The Spitfire

by Bertrice Small

  “My lord,” she said politely, and disengaged her hand from his, to his open amusement.

  “How long will ye be staying, my lady of Dunmor? I hae missed seeing yer lovely face.”

  She ignored the compliment. “I return home tomorrow, my lord.”

  “So soon?” His look was one of disappointment, and then he said, “My uncle is nae wi’ ye?”

  “My husband hunts the wolves that have been terrorizing our villages. I came to Edinburgh on an errand for him, and as my mission is complete, I will return home tomorrow,” Arabella answered the prince.

  “Then ye will take supper wi’ me tonight,” Jamie Stewart said.

  “Certainly not!”

  “Ye canna refuse me, Aunt,” he said softly. “I am the heir to Scotland’s throne. Insult me, and ye do yer family a disservice.”

  Arabella suddenly found herself in a quandary. Was Jamie telling her the truth, or was he merely attempting to gain his own way in this matter? She honestly did not know, but she also found she did not like the idea that he would bully her with his royal position in an effort to gain his own way.

  “I will have my supper in the hall with the rest of the court, my lord,” she told the prince. “I cannot refuse you if you wish to sit with me.”

  “There are no women at court since my mother died, madame,” the prince answered. “I would have ye take supper wi’ me in my private apartments.”

  “Surely, my lord, you understand that to have supper with you in your apartments, no matter how innocent such a meeting between us would be, should certainly compromise my reputation. I know you would never do that to either me or to your uncle, who is so fond of your highness.”

  The prince laughed. “Ye may attempt to elude me, Arabella Stewart, but I will nae let ye. ‘Tis lonely and dull here at court now that there is no queen or pretty maids. All that I have are my studies and the company of my younger brothers and our tutors.”

  For a moment he almost sounded like the boy he should have been, but the Countess of Dunmor, wary, saw the mischievous light lurking in the prince’s eyes behind the pitiful look of innocence he was attempting to turn on her. She was in a complete quandary as to what to do, when the Earl of Angus joined them.

  “My lord,” she said brightly, “the prince is having a supper party in his apartments this evening, and I am certain he wants you to come! Is that not so, my lord?”

  “I shall be delighted to join ye,” Archibald Douglas said with a grin before the prince might tell him nay. “I hae best go and tell my servants to prepare for us then.”

  Jamie Stewart said, realizing that he had been bested in his attempt to seduce the Countess of Dunmor this day. “If I ever go to war, Aunt,” he told her, “I can only hope that ye are on my side.” Then with a bow he was gone. The Earl of Angus chuckled.

  “Madame, ye must, indeed, hae been desperate to call upon me for my aid.” He took her arm in his and they began walking. “He’s a braw laddie, our wee prince.”

  “He’s a wily young lecher and should have his ears boxed,” Arabella said furiously. “He has been most outspoken in his desire to take me to his bed. How dare he, my lord! I have certainly not encouraged him, nor would I ever betray my husband or put the horns of a cuckold upon his head.”

  The Earl of Angus could see that she was very upset, and so he did not tease her. Instead he said, “The prince is at least a real man, unlike his father. It pleases us to see that that is so, for we must look beyond the day when James III rules in this land.”

  “The king is far different than any man I have ever known,” Arabella admitted, “but I see no reason for you to dislike him so greatly, my lord. Like you, he prefers the company of men. The difference is that the men he likes are not always of the nobility, and are men whose interests and tastes are more refined than yours. You suggest some unnatural relationship between the king and his friends; and yet the king fathered three sons, and Queen Margaret openly adored and respected her husband. I suspect you now dabble with the idea of setting the son above his father. I think you are wrong.”

  Archibald Douglas, who was not normally respectful of a woman’s intelligence, suddenly found himself respecting the young Countess of Dunmor for speaking bluntly, even if she was wrong. She could influence her husband, and Tavis Stewart would certainly be of help to their cause. “Madame,” he began slowly, carefully choosing his words, “I dinna dislike the king, but he is a weak man, and no matter how deep yer friendship wi’ him may be, ye must admit the truth of that. England now has a strong king. The kings before Henry Tudor had other problems. Richard spent most of his reign fighting to maintain his tenuous hold upon his throne. His brother before him, Edward, was involved wi’ not only threats to his kingship, but was forced to contend wi’ serious family problems as well. And before him, poor feeble-minded Henry of Lancaster, a pawn to his lords, a pawn to his wife’s ambitions. But now, Arabella Stewart, now England has Henry Tudor, and the Yorkists hae nothing left but a boy-earl in the Tower and a pretender in the king’s kitchens.”

