“What’s to be done?”
“Give these to Walsingham. He will know what to do with them. He’s promised support for the prince, her only child, if she is deposed.”
“Deposed? Good God. Where is she now?”
“In England. A group of lords rose against her and she fled.”
“And Bothwell?”
“He escaped on a ship; we think he heads to France.” Duncan crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Mary is in custody, but she must be removed from the throne before she plunges Scotland into a civil war. ’Tis but a matter of time.”
Thomas whistled silently. “Walsingham has promised assistance?”
“He has. Now ’tis only a question of whether he’ll honor his agreement. ’Tis for that reason I wished to deliver the missives through you. You will serve as more than messenger; you serve as witness, too. I was going to take them directly to Queen Elizabeth myself, but it can take weeks to gain an audience.”
“You don’t trust Walsingham.”
“Nay. If he does not deliver those missives to the queen, then you must tell her of them yourself. You are a favorite; she would believe you.” The laird absently stirred the fire, then looked up to meet Thomas’s gaze. “You mustn’t tell Fia any of this. I won’t have her endangered.”
“You may leave Fia to me, MacLean. I will take care of her.” No matter how we end.
After a moment, the laird nodded. “Fine. I told my men we traveled here to bring that casket to Fia. They believe it holds the famed MacLean rubies. See to it that she is seen wearing her jewelry sometime soon.”
“She has rubies?” It was difficult to imagine Fia wearing jewels.
MacLean looked surprised. “They’re in one of her trunks.” When Thomas didn’t answer, MacLean chuckled. “Rotherwood, do not allow her fey ways to confuse you. Fia’s born and bred to the purple; she’s related to half the royalty of England and Scotland. She could call Queen Elizabeth cousin and not be committing a sin.”
Thomas smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t suggest such a thing; Elizabeth’s quick to take offense.”
“Aye, she’s a stiff one, she is. I can only hope she does the right thing by Scotland and rids us of our foolish queen.”
“Elizabeth is hard but fair.”
“So I pray.” Duncan rubbed his face as if to scrub away his thoughts. He dropped his hands and managed a faint smile. “Meanwhile, fetch Fia’s rubies and make her wear the blasted things. ’Twill silence the wagging tongues regarding my journey here.”
“And your men accept that they traveled here just to protect a small cask of jewels?”
“I brought the MacLean rubies, Sassenach. ’Tis enough for them. Though if you can get Fia to wear them, you’re a better man than I.”
“Was there ever a question?”
MacLean chuckled. “There’s one more thing I wish you to do.”
“Aye?”
“When you take that casket to Walsingham, tell the old fox we are now even. I’ve paid my part of the bargain.”
“What bargain?”
Duncan’s smile wasn’t nearly so amused now. “The old fox hasn’t told you yet, has he?”
“Told me what?” Thomas asked impatiently.
“’Tis not my news to spread; ask him yourself when next you see him. If I were you, I’d threaten to withhold those letters ’til he confessed the whole.”
“Is it that important?”
“It might let you know your value. That is worth something, indeed.” MacLean turned toward the door, then hesitated when he reached it. “You may not yet realize this, but you’re holding Scotland’s greatest treasure.”
“Fia?”
“Aye. She’s precious, and I couldn’t love her more if she were my own sister.” His voice was suspiciously husky. “You may not agree with all I have done, Rotherwood, but I did what I had to for Fia’s sake. I wanted her out of Scotland and somewhere safe, somewhere she would be taken care of.”
“What do you—”
“I must go. Tell Fia I will write. Good-bye, Rotherwood.”
MacLean left, calling his men as he went. Within five minutes’ time he’d collected them all and they were gone, leaving Thomas with more questions than answers.
Chapter Twenty
Sweet Jesu! That hurts!” Robert said in protest.
The rabbit scrambled madly off the bed and skittered across the room, his fat stomach never clearing the floor.
Fia smothered a giggle.
“I die, and you play with that rabbit,” Robert complained.
