The Border Lord and the Lady (51 page)

“Then you have come to an impasse, Ce-ce. Ian was a special man, but most men are more like Kier. And all men are babies. They will dash into battle without fear of death, but they are terrified to tell a woman that they love her. And heaven forfend that a woman hurts their feelings. Then it becomes impossible for them to speak up. Unless, of course, the woman speaks up first,” Joan Beaufort said. “If you come to love Kier one day then you must tell him so, Ce-ce. Only then will he admit what is in his heart for you. And believe me, it isn’t dislike.”

Cicely sighed. “We are of an age, Jo. How did you become so wise? James Stewart loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you. And
you had no trouble loving him back. My father always claimed to love my mother, and those who knew them attested to the fact that he did indeed love her. Ian loved me, offered me that same love, but I demurred until it was really too late. Why, I wonder, did I do such a thing?”

“When your father sent you to our foster mother, perhaps you felt he was rejecting your love,” the queen suggested.

“Nay!” Cicely denied. “I understood why it was necessary for him to do it. He was saving my life, Jo. My stepmother, Luciana, truly hated me.”

“Your stepmother made him choose between you, Ce-ce. And your father chose
her,
” Joan Beaufort said. “Your practical nature excused the Earl of Leighton’s choice because you loved your father, and would not think badly of him. But at that moment your perceptions of love changed. How could they not? Love between a man and a woman, however, is a totally different thing. To love you must trust. Both you and Kier have lost faith in love because neither of you can trust in it. That, I suspect, is why you found it so difficult to love Ian, to accept his love. Mayhap you feared to lose Ian’s love one day. But now either you or Kier must take the first step if you are to discover the joys of love again. And you will also learn when you can love once more that passion with love is far more wonderful than just passion.”

Cicely looked at the queen curiously. “I don’t know how it could be,” she said.

“What did you do after you shared your passions?” the queen asked.

“I complimented him on his skill; then I got up, washed myself, dressed, and came down to the hall to see to my guests,” Cicely replied.

The queen laughed. “Oh, dear,” she said.

“Jo, it was dawn! I would not be a good chatelaine had I not come down to see to my guests,” Cicely defended herself.

“Was Kier of the same mind?” the queen inquired.

“Nay, he was not,” Cicely told her friend. “He wanted us to stay abed. He said no one would think the worse of us for it, since we were just wed yesterday.”

“Aha!” Joan Beaufort said. “There is certain proof that he is falling in love with you, Ce-ce. If you would but encourage him just the tiniest bit, you could be as happy and my Jamie and I are.”

“You want me to be the first to say ‘I love you’?” Cicely said. “But I don’t love him, Jo. And the only care he has for me is as the mother of his sons.”

“He’s falling in love with you,” the queen insisted. “I know a man in love. Stop being so damned dutiful, Ce-ce, and let yourself fall in love with him. And when you do, tell him, and put the poor man out of his misery. Ian Douglas loved you, to be sure, but this Douglas will love you as well if you will just allow him to, dearest. Did our foster mother not love her King Henry? And he was her second husband. She wanted him, and she made no secret of it. That is the example you need to follow. Now, promise me that you will at least try, Ce-ce.”

Cicely laughed. “I promise,” she said. Reaching out, she took the queen’s hand and kissed it. “I am so glad we remain friends,” she told Joan Beaufort. “Are you making friends among the Scots ladies at your court?”

“Some are pleasant, but the truth is, I find they serve me best by what they have overheard. Some come to me, but with the others I just listen. I prefer to make my friends among the men. They are the allies the king and I might need one day. James is very outspoken, and offends without meaning to do so. Sometimes I can soften what he says, and soothe the ruffled feathers of his nobles.”

“The king always said he meant to rule Scotland as it had not been ruled in many years,” Cicely remarked.

“And he is, although several in his family have suffered for their past behaviors, or those of our near relations. He has instilled fear
in his nobles by executing the Duke of Albany and his two sons, his own kinsmen. He has sent the Earl of Strathearn and the master of Atholl to England to stand hostage until his ransom is paid. He holds his nobles responsible for his long sojourn in England, and now he punishes them for it.”

“But if he hadn’t been so long in England, or had returned to Scotland as a lad, he probably would have been killed by his uncle, who was not loath to kill his elder brother, David,” Cicely responded.

Joan Beaufort laughed. “I know. But James’s logic is his own. And he has begun to restore the courts, make new laws that aid the common folk, punish those who would break those laws, and strengthen the coinage of the land. And by taking back royal lands from those who ill-used them, he helps to increase the treasury. Government cannot function without hard coin. Sometimes when you are doing good things you must also do unpleasant things as well. And it does not always rest easy on his conscience, I know. That is why it is so important that I have a son, Ce-ce. The Stewarts will not be safe until I give Scotland some heirs. Jamie’s grandfather had a second wife, Euphemia Ross, and she gave him sons too. There are those who would supplant my husband with one of those young men, if they dared.”

“I did not know,” Cicely exclaimed.

“For now James is safe, for he is the male heir in the direct line of descent. We are young, and I am fertile,” the queen said. “You must not worry, Ce-ce.”

“Will there be a war with the lords in the north?” Cicely asked her friend.

“I think, and ’tis only my thoughts, that if by next summer the MacDonald, lord of the isles, and the other northern clans haven’t come to Scone to pledge their fealty, that James may go north to impel them to do just that. He has not been to Inverness yet.”

Cicely nodded. If she gave Kier a son by then he would have to lead his men, and she could lose a second husband. She sighed. Perhaps Scotland had not been such a good place for her to come. And
yet she’d had no way to remain in England without a husband. Certainly one could have been found for her, but that Luciana was so jealous.

