"Beautiful, perhaps, to any but a brother. To me they can be right little bitches." Paris laughed, looking directly into Tabrizia's eyes.
The girls sat in a circle surrounding Bothwell. Each knew she had a duty to allay his suspicions. He was without doubt the most powerful earl in the land since his Cousin, the King, had moved to England, and although be had always been their brother's ally in the past, he could have Paris arrested and incarcerated in Edinburgh Castle if the whim took him.
He was a powerfully built man. His black eyebrows met over piercing eyes as they roamed from one girl to the other.
Shannon offered, "Let me help you with your boots, milord. They are wet, and I always think a man puts comfort before any other pleasure."
"Not always." He grinned, taking the opportunity to have a good look down the front of her gown as she bent before him.
Damascus shuddered; he was far to masculine and sensual.
Shannon licked her lips over him.
Alexandria, always ready for a practical joke, whispered to him, "He does have a woman upstairs in one of the towers."
Bothwell cocked an eyebrow at her.
Venetia said, "He keeps her in the White Tower, well away from the rest of us."
He sat forward.
Before the girls goaded him into a search, Tabrizia confided to him, "It's his wife, do you want her?"
"Wife?" He wrinkled his nose. "Had one once; never cared for them!"
The girls giggled at his wicked humor. Again and again Bothwell's eyes came to rest on Tabrizia. More often than he looked at the others, Paris thought, trying to conceal his anger. In the last five minutes he'd managed to tickle her chin, pull one of her curls and hold her hand for a moment as she handed him a wine cup.
Alexander sat glowering at Bothwell, ready to do battle if his fingers strayed too far.
Paris-called, "Alex, I have an errand for you."
The boy came over to Paris, his eyes filled with resentment against their visitor.
Paris said low, "Go down to the men's quarters and tell Troy to get them drunk. Pass the word among the men to be careful of what they say." Paris saw with satisfaction that Damascus was about to play her stringed lute and Venetia was going to sing. He beckoned Tabrizia with his eyes. She was becoming used to reading the expression in them whenever he looked at her For a moment she thought she might pretend not to understand, just to annoy him, then thought better of it
Paris said low, "Tabrizia, I want you to slip away to bed, now. Bothwell can be dangerous if he chooses." He said her name as if it were a caress, and she knew in her heart that he was protecting her. She nodded and rejoined the girls until a moment presented itself when she could retire without attracting too much attention.
Paris called, "Shannon, come and we will find Francis some of that fine brandy I have stacked below for special occasions." When they were out of earshot, he said to his sister; "I want Bothwell to have his mind fully occupied every moment he spends in our castle. The other girls have no experience with men, and I know you are equal to the task. I want all his thoughts to be filled with you."
"That shouldn't be difficult." She smiled.
"You do realize he'll be spending the night?" asked Paris carefully, selecting a cask of brandy.
Outraged, hands on hips, she demanded, "You don't mean to stand there and suggest that I... that I actually—"
"You don't mean to stand there and suggest that you are still a virgin, do you?" he asked quietly.
"Of course I am, whatever do you mean?" she demanded hotly.
He looked at her a long moment and said evenly, "Johnny Raven."
She gasped indignantly, "You've had spies on me!"
"Of course," he agreed good-naturedly.
"Why didn't you confront me? Why didn't you stop me from meeting my gypsy? It's .been going on for over a. year!"
"Shannon, I know you have a passionate nature. If I'd forbidden you Raven, you would likely have run away with him. Be a good girl and take care of Bothwell for me: You're licking your lips over the poor bastard. Tell the truth and shame the devil." He laughed.
"We had better get back before he deflowers that virgin you've got marked out for yourself," she taunted.
He was both surprised and annoyed that she could read his thoughts so easily, but since they were being truthful with each other, he couldn't deny his desire or his need. "Am I that transparent, Shannon?"
"We all know you've got her marked out for your own. Do you love her?"
"Love? You know me better than that. You know f swore a vow never to fall into that fool's trap again," he claimed bitterly.
