by Sondra Grey
Copyright 2017 by Sondra Grey - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Rogue Highlander
The King’s Command
By: Sondra Grey
Table of Contents
Rogue Highlander;The King’s Command
Rogue Highlander; A Captured Heart
Rogue Highlander; Surrendered Love
Love on the Range; A Western Mail Order Romance
ROGUE HIGHLANDER
The King’s Command
We met Leith, future chief of Clan Macleod, in Rogue Highlander; A Captured Heart and Surrendered Love Our book opens a year later, when King James the IV – who has recently annexed the Isle of Skye – calls Leith to his court to participate in a tournament marking the king’s wedding to the tempestuous Margaret Tudor. There, Leith encounters someone he never expected.
Edane Campbell, the illegitimate and beautiful daughter of the Earl of Argyle, is walking a fine line and she knows it. Sent to court by her father to serve as one of Margaret’s ladies in waiting, Edane is aware that her real purpose in Edinburgh is to become the king’s mistress. A dove amidst wolves, Edane feels safe only in the strong, compelling presence of Leith Macleod, the magnetic highlander who dislikes court life as much as she.
As the king presses his suite with Edane, Margaret’s jealousy grows, and so does the threat on Edane’s life. Powerless, and caught between her obligations to her family, her duty to the king, and her heart, Edane must make a decision – one that will inevitable alter the course of her life forever.
PART 1
CHAPTER 1
Edane stared at her face in her bedroom’s small looking glass and, for a moment, was full of sharp and desperate self-loathing. Thick, black lashed, honey-brown eyes, full and pink lips, sloping cheeks, heavy shining, honey-brown hair. She shouldn’t have attended the dinner tonight. She should have stayed in her rooms or in the kitchens with Hilde and the castle women. Why had she insisted on dining in the hall! Her eyes watered slightly and she blinked, sucking in a deep, shaking breath and trying to steady her nerves.
Her face. Her terrible and beautiful face. Maybe she should scar it, scratch her fingers down her cheeks like the Greek women did in the Sophocles plays. They did that in mourning, stupid girl. What do you have to mourn? She could hear the Lady Argyle’s voice in her head, cracking like a whip. The lady was long dead, but Edane held onto her voice in those times when she needed to remind herself exactly what she was. Illegitimate. An embarrassment.
Only not tonight, apparently. Now she was the pride of Argyle. She’d been so stupid, so incredibly stupid. Meg, one of the maids, had fixed Edane’s hair in heavy curls, and she’d attended dinner in her best gown: burgundy, with a square neckline that made much of her décolletage, and an elegant train keeping with the most current French fashions. Edane may have been bastard born, but she was a daughter of the Earl of Argyle: the right hand of King James and the wealthiest man in all of Scotland. She had finer clothes than most of the ladies who attended Argyle’s hall.
Oh yes! You have a pretty face, and you have fine clothes, but never forget what you are, girl.
The Lady Argyle had died two years ago now, and while Edane had never liked the nasty viper of a countess, she now realized that the Lady had done much to shelter Edane from the realities of her station. Realities that had, tonight, been made very clear.
“Oh lady!” gasped Meg, bursting into Edane’s room, beaming from ear to ear. “You are the talk of the castle!”
Edane stared down at her hairbrush, wondering how it might feel to fling the thing across the room. She didn’t, of course. Her half-sister Elizabeth was the one with the temper. And while Edane had often wondered how it might feel to unleash her temper, she knew she couldn’t get away with half of the things that Lizzy got away with. Edane had to be exemplary. You live here at the Earl’s discretion! You will act like a lady or you will be sent back to your mother’s people. You can sleep by the fire to keep warm at night. Bathe once a month. The squalor would suit you. The Countess had had a brutal tongue.
“I didn’t see it, of course! But everybody’s been saying that the King couldn’t take his eyes off of you!”
Or his hands.
