The Magnificent Rogue (2 page)

Fear ripped through her. He must not take Caird away from her. She could bear anything but that. “No! The lady said I could do it. You said the lady wants me to ride well.”

“Hush! You see what impertinence these indulgences breed?”

“She is being troublesome?” Martha stood in the doorway. “Did I not tell you she was getting worse?” She crossed the room and handed Sebastian the small whip she carried. “If you would let me use this on her at my own discretion; she would soon be properly schooled.”

He shook his head. “How many times must I tell you? It is my duty alone. You may go back to bed.”

She looked at him, surprised. “You do not wish me to stay and bear witness?”

“You may go,” he repeated.

Kate was as surprised as the woman. Her punishment was usually performed as a ritual ceremony with the woman digesting every facet of Kate’s pain with supreme satisfaction.

“I want to stay,” Martha protested. “Why make me leave?”

“It has come to my attention that you enjoy her suffering too much. We do not scourge her body for our pleasure, but to purify her soul.”

A flush mottled his wife’s cheeks. “I admit I have no liking for this strumpet’s-leavings but you have no call to shut me away.”

“It is my duty to protect as well as chasten her.”

The color deepened with anger. “You lie to yourself,” she hissed. “Do you think I don’t know? That I haven’t seen how you look at her now? I did not want
to believe it, but you are—” She broke off as Sebastian’s gaze burned.

Kate knew that look that seemed to devour everything in its path, but she had never seen it turned on Martha before.

“What am I?” he prodded with soft menace.

Martha moistened her lips. “Nothing. Nothing. Satan twisted my tongue.” She hurried from the chamber.

Sebastian turned back to Kate. “It is time.”

She knew what was coming. Her hands nervously clenched the sheet. During the confrontation with his wife there was a chance he might have forgotten about Caird. She must make sure his attention remained on the offense and not what he thought caused it. “It was only a dream,” she whispered.

“The dream is a sin. Can you not see how it leads you to willfulness?” He stepped away from the bed. “Go position yourself.”

She stood up and moved toward the whipping stool across the room. It would be over soon. He was always careful not to leave scars, and he seldom gave her more than a taste of the whip for such a small infraction. If she feigned remorse … Sweet heaven, the thought of groveling stuck in her throat. Still she would not only show remorse but beg him on her knees to keep Caird and the little parcel of freedom permitted her.

“Bare your back.”

She quickly slipped her gown from her shoulders and let it fall to her waist as she knelt beside the stool. She could feel the cold floorboards through the thin cotton of her gown. She spread out her arms as he had taught her from childhood and waited for the first blow.

It did not come.

She glanced over her shoulder. He stood there with the whip in his hand, his gaze on her back. His cheeks
were curiously flushed; his hand loosened and tightened on the whip in an odd rhythmic movement.

“How easily you shed your clothing. Are you completely lost to shame?” he asked hoarsely. “Is that how you behaved in your dream?”

She stared at him in bewilderment. He had never found fault with her in this way before. “I told you … the dreams are never like that.” Why did he not start? She wanted it over. Trying to keep the impatience from her tone, she said, “You told me to ready myself. I only obeyed.”

“With no modesty or decorum.” His gaze was fixed on the hollow of her spine where it joined the soft swelling of her buttocks. “I have noticed how you flaunt yourself of late. I feared it would come to this as childhood left you. The bad blood is too strong for you to fight. You must try to tempt every man who comes near you.”

“No!”

“Yes.” His lips tightened as if he were in pain. “I have seen how you look at men beneath your lashes and smile with that pouty whore’s mouth. I know that smile. I have watched her passing through this village, weaving her magic for nearly twenty years. Did you think I would not recognize the signs?”

“I’m not her. I’m not my mother.” Her voice shook with anger. “I’m me. I swear I have no wish to tempt any man. I only want to be left alone.”

“You lie. All strumpets lie,” he hissed. “Even in your sleep you dream of sin. Admit it.”

“I do not dream of—” Her hands clenched into fists. “Please do it and get it over with.”

