During the first hours of the banquet, decorum reigned, but by dusk most of the men were well on their way to being drunk. The king and queen, who had sat down together, were now absorbed in other partners. James Stewart danced tirelessly with Janet Kennedy, a natural-born wanton, wholehearted, generous, and unashamed of their affair.
Queen Margaret had hot eyes and hands for the Master of Douglas, that ambitious young man who had been taught by his father, the Earl of Angus, that power was the only thing that mattered.
The rest of the Douglases had spurned the wedding in favor of hunting. Colin showed to advantage in the saddle, while the dance floor was a nightmare for him. Ram hated the very atmosphere of weddings. They gave him a trapped, caged feeling he found difficult to dispel. Gavin and Cameron vied with their cousins Ian, Drummond, and Jamie to bag the most game. The stags were only just losing their velvet and coming into season. All knew that at day’s end when they returned from their sport, there would still be plenty of roast bullock and ale to wash it down with, a bedding for their entertainment, and a castle filled with amenable young wives whose husbands would be unconscious or at least incapable with drink.
Valentina had so many men clamoring to partner her that she quite neglected Patrick Hamilton. She did it on purpose, to punish him for not showing up earlier in the week. He found that in order to dance with her at all, he had to cut in on an arrogant Gordon or a wild Stewart, most of whom were jumped-up whelps or by-blows in spite of their royal blood.
For miles outside Stirling, the crowds surrounded crackling bonfires and indulged in fighting, screaming, singing, and finally mass lovemaking, all to the accompaniment of skirling bagpipes.
Inside, the behavior of the celebrants was in danger of degenerating from bawdy to profligate. The matrons retired in disgust at the men’s inherent coarseness, removing their youngest daughters from the danger. At this point the banquet turned into a bacchanalia The lewd songs became grossly indecent and were accompanied by graphic gestures. Serving wenches now sat upon men’s knees with their skirts pulled above plump thighs. The racket was deafening as silver goblets and sword-hilts were banged upon the tables to a rhythmic demand that the bride and groom “kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!”
Donal obliged the crowd, while his little bride grew visibly more nervous. Archibald Campbell drained a silver drinking cup, hurled it down the table, then picked up another. Archibald Douglas, drunk as a lord, bellowed intimate appraisal of every female in sight.
Valentina stayed for only one reason: She feared for her little sister-in-law, Meggie Campbell, now Meggie Kennedy, as the crowd banged their goblets and chanted, “Disrobe, disrobe, disrobe, disrobe!” She knew she must rescue the bride and spirit her away to the nuptial chamber. Tina managed to reach Meggie and take her hand, but that seemed to be the signal the revelers had been awaiting
The women, led by the queen and the Howard sisters, descended upon Donal and began to strip him, while a mob of drunken males tore Meggie from Tina’s grasp and lifted her on high, tearing at her gown and veiled coif Meggan screamed, her face a pale blur above the heads of the men as they began their exodus to the nuptial chamber, their progress impeded by the bodies of those who had lost consciousness and lay among the vomit-fouled rushes.
Tina followed helplessly, unable to aid Meggan. It was all she could do to protect her own person as she heard her gown tear, and to slap hands away from her breasts and bottom.
The bride and groom were stripped quite naked by the time they were carried into the bedchamber, and Tina could do no more than shrink into a corner in horror as the mob pushed the groom on top of the weeping bride and chorused, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Ramsay Douglas glanced into the room with jaded eyes. They flickered over Tina Kennedy with disgust. She was in the thick of things, as usual. She was making for the door before they could strip her too. She looked up into his face with dismay. His pewter gray eyes reflected her image, but the depths were filled with contempt. He cast one last look at the women in the chamber. He had laid most of them, and there was not one he would have been bothered to lay again.
The bride was distraught. Through a bleary haze Donal saw that the fun and games had gone too far. He glanced about looking for help. His brother Duncan and Patrick Hamilton were enjoying the spectacle far too much to desist. Davie was hateful enough sober; drunk, he was almost demonic. Donal looked in vain for Meggie’s father, but Argyll had been too far gone in drink to even climb the stairs to the nuptial chamber. The women with their hands at his groin and all over his body were even worse than the men. In desperation Donal appealed to the king: “Sire, I need yer help!”