“Och, you’re barely injured. You’ve a wee knot upon your head and ’tis scarcely bleeding now.”
“And a black eye.”
“If that’s all it takes to kill you, ’tis a wonder you’ve lived this long.”
Robert raised a hand to his right ear and gingerly touched the swelling. “No doubt if I lost an arm, you would call it a mere flesh wound.”
Mary entered the room just in time to hear this. “Fie, Lord Montley. Here’s the mistress a-tendin’ ye as if ye were her own bamkin, and what do ye do but complain?”
“Let her be busy elsewhere,” Robert said sulkily, eyeing with distrust the herb-soaked bandage Mary carried. “I would run and hide from you both, were that hideous animal not standing guard over the doorway.”
Zeus lay sleeping on his back across the threshold, his legs splayed in an ungainly manner, drool dripping from the corner of his slack mouth.
Fia regarded her dog with a fond smile. “Och, now, don’t make sport of the poor beastie. He’s worn out from chasing all of the evil, villainous English cats from the courtyard. He was snarling and gnashing his teeth like a huge, terrible ogre.”
Robert snorted his disbelief. “He possesses naught but gums, and he displays those only when you are present to protect him, in case any should take up his false challenge.”
“Och, no. He can be strong and brave when he needs to be,” Fia protested. “He must feel secure in your presence to sleep so soundly.”
“Pathetic, mangy beast,” muttered Robert.
Mary pinned him with a stern glance. “’Tis no wonder ye’re out of sorts, but don’t be takin’ it out on the lassie. She’s enough on her plate without ye addin’ to it.”
Mary wrapped the herb-soaked bandage about his head. “Ye took a mightly lump, ye did. I’m sure ye’re achin’ like a split gourd.”
That seemed to console him. When she finished, Robert took Mary’s rough hand and held it reverently. “Even angels would learn tenderness at thy touch.”
“Psssht. Enough of yer foolery.” She disengaged her hand but grinned as she patted his cheek. “Ye’ll be feeling better in no time, me lord.” She turned to Fia. “I’m off to the kitchen to see about supper. The servants are so upset o’er bein’ locked in the cellar, that not one o’ them is thinkin’ about food.”
Fia smiled. “You’d be upset if an army of Englishmen came to Duart and locked you in the cellar.”
“As if they could,” Mary said stoutly. “I dinna care what happens, ye still have to see to yer duties.” Huffing, she left.
“How I wish I could witness that.” Robert sighed wistfully.
Fia chuckled and perched on the edge of the bed. “I’d wager on Mary any day.”
“Would you, indeed?” Robert’s voice had unmistakable eagerness.
“Aye, though not with you! We still have a wager between us, and it doesn’t suit me well at all.”
“An easy wager, that. I’ve naught to do but transform you from a winsome Scottish lady into a winsome English lady. Then you will secure the queen’s sanction, your plays will be the rage, and Thomas will see that you are the perfect wife.”
“I never said anything about wanting to be the perfect wife. I think, instead, Thomas should work on being the perfect husband.” Or at least proficient. Except for one area, he was sorely lacking.
Robert adjusted the bandage Mary had tied about his head. “I hope you are prepare
d to pay the fine when I win our wager.”
“I don’t even know what it is. All I know is that I may refuse if it includes anything mortifying.”
“I dearly wish I hadn’t added that caveat, but in a moment of weakness, I did.”
“Perhaps you should tell me the forfeit now?”
“Nay,” he said simply. “Though I will admit that you’ve already made excellent progress. Your dancing is impeccable.”
Fia sighed. “It may not be enough, though. They say Elizabeth is capricious, and she dislikes it when her courtiers marry without permission.”
“Aye, and she’s like to resent your beauty, too.” His expression grew somber. “Thomas is already known as the luckiest man in England, and his reputation will be set once you’ve been introduced to the court. Except, of course, with Queen Elizabeth.”
“You’re not making this any easier.”