"You won't hurt her, will you?" she asked.
"Only if it becomes necessary," he said harshly. She shivered and turned her mind to Lord Francis.
Bothwell and his men departed at first light. He wasn't eager to face any possible scrutiny from Paris over last night's dalliance. The two men had always been on good terms, and they both wanted to keep it that way. Paris heaved a sigh of relief at the departure. He was edgy and would feel decidedly better once he'd had word about the gold. He rowed out to his ship to inspect the sails and rigging. A plan had formed in the back of his mind, and he needed to be ready at-all times.
At breakfast Tabrizia told Damascus that she had promised to visit Anne again.
"Oh, you are thoughtful, Tabrizia. She must be terribly lonely. I don't believe Paris is as kind to her as he should be."
"Would you like to come with me?" asked Tabrizia.
Damascus shuddered. "No thank you."
Today Anne was in a black diaphanous gown, which vividly contrasted with her silvery tresses. Tabrizia was fascinated to see that even her fingernails were painted black. She looked pleased to see Tabrizia and offered, "Today I will sketch you."
"Oh, that would be lovely," encouraged Tabrizia.
"Sinclair! A canvas and my charcoal, immediately. Sit right there where the light is good."
Tabrizia sat quietly for a few moments, searching for something to say. Finally, she asked, "Where did you live before you were married?"
"Hush! Don't speak, and hold still," Anne demanded. Then, after a few moments, she offered, "My name was Ogilvie. I lived up north at Cardell. Our land ran parallel to the Gordons's land. I always got on amazingly well with our neighbors, but my father hated John Gordon with a vengeance. He swore the Gordons filched land from him, Ogilvie of Cardell. There was a terrible feud, didn't you hear tell of it? My father appealed to Paris Cockburn for help, and he was only too eager to fight the Gordons. My father thought Paris was God. He wed me to him without a thought for my feelings. I loved John Gordon. He was a widower and looking for a new wife, but of course I never dared breathe his name. Still, it wasn't my father's fault that Cockburn turned out to be the devil. John Gordon's remarried since then, so it doesn't matter, does it?"
Tabrizia stayed quiet and allowed Anne to talk. She suddenly felt very sorry for this young woman whose life had been spoiled. Her alienation from the Cockburns must render her days in solitary almost endless. Perhaps she could do something to bridge the chasm that stretched between this girl and the girls downstairs. When she thought of how generously they had accepted her and taken her into their warm circle, she felt guilty that they had not done the same for Anne. She said. tentatively, "Why don't you dine downstairs some evening? You could easily get a servant to carry you down, and I promise to be your ally against the others until they begin to accept you."
Anne didn't answer her, but she could see she had set the wheels of her brain in motion. Tabrizia glanced around the room, which was filled with expensive objects. Paris might not have a good word to say of his wife, but he certainly kept her in the lap of luxury. Tabrizia observed Mrs. Sinclair. This was the woman who had questioned Mrs. Hall about her. There was something about her Tabby disliked intensely.
Anne showed her the charcoal sketches. They were extremely well done and lifelike, so her praises were quite sincere.
Alexandria was the first person Tabrizia saw when she went downstairs. "I suggested Anne come down and dine with us some evening," she confessed.
"That would be setting the cat amongst the pigeons. Better leave it alone unless you wish to bring the wrath of Paris down on your head. He's gone out to his ship. Why don't we go down the cliffs to the sea for the afternoon, while the tide is out?"
Tabby readily agreed. She discovered that she loved the sands. It was the first time she had been on a beach in her life. She was fascinated watching a family of sea otters leap and tumble with each other. One large male lay on his back with a rock balanced on his belly, upon which he cracked open crustaceans. The outgoing waves had left tide pools filled with a myriad of colors The coral sands were littered with odd, tangled masses of seaweed, kelp, jellyfish and millions of shells, some of which had living creatures inside and scuttled back under the sand when a wave left them high and dry. Tabrizia loved the iodine stench of tide wrack and couldn't get enough into her lungs as she breathed deeply and sighed. The sun shone down, making the sands deliciously warm, and the two girls lay down to talk.
