The Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance

by Trisha Telep

  After the majordomo had served them two glasses of Highland whisky, Magnus turned to her. “Please continue.”

  “I don’t want sex,” Avril blurted, watching his placid expression register surprise. “I mean, I feel uncomfortable sharing intimacy before we reacquaint ourselves.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  Avril looked into his silvery-grey eyes. “I fear nothing.”

  Her husband studied her for a long moment, his face expressionless. “I will give you a week,” he said, “but we will share a bed for appearances.

  Avril inclined her head and gulped the whisky in one swig, relieved that was settled. “Tell me about court and the queen.”

  “Storm clouds are gathering over the court,” Magnus said. “Keep your lips shut, your ears open, and do not discuss religion. Anything you say will be used against you at a later date.”

  “By whom?” His sharing important information impressed Avril. She doubted her own brother would confide in her.

  “Friends come and go at court,” Magnus answered, “but enemies accumulate. Trouble is brewing between the old and new kirks. Mary is Catholic, but the new kirk has won the support of many nobles and commoners.”

  “Do you mean John Knox’s new kirk?”

  “Some on the privy council are Catholic,” Magnus said, nodding, “and the others – including the queen’s half-brothers – follow the new kirk.”

  “New kirk or old, God hears everyone’s prayers,” Avril said, shaking her head. “Which kirk do you support?’

  “I support whatever is politically expedient for Clan Campbell,” Magnus answered. “Travelling through life is easier with the wind on our backs.”

  Our backs. Avril liked the sound of that, implying they were equal partners. Perhaps a marriage between them would work.

  “I understand.” And Avril did understand. She understood politics jeopardized her husband’s soul, and she intended to save him.

  “Queen Mary is beautiful, vivacious and intelligent,” Magnus was saying, “but her political inexperience makes her dangerous to herself and others. Darnley, her petulant suitor, lacks subtlety and possesses more ambition than intelligence.”

  “What a charming place to visit,” Avril drawled.

  Magnus smiled at that. “Mary loves golfing, hawking and hunting as well as gentler pursuits.”

  “I do not kill God’s creatures,” Avril told him. “I do golf, though.”

  “You eat creatures others kill in order to survive,” her husband reminded her.

  “I do not eat God’s creatures,” she corrected him. “The thought nauseates me.”

  “God’s balls,” he muttered. “Unusual eating habits will draw attention.”

  “Then I will pretend to eat whatever is served.”

  “Pretending is good,” Magnus said, “but what will you do if served haggis?”

  Avril winked at him. “I’ll swoon.”

  “Swooning is good,” Magnus said. “You know, lass, the first time I saw you, I knew you’d grow into a great beauty.”

  A great beauty? Avril couldn’t credit what he’d said. Red hair, small stature and less than generous breasts did not make for a great beauty.

  “What did you think of me?”

  “I thought you were elderly.”

  * * *

  Her husband abandoned her.

  After enjoying a companionable supper, Magnus announced that the privy council required his presence at court, but he would soon return.

  Apparently, “soon’’ was a relative time. The hour grew late. Avril sought her bed, but sleep eluded her.

  Her husband should have stayed home and courted her. Not only did the prospect of sleeping beside a man – albeit, her husband – make her nervous, but his inattention humiliated her.

  Hearing the door open, Avril snapped her eyes shut in feigned sleep. She heard him moving around. The bed creaked, and the mattress dipped when he climbed in beside her.

  Was he naked? Avril felt a heated blush. Thankfully, the chamber was dark.

  “Good night, wife.”

  Avril opened her eyes. Her husband was leaning over her.

  “I was sleeping.”

  “No one sleeps with a death grip on the coverlet.” She heard the smile in his voice.

  Magnus dipped his head to kiss her. His lips were warm, firm, and oh-so-inviting.

  “You taste like whisky.”

  “I’ve been celebrating my marriage,” Magnus told her, and then hiccupped. “Oops, pardon me.”

  “You should have celebrated with your wife.”

  “You missed me.”

  “A woman cannot miss what she never had.”

