The Border Lord and the Lady

by Bertrice Small

  It had been decided that the roof of the new chamber would be flat, with a faux crenellated battlement decor. Cicely had convinced Kier that if they began enlarging the house so they could entertain the king properly, then afterwards they should finish by adding a room above the new room, which would be their bedchamber, while the room below would be converted into a fine library. A practical man, Kier decided she was right. The chamber would need a hearth. One was built with a separate chimney. The new chamber backed up onto the hall behind the high board. An aperture from the hall into the chamber was opened up. A fine paneled door was constructed, and matching paneling fitted to the walls. There was no time to go to Edinburgh and have glass made for the chamber’s one large window. Wooden shutters would have to suffice.

  A large old bed, some tables, two chests, and some chairs were found in the attics of the house. The bed was given new rope springs. Cicely and Orva made a new mattress cover, which the women of the village stuffed with clean sweet hay and straw mixed with sprigs of lavender from Cicely’s herb garden. A new feather bed had been made to lay over the mattress, along with fresh pillows.

  But it was in the attics that Cicely found a treasure that would make the chamber truly royal. Opening a trunk she saw a large packet wrapped in linen. Carefully lifting the bundle from the trunk, Cicely laid it upon an old table and began to unwrap it. The wrappings were protecting a set of burgundy velvet bed hangings for the refurbished bed now set up in the new chamber. And in the very bottom of the trunk were the brass rings from which these curtains could be hung. And everything was almost as if new.

  “It’s a miracle,” she said to Ambrose Douglas as they sat eating the evening meal.

  The priest smiled at her. “Of a sort, perhaps,” he said. “Actually those bed hangings were a gift to my father’s wife. The bed you have now set up in the new chamber was hers, as were the hangings. She died shortly after receiving them. My father thought them too fine for a border house. He had them put away. I do not think they hung more than a year or two. They are very suitable for a royal chamber.”

  The velvet bed hangings were hung out in the fresh air, and beaten to make certain there was no dust left in them. Then they were brushed before hanging. The brass rings were polished, fitted to the bed, and hung. The new bedchamber suddenly had a look of elegance about it. As the day for the royal visit grew near, a basket of peat and wood was brought into the room to be put by the fireplace. The empty chests had sachets of lavender dropped into them so they would smell fresh when used. The bed was made with the linens that had been made for it. Mab and her staff of serving girls had washed the old linens, ironed them, perfumed them with lavender, and then made the royal bed up. On the day of the visit late roses were cut from the garden, placed in an earthenware pitcher, and brought into the chamber.

  Cicely was more excited than she had been in a long while. Jo was coming! Her beloved friend was coming, and tonight they would sit by the hearth in the hall and catch up on all that had transpired since they were parted more than two years ago. She dressed carefully. Jo must not think that being the lady of a border house was any less than being in the queen’s household. Orva brought forth a gown of blue-green velvet, and Cicely nodded her approval to Orva.

  “Aye, ’tis lovely,” she said as she brushed her long auburn hair. She would not plait it today, but rather contain it in a golden caul. She had bathed earlier and, now in a fresh chemise, she let Orva lace the gown, with its rounded neckline and graceful long, wide sleeves. Looking at herself in the small glass, she was pleased.

  “The queen will undoubtedly be happy to see you,” Orva said. “And you have made a lovely chamber for her to rest in.”

  “I’ve done little,” Cicely said. “ ’Twas our clanfolk who have made this happen. They are such good people, and we are fortunate to live among them.”

  “Are you reconciled to this new marriage?” Orva asked.

  “Once again the choice has been taken from me,” Cicely said. “But there are worse men in this world than Kier Douglas. I will manage.”

  “He does not love you as Lord Ian did,” Orva noted.

  “Kier does not even like me.” Cicely laughed. “But he will do what he has to do, even as I will, and we will make a success of this match.”

  “Yet you liked the bedsport with him,” Orva said slyly.

  “That much we have in common,” Cicely remarked. “Now I must go down to the hall. ’Twill not do for James Stewart and our Jo to arrive and I not be there to greet them. You must be there too, Orva.”