The good-natured James elbowed his way to the bedside. “Ye want me tae bairn her for ye, laddie?” Then he saw that the little bride was past hysterics and going into shock. In a brisk deep voice that brooked no refusal, he took command of the situation. The revelers staggered from the room holding each other upright. The ones who were still bent on lewd and lascivious conduct suggested other bedchambers they could invade as the king herded them safely away from the newlyweds.
Meggie lay sobbing, her pale face pressed into the pillows. Donal in his clumsy way tried to comfort her She shrank from his rough hands, never wanting to see or hear or smell another man as long as she lived. Gradually she became aware of a tender hand stroking her hair over and over and a voice pleading, “Dinna cry, lass.”
She realized that from this day forward Donal Kennedy would be her only source of strength or tenderness or love With a sob she turned blindly toward him. Donal’s arm encircled Meggie’s waist, her hand stole into his and held it tightly, and her head folded into his shoulder. Each fulfilled a need in the other’s life.
Since Ram Douglas had enjoyed the hunting more than anything else at Stirling, he decided to go again the next day. His brothers and indeed most of the males were nursing massive hangovers this morning, so he went alone. In the royal stables he noticed that the lovely damson-colored mare he thought of as his was gone. He was mildly surprised that others besides himself were in the saddle this early
In no time at all he was swallowed by the dense forest that surrounded Stirling. His senses were alert for any sound or movement that signaled game. His ears easily picked up a bellowing roar, and as he rode toward a clearing and a steep, grassy hillside, he knew what he would find. It was a wild bull, a relic of an ancient breed that had roamed all the uplands at one time. The bull had stolen two domestic cows that grazed the lower slopes to breed wild, misbegotten offspring.
A bull hunt was a far more exhilarating and taxing sport than hunting hart or boar. Bulls were totally unpredictable when maddened and would charge and gore anything in sight with their long, viciously curving horns.
Ram tried to drive the bull further into the trees, where he would be hard pressed to turn and charge, but the creature was far too wily to fall into such a trap. Ram watched the bull cautiously, wishing his brothers were there to aid him. His wolfhound, Boozer, would have been an invaluable help too.
The wild creature was a dirty white with a massive, thickmaned neck and a wicked six-foot spread of horn. For one split-second he questioned the wisdom of hunting it solo, but the challenge was far too tempting for Ram Douglas to ignore. The shaggy-coated creature with massive shoulders was obviously cunning as well as savage, for it ran out into the clearing, where it would have room to maneuver and charge.
Ram’s eyes scanned the perimeter of the grassy slope, noting a long outcropping of stone that formed a ledge with a steep drop beyond. His horse must avoid that danger, but the rest of the ground didn’t appear too rough a terrain.
The bull saw her before Ram did. Its red eyes rolled in its head, it pawed the ground, it let out a snort and charged downhill. Valentina Kennedy had seen Ram Douglas mounted on his great black stallion long before he emerged at the clearing’s edge. She watched in disbelief as he waved at her and shouted, “Get the hell away!”
It was almost too late w
hen she saw the maddened bull tearing up great clods of earth in its efforts to charge her. She spurred her damson mare cruelly, knowing if she did not, the bull would tear into her mare broadside.
Ram knew there was not a split-second to lose as he rode out into its line of vision and tried to divert it from its chosen goal. It was roaring now, savagely intent upon the girl and horse. Ram’s knife was more a short-bladed sword. He screamed a Douglas war cry and headed toward the bull’s rear quarters, hoping to crash into it and roll it over while at the same time avoiding its vicious horns
His vivid imagination saw the Barbary’s exposed underbelly being ripped like a punctured bladder if he could not divert the bull’s attention from its intended disemboweling. Indigo was screaming, eyes rolling wildly, as she shuddered with terror Ram glimpsed Tina, her face as white as her riding habit, her hat gone, her fiery hair licking across her face and neck like flames. Then he had no time for anything but his prey as the bull dug in its forelegs and pivoted about, thinking to expel its great fury upon its attacker rather than upon a creature intent upon fleeing
Ram was now face to face with a head-on charge. He could save himself by leaping from the saddle, but his stallion would be sacrificed upon the vicious, upthrusting horns. He made his decision instantly, hurling himself with a vaulting spring upon the brute’s back. He knew the reaction would be instantaneous
The white bull thrust down its head, arched its back steeply, and convulsed its hindquarters into the air Ram’s powerful fingers dug into its shaggy mane to save himself from being tossed forward over the brute’s head, then with thighs, calves, and ankles curved about its belly, he unsheathed his short broadsword and drove it into the brute’s neck. The bull lashed its head to right and left, trying to hook its clinging burden with its great horns. It did manage to tear open his leather breeches and gash a shallow wound along his lower leg.