"I'm sorry you didn't escape the other day at the fair. If it had been just me, I would have looked the other way until you had disappeared."
"Paris promised to let me go, but then he changed his mind and wouldn't listen to reason."
"You can't reason with men, Tab, you have to trick them! If I were a prisoner; I'd make such a damned nuisance of myself, they'd be fain to get rid of me. You'll have to do something really dramatic. You'll have to take drastic measures!"
"Such as?" asked Tabrizia.
"Well, let me think. Supposing he thought you would kill yourself rather than remain a prisoner?"
"He would have to really believe it before he would let me go. If I threatened, I don't think he would take me seriously," doubted Tabrizia.
"He'd believe me! You have to stop being such a nice girl and start being a devil."
"How would I kill myself?"
"You could threaten to jump off one of the towers. That would frighten him silly, after Father's death."
Tabrizia shuddered. "I'm frightened of high places and could never bring myself to go near the edge."
"Well, what sort of death can you think of? It must be dramatic."
"How about a drowning?" asked Tab, standing up and putting her toes into the sea.
"Say, that could be very effective. I could rush up to him and say, 'Tabrizia cannot bear to be a prisoner. She says it covers her with dishonor to demand gold for her exchange. Come quickly, she is going to drown herself in the sea.' Then he and I run to the top of the cliffs, and he sees you below. You throw off your cloak, you are naked underneath and go forlornly and hopelessly toward the water. He will be down that path like a shot to rescue you, and when he sees the wretched state of your depression, he will free you rather than allow you to do yourself harm."
"Naked?" echoed Tabrizia.
"You have to be naked. People don't drown themselves fully clothed. You have to be convincing, or there's no point in the whole exercise! Besides, you'll have your cloak to wrap around you before he reaches you. We'll do it tomorrow, while the tide is out."
"AII right," Tabrizia agreed, "I suppose it's worth a try. I have nothing to lose."
The weather was with them the following afternoon as Alexandria coached Tabrizia in her playacting. "The tide should be well out by now. It's time to get undressed."
Slowly, Tabrizia took off her gown and the black silk stockings and red high-heeled slippers she had bought at the fair. She dawdled by folding them neatly and putting them in a little pile on the end of her bed. "I think I'll keep my petticoat on," said Tabby hesitantly.
"Then think again. Come on, off with it, and your bloomers, too," she insisted.
"I'll keep them on under my cloak, and I'll give them to you as soon as we get down to the sands," promised Tabrizia.
"That means I have to come down with you and climb all the way back. Oh, all right, come on."
When they arrived at the foot of the cliff, Tabrizia bundled up her underclothes and resolutely handed them to Alexandria. She wrapped her cloak around her nakedness very tightly.
"Now remember, the moment our heads appear at the top of the cliff, fling off the cloak and walk dejectedly into the sea."
Alexandria found Paris at last. He was with his cowherd who needed advice on which cattle to ship to market and which to slaughter for the castle’s winter provisions. Alexandria dramatically pulled at her brother's sleeve. Breathless, she cried, "My God, Paris, come quickly before it's too late!"
Alarmed, he demanded, "What is it, what's amiss?"
"It's Tabrizia. Oh, my God, come!"
Really alarmed now that he knew who was in trouble, he pulled Alexandria toward him, took hold of her shoulders and shook her "Tell me quickly."
"She'll be drowned by now! Oh, we will be too late to save her," sobbed Alexandria.
Pictures rushed through his head as he ran toward the cliffs, followed by half a dozen of his men. Perhaps she had fallen over to the sea beneath. He could imagine her long red tresses tangled in seaweed, and sprinted forward with doubled speed. He stopped at the cliff edge by the path and scanned the water. There below stood the small figure, perfectly safe. He turned upon Alexandria savagely, "What the hell game is this?"