  Kier watched her enter the hall and thought her beautiful. She was far too good to be a border wife, and yet ’twas exactly what she was. “Madam,” he said, bowing to her. He was dressed in his leather breeks, but today over his shirt he wore a long blue-and-gold brocade tunic that made his eyes seem even brighter. He held out his hand to her. “They should be riding up to the house as we speak. Come, madam!”

  Together they walked from their hall and exited through the front door. King James and Queen Joan were just now arriving. The king rode a big black stallion. The queen, however, was being transported in a padded-leather cart being drawn by a white gelding. She looked tired, and not particularly happy, but when Cicely pulled her hand from Kier’s and rushed forward, a smile came to Joan Beaufort’s pretty face.

  “Ce-ce!” she greeted Cicely. The queen’s cart came to a halt. The driver jumped from his bench and hurried to open the back of his vehicle, handing the queen out. The two women embraced warmly.

  “You are with child!” Cicely said, excited.

  “You are not, and that will make Jamie angry,” the queen answered her friend. “When were you wed to him? He’s a handsome brute. Better-looking, I think, than the other, Ce-ce. I like his black hair. Are his eyes dark?”

  “They are blue. An outrageous shade of blue. We are not yet wed, but will be this month. It was necessary to mourn Ian for a full year. His clanfolk would not have been happy otherwise. Come into the house. We have built a brand-new chamber to shelter you, Jo. When our clanfolk heard you were coming they worked to make this new chamber so you and the king would be comfortable. Our bedchambers are too small.” Walking arm in arm with Queen Joan, she brought her into the house. “Jo,” she said, “thank you for regaining my dower for me. It allows me to be on an equal footing with Kier. He is not an easy man to live with, I fear. I was so used to Ian’s adoration and unwavering love, to find myself wedding a man who says he does not like me is hard.”

  “He does not like you?” The young queen was astounded. “Why not?”

  Cicely shrugged. “I don’t particularly like him either,” she said. “But we do respect each other, and I will be a good wife, Jo. I did not appreciate Ian’s true love for me when I had it. Now I am condemned to live out my life with a man who has quite frankly told me he considers me naught but breeding stock.”

  They were in the warm hall now, and the queen had seated herself by the hearth. “I will speak to Jamie. You shall not marry this monster,” she said.

  “Jo, how sweet you are, but I shall marry him. I have no other place to go, and my daughter belongs at Glengorm,” Cicely said. “You know this is the usual way of our world. How many marriages are made for love? You are fortunate.”

  “But I want you to be happy!” the queen exclaimed.

  “I am not unhappy, and I am content,” Cicely assured her.

  The queen’s eyes sought Kier. “My lord of Glengorm,” she called to him.

  Kier Douglas came immediately to her and bowed. “Madam, I welcome you to my home.” Taking up her hand, he kissed it.

  “My lord of Glengorm,” Queen Joan said, “you must be good to my friend Cicely. You must give me your word you will be good to her.”

  “Why, madam, I shall be every bit as good to her as she is to me,” the laird swore.

  Cicely burst out laughing. “As you see, he is not an easy man,” she told her friend.

  The king now joined them. “
I am told you are not yet married, madam,” he said.

  Cicely curtsied to the king. “It was decided that a year of mourning for Glengorm’s former laird was a right and proper course to take, my liege.”

  “You have set the date?” he demanded.

  “The eighteenth of this month, three days after the first anniversary of Ian’s death, my liege,” Cicely said tightly.

  “We’ll come,” James Stewart said. “Today is the third day of the month. We had intended to stay with you until the eighth. We shall instead move on tomorrow to Ben Duff, and return here on the eighteenth to celebrate your marriage.”

  “Will you allow the queen to remain here with me, my liege?” Cicely asked him. “We have not seen each other in over two years now. We can visit. Ben Duff and his wife will return with you, for they have been invited to our wedding. Her Highness can visit with Maggie then.” She gave him a smile.

