Bedazzled

by Bertrice Small

  It was to this beautiful villa with its gardens that Catriona Leslie had come to marry Francis Stewart-Hepburn. It was from this place that she had been kidnapped, and taken into slavery in the Ottoman Empire. But Francis Stewart-Hepburn would not be denied the great love of his life, and, discovering where his wife had been taken, came to rescue her. He had, as he later told her, crossed three seas and two straits to find her. They had not returned to Villa del Pesce d’Oro, for Lady Stewart-Hepburn had been badly traumatized by her adventure. They had instead gone to another villa in the hills above Rome, Villa Mia.

  In the next few years, as the shock of her sojourn had eased and finally faded almost away, they had taken to going to the Neapolitan villa each summer, and remaining into the autumn when they would return to Villa Mia. Lord Bothwell had loved the warmth and the sunshine of Naples. He had been buried there, except for his heart which was taken from his chest upon his death and placed in a carved oak box which was then placed into a decorated silver reliquary, and rested on a table by his wife’s bed. It traveled with her. It would be buried with her when she died.

  The gates to the villa were opened by a smiling gatekeeper. The door to the house was opened by a craggy-faced Scot in a kilt.

  “Aye?” the grizzled fellow growled.

  “I am Captain Thomas Southwood, of the O’Malley-Small trading ship, the Royal Charles. I should like to see Lady Stewart-Hepburn.”

  “And what is yer business, Captain?” the doorkeeper demanded.

  “My business is private, fellow, and not to be discussed with servants,” Thomas Southwood replied stiffly.

  “Now dinna get yer breeches in a twist, Captain,” the Scot said, “but nae one gets into this house wiout my knowing their business. I promised my lord on his deathbed that I would watch over her ladyship, and ’twas nae a promise made lightly.”

  “I am a son of the earl of Lynmouth, uncle to the duchess of Glenkirk,” Thomas Southwood answered. “ ’Tis family business I have come about. Now, are you satisfied, and will you let me in?”

  “Aye, come in then, and I’ll take ye to her ladyship,” the Scot said calmly. He turned, and led the way into a bright salon overlooking the colorful gardens of the villa, now a riot of bloom. “Captain Thomas Southwood, m’lady,” he announced.

  Catriona Stewart-Hepburn had been sitting at an embroidery frame by the open windows. She arose now, and he saw she had the same elegance that his late grandmother had possessed.

  “My lady,” he said, bowing over the outstretched hand.

  “Southwood. Are you related to the earl of Lynmouth, sir?” she asked him.

  “Robert Southwood is my father,” he replied.

  “How kind of you to visit me,” she told him. “I do not often have visitors from the north. Do you bring messages from my family?”

  “I’ve brought your granddaughter, Lady India Lindley,” he announced, smiling at the look of astonishment that crossed her face.

  “India! Oh, thank God! Jemmie and Jasmine have been so worried! Where did you find her? Is she all right? Where did she disappear to?” She sat down heavily, waving him into a chair.

  “India will tell you everything you need to know in detail, my lady, but I will tell you briefly. Almost a year ago, Adrian Leigh, Viscount Twyford, convinced India to elope with him. Neither my cousin, Jasmine, nor her husband, approved of this young man. With great foresight India had him book them passage out of England upon one of our ships, and she came aboard disguised. Her masquerade was fortunately discovered, and I took her in my charge immediately, putting her rash young swain into custody. Shortly afterward we were taken into captivity by a Barbary corsair. I advised my crew to accept Islam, which most of them did, thus avoiding service in the galleys. We were brought to El Sinut, and led before its dey, Caynan Reis.

  “Because ours was the first round ship they had ever captured, and because I had accepted Islam, I was first sent back out to sea with the janissary agha of El Sinut as his navigator. When it was at last decided that I could be trusted, I was assigned the task of teaching the dey’s seamen how to sail my ship. I planned our escape for months, and at last three nights ago I accomplished our flight, rescuing India so she might go with me, along with the little Scots lass who is her servant.”

  Catriona Stewart-Hepburn knew the answer to the question she now asked. “What happened to India when you arrived in El Sinut?”