Ram was now as enraged as the bull, and he removed both hands from the thick mane to plunge his weapon deep behind the beast’s shoulder blade He felt the shudder convulse through the powerful body as it coughed but did not go down He knew he had not found its heart. The enraged killer was going to toss and gore him any second if he bungled again Desperately he drew his dagger and plunged it to its hilt a few inches farther back than his short sword Finally he felt it stagger, but it did not drop Maddened by pain, it began to run. Desperately Ram struggled to pull out his weapons for another onslaught The bull still had enough strength to roar as it hurled its massive body toward the trees where Tina had taken shelter.
Ram gazed upon her for one horrified moment before the bull faltered, tripped, its forelegs buckling, and he was thrown to the ground at her feet. The brute finally lay dead, its head twisted at a grotesque angle, scarlet blood flowing from its mouth Her terrified mare shuddered uncontrollably as she tried to gentle her. “She’s nearly mad with fear,” she said huskily.
His eyes were murderous as they swept over the white velvet riding dress and the cool beauty of her face. No trace of fear could be detected in the golden eyes that viewed the carnage before her. Black fury was written in every line of his face His leathers were slashed at chest and thigh, where the bull had tried to gore him, and he was drenched in blood He was in the Devil’s own temper “Ye have a knack for attracting misfortune tae yourself, and ye don’t give a damn if ye attract it tae others!” He seized her by her slim waist and shook her like a rag doll. “Have ye no brains? This forest is dangerous. Wild beasts and death lurk behind every tree. Yer a reckless little fool tae ride without even a groom.” Ram Douglas seldom tasted real fear, but it had filled his throat when he saw the beautiful girl about to be gored before his eyes He had expended a superhuman effort to save her, and now that he had done so, his fear was released by anger.
Her compelling eyes blazed like golden fire, fringed by black lashes above proudly slanting cheekbones. “Your bloody hands have damaged my velvet,” she accused.
For a moment he stared at her in utter disbelief that all she cared for at this moment was her gown. Any other female would have fallen trembling in his arms. This one showed not the slightest gratitude. He tore his weapons from the bull’s carcass and picked up the hem of her white velvet skirt. “Damage it? I’ll ruin it,” he threatened, intending to wipe his swordblade.
She shrank back from him, but still her eyes showed more defiance than fear. “So this is how a chivalrous knight aids a damsel in distress,” she said with cool contempt
He had the decency to flush. Christ, why did she always bring out the worst in him? He could charm any woman in Scotland save this one He released her and wiped the dripping sword upon the grass It gave him time to leash his blazing temper. He realized how easy it would be to physically dominate her—but where would be the satisfaction? He would cut her down to size with her own weapon: carefully chosen, cutting words. His eyes were the pewter of stormy seas. “I did it tae save the mare’s life, not yours,” he said bluntly, “so don’t bother tae thank me.”
“You apparently not only expect thanks, you’d like me to grovel. You think me a bitch who’ll lick your hand and wag my tail. I’m more likely to relieve myself upon your leg!”
All women are bitches, he thought silently, but this one had managed to get under his skin He was irked that he could not humble her; worse, he felt his loins blaze into a desire so intense, he caught his breath. Christ, she wasn’t just under his skin—she was under his foreskin! With a lust he had seldom experienced, he wanted to take her on the forest floor. He wanted to arouse a response in her to match her suddenly savage beauty. His eyes licked over her, revealing his smoldering desire, and in a voice husky with sensuality, he stepped close and murmured, “I want tae tame ye.”
