Rogue Highlander: The King's Command

by Sondra Grey

  “You’ll not get much out of him,” Alasdair said, rolling his eyes towards where his son stared off. “Been in a foul mood since he came back from James court knighted!”

  Calum smiled at the old man’s consternation. Leith and his father were similar in countenance but different in behavior. Alasdair was astute, careful, and slightly sour. Calum had always known Leith to be a merry sort. While he’d seen his friend in black mood’s before, they weren’t characteristic, and he was hardly ever brooding.

  “I’m hoping you’ve come with good news,” continued Alasdair, banging a hand on the scarred, wooden table that ran the length of the great hall. The Macleods were descended from Vikings, who’d claimed the islands centuries before. Some of that heritage remained: the Macleods at long tables and ate with their kin, the higher and the lower born dining together.

  Now, the castle was nearly empty - most people were in the fields seeing to the harvest. But Malcolm Grant, related to the Macleod’s through distant relations and close friendship, had arrived and so Alasdair and Leith had stayed behind to see what had brought the Grant Chieftain this far west.

  “War,” Alasdair continued. “Tell me there’s a war. I’ll send that boy to fight. A good skirmish should shake the melancholy out of him.”

  “In fact,” said Calum. “I’m here on behalf of The Grant himself. The Red Bard is hoping for a small contingent of Macleod men to help guard his borders this winter. The Camerons refuse to sign the peace agreement, and the Macphersons have refused as well. We suspect they will push to take Freuchie Castle this winter, and we are trying to gather men to help guard.”

  “Take him,” said Alisdair. “And while he’s guarding Freuchie, find him a lass to sink himself into. A good fight and a good fuck. That’s what he needs.”

  Calum tried to smile at The Macleod but found he couldn’t make light of his friend’s distress. He recognized a man with a broken heart - he’d been such a man himself not long ago.

  “I’m going to speak with him,” said Calum, rising. “Perhaps we will join you later.”

  “As you will,” said Alasdair, standing. “I’ve my own work to see to.”

  The two men parted, Calum heading towards the far window, where Leith sat watching the waters, face expressionless.

  “Is it that bad?” asked Calum, crossing his arms. Leith looked over at his friend and blinked.

  “Come man,” said Calum. “It’s not like you to pine.”

  “Who’s pining?” Leith demanded, standing. “I’m merely enjoying the quiet. This castle’s a madhouse. With everyone out in the field attending the harvest, I’ve a moment of peace.” He smiled widely, but it looked brittle. It didn’t meet his eyes. “How is your lady? And your daughter?”

  “Bonny,” said Calum, grinning. “I highly recommend marriage. Just make sure your wife doesn’t have a tongue like mine.”

  His friend barely smiled at that.

  “Come. Will you tell me about your time at court,” said Calum, softly. “I’ve not seen you like this, ever.”

  Leith shrugged. “It’s not for me. Too many games, too many rules, too many expectations. If I never have to go back it will be too soon.”

  “You’re one of James’ knights,” said Calum. “You think you’ll be able to stay away?”

  “One can only hope,” said Leith, moving to pass Calum. Calum reached out and clapped him on the shoulder, halting his friend in his tracks. Leith blinked at him in irritation.

  “You’ll not tell me what happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” said Leith. “Come. If I don’t help with the harvest, I’ll hear about it until next autumn.”

  Calum followed as Leith strode from the castle. He knew his friend wasn’t telling him the truth. He hoped Leith’s father was right, that all Leith needed was a distraction.

  CHAPTER 17

  A rgyle’s apartments in Edinburgh weren’t nearly as sumptuous as his apartments at Castle Campbell. His desk was smaller, there were sparse decorations on the wall, and the relative simplicity of the office was in stark contrast with the vibrant dress of the man, who sat behind his desk, unbuttoning the stiff ruffled collar at his throat.

  “Ah.” Said Argyle, breathing more easily without the stiff collar. “I can see why you might have decided to skip the dinner this evening.”

