy will want to break his fast without me to hurry him.” Turning back with a smile to the man from the galley, he said, “Wolf, you devil, what brings you here?”
Shaking hands, the other said, “You do, Hawk, me lad.” Nodding toward the galley, he added, “Behold your transport for the first leg of your journey.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Jamie said to Marsi when the men who had brought their food had gone. “ ’Tis good that Dennison paid ye nae heed when he came tae fetch that man. Ye’d ha been finished afore ye’d begun had he addressed ye as ‘my lady.’ But what will ye do when they return? Ye canna think Dennison will let ye go with us when ye lack his grace my father’s leave tae go.”
“We’ll worry about that if it happens,” Marsi said. “But eat now, Jamie. I’d wager that man meant it when he said not to dawdle. And, if he is to get us safely away, we had better not anger him at the outset.”
Without commenting on that opinion, Jamie said to Hetty, “Why did you not present that man to me, Hetty, afore Dennison arrived?”
“Because I ken nae more about him than you do, sir,” Hetty said. “Moreover, Lady Marsi is right. We must be ready to go when he returns. I expect gillies will come soon to take our things outside and load them on the sumpter ponies.”
“Well, I warrant the reason we do not know his name is that Dennison does not know it either,” Marsi said. “And I expect that the two of them will take our things down for us rather than let all of Turnberry know that Jamie is leaving.”
“If ye mean to pretend to be my assistant, ye’d better start addressing him as such a minion would,” Hetty said mildly. “If ye call him Jamie, that man will ken straightway that ye’re no nursery maid. Nobbut what this whole pretense be daft.”
“Nay, it is not. But you are wise to remind me of my place, Hetty. It may prove harder than I thought to act as I should, but I will do it. Just to think of marrying a man old enough to have sired me, and only because he wants Cargill and has land adjoining mine… I will do anything to avoid that, I promise you.”
“Dinna fash yourself, Marsi,” James said. “I’ll remind ye tae behave when ye need such reminding.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she retorted dryly.
Jamie chuckled, but she had no time to say more, because the door opened without ceremony, and the man who was to escort them walked right in.
“Collect your things,” he said. “The fewer people who see us, the better, so I’ll help you carry them down to the sea gate.”
“The sea gate!” Marsi’s exclamation was out before she thought. Trying to conceal her dismay, she glanced at Jamie and saw that his eyes were sparkling with pure delight. Turning back to their visitor, she said, “Where are we going then?”
The man looked at Hetty, who said sharply, “Hold your tongue, lass. Ye’ve nae call to put yourself forward so. If ye canna behave, I’ll leave ye right here.”
Quickly bowing her head, Marsi strove to look contrite. But before she could think how to phrase her apology, James said in a tone as stern as Hetty’s, “Marsi must come with us, for I want her. And if we are to go on a ship, Hetty, I will need her. Ye ken fine that boats always make ye sick.”
Eyeing their visitor again, Marsi saw that he looked sterner than ever. Before Jamie had stopped speaking, the man’s gaze shifted to her. Memories of the night before fired her imagination then. Feeling her cheeks burn, she licked her lips only to feel them curve into a nervous smile.
His expression turned thoughtful. But he said only that Hetty should hurry them along.
The man had forgotten all about her, Marsi decided. He could have no suspicion that she was the girl who had fled from his bed the night before.
To be sure, she had donned the plain green kirtle and white apron and had concealed her memorably long, lush, dark-red tresses under the large, frilly white cap. Even so, and although she was relieved that he did not recognize her, she felt an odd sense of disappointment, as if he should have.
Chapter 2
Ivor had been about to inform the nursery mistress that he could not take two women on such a journey when he noted that the young maid was still peeping at him from beneath her lashes, clearly not as cowed as she had seemed to be.
Those lashes were long, thick, and dark. Her eyes were the same mossy green as her gown, and her lips were rosy, full, and eminently kissable. Although she was small, her figure was enticingly supple and curvaceous.
Then her cheeks reddened as her lips twitched invitingly.
Faith, but the pawkie minx was flirting with him!
Her father, brother, or other responsible kinsman ought long since to have put her over his knee to teach her the folly of flirting with warriors. A warrior took his pleasure where he found it, albeit not, if he was wise, with a maidservant in the royal nursery. Such a woman likely had some connection to an influential noble family.
Dennison had clearly expected Ivor to take only Mistress Childs and the young Earl of Carrick with him. However, Dennison had not returned with him.
Having found the King’s personal attendant on the landing as promised, Ivor had sent him to the stable with new orders for the captain of his fighting tail.
The King had made it plain that he wanted Mistress Childs to go with James. And, in truth, Ivor knew that he’d be wise to take her, if only because she understood the lad’s needs. Taking her impertinent assistant along was another matter.
The lass was eyeing him more soberly, her manner more disapproving now than flirtatious. She was a little beauty, though, which could lead to other problems.
However, James’s declaration that Mistress Childs would be seasick was something to consider. So Ivor held his tongue, giving himself time to think.
When he saw the pile of baggage they meant to take, he regretted that he had sent Dennison outside. Another set of hands would have allowed his charges to take more of their belongings with them.
But to have sent someone else to his men would have meant another person knowing more than might be safe about his brief visit. As it was, any who had seen him arrive would likely believe that he left with his men. They always led a string of extra horses, so no one was likely to bother counting the horses or the men.
Seeing the small but curvaceous nursery maid trying to lift the largest bundle, Ivor moved to pick it up himself. As he hefted it, he said to Mistress Childs, “You may want to rearrange some of these things, mistress. We will make only one trip down to the sea gate. Leave what you won’t need in the first few days here.”
Looking surprised, Mistress Childs said, “I packed only necessities, sir.”
“There is much more here than any three people should need,” Ivor said.
“Mayhap it does seem so, sir. But recall that his lordship is accustomed to his own bedding and his own—”
“He will not be traveling as the Earl of Carrick, mistress. We need to
remain as inconspicuous as possible, so the last thing we want is for word to spread that Carrick is a member of our party.”
“With respect, sir, I ken fine that we will not stop at noble houses or abbeys where he may be known. But that is the very reason that he will require his own—”
“Nay.” Realizing that he had to make himself clear, Ivor said, “We will travel without fanfare, as ordinary folk. But my men will join us in two or three days, and Dennison will arrange for them to carry things that you will want later. But he kens fine what my requirements are. Do not expect to see his lordship’s sheets amongst those items or clothing more suited to a prince than to an ordinary lad of his age.”
Seeing James bristle, Ivor was taken aback when the nursery maid put a quelling hand on the prince’s shoulder. He was more surprised when James obeyed the gesture and kept silent. The last vestige of his reluctance to take the lass along vanished. If she wielded such an influence, she might well prove gey helpful.
“Surely, you do not expect us to travel as ordinary commoners, sir,” Mistress Childs said. “His lordship will steel himself to accept your guidance, of course, as it is his grace’s will that he do so. But he is young. And, as second in line to the throne, he is as accustomed to command as you are. Bless us, but behaving as commoners will be hard for us all.”
“I expect it will be, aye,” he agreed. “I have not forgotten that most royal attendants are members of the nobility. Are you one such, mistress?”
“I can make only a second cousin’s claim to nobility, sir. But my family has long served the Drummonds. I looked after several members of that family before taking my position as royal nursery mistress nearly eight years ago.”
“I see,” Ivor said. “Well, whilst we are on the ship, we can sort out details of any tale we might share with those we meet. His lordship does want to avoid falling into his uncle’s hands, does he not?”