She raised her riding crop and deliberately slashed open his cheek. Without hesitation he took hold of her whip hand and squeezed until she yielded it up to him. He turned upon his heel, ignoring the blood trickling down his leg from where the bull had gashed him, vaulted into the saddle, and cantered off without a backward glance.
* * *
By evening all traces of her morning’s misadventure had faded in significance. More pressing matters were now upon the Kennedy ladies. On this last night at Stirling, there was the queen’s fancy dress ball. Their mother, worn out from the emotions of the wedding, was not attending, and she argued with her daughters about their participation. When she saw the look of disappointment on Beth’s face, she relented and agreed they could go, providing Kirsty and Ada went along to keep an eye on them. The four rushed to the sisters’ bedchamber to solve the problem of costumes, and Kirsty immediately antagonized Valentina and Ada. “They can wear their blue bridesmaid’s gowns again. So much work went intae them, ‘tis a pity tae wear them only once.”
“Absolutely not,” said Tina impatiently.
“Well, the costumes must be appropriate fer modest young maidens. Perhaps simple shepherdesses. … I shall wear ma gray uniform, of course.”
“You’re simple,” said Ada rudely.
Kirsty bridled. “Well, madam, what outlandish costume will ye opt fer?”
“I was thinking perhaps a nun’s habit,” Ada said dryly.
Kirsty compressed her lips. “Beth shall wear full dress Kennedy tartan,” she said decisively, and took Beth back to her mother’s chamber to gather the accessories they would need.
Ada said to Tina, “Well, I shan’t presume to advise you. Whatever you wear will be a standout. I shall wear a gown with a neckline cut to the clavicle and a tiny mask to deceive them into thinking me a countess.”
Tina’s wicked juices had begun to bubble. Of course, to carry off her plan she would need a male accomplice. She immediately ruled out Patrick Hamilton. He would definitely frown upon his future betrothed making a spectacle of herself. She wished Heath were here—he would dare anything for her. By a process of elimination she was left with Davie. He’d do it if she turned it into a dare and perhaps sweetened it with some sort of bribe.
She too
k a gold-plated collar-necklace from her jewel casket and hurried along through Stirling’s outbuildings until she came to the blacksmith’s forge and with one brilliant smile pressed the muscular smithy into attaching a long chain to the collar.
Later she stood in front of a polished steel mirror to survey the effect. She was going as a wild jungle animal, whichever one was striped. Though she had never seen one, she thought perhaps it was a tigress. She wore the gown with the filmy orange and tawny markings with the black underskirt showing through.
She wore her flaming hair unbound in a wild mane and painted black stripes sweeping from her golden eyes, slanting across her temples to her hairline. Davie lounged on her bed in hunter’s green, his bow and arrows lying negligently on the floor. As she fastened the collar about her neck, she admonished, “Now after you lead me in on the chain and present me to the queen, don’t forget to detach the chain. You mustn’t actually give me to her as a gift. It’s supposed to be merely symbolic—the hunter presenting his spoils.”
The great chamber at Stirling had what was called the “fire end” and the “throne end.” Valentina had not dined in the banqueting hall, so that she could make her grand entrance in the great chamber. The costumes were amazingly inventive for people who had not been forewarned they would require such things. There were sailors and jugglers, Gypsies and shepherds, wizards and Vikings, Romans and goddesses—but there was only one tigress!
A small hush fell over the crowd as the young hunter led his prey down the entire length of the chamber to where the king and queen sat upon their thrones. The hush gave way to a murmur as more people stopped talking to stare at the vivid creature. Flaming Tina Kennedy! The name was on every lip.
Beth and Kirsty gasped, some whistled, others applauded. A man’s voice said, “I’d like tae pierce her wi’ ma arrow!” The women’s faces hardened, the men hardened also. Davie, who never did anything without a little malice, led her directly to the king. Tina tried to lead him toward the queen, but he made a great show of yanking her chain, so that she had to obey him. Tina looked as if she were about to claw him. When Davie gave the chain into the king’s hand, some swore their monarch had selected a new concubine.
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