“So that you can go back to sleep and lose yourself in lust?” He drew his arm back to strike. “For the good of your soul I must make sure you are not able to indulge yourself this night.”

Fire touched her back as the lash struck.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“And I think we will have to rid you of that stallion.”

“No!” She screamed at his words as she had not at the lash.

Another blow.

She desperately tried to think through the haze of pain.

The lady. If Sebastian feared anything in the world, it was the wrath of the lady. “The lady will not … like it. She will—”

“It is not always wise to tell the lady everything. The horse is old. He will fall ill and die.” The lash struck again. “We will merely neglect to get you another.”

Sickness moved through her. “You would kill him?”

“What is the life of a beast when it comes to saving a soul? I should have gotten rid of him when you fled three months ago.”

The lash struck again.

And again.

And then again.

She had never seen him in such a frenzy. She did not know how many times the lash fell before the blows finally ceased.

She was barely clinging to awareness when he picked her up and carried her to bed. He laid her down with great gentleness. “Now you will sleep well,” he murmured. “Though you should not have forced me to chastise you so severely.”

“Please … not Caird …”

“We will talk tomorrow about the horse.” He tucked the covers around her. “And then you will watch the act and know it is done only for your sake.”

The devil she would. Her nails dug into her palms beneath the covers. She loved Caird. He was the only thing in the world she cared about, and she would not
let him be destroyed. She would master this weakness and fight again.

He picked up the candle and moved toward the door. “Good night, Kathryn.”

The door had scarcely closed behind him when she threw off the covers and staggered to her feet.

She could not let him kill Caird. Not Caird …

Greenwich Palace

   “Black Robert …” the queen murmured. “You have him? You’re sure, Percy?”

“Quite sure, Your Majesty,” Percy Montgrave said. “I could hardly be more certain. I have two dead men and one wounded to testify to the fact. The earl of Craighdhu is awaiting your pleasure in the Tower.”

“Excellent.” Elizabeth’s beringed hand slapped down on the arm of her chair. “Though God knows it took you long enough. I told you I wanted him six months ago.” Her gaze went to the document on the desk across the room. “It’s very nearly too late.”

Percy’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. The entire court knew how distraught Elizabeth was about the contents of that order, but as far as he could determine, that order had nothing to do with the earl. “He’s not an overly obliging gentleman. For a while I wasn’t sure if the Spaniards would get him before he returned to Scotland.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “He’s too clever for them. You took him at Craighdhu?”

Percy shook his head. “Edinburgh. Craighdhu would have been impossible. Those barbarian clansmen of his would not have been amenable to seeing their chief in chains. His Majesty, your kinsman James, however,
was all too eager to turn a blind eye while I removed an irritating thorn from his side.”

“How impossible?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How impossible is it to break Craighdhu’s defenses?”

“Perhaps not entirely impossible.” His lips twisted. “If attacked by a fleet the size of the armada Philip of Spain is building to put to sea against Your Majesty.”

“That strong …” The news did not seem to displease the Queen. “No weakness?”

“Craighdhu is an island off the western coast of Scotland. I understand it’s a barren, dark place of mountains and mists. The castle is well fortified and has only one harbor that can be broached from the sea. That port is extremely well guarded.” He paused. “May I ask if there’s a reason why we should be concerned about the strength of his lordship’s holdings?”

Elizabeth didn’t appear to hear him. “What manner of man is he?”

“Deadly.”

She waved an impatient hand. “I have no problem with that. A man who is lacking in dangerous qualities is no man at all. What other impressions can you give me?”

God’s blood, what did she want from him now? More than a year ago she had demanded and received the most detailed report on the scoundrel he had ever compiled for her. He had been ordered to bring her many such secret reports on various gentlemen during the past three years, but something about the earl of Craighdhu had caught her interest. He could not understand her obsession with this Scot. Robert MacDarren held no power in James’s court in Scotland, nor in Elizabeth’s in England. Of course, the possibility existed that his pirating of Spanish ships had won her approval. Elizabeth had always expressed a fondness toward
her buccaneers, but Robert MacDarren did not fly under her flag.

“Well?” she prompted.

He tried to ignore his own dislike of the fellow and give her what she wanted. “Intelligent.”

