The Devil of Jedburgh (30 page)

“Jedburgh Abbey is firmly under my protection,” Arran assured her. “So long as the monks refrain from preaching outside the walls, Knox has agreed to ignore our existence.”

“I would feel reassured by extra precautions until this furore has passed.”

Arran nodded his consent. “I can spare a guard of ten men on rotation.” He leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. “Your Grace, I urge you to take precautions closer to home.”

“Pah… I weary of the whispered misdeeds that follow me like an unnatural shadow. My Lord Earl Bothwell has already pleaded your case. Faith, I cannot give it merit. My noble barons are well wordy, but they do not easily forget the rebellions I’ve quelled with ease.”

“They spend so much time boasting and inflating their own egos with talk of grandiose schemes,” contributed Rizzio in an irritating nasal voice, “they have none left to perform actual deeds.”

Arran glared across the queen at the Italian monkey. “I don’t recall asking your opinion.”

“Hush,” demanded the queen. “We are all friends at this table.”

“Your Grace, some threats are more imminent than others,” Arran insisted.

“I carry Scotland’s heir inside my womb.” Her hands went to her belly as her gaze narrowed on him. “I don’t underestimate the treachery my barons are capable of, but none will dare harm me or cause distress to my unborn babe. Your concerns are both appreciated and unfounded.”

Her decisive speech closed the argument. Arran knew he’d achieve nothing more and pardoned himself from the queen’s presence.

Breghan had her head turned to the man on her left and was laughing when he approached. He was pleased to find her enjoying herself. He was less pleased, however, when the man’s arm snaked around the back of her chair.

“Excuse me.” He picked the man’s arm up and dropped it aside heavily, then placed a propriety hand on Breghan’s shoulder. “I believe this one belongs to me.”

Both of them jerked around and he saw that the man was little more than a boy with soft brown eyes and softer cheeks. The boy took one look at him and tried to melt into his chair.

Arran assisted Breghan to her feet and steered her away from the table.

“You scared him witless,” she protested when they were out of hearing.

“I didna even growl,” Arran said, chuckling. “The pup should stick to suckling his mother and leave my wife alone.”

Bothwell flagged him over and they sat down to sup with the earl and his new wife, Jean Gordon. Wine and whiskey flowed freely, but although the mood grew happy and boisterous, none dared get drunk in the queen’s presence. The music became livelier and it wasn’t long before the four Marys were on their feet to start the dancing.
Belle
came over to beg Breghan and Jean to join in. The older woman waved her away with some dour comment, but Breghan didn’t hesitate.

At first, only the girls and women took to the floor in a fast-paced circle dance. Breghan’s face flushed with excitement as her skirts twirled high. The Marys were generous with their affections and included Breghan in their laughing swirls. Although the queen didn’t dance, she watched the fun eagerly and clapped along to the music.

Bothwell nudged his shoulder. “If beauty and gaiety alone could protect her, our Queen Mary would reign forever.”

“She believes she has something far more powerful,” Arran said. “Scotland’s heir.”

“We may hope.”

Arran bent his head closer for confidentiality. “I’ve had my men following Glencairn and Douglas. One of Glencairn’s servants has visited Ruthven’s townhouse twice this last week.”

“Carrying letters,” Bothwell grunted. “Christ, that old goat has been on his sickbed so long, I thought him half dead. If we want to search his room, we’ll have to knock him out cold first.”

“A more elegant method is called for,” Arran said. “I don’t want the alarm raised before the queen’s guard has orders to round up the main perpetrators.”

“Come to my rooms before you depart this evening.” Bothwell smoothed a hand over his short beard, grinning. “I have just the thing.”

Arran leaned back in his chair, content that here was finally something to act on.

The tempo changed for a slow pavane and the men standing on the sides flooded forward. The couples glided around each other, changing partners often. Arran was amused to see the
pup
had found a pair of balls and was circling Breghan, their palms brushing as they danced the steps. He spoke into her ear and she threw her head back on a laugh.

Court life suited her, he acknowledged. Breghan had a natural flair for socialising and didn’t shy from the new and unexpected. She’d already made firm friends with Helen at the castle and was now fast forming a bond with the Marys. She would never be short of admirers.