  Before the king might speak the queen quickly said, “Ohh, I should like to remain here with Ce-ce, Jamie.” She placed her hands on her belly. “I have missed her.”

  “If it pleases you, sweetheart, then of course you may remain with Cicely,” the king told his wife. It would be easier traveling without her, but he would never say it.

  “Remain today and tomorrow, my liege, so we may send to Ben Duff to alert them that you will come early. Maggie would never forgive me if I allowed you to take her unawares,” Cicely said to James Stewart. “And our folk would greet you too.”

  The king agreed, and a messenger was dispatched immediately to Ben Duff so that the Greys might be warned of the king’s early arrival, and without the queen. And James Stewart found to his surprise that Glengorm was not quite the rough place he had believed it to be when Cicely was carried off by its former laird.

  Mab set forth a fine supper that night, with several more dishes than she usually served up. Two extra trestles were brought into the hall so the king’s men might be seated. At the high board there was a platter with thinly sliced broiled salmon set upon a bed of fresh green cress. There was a leg of lamb, and a fat roasted capon stuffed with bread, onions, and apples. There was rabbit stew in a tasty brown gravy with bits of carrot, parsley, and shallots. A bowl of peas was passed about, along with a salad of lettuces. There was the usual bread, butter, and cheese. And when they thought they could eat no more, Mab herself appeared with a great big dish of baked apples, Gabhan coming behind her with a large pitcher filled with golden cream, followed by Bessie and Flora, who each brought a small plate of sugared wafers they set upon the high board.

  Cicely presented her kitchen staff to the king and the queen.

  James Stewart delighted Mab by complimenting her on the fine meal. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to come to Scone?” he said with a serious face.

  Bessie and Flora tittered as Mab’s face lit up with a smile. “I thank Yer Highness for the invitation, but alas, I am too old to travel farther than from my hearth to the table.” Then she curtsied as much as her stiff knees would allow.

  “I shall look forward to my return to Glengorm, Mistress Mab,” he told her.

  When the cook and her helpers had departed back to their own realm, Cicely said, “That was most kind, my liege. Mab is the heart of Glengorm. Your welcome in the village on the morrow will be twice as warm for your goodness tonight to an old woman.”

  Owen the piper came to play for them, and when the queen began to nod in her chair Cicely suggested that perhaps it was time to escort their guests to the new chamber that had been built for them. James Stewart was most complimentary when he saw what had been done to accommodate them. A large fire burned in the new hearth. The shutters on the window had been closed. There was water for bathing, and Essie was even now warming the bed with her pan of hot coals. She scurried out when the others entered.

  “How lovely!” the queen exclaimed. “And those bed hangings are beautiful.”

  Satisfied that the royal couple would be comfortable, Cicely and Kier bade them good night. Returning to the hall they began their nightly routine. Kier saw that all the doors to the house were firmly locked and barred. The king’s men were sleeping about the hall, and so after adding more wood to the fire, Cicely went upstairs. Hearing footsteps behind her she turned to see Kier. She continued on until she was at her chamber door.

  “It went well,” he told her approvingly. “The training you received from your royal foster mother serves you well, madam.”

  “I am glad you are pleased, my lord,” Cicely told him quietly.

  “There is no escape now that the king and queen will be here for our marriage,” he teased her. “I look forward to our wedding night.”

  “As do I,” Cicely surprised him by saying.

  “Indeed, madam?” He looked at her quizzically.

  “Should I not enjoy our bedsport then?” she asked him. “You say you do not like me, my lord. That I am naught but breeding stock for Glengorm. I do not like you, but I will admit that night we spent together was wonderful. I will respect your position as laird of Glengorm, and you will respect mine as lady. It is enough, and we do not have to like each other to enjoy our bedsport together, do we?”

