“Nay,” he shook his head. “I married ye at Dunmor the last time, lovey, and we hae nothing but trouble. This time I will wed ye where I should hae wed the heiress of Greyfaire in the first place. We will wed here at Greyfaire. Yer own Father Anselm shall conduct the ceremony, and yer people will be about ye, lassie.”
“And this time, my lord, I shall even wear a wedding gown,” Arabella teased him mischievously.
“I’ll hae ye wi’ one or wi’ out one, lovey,” he told her with a grin. “And afterward—”
“And afterward,” she interrupted him, “we’ll go home, Tavis Stewart!” She stood upon her toes and kissed his mouth.
“Home?” he said. His arms slipped about her, pulling her close, his dark green eyes smoldering with promises of passion to come.
“Aye, my lord,” Arabella Grey said, her own eyes bright with unshed tears, and filled to overflowing with her love for him. “Home. Home to Dunmor!”
Author’s Note
The border country between England and Scotland was always a volatile place. On the eighth day of August 1503, Henry VII’s eldest daughter, thirteen-and-a-half-year-old Princess Margaret, married the thirty-one-year-old king of the Scots, James IV. It was hoped that this marriage would bring about a final peace between the two nations. Ten years later, however, on September 9, 1513, the young queen of Scotland was widowed. James IV, and practically every adult member of the Scots nobility foolish enough to follow him, was slaughtered in a battle with the English at Flodden Field.
James V, just seventeen months old, was coronated in the Chapel Royal of Stirling Castle on the twenty-first day of September of that same year, his mother’s bracelet, newly consecrated, being used to crown his little head. Once grown, James V took first one French queen, and being quickly widowed, took a second. He died following a battle with the English at Solway Moss on December 14, 1542. On his deathbed James V uttered the famous prophecy regarding the crown of Scotland, which had come to the Stewarts through a woman:
“It cam wi’ a lass, and ‘twill go wi’ a lass.”
The morbid portent proved untrue, and his infant daughter Mary inherited the throne of Scotland. Her history, a novel in itself, has been written many times.
Sent to France by her mother to keep her from the English, Mary was first married to and then widowed by young King Francois II. She returned in her late teens to Scotland, a stranger in her own land, to find herself embroiled not only with her own nobility, but with a fanatical Protestant clergy, neither of whom approved of a woman monarch, and certainly not a Catholic woman monarch. Despite this bigotry, Mary, Queen of Scots, offered religious freedom to all.
The young queen was married a second time in an effort to please her detractors. Her choice, her cousin, Lord Darnley, proved an unfortunate misalliance which produced but one son before Darnley was murdered under mysterious circumstances. Mary took a third husband, James Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, and this time she married for love. It was a fatal misstep for a ruling monarch to follow her heart rather than her head, and it would ultimately lead to Mary’s downfall. Neither her nobles, the clergy, nor the people would accept her choice. Mary was forced to flee to England, where she was eventually executed, while James Hepburn fled to Denmark, where he died, unjustly imprisoned by the Danish authorities, who to this day refuse to allow his bones returned home to Scotland, which once again found itself burdened with an infant king.
Thus it was that when he was grown, James VI, the son of Mary, Queen of Scots, and the great-grandson of James IV, inherited the English throne from the last member of the Tudor dynasty—Henry VII’s fabulous granddaughter, Elizabeth I. One hundred years had passed since little Margaret Tudor had traveled north as a bride, hopeful that this union of the Thistle and the Rose would bring peace. Now, as James VI of Scotland became James I of England, peace—if there can ever be real peace between the English and the Scots—was achieved.
If you have enjoyed The Spitfire, I hope you will take the time to write to me and tell me. Since it is my readers for whom I write, it is always a great pleasure to hear from you. And before I close, I want to thank my wonderful secretary, and dearest friend of four and a half years, Donna Tumolo, for her incredible efforts in helping me to get this novel to the publisher on time. Donna is moving to North Carolina, and I will miss her greatly. For now, however, I wish you all Good Reading!
Bertrice Small
June 12, 1989
About the Author
NY Times bestselling author Bertrice Small, known as "Lust's Leading Lady", is the author of 43 novels and novellas. She writes primarily in the Historical Romance genre, but has also done erotic contemporary and has a popular fantasy series. She is the recipient of numerous awards for her work. She lives on eastern Long Island.
Bertrice welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Electronic book publication June 2012
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