The Border Trilogy (36 page)

She returned to the hall just as the first guests were announced. The king arrived not long afterward, and the party was soon in full sway. At half-past six o’clock they adjourned to the dining room, where ale, French wines, and good Scotch whiskey flowed abundantly from the first course onward, and the gathering became correspondingly more jovial as the time passed.

By the time the fish course was served, the party was a merry one indeed. A pottage of haddock served with sweet almond butter was followed by plates of red herring, salted eel, broiled chines of salmon, baked turbot, and lamprey fritters. The food throughout was plain and plentiful, just as King James liked it, but there were sauces aplenty for those who required them, and Mary Kate, meeting her husband’s warm gaze, knew every dish was well prepared. Johnny Graham, Mrs. Comfort, and their helpers had done an excellent job, she decided. She must remember to thank them all.

Once the gathering had adjourned to the large ground-floor withdrawing room, where the butler and his minions were ladling out spiced ale and mulled wine to those who cared for such drinks, Mary Kate felt that at last she could relax and enjoy herself. Almost at once, Ned approached, bringing her a mug of mulled claret.

“Your first Edinburgh supper party appears to be a success, my lady.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied demurely. “How do you find life at court?”

He grinned at her. “Amusing. There is something happening every minute. But I confess, there are moments when I miss the peace and quiet of his lordship’s bookroom.”

“You are jesting.”

“I promise, I am not. ’Tis the damnedest thing—begging your pardon.”

“Unnecessary.” She cocked her head curiously. “Do not tell me that you would prefer to return to Strachan Court.”

Laughing, he shook his head. “Perhaps not.”

“Good evening, Lady Douglas.” Kenneth Gillespie nodded briefly to Ned, then continued as though the younger man weren’t there at all, “Do we dance tonight, my lady?”

“I do not know, sir. The musicians will begin playing again shortly, but as to dancing, that must depend as always upon the king’s pleasure.”

“Of course.” He glanced haughtily at Ned. “Leave us, lad. I wish to be private with her ladyship.”

Abashed by this high-handed treatment from an older and more experienced courtier, Ned made a hasty bow and departed.

Mary Kate was amused, but she did not hesitate to scold Gillespie. “That was not kind of you, sir. He has been a good friend to me.”

“Not as good a friend as I should like to be, I hope.” His voice was husky, and he reached to take her hand in his. “I would prefer more privacy than this, you know. You are always my delight, dear lady, but tonight you sparkle like golden treasure. Your eyes are more brilliant than the gems at your throat and wrists, and your lips remind me of prize rubies. Age-old phrases, mayhap, and I trust you will forgive my inability to turn an original one, but these are well-worn only because they are so damnably apt. And your hair…let me see if I can do better with your hair. Not spun sugar or gold, but—”

“Hush, sir,” Mary Kate interrupted quickly, pulling her hand free and shooting a quick, sidelong glance to either side to see who might be near enough to overhear him. “You must not say such things to me. I am a married lady.”

“Nonsense, my dear. Married ladies need to hear such things just as much as unmarried ladies do. Mayhap even more so. I’ll warrant your husband, fool that he is, does not whisper pretty things in your lovely ear.”

“Sir Adam is not a fool,” she declared hotly.

“Then, he does say such things to you?”

She hesitated too long and read derision in his eyes.

“Exactly. I have observed his neglect of you, you know. He is unquestionably a fool.” He paused again, letting his words sink in, then added softly, persuasively, “I have heard that this house boasts a lovely garden. Mayhap you would be kind enough to show it to me.”

“’Tis too dark out now,” she protested, flustered.

“There is a moon.”

“I dare not, sir. ’Twould be too much remarked upon.”

“Let them remark. ’Tis nothing out of the way, and surely Douglas does not deserve to keep you entirely to himself.”

“Why, what can you mean by such talk, sir?”

“Look yonder, lassie.” He gestured to where Douglas stood in laughing conversation with the king and several others. Mary Kate had expected her husband to approach her when everyone rose from the table. Instead, there he was, standing with a lovely young woman whose name she could not presently call to mind. The young woman’s hand rested possessively upon his forearm, and he appeared to be entirely responsive to her smiling eyes. He even gave her hand an affectionate pat a moment later as he looked down into her face to speak to her. James made a comment, and everyone in the group laughed.