  “There are King Edward’s sons, Edward and Richard,” Arabella said faintly.

  “Those poor laddies are surely dead, madame, if nae at their uncle’s hand, then certainly at Henry Tudor’s. He will hae no serious threat to his kingship left living. Not for himself, and nae for his son. King Henry Tudor is England’s king for as long as he shall live. Now Scotland needs a strong king,” Archibald Douglas told her.

  “Perhaps you are correct, my lord, but perhaps you are not. A king is anointed with God’s own holy oil at his crowning, and it is not for us, mere mortals, to question God’s judgment. This king will reign in Scotland until God wills it otherwise. To think treason is to go against God’s own order, my lord.”

  “Divine Right,” Angus said with a smile. “Aye, a king rules by Divine Right, but sometimes we mere mortals must gie God a wee bit of a helping hand, madame.”

  Arabella was forced to laugh. “My lord,” she said, “you are incorrigible, but what’s worse, you are wrong and refuse to acknowledge it. Still, I cannot argue with you, as you have rescued me from a most difficult position. You may admire the prince’s manly behavior toward women, but I know you would not want the wife of a friend forced into a compromising situation.”

  Now it was Archibald Douglas’ turn to laugh. “Madame, ye made it impossible for me to refuse ye. I dinna think young Jamie was pleased to have found his cleverly planned rendezvous turning before his own eyes into a supper party for three.”

  “Do you mean he would not even have fed me?” Arabella demanded, outraged.

  “Why prepare supper when ye dinna mean to eat it?” Angus said with a grin. “Jamie is a careful young fellow wi’ his gold. He can be generous when he chooses, but I’ve nae known him to be deliberately wasteful.”

  Arabella suddenly found herself giggling. “Oh, my lord,” she gasped, looking up into Archibald Douglas’ blue eyes, “I think I see why my husband is fearful of allowing me to roam unprotected and alone. The prince is a sly fox, but I am obviously just a lamb.”

  Archibald Douglas chuckled. “‘Tis true,” he agreed with her, “and yet, madame, I hae seen ye turn into a wee fierce thing when angered. Still, anger is nae defense against a prince of the blood royal.”

  “Please do not leave me with Prince James,” Arabella said, suddenly sobered and serious. “I cannot accede to his implied demands, and yet I cannot openly insult him without incurring his enmity. I know he will one day be king, but that should not give him the right to bully any woman into his bed.”

  “It is your very refusal that makes ye so tempting, madame,” the Earl of Angus said. “Jamie Stewart is nae used to ladies who say nae to him. I will nae leave ye alone wi’ him, however, I promise ye. I could nae face yer husband if I did, for I know the prince desires ye, and Tavis knows it too. Why on earth did ye come up to Edinburgh wi’ out him?”

  Arabella explained to the Earl of Angus why she had come, and he nodded his
understanding.

  “Ye were right to take this matter into yer own hands, madame,” he told her. “Tavis Stewart is a good man, but he treats his half brother too softly. Besides, if ye raise yer wee Maggie correctly, she’ll always be loyal to the Stewarts, even though she lives in England, an Englishman’s wife.”

  “I would have her be loyal to Greyfaire, and its people first, after God,” Arabella said quietly. “That is where my daughter’s duty will lie, my lord. Politics and war are a man’s domain. Nurturing is a woman’s.”

  “Yet sometimes women involve themselves in politics, madame,” the Earl of Angus noted.

  “How can that be?” she asked him.

  “When a woman influences her husband one way or another, she is in her own way involving herself in his affairs, is she nae?”

  “Indeed, my lord, she is,” Arabella admitted, “although I have never thought of a woman’s good influence in that light. I think it is a woman’s Christian duty to guide her husband where she may.”

