This Heart of Mine (15 page)

Struggling to stand on her own again, she nodded silently at him. It was not necessary to say anything, for he could see her eyes had darkened with her awakening passion. She took several deep breaths that seemed to clear her befuddled brain.

Noting that she was regaining her equilibrium, Alex said calmly, “When you are ready, I shall escort you back to the festivities, Velvet.”

Finally she managed to find her voice again. “Is it always like that?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“So …” She struggled for the correct word. “So tempestuous!”

He was charmed by her honesty. “I cannot say what a female feels, Velvet, but for me our kiss was tempestuous also. You are a very sweet lass.” Then, taking her hand, he began to draw her back through the gardens to where the others were still dancing.

“Will you want to kiss me again?” she surprised him by asking.

He stopped and, taking her by the shoulders, looked down at her, somewhat concerned. “Yes, I will kiss you again, Velvet, but you must promise me something in return.”

“What?”

“I would prefer that you did not go about asking other gentlemen to kiss you also.”

“Do you fear for my reputation, my lord, or is it that I am not expert enough in kissing yet?” she demanded saucily.

“Both.” He grinned, amused by her pertness.

Velvet chuckled. “I like you, Alexander Gordon,” she said. “Will you be my friend as well as Robin’s?”

“Aye, lassie, I’ll be your friend.” He felt warmth suffuse through him at her words. Robin had been right in making him wait. Velvet liked him! Soon he would teach her to love him.

“I’ll kiss no one else but you, Alex,” she said softly. “At least not until I’m good at this kissing,” she amended with a laugh.

Alex noted that Robert Devereux eyed him somewhat jealously as they returned to the gathering. The Earl of Essex saw with rising irritation that Velvet’s cheeks were pinker than normal and that her mouth had a sudden lushness about it. Moving next to Lord Gordon, he murmured in a low voice, “You know that the queen frowns upon those who trifle with her ladies, my lord. Besides, the girl is betrothed.”

“I am aware of all that, my lord earl,” was Alex’s calm reply. “Remember, I am a friend of Velvet’s brother, and I would not strain that friendship by harming his sister. The lass is safe in my company.”

“God’s foot!” exploded Velvet. “You are worse than a parent, Scamp. Considering your own reputation with the ladies, this constant defense of my virtue becomes burdensome! I came to court to have some fun before I must settle down and become an old married woman! I will have no more of this watchdogging from you!”

“I only seek to protect you from those who would despoil your character and reputation,” said Essex sulkily.

Velvet instantly felt contrite since she knew that the man she called Scamp, one of England’s most powerful courtiers, was a true and good friend to her.

“I know that,” she said, “but sometimes you are overly diligent, dear Scamp. Lord Gordon is to me as you and Wat are. He is my friend, and I am glad of it.” She put her hand on Essex’s arm. “Come now and let us find some refreshment. I am being a bad hostess, and Robin will be most put out with me.”

Essex, immediately restored to his good humor by her gentle wheedling, allowed himself to be led off.

Walter Ralegh smiled at Alexander Gordon. “She is a most winning maid, isn’t she, my lord earl?”

Alex stiffened. “Sir,” he began, “I think you mistake me for someone else.”

“Nay,” replied Ralegh. “I have a memory for name and titles. You are the Earl of BrocCairn, Velvet’s betrothed husband, and she doesn’t know it, does she?”

Since denial would have been useless, Alex simply replied, “Nay, she does not. Her brother and I felt it would make things easier if we could become friends without the strain of our betrothal standing between us.”

Ralegh nodded. “She had never met you, then?”

“She was five the last time I saw her.”

Ralegh stared. “In ten years’ time you have not seen the girl? I realize that you live in the north, Lord Gordon, but don’t you think in all those years you could have spared some time to see Velvet? Now I understand her reluctance.”

Alex flushed. “I spend a great deal of time in France and Italy; and then there were small errands to perform for my king; and my father needed me. The time seemed to slip by so quickly. My father’s dying wish was that I marry Velvet and perpetuate our family.”

“So,” remarked Walter Ralegh dryly, “good son that you were, you hurried to do your father’s bidding without so much as a thought for the maid’s feelings in the matter. You’ve not a great deal of tact about you, have you my lord?”