He placed a hand over hers. “She will rant and rail, but she will forgive him.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“As he’s committed no treason, the worst thing she would do is banish him from court. As he’s not one to languish there anyway, he won’t care. She will miss him anon and demand he return. And then everyone will know what good fortune he has.”
“Poor Thomas. He’s had to deal with many troubles lately.”
“Strife is good for the soul. Thomas would be a better man if he’d had more of it in life.”
“He wouldn’t agree with that.”
“Do not underestimate Thomas.” Robert shook his head, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “My poor head feels like an egg crushed beneath a boot. I’d like one good moment with that fiend Douglas.”
“Aye, that would solve all. Then we’d have two broken heads instead of one.”
His mouth curved sweetly. “Nay, you’d still have but one. There wouldn’t be enough left of him to bury, much less bandage.”
Fia gave an inelegant snort. “Men. Fools and brawns, they are one and the same.”
“A lovely sentiment,” a deep voice drawled from the doorway. “Though hardly a welcome one to hear from one’s wife.”
Fia jumped guiltily off Robert’s bed.
Thomas leaned in the doorway, one hand cupped about a bundle that seemed to be all rags.
“I would enter, but this thing”—he gestured at Zeus—“halts me.”
Fia called sharply to the dog, who only twitched slightly. Sighing, she went over. With much shoving and tugging, she hauled the animal from the door.
Dusting her hands, Fia sank into a curtsy. “Your path is now cleared, your lordship.”
“I thank you.” Thomas deposited his bundle onto a table by her small writing desk, then pulled her up. A thrill ran through her as his large, warm hands slid down her arms to capture her hands, and he pressed a kiss to the back of each.
The backs of her hands tingled and burned, and her heart pounded so loudly she was sure everyone in the house could hear it.
He released her and grinned. “Lady wife, though I enjoy your wit, I find it much more humorous when ’tis pointed elsewhere. Why not sink your barbs into Robert? He is much more worthy of your scorn.”
“And here I am, wounded nigh to death,” Robert protested. “Surely I don’t deserve such abuse!”
Thomas lifted his brows. “I’ll cease abusing you when you explain how ’tis that your bloodied head is upon my pillow and not one of the other twenty-two bedchambers?”
Fia whirled on Robert. “Montley, you said this was a guest chamber!”
“’Tis a guest chamber, as I am a guest and I am using it,” Robert said impishly. “And as I am sore wounded . . .”
Thomas pulled Fia beneath one arm and lowered his voice to whisper conspiratorially. “See how he plays upon your sensibilities? Shameless.”
“Aye, shameless,” she echoed breathlessly. It felt so right standing there with Thomas, held against him. She wished she could capture this moment forever, to hold tight during darker moments. All she could do was savor the strength of his arm about her shoulders and inhale his scent of fresh salt water and sandalwood.
Robert waved a hand. “Rotherwood, you would refuse your bedchamber to the man who provided you with a tactical diversion?” He touched his forehead. “And at such cost, too.”
“You enjoyed taunting those Scotsmen. Deny it if you can.”
“It was enjoyable . . . until they attacked me from behind, the miserable spalpeens.”
“Aye, there was no honor there. MacLean was mightily upset.”
Fia looked up at Thomas. “We should prepare a bedchamber for Duncan, too. And what about all his—”
“He has already left.”
“But . . . he didn’t say good-bye.”
“I think he feared he would be overcome. Say what I will about your cousin, he holds you very dear in his heart.”
To her surprise, Fia’s eyes filled with tears. Suddenly she felt alone. She didn’t know if it was the large house, or being in such space after weeks on board the ship, or standing here so close to Thomas and knowing it would not last—but whatever caused it, sadness suddenly pierced her heart.
Thomas pressed a kiss to her forehead and then turned to say something taunting to Montley, allowing her to collect herself. It was done with such quiet consideration that her tears welled all the more freely, and it took her even more time to stanch them.
Robert moaned loudly. “Thomas, leave me be. I’m too ill to move. Besides, this bed is softer than the one in the chamber you usually assign to me. The mattress must have been made of rocks, for I could sleep nary a wink.”