King James was handsome and, if rumors were true, brilliant. A polyglot who’d inherited the throne of Scotland at fifteen, King James was now in the process of uniting Scotland under one banner. From all Edane had heard her father speak of these things, this was a difficult process, and one that the King was undertaking with skill and success. Through the machinations of Lord Gordon and the Grants, much of the highlands were now at peace, and the King, Lord Gordon, and Edane’s father had managed to claim the Lord of The Isles title from the MacDonalds and well as form an alliance with the Macleods through the marriage of a Gordon son to a Macleod daughter. Skye, Ross, Knoydart – all were now under James’s thumb. And so, it would seem, was Edane.
She’d felt the King’s eyes on her all evening – and while she’d preened inwardly over the attention, joying in Lizzy’s jealousy, she realized too late what that attention meant. For Edane was no nobly-born lady. Oh no. The rules were, apparently, different for her. She was illegitimate and not beholden – it would seem – to the same rules of gentility that surrounded her three legitimate sisters.
That night, James had danced with her, and when Edane had exited the hall for air, James had followed. He’d caught her hand and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, and Edane had frozen. This wasn’t right. The King had been married by proxy only a fortnight ago. His new wife was on her way to Edinburgh that very moment, and James had cornered Edane, held her hand captive, his free hand brushing across her breast… Edane shuddered at the memory. It hadn’t been unpleasant, but she’d felt so helpless. She knew it was wrong, knew the king would not have been so forward if it were her one of her sisters. She also had a feeling that it was only Lord Edil’s timely entrance into the hall that had saved her. She’d excused herself politely and hurried back to her rooms.
“Lady?” Meg’s voice pulled Edane out of her memory, and she stared at the maid in the mirror. Slender and happy, but with plain features and frizzing blond hair, Meg was Edane’s age, a year older than Lizzy, and served as lady’s maid to both girls, tending to Edane only if and when Lizzy didn’t require her. Edane knew that Meg preferred her to Elizabeth – if only because Edane was a great deal more patient and kind.
“Yes?” Edane said.
“Are you not excited, lady! The King…”
“Is married,” said Edane. “The king is married.”
Meg put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “And when did marriage to a Sassenach ever stop of a Scot from seeking pleasure elsewhere. He’s a King Lady!”
Edane was no lady, but Meg had long ago informed Edane that if she had to call Elizabeth “Lady,” then Edane would be no less.
“And he’s a handsome King! Oh my, is he handsome! Oh the things I’d do to that King if his eyes were on me…”
Edane let Meg imagine out loud but tried not to listen. The young woman helped her undress and went away still singing King James’ praises.
Alone in her room, Edane opened up the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out the book her half-brother Colin had brought her from Edinburgh on her twelfth birthday: Erec et Enide. It was one of Chre
tien des Troyes’ earliest romances, a book that had been more foundational to Edane’s upbringing than the Bible.
Taking a deep breath, Edane flipped it open to her favorite passage:
S’en moi n’avoit de hardement, que tant con vostre amors me baille, ne doiteroi je sanz faille cors a cors nule rien vivant…”
If I’d no courage beyond that which your love grants me, I’d fear no man living.
Edane had read all of Chretien des Troyes’ romances, but Erec et Enide was her favorite. In the others, knight-errants chastely loved married ladies. In Erec et Enide, Erec – a knight of King Arthur’s round table, marries the impoverished Enide, and through their marriage finds love and strength.
Edane’s mother had not been married to her father, and so Edane had grown up treasuring the love depicted in Erec et Enide. In all her life, she wanted nothing more than to find the type of strength in love that Erec and Enide found in each other. Taking a deep breath, Edane closed the book and worried at her lip. She would avoid the King tomorrow. She would claim a headache and stay abed…
CHAPTER 2
E dane’s ploy to keep to her rooms lasted only until noon the next day, when a servant summoned her to her father’s study.