“Brilliant,” she corrected.

He inclined his head. “Perhaps.”

“Don’t quibble. He took four of Philip’s galleons in six months.”

“Which may mean he has excellent warrior instincts. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s—”

“Brilliant,” she reiterated.

“May I remind Your Majesty, he also took one of your ships?”

“I believe he had a purpose in that.”

“Gold.”

She gazed at him thoughtfully. “He’s raised your hackles. You bristle when you speak of him. Why?”

Percy hesitated. “He … annoys me.”

She was silent, waiting.

“I do not like these wild Highlanders.”

“Particularly
this
wild Highlander?”

“He’s nothing but an outlandish rogue,” he burst out. “He has the tongue of a viper, no respect for any authority but his own, and … he laughs too much.”

She raised her brow. “Laughs?”

“He finds humor in the most inappropriate subjects.”

“Such as?”

He was not about to confess how MacDarren had mocked the turned-up toes of his fashionable puce-colored shoes. “Anything that is out of his realm of barbarism,” he said tartly.

“Why won’t you …” She trailed off, studying him for a moment, her gaze traveling from his scarlet-feathered velvet cap to the white doublet puffed to almost feminine fullness at his hips and then down to his
fine purple hose and silver-embroidered garters. She suddenly chuckled. “He made fun of your attire?”

He flushed. Elizabeth’s instinct was uncanny, and she never hesitated to tear aside barriers best left intact. “I did not say that.”

“But a brilliant man who has been left without weapons would probe until he found a suitable one.”

“Are you saying you find my attire—”

“Entirely suitable,” she said soothingly. “You’re the envy of all my courtiers, and I like a bit of gaud. But as you say, a man of MacDarren’s barbarian upbringing would not appreciate the niceties of court dress.” She changed the subject. “He was alone when you took him?”

“A chief of a clan is seldom alone. The clan demands a henchman to accompany the chief at all times for his protection. We were forced to take his cousin, Gavin Gordon, as well.” He shrugged. “The man was surprisingly inadequate at his duty. My captain of the guard said it was MacDarren who was forced to protect both himself and the henchman. Gordon was wounded in the fray.”

“But he lives?”

“He lost a good deal of blood, but he’s on the mend.”

“Good. We may be able to use him.”

“For what?”

“Even rogues have loyalties, and from what you’ve reported, the earl is prone to be as extravagant with his friends as he is with his enemies.” She stood up with a flurry of amber velvet skirts and adjusted the stiff pleated ruff that framed her throat. “As we shall soon see. Let’s get to it. You shall accompany me to the Tower.”

“Now?” His eyes widened in surprise. “But it is nearly midnight, Your Majesty.”

“All the better. I do not want my visit to be
shouted from every street corner in London. Go tell them to summon my barge.”

“Would not tomorrow do as well?”

“No, it would not,” she snapped. “Thanks to your laggardness, time has almost run out. Do as I bade you.”

Percy’s lids lowered to hide his anger. By God, it went against the grain to stand here and take her abuse. Queen or not, she was only a woman, and her behavior in this matter went entirely beyond the bounds of reason. First, he had been insulted by that impudent rogue, and now he was being accused of laggardness. What was he supposed to have done? Gone sailing after that barbarian while he raided Spanish galleons?

He took a deep breath and then said through clenched teeth, “Immediately, Your Majesty.” He bowed low and backed from the room.

By all that was holy, the man was growing pompous. Elizabeth watched the door close behind Percy before she strolled over to the window to stare out into the darkness. But though a fop and a trifle above his station, Percy was evidently no fool. He had gotten her MacDarren!

She glanced back at the document on her desk and felt the muscles in her back and shoulders tense. It was there, waiting for her signature. Dear God, was there no way out?

She knew the answer.

But she did not have to face it yet. In spite of the pleadings of those bloodthirsty leeches in Parliament, she would not give in.

Not yet.

Not before she set her plans in motion.

How had it come to this? she thought wearily. She had only wished to protect and guard, but lies had a habit of begetting lies until the entire world seemed webbed with falsehood.