  “A female mind is a treacherous bog, madame,” the Earl of Angus teased then said, “woe to the man who loses himself in an attempt to understand it.”

  Together the Countess of Dunmor and Archibald Douglas passed the next hour in the castle’s Great Hall speaking on various subjects. Arabella began to gain new respect for Angus, and he, in turn, admitted to himself that she was not only a beautiful woman, but a fascinating and clever one as well, particularly considering her youth and inexperience. When finally a page came to tell them the prince was ready to receive them, they followed the boy arm in arm, ignoring the stares of both the curious and the envious.

  The prince greeted them warmly and apologized for the plainness of the fare upon his table. “I did nae hae the time to prepare properly,” he said.

  “You must not invite people to supper so precipitously, my lord,” Arabella teased him.

  “Madame, it is nae supper I hae in mind when I look at ye,” the prince shot back wickedly.

  “Then it should have been Lady Sorcha Morton you asked to your rooms, Jamie Stewart, and not me,” Arabella said mischievously. With Angus for support, she was feeling braver than she might have had she been alone with the prince.

  The two gentlemen burst out laughing, and Angus asked, “How is my cousin, laddie?”

  “I could nae tell ye, Archie, for our acquaintance was but a brief one. Sorcha’s repertoire is nae very large or involved, I fear, despite yer early tutelage of the lady. She hae, I am told, set her sights on a wealthy merchant in the city.”

  Angus nodded. “She needs a husband, and she needs a rich one, for her tastes are expensive. The gentlemen of her own class nae hae the funds to waste upon a woman that Sorcha needs for her personal adornment.”

  The prince grinned. “She could nae seem to see the advantage in pleasing a future king,” he said, and his blue eyes twinkled.

  The meal was a simple one, for the castle kitchens had not the guidance of a mistress any longer. There was a roasted capon, venison, a rabbit pie, and a salmon poached in white wine. There was bread, cheese, and a bowl of apples. A rich Burgundy wine accompanied their supper, which was no sooner over than a young page appeared.

  “The king would see the Earl of Angus,” the lad piped.

  “Then I must return to the hall,” Arabella said quickly, “for I am certain the king’s secretary has my parchment ready for me by now.”

  “Ye will stay, madame,” the prince ordered, catching her hand. He turned to Archibald Douglas. “Ye may go, my lord.” The Earl of Angus cast Arabella a look that told her that although he sympathized with her predicament, he could no longer interfere. The prince’s dismissal of him, and his directive to Arabella that she remain, made it impossible for him to intercede on her behalf any further. He stood, and with a bow to both the prince and the Countess of Dunmor, he departed.

  As the door closed behind the earl, the prince turned, and raising Arabella’s hand to his lips, he turned it and placed a kiss upon the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. “Now, sweetheart, we are finally alone.” His look was a smoldering one.

  “If you touch me, Jamie Stewart, I shall scream,” Arabella told him bluntly, snatching her hand from his grasp.

  “What is it about me, madame, that you find so repugnant?” the prince demanded angrily.

  “First answer me this, my lord. What is it you want of me?” she countered.

  He had the good grace to flush, and then he said, “I think, madame, ye know precisely what it is I want of ye.”

  “You wish to take me to your bed and make love to me, do you not?” Arabella said frankly. “Well, my lord, I do not wish you to make love to me. I love my husband, and I consider your pursuit of me offensive. I do not wish to dishonor my lord’s good name. You know this, for I have been more than candid with you in this matter. I do not understand why you continue in your pursuit.”

  “Yer certainly outspoken, madame,” the prince noted dryly.

  “If you force me to your will, Jamie Stewart, and surely you could, for you are far bigger than I, you will commit an act of rape. When you release me, I shall go directly to my husband and tell him of your behavior toward me. What do you think Tavis Stewart will do, my lord, when he learns you have coerced his wife into your bed and then compelled her to your will?”

  The prince stood up, and walking around the table, stopped behind Arabella. He placed his hands upon her velvet-clad shoulders. “I’ve nae known a woman like ye, Arabella,” he said softly. Bending, he kissed her throat lingeringly and one hand slipped down into her bodice to cup a breast. He fondled her breast, teasing gently at the nipple which hardened beneath his thumb. “Yer so soft, ninny-love, and so sweet,” he murmured.