Mary Kate’s eyes flashed. “Perhaps the air is too close in here, after all, sir. A brief turn about the garden will provide a welcome change.”

“As you say, mistress. The fresh air will aid our digestion more than this wine will.” He took her mug from her and handed it to a passing gillie, then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and they walked thus companionably through a small anteroom to a pair of tall French doors, and out into the garden,

As he had predicted, a moon just past its prime cast a gentle, eerie light upon shrubbery and trees. The night was still except for an occasional cricket’s trill or the murmur of a bird. No breeze disturbed the leaves. Music and laughter drifted from the house, but with the doors closed, the sound had a distant, muted quality. The garden was unoccupied.

Exceptionally conscious of Gillespie’s nearness, Mary Kate felt a twinge of guilt as the impropriety of her defiant gesture was rapidly borne in upon her. Reluctant now, she allowed him to proceed, but when he turned off the main path, she halted.

“We must go back, sir.”

“In a moment,” he murmured. “Let us walk a little farther first.” His hand closed over hers, and he urged her on a few more steps. They were out of sight of the house now.

Feeling desperate, Mary Kate dug her heels into the dirt path, forcing him to stop. “Please, sir, I ought not to have come out here with you.”

“Do you not trust me, Mary Kate?”

Well, of course she did not trust him, she thought, behaving as he was, but somehow it seemed both foolish and discourteous to tell him so after she had agreed to come out with him. “My husband will be vexed, sir.”

Too late did she recall Margaret’s warning. Mary Kate knew that it would not weigh with Douglas that his own behavior had prompted her acceptance of Gillespie’s invitation. He would be concerned only with her conduct, nothing more. Bitterly, and likewise belatedly, did she remember her resolve to do nothing whatever to give him further cause for complaint.

“We must return.” She spoke urgently but quietly, feeling a sudden, unexplainable need to whisper.

He, too, spoke in an undertone, turning to face her. “If you insist, my lady, although I doubt there be cause for alarm. Mayhap,” he added more gruffly, “you would favor me with just one kiss before we go inside?”

She fought down angry blushes, more conscious than ever of her vulnerable position. Gillespie had every advantage should he choose to force his attentions upon her. “I will not, sir,” she said, striving to keep fear from her voice. “You must not ask such a thing of me.”

He placed his hands upon her shoulders. “I cannot help myself.” His voice throbbed with restrained passion, and she knew she had made a dreadful mistake by coming out with him. He began to draw her closer, his strength outmatching hers when she resisted, and she could not bring herself to oppose him more vehemently lest the noise of a struggle invite discovery. His grip was relentless. In order to avoid the impending pressure of his lips against her own, she turned her face away and then went perfectly still, her eyes growing big with shock at the sight of her husband standing at the intersection of the two paths.

Douglas stood there, his feet planted wide, his arms folded across his broad chest, grimly watching them. “I must ask you to unhand my wife, sir,” he said. His voice was tight as though he exerted every effort to keep from bellowing, and his eyes glittered dangerously in the moonlight, bringing Mary Kate a swift, clear memory of his reaction the afternoon he had found her alone in her father’s garden with Robin MacLeod. How, she wondered, could she have forgotten that moment until now?

Gillespie’s hands fell away from her shoulders, and as he took a hasty step backward, his right hand shot for his dress sword, only to arrest itself midmotion when Douglas shook his head and said regretfully, “Do not draw your weapon, sir. I’ve no wish to spit you here in my garden with His Majesty but a hundred feet away.” He stepped aside and gestured toward the main path. “I should take it favorably, however, if you would return to the house and grant me a moment alone with my wife.”

His basilisk gaze shifted to Mary Kate and she shivered with a sudden chill. She sensed rather than heard Gillespie’s quickly indrawn breath.

“Her ladyship will not want me to abandon her to your tender mercies, Douglas,” he said grimly. “I believe we should all return together.”