"It's no game, Paris. She cannot bear to be a prisoner any longer. She's going to drown herself." Alexandria's eyes brimmed with tears.
At that moment Tabrizia discarded her cloak and, stark-naked, began to walk to the water's edge:
He stood mesmerized for a moment, not believing that he was seeing her totally unclothed. Though at a great distance, her exquisite shape and creamy limbs were clearly outlined against the dark sea. Suddenly galvanized into action, he leaped down the sandstone path toward the forlorn figure. His heart had stood still when he thought she had come to harm. His throat actually closed with fear at the thought that she was desperate enough to go into the sea to escape him. The relief he felt when he saw her safe was so great, it threatened to overwhelm him. He was a man who had never experienced fear before, and now that it rose up within him, he denied it and masked it with anger.
Tabrizia walked as slowly as she could. She knew it would take a little while for Paris to climb all the way down the cliff. As the ocean closed over her bare limbs, the shock of the ice-cold sea made her gasp. She stopped short, trying to find the courage to go in up over her knees. Never before had she experienced anything this cold; not even the stone floors of the orphanage had numbed her to this extent. The waves were much stronger than she had ever dreamed. Her footing was practically nonexistent as the waves washed away the sand from beneath where she was standing. The tide knocked her over, and she fought to regain a foothold and keep her head above water.
Then she saw him. Miraculously, he had already reached the bottom of the cliffs and was descending upon her relentlessly. He was angry. In fact, she had never seen anyone in her life as angry as Paris was at this moment. She scrambled from the water to snatch up her cloak in the most undignified manner, then started to run up the beach. He didn't run after her, but the distance between them closed rapidly as he strode inexorably toward her.
He knew he must put such a fear into her that she would never again attempt anything so foolish. The undertow could have snatched her life in an instant, and there would have- been little he could do. He took the whip from his belt and snaked it toward her with a snap. The first time was to terrify her. The second lash almost closed about her bare ankles but took the hem of her cloak instead and literally whipped it from her.
She stood trembling before him, naked and totally vulnerable. The black anger now mixed with lust as his eyes, blazed down at her trembling lips and quivering breas
ts. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, allowing his emotions full rein. She pulled her mouth from his and screamed, but the wind snatched the scream from her lips and flung it out to sea. She was terrified to be naked with his hands upon her body. She almost wished she had gone into the sea; it would have been kinder to her. Blindly, she struggled against him, until he neatly pinned her arms to her sides with an iron-like grip. She could feel his hard shaft throbbing against her belly and knew that any moment now he was going to throw her down and ravish her. She had no strength to withstand him; he was like a raging tempest. She went limp in his arms and buried her face against his chest. Her body. trembled uncontrollably as she sobbed against him, seeking his warmth or a tiny spark of compassion. His hand unconsciously came up to gently caress the bright head pressed against his chest. He knew he was falling in love with her against his will. His anger rose up again, but it was directed at himself, not this lovely creature who made his heart turn over in his breast.
A cheer broke out from his men, who stood gaping from the clifftop. Doubly furious that she had bared her body before them, he snatched up the fallen cloak and wrapped her in it most urgently. He said between his teeth, "You will learn one thing this day, my lady. I detest and despise female tricks!"
He gripped her wrist and pulled her after him up the cliff path. She was winded by the rapid climb, which forced her to scramble up anyway she could. At the top, when they reached the castle yard, he pulled her away from the entrance to the Lady Tower and down past the moss-troopers' quarters to the blacksmith's shop.
Tabrizia was mortified that everyone she passed knew she was naked beneath the cloak. Paris reached up and took down manacles from the wall. "These will be too big for her ladyship. Custom fit them to her wrists."
She watched in horror as the blacksmith picked up tongs and set the manacles into the brazier. Paris picked up another set with long chains attached and broke them in half with his bare hands. "One of these is to go around her ankle. We'll make sure of our quarry this time."
Wild Hearts Page 11