  Arabella sat perfectly still beneath his touch.

  “How many men hae ye known, sweetheart? Yer husband and nae other, I’ll wager. I am young, I know, but already I am acclaimed as the finest lover in all of Scotland. Let me love ye, Arabella Stewart! Let me love ye!”

  “I will never betray Tavis willingly, Jamie Stewart,” she told him coldly. “Now remove your hand from my bodice this instant! I would leave, and if you try to stop me, I shall cry the castle down about your royal ears!” It was as if his invasion of her bodice had suddenly given her the strength to defy him. Arabella decided that the fact Jamie Stewart was heir to Scotland’s throne should not give him license over her person.

  Reluctantly he complied with her demand, and she arose from the table, shaking her skirts angrily. “One day ye will want something of me, sweetheart,” he said softly, kissing her neck once more. “Eventually everyone wants some boon of a king. Before ye ask it of me, Arabella Stewart, remember what the price will be, for nae even a king’s favors are free.”

  “You are not Scotland’s king yet, my lord prince, and pray God you will not be until you have learned that you cannot have everything you want simply because you are a Royal Stewart!” the Countess of Dunmor snapped.

  “I canna wait to get ye in my bed, Arabella Stewart.” The prince chuckled. “I like spice and can nae ever get enough of it. Ye must keep my uncle a verra happy man.”

  He was the most determined man she had ever met, Arabella thought as she traveled home the following day. She debated whether she should tell her husband of her encounter and decided, in the interest of family unity, she would say only that she and the Earl of Angus had taken supper with the prince. She had met Angus in the hallway outside the prince’s apartments.

  The page who had come to fetch him, Angus told her, had disappeared the moment he had exited Jamie Stewart’s apartments, and Angus had learned quickly enough that the king had not summoned him. It had all been a trick of the prince’s to get Arabella alone. Realizing that, Archibald Douglas had returned posthaste to rescue the Countess of Dunmor.

  “I should hae known ye didna really need my aid,” he said to her as he explained the prince’s ruse.

  “Oh, my lord, I most certainly did need you,” she told hi
m. “I was terrified and had no idea how I was going to extricate myself from the situation until the prince boldly put his hands upon me. I became so angry that he was forced to let me go. I do not think women usually become angry with Jamie Stewart.”

  “Only when he refuses them,” Angus chuckled, and she burst out laughing.

  “He is so damned persistent,” Arabella grumbled.

  “He’ll be a good king one day,” the earl replied.

  Arabella was not unhappy to see the turrets of Dunmor Castle rising up before her. She had been gone from her home for ten days, and she had missed her daughter terribly. First, however, she had to contend with her husband, whom she had no doubt would be very angry with her. The Countess of Dunmor strode boldly into the Great Hall of her castle to find herself face to face with Tavis Stewart.

  “Well, madame, did ye get what ye wanted from my brother?” he demanded.

  “Aye, I did,” she answered him, thrusting a rolled parchment into his hand.

  The Earl of Dunmor unrolled the parchment and scanned its contents, nodding. “By God, my wee spitfire, ye did stir Jemmie to action, didn’t ye? It doesna mean, however, that ye’ll get yer precious Greyfaire back for Maggie. Ye realize that, don’t ye?”

  “I will get Greyfaire back, Tavis. I swear it!” she told him. “It was my dowry, and ‘tis Maggie’s now. I’ll not let Jasper Keane and his ilk have it! I’ll tear the keep down stone by stone myself rather than allow that bastard to have it.” Then she flung herself into his arms. “Ohhh, ‘tis so good to be home, my lord!”

  “What a wench ye are, lassie,” he murmured against her hair, and then he picked her up in his arms.

  “My lord!” she squealed. “I have not seen Maggie yet.”

  “Ye’ll see her in the morning,” he said, and stamped out of the hall and up the stairs with his wife.

  “Did you miss me, my lord?” Arabella said softly, nibbling at his earlobe.

  “Vixen!” he grumbled at her.

  “Did you catch the wolf?” She bit down sharply on the morsel of flesh.