“I don’t believe it was the mattress that impeded your sleep as much as the enthusiasm of the woman you brought to that bed.”
Robert reddened and cast a hurried glance at Fia. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. You met the chit at some tavern and brought her—”
“Thomas.” Fia interrupted, feeling sorry for Robert. “I should assist Mary with dinner. I fear your servants were very poorly treated by my cousin.”
He looked down at her, and she found herself unable to look away. He had the most remarkable eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes that would be the envy of any woman.
He smiled. “Very well, comfit. If you need aught, tell the housekeeper, Mistress Hadwell.”
Thomas withdrew his arm from Fia’s shoulders, feeling an instant loss. She looked like an angel, her dark hair a nimbus about her head, the curls caressing her cheeks and neck, her cheeks light pink with color. Sweet Jesu, I would give all I have to take her right now and—
Robert cleared his throat, and Thomas met his amused gaze. Thomas turned his back on the lackwit. “Thank you for seeing to our dinner. I’m sure even Robert will be grateful for something to eat.”
“Actually,” Robert said, “I’d just like some thin gruel and—”
“He will eat in the dining room with the rest of us.”
Fia nodded. “Where are my trunks? I’ll need to change for dinner.”
“I had them delivered to the chamber next to this one.”
The color in Fia’s cheeks deepened, and she bobbed a quick curtsy and left.
Thomas followed her to the door and watched her walk down the hallway, her skirts swaying with each step.
“I die, and all the world falls in love.” Robert’s voice drifted out into the hallway. “’Tis a cruel, cruel world.”
“What? Still in my bed? Get thee gone, lazy slug.”
Robert gestured to the heavens. “Am I to receive no comfort? No care? No kind words?”
“None.”
“I am sadly unappreciated, my genius wasted. I don’t know why I even try. First I am attended by a beauteous woman who only showers her care on fattened rabbits and”—he gestured at the snoring Zeus—“that; then a warm and generous maid, who is too focused upon securing dinner to pay me the slightest heed; and now you, smiling like a besotted prince.”
<
br /> “I am just overjoyed that the Scottish giant has left us.” Thomas crossed to a window where the sun streamed through, the final clouds resting on the horizon. Odd, he’d thought it would rain, but ’twas now as clear an evening as could be.
Robert sat up and slid off the bed with a surprisingly lithe move. “I think you’re making a mistake to establish your wife in a bedchamber not your own.”
Thomas carefully hid his expression. “Most married couples have separate chambers.”
“Not all wives are as charming to behold as Fia,” Robert tucked a pillow under each arm. “She’s been good for you, too. You used to be the most ill-tempered man I knew, forever grumping and grumbling.”
“I was not so bad as that.”
“Aye, you worried constantly whether you could meet the impossible dictates of a man long dead.”
Thomas frowned. “This is not about my father.”
“Everything is about your father. Even now, you strive to please him.” Robert’s gaze softened. “You take everything too much to heart, mon ami. You always have.”
“I take my responsibilities seriously. What man doesn’t?”
“’Tis more than that. You have something to prove. Where other men stop, you forge on.”
Over the years, Thomas had taken pride in that. Now he wasn’t so certain. In fact, he wasn’t so certain of anything anymore.
Over the weeks they’d spent on his ship, something had changed. For the first time in his life, he understood how his mother, as passionate and fanciful as Fia, must have felt married to his father, who had been so determined to control every aspect of her life, including her emotions. Before he’d met Fia, it had never occurred to Thomas to wonder what his mother had thought or felt.
“Robert, I appreciate that you are concerned for Fia and me, but we must set our own course.”
“I cannot allow it when you’re being such a fool. Give up this ridiculous idea of an annulment. ’Tis time you focused your energies on making this marriage work, rather than finding ways to tear it apart.”
“If you’ve grown such a liking for wedded bliss, I’ll speak with the queen. I’m sure she has a lady-in-waiting or two dying for the married state. Of course, they might be with child from another, but such is life in court, eh?”
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