“Nay.” Alex grinned somewhat ruefully. “Robin has taken me greatly to task about it. I’m afraid I allowed my grief for my father to rule my common sense when I sent the message south demanding my bride. Now I shall have to work all the harder to win Velvet over before I dare to tell her who I am.”

“I’m going to reveal your identity to the queen,” Sir Walter said. “In order to woo Velvet, you will need her cooperation. She guards her maids jealously, but if she knows that your suit is an honorable one, and that you have the right, she will subtly aid you. You can have no better friend than Elizabeth Tudor, nor a worse enemy.”

“What of Essex?”

“Robert Devereux is a young hothead,” Ralegh said quietly. “Normally he and I have little to do with one another. There is no need for him to know who you really are, Lord Gordon. He could easily in a temper give you away and cause damage without meaning to do so. Robert is not deliberately thoughtless, but he is thoughtless nonetheless. Let me go and speak to the queen now, and then with her permission I shall introduce you to Her Majesty.” Walter Ralegh moved off, and Alex went to find his host.

Ralegh slipped easily into the circle about the queen, working his way cautiously through the press until he was next to her. The queen was listening to a rather clever story being told by one of her favorite young men, Anthony Bacon, but, as always, she saw everything that went on about her. Quietly she slipped her arm through Ralegh’s and gave him a smile without ever turning her attention from young Bacon.

“I need a moment in private,” he said softly in her ear, and she nodded her assent.

When the storyteller had done with his tale, which was greeted with pleased laughter, the queen began to move off through the gardens still holding Ralegh’s arm. Behind her the gentlemen followed until she turned and said coquettishly, “Keep your distance, sirs, for I wish to be alone with my Water.” Then she walked on, the disappointed courtiers now well behind them and out of hearing.

“Thank you, madame,” Sir Walter said.

“What is it you would beg of me this time, sir? I often ask
myself if you will ever stop being the beggar,” the queen teased him.

“I shall stop being a beggar when you stop being so generous, madame,” he quickly riposted, and the queen laughed heartily.

“God’s nightshirt, Wat-er, you are quick!” Then she grew serious again. “ ’Tis not the Spanish threat, is it? Dear God, not another plot!”

“Nay, dearest lady,” he hastened to reassure her. “What I have to tell you is a love story in which Your Majesty could play an important role toward arranging a happily-ever-after ending for the lovers involved.” Then Ralegh explained the situation between Velvet and the Earl of BrocCairn, being very careful to ensure that the queen did not suspect that Velvet had begged for her position as a Maid of Honor only to escape Alex.

As he spoke, Elizabeth Tudor’s face softened. She had grown extremely fond of Velvet in the few weeks she had known her. The child was bright, amusing, and generally loveable without being one of those sickly sweet misses who annoyed her so. The queen could understand Velvet’s fright at being told that a stranger was coming to wed her and carry her off, especially with her beloved parents half a world away. She was young and eager for the joy of living, and she should have some pleasures before settling to become a man’s charge for the rest of her life.

The queen knew that her own lot and the fates of the few independent women in her realm were rare. Most women belonged to their fathers until they were wed, and afterwards they belonged to their husbands. Elizabeth Tudor knew better than most what a man’s power over a woman could be. She had seen her father destroy so many women. Only two of her stepmothers, Anne of Cleves and Catherine Parr had escaped Henry Tudor. The princess of Cleves had willingly agreed to a divorce, and thus avoided the fate of Elizabeth’s own mother, Anne Boleyn. Queen Catherine Parr had only avoided an unhappy end by outliving Henry Tudor. Yes, Elizabeth understood well a woman’s position in relation to the men of this world.

Still, as represented by Ralegh, the Earl of BrocCairn did not appear to be a bad fellow, and Velvet was eventually going to have to marry him. The betrothal was a firm agreement made many years prior and approved by Lord and Lady de Marisco. That the Scots earl had come to London to woo Velvet greatly weighed in his favor with the queen. There was,
however, no reason why he could not wait until her parents returned to wed the bride. It would allow Velvet her interval at court while at the same time preserving the legalities of the situation, and that seemed a good solution to the queen.

“Let me meet this gentleman, Wat-er.” The queen loved giving the broad Devonshire accent to Walter Ralegh’s name. She called most of those close to her by pet names. Leicester was her
Eyes;
Hatton,
Lids;
Cecil,
Spirit.