Edane could count on one hand the number of times that the Earl had called her to his study. The Earl of Argyle had many children, and Edane wasn’t the only one born out of wed-lock, though she was the only one whose mother had died in childbirth. In a rare act of charity, the Earl had ordered that Edane be raised amongst his brood. But she was never allowed to forget who she was. She was allowed to attend all the dinners, but not allowed to sit with the family. She was allowed to sit with the family in church, but towards the back rows with the uncles and cousins. She had her own room, but it was smaller than those chambers of her siblings. Her gowns were fine, but she wore no jewels. It was a far better upbringing than Edane would have had with her mother’s family – highlanders, according to the Earl, though he’d never divulged her mother’s family name.
As the Lord High Chancellor of Scotland, Master of the Royal Household, and Sherriff and governor to more townships than Edane could keep track of, her father lived and breathed wealth and luxury. It was rumored that the halls of Castle Campbell were outfitted more finely than any other castle in the whole of Scotland. Edane wouldn’t know. She’d not travelled far outside of the town of Dollar.
The door to the Earl’s study was guarded by the Earl’s page and, upon Edane’s approach, the young man’s eyes rested on her chest and remained there as he opened the door. Edane barely dared to breathe as she entered the room.
If the halls were richly decorated, the Earl’s study practically dripped wealth. Oil paintings, not tapestries, covered the walls. Deep green velvet curtains hung heavily from windows that overlooked the gorges on the far side of the castle. Before the windows, the earl’s desk, guilt-edged, sat atop a silk rug, and the before the desk, sat the Earl.
Gillespie Archibald Campbell was a virile, handsome man. Edane’s sloping cheekbones had come from her father, as had her nose – bold and questing. Only in his late-forties, the Earl’s hair was still dark, spilling backwards in rich waves from a prominent widow’s peak. Unlike many men of the time, he wore a beard. Thick and a deep red, it contrasted wildly with the darkness of his hair. The King must have taken his leave that morning, for Edane’s father was not wearing his usual court finery, but a simple white shirt with an unlaced surcoat atop it.
“Daughter,” said the Earl, the fatigue in his voice matched the weariness in his dark brown eyes, and he waved to one of the chairs before his desk. Edane sat, smoothing her dark blue skirts so as not to wrinkle the fine fabric.
“I congratulate you on your conquest.” He sat back, steepling his fingers below his chin and watching her with expressionless eyes. Edane had always been bad at reading her father. The Earl had never shown any overt love for his children. Her entire life, her father had been a political machine. Rarely home, moving from holding to holding but spending most of his time at James’ court in Edinburgh.
Edane couldn’t tell if his congratulations were mocking or sincere. She cocked her head to the side and said, “Conquest?”
“The King has taken quite a fancy to you.” Her father had been educated at Oxford, his accent slightly more English than it was Scottish.
Edane felt dread pool in her stomach. “The King is married, My Lord.”
Argyle scratched the bridge of his nose and continued as if he hadn’t heard his daughter speak. “The King has made a request of me, one I am deeply honored by, and you should be as well.”
Edane felt her breath catch in her throat. Silence throbbed about her. If the Earl was waiting for her to ask him, “What request?” he was going to wait a good long while. Edane didn’t want to know. She wanted to stand up and leave her father’s office before the words left his mouth. She could feel destiny like a net, hovering over her head.
“He’s asked for me to send you as a lady in waiting to the new queen Margaret.” Her father’s eyes watched her keenly. Edane didn’t react. She couldn’t.
“Have you nothing to say to that, Daughter? If I told Elizabeth or Marjorie they’d be over the moon.”
“Elizabeth and Marjorie’s presence would honor the queen,” said Edane, her voice coming out barely louder than a whisper, but it made the Earl blink.
“And you think yours would not?” Her father watched her now with more interest than he’d ever shown her in his entire life. His gaze was intense, hawkish.