  Magnus smiled. “You can have me now.”

  “You’re drunk.” Avril rolled on to her side, showing him her back.

  “You wound me, lass,” he mumbled.

  Lying there in silence, Avril listened to her husband’s even breathing. A long, long time passed before she fell into a less than peaceful sleep.

  Avril awakened during those hushed, magical moments before dawn. Beside her, Magnus still slept.

  Bare-chested, her husband lay on his back with the coverlet pulled up to his waist. His face appeared boyish in sleep yet exuded an aura of power.

  Avril studied his handsome features. His jaw was strongly chiselled, his lips sensuously formed, inviting sweet surrender to his kiss.

  She slid her gaze lower. There was strength in his well-muscled chest with its mat of brown hair. She struggled against the urge to touch him, feel his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips.

  Her gaze reached the boundary of body and coverlet. She wondered if the coverlet was the only barrier between his nakedness and her. That thought frightened and excited her.

  Taking herself out of temptation’s path, Avril rose from the bed to complete her morning ritual of greeting the new day. She padded on bare feet around the bed but paused to lift her husband’s discarded doublet off the floor. The garment reeked of rose perfume.

  Mixing a shrivelling potion appealed to her, but she knew she’d be spiting herself. Madame Rose would never again get close enough to leave her scent.

  Avril tossed the offending doublet aside and walked to the window. Down the road on her left stood Holyrood Palace, and a mile down the Esplanade on her right rose Edinburgh Castle. On the opposite side of Holyrood Road stood a copse of trees, shrouding Holyrood Park from view.

  June had coloured the world green. Wild and cultivated flowers supplied shades of red, yellow and blue. The early morning air smelled crisp and clean, and the chirping from the trees signalled birds awakening.

  Avril lifted her gaze to the sky. The eastern horizon glowed with light. The rising sun, different each day of the year, seemed especially inspiring this morning.

  Pressing her palm on the window pane, Avril whispered, “Father Sun kisses Mother Earth … Father Sun kisses––”

  Movement across the road caught her attention. A tall gentleman stepped from the trees and hurried in the direction of Holyrood Palace. A moment later, a blond boy appeared and, walking at a slower pace, headed in the same direction.

  What was happening behind the trees at this early hour? Had the gentleman and the boy been together? If so, why had they left separately?

  “What is the hour?” her husband asked, his voice drowsy.

  “Early.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Avril glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m greeting the dawn.”

  “Agh, my head is pounding,” he groaned, his eyes closed, “and my stomach is protesting the whisky and food.”

  Avril faced him, noting his greenish pallor. “Those who indulge must suffer the consequence.”

  “Spare me the sermon.”

  “I can cure your hangover.”

  Magnus opened one eye to look at her. “Then cure me, wife.”

  Avril crossed the chamber to the cabinet to retrieve her mortar, pestle and herb satchel. She dropped a p
inch of two herbs into the mortar and ground them into powder. Then she stirred them into a cup of water.

  Magnus eyed the offered cup. “What is it?”

  “The cure,” she answered. “You must drink it all.”

  “Does it taste bad?”

  “I promise there is no taste.”

  Magnus drank the mixture and passed her the empty cup. Then he lay back on the bed. “When will I feel better?”

  “Soon.” Avril gave him an ambiguous smile and walked away, busying herself picking his discarded garments off the floor.

  “How long––?” Magnus bolted from the bed and dashed for the chamber pot behind the privacy screen.

  Avril whirled away, his nakedness startling her. The sound of his retching nauseated her, and she placed a hand on her throat quelling the urge to gag.

  “You fed me poison,” Magnus accused her.

  “Cover yourself.” Hearing the bed protest his weight, Avril rounded on him. “How do you feel?”

  “I do feel better,” Magnus said, after a long pause. “Bring me food.”

  “Do I look like your maid?”

  “You look like my wife. Please?”

  Avril shrugged into her bedrobe and tied the sash. “I’ll bring you oatmeal porridge and old man’s milk.”