  Edane couldn’t read her father’s expression; she didn’t know if he was attempting humor or not. So, she stood there, silently. Go ahead, she thought. Look at me. And if you care about your daughter at all, you’ll help me.

  As if obeying her silent command, Argyle’s eyes scanned the three darkly scabbed and inflamed scratches that ran from the corner of Edane’s eye to her cheek. With any luck, Margaret’s hurled invectives would prove prophetic - hopefully the scratches would scar her face and do something to mar the beauty that had caused her nothing but trouble.

  “What can I do for you, daughter?”

  “I have done all you asked of me,” said Edane, her voice shakier than she would have liked. “I have attended the king for over six months now. And Margaret, who was content enough to turn a blind eye less she acknowledge us and look the fool, has seen fit to reveal me before her ladies and a good many young lords.”

  “Might I ask, daughter, why Margaret would choose now to strike at you?”

  “She has yet to conceive by the King, and she learned that I am pregnant with his child.”

  While anyone else looking at Argyle might not see his neutral expression as one registering surprise, Edane could tell that the information was new to him.

  “And how, pray-tell, did Margaret find out?”

  Edane inhaled through her nose. “I can only assume that he informed one of his other mistresses, and that they informed her majesty.”

  The King was regularly bedding at least two other ladies in Margaret’s retinue - Edane understood the machinations of court well enough now to know that any one of them, fearing Margaret’s suspicion, might have used Edane as their scapegoat. It didn’t matter who had told Margaret - she knew.

  It had been a terrible scene. The women had been in Margaret’s solar with the Lord’s Percival, Somerville, Livingstone, and Abercrombie dancing attendance. Margaret had been in an unusual mood, overly sugary to the lords, snappish with the women. Edane had finished embroidering a crest on Margaret’s cloak - per her instruction. When she went to deliver the cloak to Margaret, the Queen had stared at her, eyes watering.

  Edane had merely asked after her, and Margaret had hurled the cloak and slapped Edane across the face with her fingers raked. As Edane had whirled away, clutching her bleeding cheek, Margaret had hurled invectives and curses, called Edane all manner of despicable names. She’d been restrained by Lord Somerville when she’d attempted to chase Edane from her solar.

  “Tell me, daughter,” said Argyle after a moment. “Has the king visited you since the queen’s outburst?”

  “He has not.”

  “Has he bedded you since learning of your condition?”

  “He has not.” Edane felt the need to add, “He was elated…”

  “Oh yes, I imagine he was,” said Argyle smoothly. “The castle is rife with royal bastards - though the King usually gets them on the serving women.” He tapped his finger on the table. “You’ve explained the incident, but what is it you wish of me, Edane?”

  “Shelter,” said Edane. “The King has no wish to gainsay his wife. Margaret has threatened numerous times to have me killed, and I believe her. I cannot continue to serve her, and I cannot stay here to be murdered.”

  “Surely, Edane, the queen would not stoop to murder a woman with child. There is no need for hysterics or hyperbole. The situation is not unusual.” Argyle’s voice was calm but Edane saw her father’s eyes fasten on the livid red streaks on her cheek.

  “Allow me to return home to Castle Campbell.”

  Edane held her breath. Argyle stared at her, and the tension in the room grew as the silence stretched. “I’m sorry
. I cannot.”

  Edane felt her knees weaken. Since finding out a month ago that she was with child she’d pinned all her hopes on her father. “Why?” she gasped.

  Argyle frowned at her. “Sit down before you fall down,” he ordered, eyeing the way her hands gripped the back of the chair. Edane shook her head. No. She would stand.

  “Why?” She repeated, more of a demand this time.

  Argyle ran a hand through his beard, ruining its perfectly styled point. “You’re no fool Edane, so I’ll speak candidly. It’s politics,” he said, succinctly.

  “Politics,” repeated Edane dumbly.