  Never in his thirty-plus years had a woman ever spoken so candidly, so frankly to him. He had enjoyed their bedsport too, but it occurred to him that if he had and if she had, there had to be something more than just pleasure between them. And if there were, what was it? She was confusing him, Kier decided. “Respect and a mutual enjoyment of bedsport,” he said to her. “It is more than most couples begin with, madam.” Reaching out, he cupped her face with a hand, and to his surprise she did not pull away or scold him. Bending, he touched her lips with his, and to his surprise she willingly kissed him back. His arm went about her waist as the kiss deepened, continued, as their tongues entwined and stroked. He considered other uses for their tongues, and his cock hardened.

  Cicely was enjoying the never-ending kiss. Her nipples had hardened, and she was already wet, tingling, ready to be taken. But no! She was going to make him wait, because while she enjoyed this sensual play, she would never allow Kier to think he was totally in charge of the passion they would share. She gently pushed him away.

  He looked down at her, surprised, puzzled.

  “Forgive me for teasing,” she said, as if she had entrapped him in some manner. “I know we are both experienced, but I should prefer to wait until our wedding night.” Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Good night, my lord.” And then, turning quickly, she slipped into her bedchamber with a last regretful smile at him.

  Hearing the key turn in the door’s lock, he was suddenly furious. He would kick down the damned barrier between them and take her then and there. But then he remembered their royal guests. Would they hear the uproar from the comfort of their beautiful chamber behind the hall? Or would they hear nothing at all? He couldn’t take the chance of offending James Stewart, but then and there he decided that Cicely would pay for her flirtatious behavior. His cock and his balls ached with his need. Angry, he retired to his own chamber, undressed, and flung himself into a cold bed.

  The next day the king delighted the Douglas clansmen and -women by visiting the village. He told them himself that he would leave on the morrow, but return in time for the wedding of their laird and Cicely. “But my queen shall remain behind, visiting with the beloved companion of her childhood and youth, your own lady. Guard her well, my good friends. Keep Glengorm safe for my return.” He drank a cup of whiskey with them, praised their past loyalty, and then left them. The next morning James Stewart rode out with his men for Ben Duff.

  The laird of Glengorm accompanied the king, for Kier Douglas did not believe, to his annoyance, that he would be able to resist Cicely until their wedding day. If he forced the issue he knew he would be furious with himself for his weakness, and that Cicely would find a way to make him pay for coercing her, even though her own lust obviously burned as hot as his. His bride, he was learning, was a woman with who
m to be reckoned.

  Watching him go, the former servant Bethia walked from the village. No one paid her any particular attention, for she carried a small basket, and it was assumed she was gathering something. Walking about the loch, she trudged across the small meadow and up the wooded hillside, avoiding the line of sight from the sturdy stone redoubt as she came. The other side of the hill had been cleared almost completely of trees to avoid a surprise attack. Bethia hurried down the hillside using what trees remained to shield her flight. Several hours later she reached her destination, an isolated cottage on the edge of a wood. Walking up to the door of the cottage, she knocked, and the door was opened almost immediately. Bethia stepped into the dwelling’s single room.

  “Sister, what brings you here?” The man beckoned her forward to join him on a rough-hewn settle by the fire.

  “The queen is at Glengorm, Durwin,” Bethia said. “Gather your men, and plan your attack. Slay them all and the Douglases will never regain prominence.”

  Durwin Grahame looked his sister in the eye. “Nay,” he told her. “It is not yet time, Bethia. Besides, we should be hunted down on both sides of the border if we attacked Glengorm when Queen Joan was in residence, and did her any harm. She is the English king’s kin, married to Scotland’s king, woman. Where is your good sense?”

  “But what better time to destroy the Douglases, brother?” Bethia demanded.

  “We have not yet the men to overcome Glengorm,” he answered her.

  “But this new laird has gone off with the king,” she persisted. “Without him the Douglases would fall.”

  “Is Frang no longer captain of the guard then?” Durwin asked.

  “Frang is a good fighter, but he is no leader,” Bethia said.

  “I understand your desire to take your revenge on the lady of Glengorm, but this is not the time, sister. Ian Douglas is dead and buried. Was not that enough for you?”

  “I want her to suffer as I have suffered,” Bethia snarled.

  Durwin laughed. “Your man has been beating you regularly then, has he?”