“I will fetch him directly to Your Majesty!”

“Nay, send one of the others. You stay with me,” she commanded.

Ralegh turned to the other gentlemen who were following at a discreet distance. “Bacon,” he called, “the queen requests that you fetch Lord Gordon. He is the Earl of Lynmouth’s houseguest. A rather tall fellow with a craggy face.”

“An interesting description,” observed the queen. “Is he then so rocklike, this Scotsman?”

“He has a rather handsome face that appears to have been carved from the granite of the Highlands itself,” replied Ralegh. “I’ve not a doubt the ladies of the court will all vie for his favor.”

“Hmm,” said Elizabeth Tudor.

“He knows nothing of fashion, however,” Ralegh continued. “His garb is woefully plain.”

The queen chuckled, then stepped back to let her eyes play over Sir Walter Ralegh’s peacockish finery. His doublet was embroidered in so many gold beads, pearls, and topazes that the queen could barely see any fabric. Ralegh was indeed the fashion plate of her court, and it was said he would have made his tailor a wealthy man by now if only he would pay his bills.

“Wat-er,” she said, “there is no one ever come to my court who could hold a candle to you for style. I doubt not your earl will well suit me, however, and all the shameless jades of my court, too. They will be mightily disappointed to find his attention is for my godchild, Velvet, alone.”

They chatted lightly for the next few minutes with all the familiarity of old and good friends. Then suddenly the queen’s attention was taken by the sight of Anthony Bacon returning in the company of a wonderfully attractive gentleman. The Scots earl, she thought, and had a moment’s regret that she was not a simple maid like Velvet. How nice to be courted seriously for one’s self. Bacon and his companion reached her, and Elizabeth Tudor shook off her self-pity to assess frankly the young man.

Her gaze was direct and frank, and she liked what she saw.

She was not impressed by his outward good looks, but rather by what she glimpsed in his serious amber eyes. There she saw steadiness, loyalty, and reliability. His big hands with their elegant, long fingers were the strong hands of a horseman, not of some soft fop. What she liked best, however, was the fact that he met her piercing gaze without flinching. Elizabeth Tudor instinctively trusted a man who could look her in the eye, and few could, or dared.

“Madame,” said Ralegh, “may I present to you the Earl of BrocCairn, Alexander Gordon, the gentleman of whom I spoke.”

“You are welcome to my court, my lord,” said the queen quietly. “How is it with my young cousin, James of Scotland?”

“I cannot give you a firsthand account, madame,” said Alex, “for I choose not to frequent the Stewart court. My family’s business interests keep me at
Dun Broc
or in Aberdeen, but I have heard that the king is well.” So this was the woman who had ordered Mary Stewart’s death, thought Alex. How different the two women were, though he had never met the late Scots queen. His opinion stemmed only from what his father had told him.

Angus Gordon had been intensely loyal to his half sister, Mary Stewart, but he had thought her rash, a woman ruled by her emotions, not her intellect. When he had learned of her death just before his own, he had shaken his head wearily, saying, “It was bound to come to this in the end—but hold no grudges against England’s queen, Alex, my son. Scotland will be the final victor, for ’tis Mary’s son who will one day rule England.”

Now, as Alex mouthed civilized words to Elizabeth Tudor, he realized that he harbored no ill feelings toward her. Rather he sensed a magnificent intelligence and a sharp wit housed within her frail body, and he knew he was going to like her very much.

The queen took his arm and they began to walk along a torchlit path. “Tell me, when were you betrothed to my godchild, my lord?” she said quietly.

“It was the summer of her fifth year, madame. I came with my late father down from
Dun Broc
to
Queen’s Malvern.
My father and Adam de Marisco had been boyhood friends in France. It was their hope that this marriage would unite our families. When my father passed away, I found myself the sole surviving male in my family, and I realized that I must marry at once. I sent word to Lord de Marisco, but he was
away. Lord Bliss opened my message and informed Velvet of her impending marriage. I’m afraid she was most put out.”

The queen chuckled. “And fled to me,” she remarked wryly.

“Aye, she fled me,” he admitted. “I must admit to feeling extremely chagrined by her conduct, madame, and I can assure you that she has dealt my pride a hard blow. Nonetheless, I believe if Velvet could learn to know me, perhaps she would not fear our marriage so greatly. I do want her to be happy, madame.”