  “Leave the egg from the milk,” Magnus said, “and add an extra shot of whisky.”

  Avril opened the bedchamber door.

  “I want sausage, too.”

  “If you want sausage,” she told him, “get it yourself.”

  “Why?”

  “I disapprove of eating animals.” Avril stepped into the corridor.

  “God’s balls,” she heard her husband groaning, “I married a lunatic.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  At the sound of her husband’s voice, Avril turned away from the pier glass. Created in midnight blue silk, her gown sported a squared neckline and long, fitted sleeves with puffed shoulders.

  Her husband wore midnight blue, too. She hoped that proved a good omen.

  “I lack sophistication,” Avril said. “The other courtiers will laugh at me.”

  “You possess something more valuable than sophistication,” Magnus said, sauntering across the chamber. “You, my dear wife, personify natural beauty and unaffected youth.”

  “Thank you for trying to bolster my confidence.”

  With one finger, Magnus tilted her chin up and gazed into her blue and green eyes. “I brought you a gift.” He reached inside his doublet and produced two boxes. “Open this one first.”

  Avril opened its lid. On a bed of black velvet lay a necklace, its long golden length punctuated with diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires.

  “I will cherish it always.”

  Avril slipped the necklace over her head.

  Magnus opened the smaller box, which contained a ring, its gold setting holding a rare, six-point star ruby. He slipped the ring on to the third finger of her right hand.

  “Legend says a guardian spirit lives inside the ruby,” Magnus told her. “If danger approaches, the stone grows darker than pigeon’s blood.”

  The ring and its magical legend appealed to Avril. She planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

  “I love the necklace and ring and legend,” Avril said, “but I love the thought behind the gifts even more.”

  “If the ruby ever darkens, scream for me.” Magnus offered her his arm. “Shall we go?”

  Hand in hand, Magnus and Avril entered Holyrood Palace. Thankfully, her husband knew where they were going.

  Walking down the corridor towards the reception hall, Avril felt like a woman going to the gallows. She disliked the disorienting feeling of entering an unfamiliar situation, but her husband’s hand on hers bolstered her courage.

  Magnus and Avril stepped into a crowded reception hall. Ladies and gentleman loitered in small groups, conversing in hushed voices. The gentlemen’s dark clothing provided the women’s gowns and jewels with a perfect background.

  Mingling perfumes clashed. Avril wished someone would open a window.

  “The Queen hasn’t arrived.” Magnus ushered her across the hall towards her brother. He greeted friends and acquaintances but never paused to introduce her.

  “I feel conspicuous,” she whispered.

  “Everyone is curious about my Gordon bride.”

  “Sister, how goes the married life?” George Gordon asked when they reached him.

  “My delayed return last night annoyed my bride,” Magnus answered for her.

  Avril looked at him, “My brother was speaking to me, husband.”

  “Duly noted, wife.”

  George Gordon smiled. “I can already hear the sound of crockery crashing.”

  “Campbell and Gordon, I bid you good day.”

  Avril turned towards the deep voice and felt dwarfed. The gentleman was well over six feet and as handsome as he was tall. He seemed vaguely familiar though she’d never met him.

  “Lord Darnley, I present my bride, Avril Gordon,” Magnus introduced them.

  “A pleasure, my lady.” Charles, Lord Darnley, bowed over her hand. “Best wishes on your marriage.”

  His touch on her hand sent Avril reeling. She suffered an uncanny awareness.

  Swirling fog in her mind’s eye dissipated, revealing … Darnley and a boy hidden within the copse of trees … And then the fog rolled in again.

  “Lady Campbell?”

  “I apologise, my lord.” Avril blushed, mortified being caught off-guard. She should have prepared for this eventuality. “My mind wandered,”

  “I understand.” Darnley’s uncomfortable expression told her the opposite. “Excuse me, please.”

  “Is there a problem?” Magnus asked her. “You looked vacant.”

  “I sensed something sinister about Darnley.”

  “Do not start mouthing your hocus-pocus,” George warned, his voice an urgent whisper.