  “You are in the queen’s disfavor, publicly - it would seem. I have worked long and hard for my position here, and I’ll not jeopardize my standing by hiding away my bastard daughter - who proved true to type and could not keep her legs together. This is what the court will say.” Each word had the effect of a stone placed on Edane’s chest. She could not breathe.

  “My guess is that the king will do as he’s always done and deny the child is his. Oh, he’ll support you financially. He’s not a monster. But he won’t claim the child, and I cannot have you sullying the name of Argyle.”

  Edane felt dizzy. He would see her murdered?

  “So, you cannot help me?”

  Argyle tapped his finger on the desk, eyeing her silently.

  “I will speak to the King,” said Argyle, finally. “And see if anything can be done.”

  “But I don’t…”

  “I’m done having this conversation, Edane. There are far more pressing matters I must oversee. You may go.” His voice was hard, his words final.

  Edane felt her cheek throb in time with her heart. Grabbing her skirts in her hand, she whirled and strode from the room.

  Edane spent the next day “indisposed” and wouldn’t come out even to eat supper. Instead, she tried to come up with a list of anyone who might help her. She wrote three letters to her brothers and one to her sister Elizabeth - but she tore those up. Her brother’s futures were tied to their father’s Earldom, they wouldn’t risk his displeasure by aiding her, even if they were so inclined. And Elizabeth probably wouldn’t lift a finger to help even if there was something she could do.

  In the end, Edane sent a message to the King, requesting an audience.

  The King did not respond to her until noon the next day, and when Edane was summoned to his solar, he was not alone.

  Her father was standing near the King’s bookshelf, looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. What was he doing here?

  Edane swallowed.

  “Your face…” said James, eyes travelling to where Margaret’s scratches were red and angry. James was up in an instant, moving around his table to get a better look. Edane closed her eyes, not certain she could stomach his nearness.

  In the first few weeks with James, she’d been mourning Leith. James had been an energetic if not overly thoughtful lover, given to odd moments of tenderness. He spoke to her frequently, though never about any matter of importance. He called her darling, and dearest, and was more kind to her than anyone had been in a while. More than anything, James had made Edane feel special, needed. She’d been more than upset when she realized that he was sleeping with two of Margaret’s other women.

  Only then did she realize that he treated Margaret with the same tenderness, the same gentile caring that he treated all of the other women. Edane was no more special than any other woman at court. But by the time she’d realized that, it was too late. She was already carrying James’ child.

  James’ warm hand cupped the side of her cheek, his forehead came down and pressed on hers. He smelled clean and familiar and she found herself leaning into his embrace. “I’m so sorry, pet,” he murmured into her hair. “I did not know she would hurt you.”

  It was treasonous to speak an ill word against the queen, and so Edane kept her mouth shut.

  “I will have the castle healer come by your room with a salve. We don’t want your beautiful face to scar, do we?”

  Edane took a step back, and the king let her. “Highness, I’ve come to speak to you about the incident with the Queen.”

  James cocked his head to the side and stepped back until he was leaning against his desk. “What is it you wish to speak of, pet?” he asked.

  “As you are aware, highness, I carry your child.” Edane paused, knowing she had to choose her words carefully. “As the queen has yet to conceive by you, and she has recently discovered my state, I feel it would continue to upset her if I were to remain here.”

  James pressed his lips together in displeasure but didn’t interrupt, so Edane continued. “I request that you allow me to retire to the convent of the Sisters of the Sacred Heart.”

  James’ jaw loosed and for a moment he was speechless. Then he covered his mouth with his hand. For a moment, Edane thought he was horrified by the idea, but realized after a moment, that he was hiding his mirth.

  “I’m sorry, pet,” he said after a moment, when it was clear that he wasn’t going to laugh out loud. “But when I think of you, writhing in my bed, and then see you kneeling in a pew, bent in penitence…” he smirked, his mouth tight as if to keep from full out laughing at her.

  Edane saw that her father looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I understand that the idea might seem strange to you” Edane said, “But I think it will be what is best for the queen…”

  “Ah, my dear, what about what is best for me?” James said, his voice deep and sultry.