“Christ’s wounds, man,” Douglas snapped, “don’t be a fool! If we return together, ’twill call attention to the matter, which is precisely what I wish to avoid.”

Gillespie hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Mary Kate. His right hand still hovered near his sword.

“Please go, sir,” she begged.

He shrugged. “Very well, my lady, since you ask it of me, but the outcome of a match between us might not be as he predicts, you know. I am accounted an excellent swordsman.” He glowered at Douglas.

“For the love of God, Gillespie, have done with these airs of false nobility and go. She is my wife. I won’t murder her.”

Mary Kate was not so certain of that and watched Gillespie’s departure with misgiving. But whether she desired to be or not, a moment later she was alone with her husband.

“What in the name of Christ do you mean, coming out here with that fellow?” he demanded before Gillespie was out of sight.

She gathered herself to meet his wrath with as much dignity as she could muster. “I made a mistake, sir.”

“You’re damned right you made a mistake,” he retorted. “Gillespie is naught but a hanger-on, a man who trades on his father’s position with the king. Indeed, were it not for his father, he would not so much as cross my threshold, for he’s a scoundrel with a reputation from here to John O’Groats, and you have no business to be private with him anywhere, madam, let alone in your own garden with Jamie himself nearby.”

He had the right of it. She knew he was right, that his reaction this time was not the result of mere borderer’s possessiveness. Nevertheless, she had to try to make him understand her reasons.

“I said I made a mistake, sir. I was angry because you were flirting, so I accepted his invitation, but I know right well that I must not make your behavior an excuse for my own. I shall avoid his company in future.” She held out her hand to him. “Please, Adam, I know it was wrong and I shan’t do it again, so can you not forgive me?”

Though he ignored her hand, the wind had gone out of the sails of his anger. His mouth opened only to shut again. Then his eyes narrowed. “You were kissing him.”

“No, I swear it. You saw!”

“Aye, I saw you,” he agreed grimly. In two strides he was upon her, his hands gripping her shoulders. “I saw that he had his arms around you, and I saw that you weren’t putting up much of a fight. But if it’s kissing you want, madam, you will have to make do with mine, for I do not share my possessions.”

With that his lips came down hard upon hers. Then his arms went around her, crushing her against him until she could scarcely breathe. She struggled briefly, but he only held her closer, and his kiss became more searching, less bruising, as his tongue probed for passage between her teeth. In nearly automatic defiance of his will, she resisted him only to suffer the hard grip of his fist in her hair. He yanked, jolting her head back, and her mouth opened involuntarily.

Mary Kate tried to tell herself that it was humiliating to be treated in such a barbarous manner, that she longed for the courage to bite him. But her knees were weak, and the feelings coursing through her would not be denied. It had been too long since she had felt his hands on her, and her body yearned for his touch. Though she feared to swoon from lack of air, something deep within her longed for him to go on doing what he was doing. She began to respond with increasing passion.

He released her.

She staggered when her knees threatened to give way but regained control of herself quickly, motivated by the searching look in his eye as he gazed down at her. She reached out to him.

“Adam?”

He relaxed then, but his tone when he spoke was grim. “Don’t try to cozen me, lass, for I am still displeased with you. Over this matter and over others as well.” Before he could continue, a door crashed open in the distance and the garden was suddenly filled with shouts and laughter. Douglas turned with a growl of frustration when familiar voices called out, demanding to know their whereabouts. “Come along,” he muttered. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

Not knowing whether to be thankful for the respite or sorry, Mary Kate went with him to meet the others, hoping her face would not betray the turmoil within her breast. A moment later, separated from Douglas by the merry searchers, she found a grinning Margaret at her side.

“Did we rescue you?”

“Not entirely.” Mary Kate sighed. She had a feeling that it would have been better for her had Douglas been able to say all he wanted to say before they were interrupted. As they made their way back to the house, she scarcely lent half an ear to Margaret’s earnest explanation that she had seen Mary Kate and Gillespie leave, followed by Douglas a moment later, and had feared the eruption of a difficult scene. She apologized for not coming outside sooner, but Mary Kate merely nodded, her attention still occupied with her own thoughts. Margaret’s next words caught her notice, however.