  “The dey fancied her, and she was taken into his harem,” was the answer, as she had expected.

  “Ahhh, the poor child,” Lady Stewart-Hepburn said, remembering her own sensual captivity, and the trauma she suffered for several years after her husband rescued her. “How is she, sir? When may I see her?”

  “She’s mad as hell, madame, for she fancies herself in love with the dey. I had to knock her unconscious to get her to safety. As to seeing her, I would very much appreciate it if you would take the troublesome wench off my hands, and see to the task of getting her back to Scotland or England, and into her parents’ charge again.”

  “She is aboard your vessel?”

  “Aye, madame, she is,” he answered.

  “I shall send my Conall down to the harbor to fetch them,” Lady Stewart-Hepburn said. “Does she have much luggage?”

  “Madame, I carried her unconscious over a fifteen-foot-high wall in the clothing she wore,” Thomas Southwood said.

  “Where was the dey?”

  “Hunting in the mountains with the janissary agha, or I should have never attempted such an escape,” he replied honestly.

  “Stay with me for a few days,” the older woman said. “Both you and your men could surely use the rest after your great adventure.”

  “I thank you, madame, but we must put to sea again as soon as possible, and direct our efforts to getting home to England.”

  “If you sail west, Captain, you certainly risk being recaptured again,” she said in very practical tones. “I think if I were planning to foil my enemy, I should remain in Naples for a few days, take on a cargo, and sail east to Istanbul. By the time you return west again, the dey and his minions will have tired of the chase, and you will have a profit for your trouble.” She smiled at him, and her leaf-green eyes twinkled.

  “Your legend, madame, does not do you justice,” he said.

  “Please,” she said, “would you go to the door, and tell Conall to fetch Lady India and her servant from your ship. He is standing on the other side of the panel attempting to hear what is being said, but his hearing is not as good as it once was, I fear.”

  The door snapped open, and the Scotsman said in glowering tones, “I hear well enough, my lady. Ye need nae insult me, and me so faithful to ye. What is yer ship called, Captain?”

  “The Royal Charles, but right now it’s got itself a Turkish name on her sides and stern in those wiggly scroll-like lines they call letters. The harbormaster can tell you where we’re moored, and arrange for my longboat to take you out to fetch my cousin. I thank you, Conall.”

  The kilted Scotsman stamped from the room even as his mistress was pouring two exquisite crystal goblets of deep red wine. She handed Thomas Southwood one of the goblets. “Wine, sir?”

  The captain took the liquid gratefully, eyed its beautiful ruby color, and sniffed its fragrant bouquet. A look of delight passed over his face. “ ’Tis Archambault wine, madame! From my grandmother’s family estates in France. God! I have dreamed of this wine all those long months in captivity while I quenched my thirst with water, mint tea, sweet sherbets, and that damnably thick Turkish coffee.” He took a sip, and then another, and then drank the entire goblet down before her eyes. “Ahhhh, that was good! Do you know, when they captured my ship, they threw an entire cargo of sherry overboard?”

  She refilled his glass, laughing.

  “All those barrels floating in the sea,” he said mournfully, and began to sip at his goblet once again.

  Conall More-Leslie fetched his mistress’s carriage and driver. Then, mounting hi
s horse, he led the way to the harbor, instructing old Giovanni to wait for him. “I hae two ladies to bring back to the madonna,” he told the coachman. “They are aboard a ship in the harbor.”

  He was rowed out to the Royal Charles, and, approaching it, saw a painter already hung over the side of the vessel upon a rickety scaffolding, painting out the Turkish squiggles, preparatory to restoring the ship’s proper name. He clambered up the ladder hanging over the vessel’s side and onto the deck, introducing himself to Mr. Bolton.

  “I’ll fetch her ladyship, and Meggie,” the first mate said, “and glad I’ll be to see the last of them. Women on a ship’s bad luck, and we’ve had nothing but bad luck since her ladyship came aboard.”

  Conall More-Leslie nodded as if in agreement, but he thought the first mate a damned fool to believe such superstitious nonsense. His look was quizzical when India and Meggie appeared before him. Both were attired in foreign garb, and they were barefoot. Then he bowed to India. “I am Conall More-Leslie, your grandmother’s majordomo. I hae been sent to bring you to her, my lady. And the wee lassie, too.”