“Who is the gangly lad pawing my lady?” he asked of Broderick, not unduly concerned.

Bothwell squinted into the dancing groups. “That’s Huntly’s youngest, Alexander Gordon.”

Arran’s complacent mood turned rabid.

The partners changed again and his cold gaze followed Alexander Gordon. This was no longer some vague speculation of the life Breghan was destined for. This man, this Alexander Gordon, wasn’t simply the man of her dreams; this was the man who’d taught her to dream.

Arran’s throat went dry. The grip on his heart reached up to lock down his jaw. If he sipped on his whiskey now, he’d choke.

He knew, without a doubt, that he was looking on his successor.

Chapter Nineteen

“The butts are set up, m’lady.” Broderick handed over the sheath of arrows with his habitual grimace. “If that’s all, I’ll get back to my duties.”

Breghan was in no mood to be thwarted. She winked at Janet and Helen over her shoulder before declaring, “Unfortunately, none of us have handled a bow before.”

“You wish me to instruct you?”

She clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, would you?”

“No,” he returned flatly. “I’m busy.”

“Too busy to spare an hour for a lesson that may well save our lives one day?”

“I assure you, m’lady, you’ll never need to defend yourself and certainly not with a bow and arrow.”

She delivered the winning blow with a smile. “You never know when some lout will mistake me for a boar again.”

“Mary and Joseph!” His frown deepened to a black scowl. He took back the sheath and slung it over one shoulder. “Less than a fortnight at court and you’ve already mastered the art of blackmail.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasna a compliment.”

“Well, really.” She drew back her hand and aimed a fisted punch. The bear of a man was solid from head to toe. The belly, she decided, and I’ll have to make it look good. She landed the punch with all her strength to find her soft target anything but. Her knuckles cracked on hard muscle and pain exploded up her arm. She jumped back, cradling her hand. “Good God, did you have rocks for breakfast?”

“What the hell did you do that for? Give here, let me see.”

“You insulted me.” She flexed her fingers gingerly but kept her hand to herself.
I should have gone with twisting my ankle!
“I won’t be able to grasp the bow now.”

“Thank the lord for small mercies.” He turned to go, shaking his head and grumbling beneath his breath.

“There’s no reason Janet and Helen shouldn’t enjoy your lesson,” she said quickly, stepping behind the two women.

He brought his scowling gaze around to the plump blonde wife of Thomas Boyd.

Helen threw her hands up in surrender. “I don’t believe in exhausting sports.” She fell back and pulled Breghan with her. “We’ll learn all we need to know from a safe distance.”

They were seated on the stone bench across the courtyard before either Broderick or Janet could protest.

“Your matchmaking skills leave much to be desired,” Helen mused.

Watching Broderick fold his arms around Janet from behind to show her how to hold the bow, Breghan could only smile. “Everything looks perfectly fine to me.”

“For them.” Helen laughingly pointed out. “You, on the other hand, have bruised knuckles and by evening word will have spread that I’m a lazy dumpling.”

Breghan joined in the laughter. “Come riding with me tomorrow. A hard gallop through the queen’s hunting forest will do wonders for your ruined reputation.”

“There are far more pleasurable ways to take exercise. Speaking of which…” Helen indicated with her chin. “I’ll wager that handsome buck isn’t tripping over his own feet in his haste to see me.”

Breghan jumped up with a welcoming smile as she recognised Alexander. Of late, it seemed as if distractions had become as necessary to her survival as breathing air. And if they didn’t come to her, she made them up from scratch. Her gaze rested on Janet and Broderick for a moment.

“I’ll keep a beady eye on your pair of doves,” Helen said. “If the big one tries to fly off, I’ll turn
Mons Meg
on him.”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and swept away to meet Alexander. He cut a figure of fine elegance in formal court attire, his doublet striped in violet and striking gold and barely covering the top of his slender thighs.

“I hope you don’t find me too presumptuous,” he said, bringing her hand up to his lips for a brushing kiss. “I couldn’t stay away after seeing you last night.”

“That was a lovely surprise,” she agreed, sliding her hand from his and steering them toward Helen. “Do you know, last night was my first royal banquet?”