Jealous enough to have even attempted to murder Cicely’s father. “I hope there is no war,” Cicely said softly. “I am not of a mind to wed another husband. I was barely used to the first one, and now I have a second.” She smiled wryly, and her companion smiled.

For the next few days the two friends sat in the hall for most of the day while the king and the laird hunted game birds and deer. Finally the king announced one morning that they would be departing for Edinburgh, and from there to Scone. “We have very much enjoyed your hospitality, Ce-ce,” James Stewart said. “Make your farewells, my love,” he told the queen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you would be leaving today?” Cicely asked Joan Beaufort. “I must have Mab prepare something for you to eat along the road. You will probably be staying at a religious house tonight.”

“James is like this,” the queen explained softly. “He makes up his mind on the spur of the moment. He didn’t tell me until we were abed last night. Oh, Ce-ce, please pray for me that this child is a son.” The two young women hugged.

“My liege, you must allow Mab the time to prepare some food for your journey today,” Cicely said. “The queen should not travel in her condition without sustenance. It will not take long. Please!”

“Very well,” the king replied, “but I would go within the hour.”

Cicely ran to the kitchens and explained to Mab their problem.

The old woman grinned. “Men!” she said with a cackle of laughter. “Well, we’re in luck, my lady. I’ve a fat roasted capon in the larder that I did not serve last night. There is fresh bread, cheese, apples, and pears. Quick, Bessie and Flora! Let us get a basket prepared for our king and his bonny wife.”

The two kitchen maids swiftly gathered together the supplies, and wrapped and packed them carefully in a woven willow basket.
They covered the basket with a fine linen cloth, handing it to Mab.

“I shall bid the king farewell myself,” the old woman said. “Come, my lady. We do not want to keep Himself waiting. He’s an impatient laddie, and does not easily tolerate foolishness or delay.” Clutching the basket, Mab hobbled up the stone stairs, Cicely coming behind her. Crossing the floor, Mab curtsied, the basket pulling her slightly off balance.

James Stewart caught Glengorm’s cook by the arm, aiding her to regain her equilibrium. “Now, Mistress Mab, have you come to bid me farewell? I’ll not go without a kiss from you,” he teased her gently.

Mab chortled. “Ye’re a wicked laddie, King Jamie Stewart,” she teased back, shaking a finger at him. “I’ve brought our good queen a basket to sustain her today.”

“What?” the king cried. “Is there nothing for me?”

“Hee, hee!” Mab cackled. “If Queen Joan will share the basket with you I would be pleased. There’s a chicken, some fruit, bread, and cheese.”

“Thank you, Mab,” the king responded, and, bending, he kissed her withered cheek. “Your lady has said you are the heart of Glengorm. I have seen over my visit here that it is truth. I am honored to have met you and eaten your fine cooking.” Then, stepping back a pace, the king bowed a most courtly bow to the old woman.

Mab’s eyes filled with tears. “God bless you, King Jamie Stewart,” she said to him. “Our Scotland is the better for your coming home. And God and his Blessed Mother bless your good queen with many sons,” Mab concluded, curtsying to the royal pair.

Joan Beaufort took Mab’s hands in her own. “Thank you,” she said. “Watch over my beloved friend, Mab.” Then, releasing the hands in hers, the queen turned and left the hall, her husband and her hosts walking with her. Her padded cart was before the house. Kier helped the queen into it, then set the basket of food next to her. Reaching out, Joan Beaufort caught the laird’s sleeve. “Treat her well,” she said
quietly. “She will love you in time, I believe.” And the queen smiled at him.

The laird’s face was grave, but his voice was gentle when he replied, “How is it that one so young and fair understands so well?” Kier asked her.

The queen laughed. “You are not really too difficult to comprehend, my lord. You and Ce-ce are very alike in many ways. And remember, she and I grew up together. Be patient. I can see that you are beginning to love her.”

Kier Douglas flushed. “I don’t even like her,” he said stubbornly.

The queen laughed again. “My lord, you are a poor liar. I will pray that both you and Ce-ce gain some sense where your marriage is concerned.” She held out her hand to him and he dutifully kissed it.

Cicely had bidden the king farewell, remembering to thank him for returning her dower to her husband. Then she hurried to the cart where the queen was now settled. “I will miss you,” she said. “It has been so good being with you again. I will write, I promise, Jo. And perhaps you will come into the borders again to visit us.”

“Be good to your man, Ce-ce,” the queen advised her. “Love him, and tell him so. Men need such reassurance more than we do. I never let a day go by that I do not tell Jamie that I care for him.”

“We shall see, Jo,” Cicely said candidly.

Then the royal party rode off from Glengorm, the queen waving from her cart.

The laird and his wife watched them go. Kier Douglas then told his wife that he was going hunting, for their larder needed more game if they were to get through the winter. He walked away, feeling her eyes upon his back as he went. Was it possible, truly possible, that she might love him one day? And was the queen right? Was he coming to love her? He shook his dark head. Love was a weakness. He had to remember that. The only time he had given his heart he had been cruelly rejected. The shock of it had sapped him of his strength, of
his very will to live. He had been horrified by how he had felt for so many weeks afterwards.

Kier Douglas had thought he would never recover from the blow to his heart delivered by a small girl with honey gold hair. He could not believe that the bitch had almost destroyed him. And he had vowed never to allow his emotions to get away from him again. But now here was Cicely. Cicely, his wife, who had lain in his arms and praised his prowess in their bed. An English girl. His cousin’s widow. He didn’t like her.
He didn’t!
She was outspoken, beautiful, brave. All the things she shouldn’t be. But he had to admit to himself that she was a perfect border wife, and he had a grudging respect for her. And her passions certainly matched his. What more did he want? He wanted her to love him, God help him!
He wanted her to love him!
And if she did, then perhaps he could allow himself to love her.