Edane swallowed. The Earl of Argyle was a dangerous man. Smart enough to have elevated himself to a position of extreme power in the court of a man who was vicious and viciously intelligent. There was a right answer and a wrong answer, and Edane couldn’t discern which one was which. She wasn’t a political creature. She could only be honest.
“An illegitimate daughter in the Queen’s retinue, when you’ve three legitimate daughters to offer… My presence will greatly offend her.”
Argyle’s smile was amused, but his eyes quiet and forceful. “Ah, but you would not be there to serve at the Queen’s… pleasure.”
There it was, said without being said – for who discussed such indelicate matters aloud. Edane trembled. “Father,” she said, hating that her voice broke over the word. The Earl recognized the note of plea. and his gaze sharpened with warning. “You cannot think to pack me off to Edinburgh like some barely disguised…barely disguised…who…”
“You forget yourself, daughter,” said the Earl, impatience sharpening each word until they seemed to crack in the air. “Your wellbeing is mine to oversee. You’ve no possessions that I have not given you, you are fed and housed by my decree. You are a piece of me, mine to do with as I wish. I will marry Marjorie to a Gordon brat same as I will send you to Edinburgh because your presence pleases the King. There you will keep your eyes on him. You will keep him happy, and he will remember that his happiness was because I willed it so.” The Earl’s eyes bore into her. “And you will not disappoint me in this. Because you will be out on the street faster than you can blink. And what will you do to survive, Edane? What skills do you have to ensure a livelihood?”
Understanding dawned, and Edane stifled a gasp at what her father was suggesting.
“Exactly,” said the Earl, expressionless, still. “Whoring. Same as you’ll do in Edinburgh, girl. Only you’ll be lady-in-waiting to a queen. A position all women in the realm will envy. So, don’t sit there and stare at me like I’m throwing you to the wolves. This will make you, Daughter, if there’s a brain in your head to stay out of trouble.”
Edane stared at him, speechless, for what could she say? No, you’re wrong! He wasn’t wrong. And the part of her that had always realized men treated her more familiarly than they treated Liz or Madge understood that her life might one day head here. This is your fault anyway. You wore that dress to dinner. You needed to be seen by the King.
Indeed, she’d been swept up in noti
ons of Arthurian romance, envisioning that James might be someone like Arthur, who’d say a kind word to her, validate her presence, and dream about her chastely. What a fool she’d been. What a complete and total fool.
“Do we understand each other, girl?”
Edane wanted to argue but there was nothing to say. The reality of her situation settled about her like a leaded mantle. She hung her head.
“Good,” said the Earl. “You may go.”
CHAPTER 3
“I ’ll say this for the lowlands. They serve good ale.” Richard took a long draught from his mug, throat working to finish off the rest his drink. Leith frowned at his cousin, lip curling as he stared around the World’s End Tavern, full to the bursting with city dwellers quenching their thirst. The rich smell of roasted boar wafted through the premise and smoke from the kitchens gave the whole room a bluish cast.
“Be careful. Next thing you know, you’ll find yourself wearing hose and a doublet, and one of those ridiculous codpieces…” Leith trailed off, snorting at a wealthy merchant who walked by wearing garters.
“I’d have to drink a lot more of this ale to even consider it,” laughed Richard. “Damn impractical, if you ask me.”
“Well, if you’re finished,” said Leith. “Let’s be off. Much as I’ve a mind to drink myself stupid before facing that half-Dutch…”
“Hssst now!” said Richard. “We’re in Edinburgh, not Dunvegan. No doubt James has eyes and ears everywhere. I’m half certain we were followed into the city!”
Leith shrugged but didn’t speak up again. Richard put his mug on the counter, paid, and the pair sauntered out into a late Edinburgh afternoon. Leith had been to Edinburgh before, so the city wasn’t at all new to him, but this was Richard’s first time, and Leith’s younger cousin was having trouble keeping his jaw attached. Leith tried to see the city as Richard saw it: brown stone, massive, teaming with merchants, and denizens, hawkers, performers.