“It could be the first of many.” He took her hand again, halting her progress. Something urgent, desperate, crept into his tone. “Let’s take a stroll. Just the two of us.”

The last time he’d said that to her, they’d ended up beneath the summer canopy of Donague’s orchard with Alexander worshipping her upon his lute. No lute in sight today, but a part Breghan wondered if she was wrong, if her heart could still be fixed. If she could recapture that moment in time when all was simple, when her future stretched before her on a path branched with endless possibilities…perhaps then she could begin to imagine a life without Arran and reclaim the dreams he’d chased away.

Before she could think too hard on what she was doing, she took Alexander through the short passage onto the east battlement walk. The late afternoon cast long shadows from the craggy mound of Arthur’s Seat. She rested her arms over the low wall and gazed out upon the sweeping dale of stubborn bush and new spring grass.

“I was up all night,” he began. “I’d almost forgotten how to miss you until you stepped back into my life.”

“I’ve thought on you often too.” She turned to look into his warm brown eyes. Eyes that would never deepen to slate with passion or darken with rage. She’d once planned her entire future on his gentle temperament.

He reached up to gather her single braid in one hand.
“The raven and his spread of blacken wings haunt the silken sky. By night a spread to fold and warm his soaring heart.”

He pulled the ribbon from her braid as he recited. She should have stopped him, certainly before he’d unravelled half the length, but Breghan was too caught up in another turmoil. She knew immediately that Alexander had composed these words for her, perhaps last night when he couldn’t sleep. Yet all she could think of was a devil and a black soul devoid of poetry. Why couldn’t her heart recognise that standing before her, right now, was the man who’d love and cherish her?

“The bracken and his blanket of softened down shield the desolate land. By winter a blanket to fold and warm his frozen heart.”

“Alexander, stop.” She hadn’t been wrong. The only future stretching before her was counting down the days to complete and utter heartbreak.

“After your father sent me away, I thought I’d never be given another chance.” He stroked her cheek with tentative fingers, barely touching skin. “I will not waste this one.”

She’d give her life up many times over to hear those words from Arran.
Papa would never have sent Arran Kerr away to begin with.
Breghan shifted out of reach, more uneasy with her thoughts than Alexander.

“This isn’t your chance to waste.” She softened her words with a smile. This was her mistake, not his. “I’m not free.”

“You’re only handfasted to the Kerr. You can end it whenever you please.”

“No.” She blinked away a silly tear. She was a fool and a coward, hanging on until Arran shoved her out the door. “No, I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, my love. Arran Kerr is more deranged animal than man, of course you’d be afraid to earn his wrath.” He took her hands in his and leaned in. “I’ll wait for you, Breghan, I’ll fight for you if need be.”

That image was enough to terrify her tears away. “You’ll do neither.”

Suddenly her hands were free and his palms were cupped to her cheeks.
“The lover and his chalice of everlasting ardour spill from the heavens. My heart is laid bare for my love to fold and warm.”

“Don’t,” she pleaded. “Arran is my husband and I love—”
Him.
Alexander’s mouth was on hers, his lips demanding more than she could ever yield.

Breghan first went rigid, then collected her wits and tried to brush him off her. Alexander resisted only for a moment before releasing her.

A moment far too late.

Arran’s face masked nothing as his long strides ate up the battlement walk. He’d passed beyond fury and onto cold-blooded murder. Not even the day’s growth of beard could hide the white strain at his jaw.

Heat flared to the back of her eyes on a crest of nausea.
Dear God, if I pass out now, he’ll kill Alexander.
She managed to push in front of Alexander. Her heart raced, the beat pounding at her temples, but her barrier proved useless as a defence. In a flow of movements that was over almost before it had begun, Arran held her out of harm’s way while he delivered a crunching blow. Alexander collapsed with the side of his face squashed to the ground, the amount of blood spurting from his nose so excessive, it trickled between the flagged stones.

“Arran, please, he’s no match for you.” Her voice was hoarse from fear of what he might do.

Arran’s grip locked her to his side as he took one step closer to bend over the fallen man. “The bastard fainted.”