  Magnus looked confused. “What is her ‘hocus-pocus’?”

  “My sister believes she has the Sight.”

  Avril could have throttled her brother. She did not want a husband who considered her peculiar.

  Magnus smiled. “You must be joking.”

  “There is nothing amusing about the Sight,” Avril said. “My gift feels like a curse.”

  Magnus leaned close to whisper in her ear, appearing like a lovestruck husband. “Forget about the Sight, wife, or we burn as witches.”

  “Good evening, Lords Gordon and Campbell.”

  Avril lifted her gaze to James Stewart, the Earl of Moray, the Queen’s illegitimate half-brother. Dressed in black, the earl was almost as tall as Darnley. Stewart was a handsome man in spite of his pinched expression.

  “I present my wife Avril,” Magnus introduced them.

  The Earl of Moray bowed over her hand before she could hide it behind her back. Again Avril suffered an uncanny awareness.

  Fog swirled in her mind’s eye and then dissipated … Outlined in black, Moray held an infant and the crown of Scotland in his hand … The fog rolled in again, blocking her view.

  “Are you enjoying Edinburgh, Lady Campbell?”

  “Actually, I prefer a simpler life in the Highlands.”

  James Stewart smiled at her. “Most young ladies would enjoy the excitement.”

  “I am not most young ladies.” Avril gave him her sweetest smile. “Too much excitement can kill almost as easily as a dagger.”

  The earl inclined his head. “Campbell, you are the most fortunate of men to have wed a woman without ambition.” And then he moved on.

  Avril watched the Earl of Moray walk away. Then she blessed herself by making the sign of the cross.

  Her brother smiled. He was accustomed to her eccentricities.

  “What are you doing?” Magnus demanded.

  “Keeping Old Clootie at bay.” Avril glanced around. “Moray begrudges Mary her crown.”

  “Heed my sister’s opinions of people,” George advised her h
usband. “She inherited the knack of seeing into people’s hearts.”

  “Too bad she can’t see into their minds,” Magnus said, and then looked at her. “I urge discretion, wife. The survival of the Campbells and the Gordons depend on that.”

  “I don’t want anyone else touching me.” Avril doubted she could remain sane if all the courtiers hid sinister hearts.

  An older gentleman approached them. With him walked a voluptuous, dark-haired woman.

  “Avril, meet William and Fiona Seton, the Earl and Countess of Melrose,” Magnus said.

  Melrose started to bow over her hand but couldn’t find it. Avril had hidden her hands within the folds of her gown.

  “I mean no offence, my lord, but––”

  “My wife dislikes being touched,” Magnus finished.

  The Earl of Melrose raised his brows. “I hope you can handle that, Campbell.”

  The Countess of Melrose gave Avril a feline smile. “Your wife is a lovely child, Magnus. We wish you well.”

  Avril narrowed her gaze on the woman. Fiona Seton had been her husband’s lover, and she didn’t need the Sight to tell her so. The woman reeked of rose perfume.

  And then Queen Mary walked into the reception room, capturing Avril’s attention, With the queen were her ladies, including her life-long friends, the four Marys.

  Regal and graceful, Queen Mary was unusually tall, auburn-haired and beautiful. She was everything Avril had ever imagined and then some.

  With her ladies at her sides, Queen Mary sat in a chair on a raised dais. The queen motioned Magnus and George forward.

  “Your Majesty, I present my wife, Avril Gordon,” Magnus said.

  Avril executed a deep curtsey, her head bowed but her gaze on the queen.

  “Arise, Lady Campbell,” Queen Mary bade her, “My dearest George, your sister looks nothing like you.”

  “Alas, Your Majesty, this woman is an imposter,” George joked, his smile infectious. “The fairies stole my true sister and left this changeling in her place.”

  Queen Mary giggled, and Avril blushed. The other courtiers laughed at her brother’s success entertaining the queen.

  “What say you to that, Lady Campbell?”

  “His teasing tormented my entire life,” Avril answered. “Unfortunately for my brother, my husband is duty bound to protect me and will surely give George a thrashing later.”