  “Let us go then,” India said briskly. “How the hell do we get off this damned boat?”

  “Ye’ll hae to climb down the ladder over the side, my lady. I’ll go first, and then yer serving girl, and then ye,” he told her. “Mr. Bolton, will ye help the ladies, please.”

  “Aye, and glad I am to do it,” the first mate said enthusiastically.

  “Good-bye, Knox!” India called. “Thank you for everything.”

  To her surprise, both India and Meggie navigated the rope ladder in their bare feet without incident. Safe within the longboat, they looked toward the shore. Shortly Afterward they found themselves settled in a large, comfortable coach, riding through the streets of a noisy city. The smells were ferocious. India grew dizzy with it all, and leaned back against the upholstered seat.

  “How can my stomach be so unsettled on such little food?” she wondered aloud.

  “We’re getting used to being back on the shore again, m’lady,” said Meggie. “And perhaps the wee one is hungry for some nourishment. Ohh, I could use a bowl of Abu’s good soup now, I could!”

  “Lady Stewart-Hepburn will take care of us, Meggie. Although I barely know her, I can tell you she is a woman of uncommon good sense.”

  The city was left behind, and they traveled along a rural road by the sea. Finally the carriage turned into the gates of the Villa del Pesce d’Oro, the horses trotting smartly up the graveled drive, finally stopping before the beautiful double doors of the mansion. A servant ran to open the carriage door and lower the steps, offering India his hand. She stepped out, and immediately through the open doors of the villa she saw Catriona Stewart-Hepburn.

  The older woman held out her arms to India, who felt compelled to fly into them and be well hugged. “I said you’d cause a scandal if they did not marry you off,” Lady Stewart-Hepburn said dryly. “And here you are safely back from your adventures. Jemmie will be so relieved. Come into the house, my dear. You look exhausted, and will want a bath, some food, a rest, and fresh clothing. Is this your servant? Weren’t you a lucky lass, child. Had you not been my granddaughter’s maid, you might not have had the opportunity to go home to Scotland again.”

  “Yes, m’lady,” Meggie said, dropping a curtsey to this beautiful woman who didn’t look old enough to be anyone’s grandmother.

  “Come along now,” Lady Stewart-Hepburn said, and led them into the cool of her villa, then into her salon where Captain Southwood awaited.

  “Ah, you are here, Cousin,” he said pleasantly.

  “Get out of my sight,” India said coldly. “If it hadn’t been for you, I should be with my husband now. I will never forgive you, Tom!”

  “What is this?” the older woman said, looking between the two antagonists. “You told me the dey fancied India, not that she was his wife, Thomas Southwood!”

  “How could an English noblewoman be married to an infidel?” he demanded angrily.

  “Because the iman made it so, you arrogant bastard!” India almost shouted at him. Then she rounded on her stepgrandmother. “He would not listen, madame. He struck me a blow that rendered me unconscious, and then kidnapped me from my home.” She stuck out her jaw, and pointed with her finger to the faint purple bruise. “Caynan will be frantic, madame. You must return me to him!”

  “He will replace you with another girl from his harem,” her cousin said cruelly. “One wench is pretty much alike to these fellows.”

  With a shriek India flew at him, clawing at his face. “Bastard! Bastard!” she screamed. “I would kill you if I could!”

  Conall More-Leslie leapt forward, and pulled the furious girl away from her victim. “Easy now, lassie. Dinna slay the man for doing what he thought was right.”

  “He wouldn’t listen!” India shouted once more. Her heart was pounding with her burning anger. She couldn’t believe the murderous fury Thomas Southwood had engendered in her. She had never been this angry in all her life.

  The captain touched his face, looking slightly horror-struck at the scarlet stains on his fingertips. “You’ve blooded me,” he said incredulously. “You’ve actually drawn blood, you damned wildcat!”

  “I would tear your heart out with my teeth if I could,” she responded darkly, her eyes blazing violent rage.

  Instinctively he stepped back, shocked by the look.