  “Your highness has several other women who are able to distract him,” said Edane, “I’m sure you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  “Perhaps, pet,” said James, drumming his finger on the table. “But I’ll not have my future son born in a nunnery, where anyone might abscond with him, hold him for ransom. No. Children of royal blood are born in the palace.”

  “Highness…”

  “Your Majesty.” Argyle interrupted before Edane might say something she regretted. Edane pressed her lips together, eyes burning into her father’s. “Perhaps you should inform the girl of the impending arrangement.”

  Arrangement? Edane stared at her father who was casually worrying at a jagged nail. He didn’t look up. Edane’s eyes shot to the king, who looked mildly irritated as he straightened and circled back around to sit at his desk.

  “Edane,” her father said, softly. “Sit.”

  Edane sat.

  “Loathe as I am to speak ill of her majesty,” said the King, pursing his lips together sourly. “I admit that, given her outburst yesterday, she might not take kindly to you continuing in her service. And she has, ah, expressed concern about your continued presence at court.”

  Edane barely dared to breathe.

  “I will not have my child born anywhere but Edinburgh,” said the King, firmly. “But Argyle has suggested a solution that might, shall we say, smooth the feathers that have been ruffled.”

  “Marriage,” said Argyle.

  “Marriage,” Edane repeated dumbly.

  “Argyle has suggested I further tie the Island clans to me. I will marry you to the newly knighted Macleod. You will give birth to your child in Edinburgh.”

  It was not a question. But Edane couldn’t help speaking out. “Marriage.” To Leith. “What if he will not have me?”

  “He’s no choice,” said Argyle. “He will do as his king demands.”

  Edane felt her hands tremble in her lap. She had not seen or heard from Leith Macleod in over six months, and their parting had not been sweet. Still, Edane could barely contain her excitement. Six months of feeling trapped, of walking a tightrope between pleasing the king and serving the queen, Edane would be free.

  But was marriage really freedom.

  Yes. Yes, it was. Anything was better than Edinburgh, than here in James’ court, where she’d never quite learned to play the game.

  “I am loathe, pet, to see you exiled to the Hebrides. However, Argyle assures me this is the best course of
action. And you’ve not steered me wrong yet.” This last was directed to her father.

  Edane tried to discern the strange light in James’ eye. One moment he seemed irritated at the idea of marrying his lover to another man. The next he seemed slyly pleased with himself. There was something Edane was missing.

  “If you don’t mind majesty,” said Argyle, “I will see the girl back to her rooms.” He strode past, gripping his daughter’s forearm and all but tugging her with him.

  “What…” Edane sputtered as they entered the hall.

  “Thank me later,” said Argyle, dryly. “I understand you have a fondness for the highlander. The king has a fondness for making trouble. It appealed to him, securing the highlander to his court by having him raise a royal bastard as his own. He saw for himself that Leith was a proud man, not suited to court life. The king was happy to let him leave, but worries over his allegiance once his father passes. You are a way for him to secure that allegiance. The highlander will have to raise the child as his own, and knowledge of the child’s true parentage will be the leverage the king holds over the young Macleod.”

  All but insuring that Leith was going to hate her. Out of one fire and into another. “Why are you telling me this?” asked Edane.

  “Because you do not yet seem to understand the power you could wield, Edane, if you chose to do so,” said Argyle, sounding frustrated. “You are a rare beauty, and you’ve a decent head on your shoulders. Why you refuse to use it…”

  “What is it you expect I do?” asked Edane, heatedly. “I feel like a rabbit weaving around wolves!”

  “Then be an eagle!” Snapped her father. Edane halted and Argyle spun to face her. “Understand that beauty is currency. That you have power and you need to make a conscious decision to apply it. Leith Macleod will marry you because the king commands it. But it is up to you to make the marriage work. Find out what makes a man like Leith Macleod tick and wrap him around your finger.”