  “I think it is best my granddaughter be taken to her room now,” Lady Stewart-Hepburn said quietly. “I will send my own women, Susan and May, to help her.” She put her arms about a resisting India. “We will solve this problem together, India, I promise you.” Then she sent her off with Conall and Meggie.

  When they had gone, she turned to Thomas Southwood. “Perhaps you should have listened to her, sir. She is extremely distraught. It is not the attitude of a woman taken from a man who was holding her in bondage. If the dey of El Sinut took her for his wife, then she is his wife. I understand your family loyalty, but what do you think awaits her back in Scotland?”

  “They’ll find a husband for her,” he said sullenly. “She’s rich enough, madame, that her wealth will cover her sins.”

  “Oh, dear,” Catriona Stewart-Hepburn said softly. “You are having second thoughts, aren’t you, my dear? Well, the deed is done. You will have to get on with your life, and I shall have to straighten out this unfortunate muddle. You will remain in Naples for a few days? And you will take my advice to take on a cargo and sail to Istanbul? If the dey of El Sinut catches you now, I truly fear for you, sir. Go back to your ship, and return for dinner. We eat in the evening here. My son Ian will be coming. You will like each other. Like you, he has yet to settle down,” she laughed. “Before you go, however, allow me to attend to those scratches.” She peered at his face. “They are not deep. Your handsome face will not be scarred.”

  “I never realized what a troublesome witch India was,” he grumbled. “Your son has obviously had his hands full raising her.”

  “My son adores her, and she him. I think that may have been the difficulty for India in choosing a husband. No one could quite measure up to Jemmie. And then the charming Viscount Twyford came along. Rather than being supportive, Jemmie was jealous. Although from what I have been told, the young man was really quite unsuitable for an heiress of India’s social standing; my son might have handled the situation a bit more tactfully. Sometimes he reminds me very much of his father, Patrick Leslie. Patrick was always quite heedless of the consequences when he wanted his own way,” Lady Stewart-Hepburn said. Then, reaching out, she tugged at the tapestried bell pull, and moments later a maidservant appeared. “Acqua e uno bacile,” she said.

  “Sì, madonna,” the girl said with a curtsey.

  “You speak Italian?”

  His older companion laughed. “I have lived in Naples and Rome for over twenty-five years, Captain. Although some of my servants are Scots, most of them are local people. It was necessary that I gain a good c
ommand of the tongue. It’s a beautiful language; very lyrical and romantic, unlike my own Celtic tongue.”

  The basin and water were brought, and Lady Stewart-Hepburn quickly cleaned the blood from Thomas Southwood’s face. When she had finished, she sent him on his way and hurried upstairs to see how India was faring. She found her in a tub of scented water being tended by Meggie. Her own two serving women, Susan and May, were nearby, seeing to fresh clothing for their guest and preparing her bed.

  “I have instructed Captain Southwood to return to his ship, but he will be back for dinner,” she told India.

  “I cannot bear his company, madame. Please understand,” India said.

  “You do not call me Grandmama as you did in France,” Lady Stewart-Hepburn said.

  “I only met you for the first time there. I do not think of you as my grandmother,” India answered her honestly.

  “Then you must call me Cat,” the older woman said. “I was baptized Catriona Mairi, but I was always Cat to my friends and family. I hope we are at least friends, my child.”

  “Oh, yes!” India said, favoring Cat with a smile. She arose from her tub, and Meggie wrapped her in a warm towel, seating her mistress upon a small chair and drying her wet hair as the two women continued their talk.

  “You must forgive poor young Southwood,” Cat said. “He was only doing what he thought was right.”

  “Like all men, he didn’t listen, or if he did, he didn’t hear,” India said. “I have to get back to El Sinut!”

  “You are certain you want to return?” The leaf-green eyes scanned the younger woman’s face.

  “Yes!” India said. “Ohh, Cat! I love him, and he loves me! I have never been happier than I was with Caynan Reis. We had so many plans. I told my cousin that I was glad to remain. I asked him to carry a message to my parents for me, but no! With his misguided sense of honor, and family loyalty, he had to steal me away. I cannot forgive him the pain he has caused me and my husband.”