Paris Cockburn had just come from McCabe's law office where he had had the deed for the mansion house in Midlothian transferred from David Lennox into Venetia's name. He was glad of his decision to stop before the long ride back to Cockburnspath, when he entered the back room of Ainslee's Tavern on High Street and found his best friend, the Black Douglas, wetting his whistle.
"By God, James, well met. I've not clapped eyes on ye in over a year!" Paris laughed. "Have ye been in the Highlands all this time?" James Douglas glared at his friend with black eyes, white teeth flashing in his black beard.
"Aye! Remember I went up on a flying visit to see to the lands I inherited from my wife? All the way to Inverness. When I got there, I found a bastard Highlander by the name of Cawdor had filched half my bloody lands. I had to send down to my castle in Douglas for fifty of my moss-troopers to teach the thieving swine a lesson. And I had to leave half of them up there to make sure it doesn't happen again."
Paris grinned. "And what the hell will King Jamie say when he hears Douglas is using his men in the Highlands instead of keeping peace on the borders?"
"Piss on Jamie." The Black Douglas grinned.
"I can hardly believe you'd part with that many of your men, James," Paris said seriously.
"Aye, well, I suppose it was guilt. I never looked after my wife's lands while she was living, poor woman, so now I feel I must make up for the neglect."
"It wasn't only the lands you neglected," accused Paris.
"Aye, well, that, too. Ye know yourself what a bad bargain marriage can turn out to be." He patted the barmaid's lovely round bottom as she filled their glasses for the third time, and she winked at him saucily.
The two friends sat with their heads together, drinking round after round and catching up on the year that had just passed. It was near midnight when Paris decided not to ride back to Cockburnspath, and invited James to spend the night at the town house.
The two men stabled and fed their own horses, then entered the town house through the rear entrance. Paris waved away the offer of a servant to serve them food. "Nay, off to bed with ye. I'll soon get a blaze going in the chamber I always use upstairs, and Magnus has some of the French brandy I smuggled across last time I was in France."
Tabrizia awoke with a start. She could hear loud noises and men's voices coming from the next bedchamber. Her hand covered her mouth in alarm as she recognized that one of the voices belonged to Paris Cockburn. For a moment, she didn't know what to do, then decided if she stayed very quiet, they would never know there was anyone in the next room. She heard the unmistakable clink of bottles and glasses, and then she heard the other man say, "I heard a disturbing rumor while I was up in the Highlands, that John Gordon and his father Huntly have advised the King to garrison English soldiers here in Scotland."
"Christ, I'll not believe it even of Huntly. Scotland would be no more than an occupied country!"
"Well, my own gut feeling tells me, it's true. I say we should hit him and hit him hard," said Douglas, "not just the southerly edges of his land but right up at Huntly Castle itself."
"As well as that, perhaps we should try to get the King's ear, to dissuade him from such a thing. English soldiers in Scotland would not keep the peace; it would only serve to stir the clans until there was outright war."
Tabrizia closed her eyes. All men-ever spoke of was war and raids and bloodshed. She heard them refill their glasses over and over, and heard their voices become slurred and gradually grow louder. They began to laugh until it threatened to shake the rafters and she could hear every shocking word they uttered.
"Had a visit from Bothwell a while back," Paris mentioned.
"Didn't his mistress die while I was away?" asked Douglas.
"Aye, and therein lies a tale. Ye remember how he would have killed any man who took a second glance in her direction? When he invited us to pay our last respects— men only, by the way— what do you suppose we found?"
"Nothing Bothwell did would shock me." Douglas laughed.
"That's what I thought! But he had her laid out on an altar draped with black satin, black candles and all— stark naked."
"Well, I'll be damned! No wonder there's gossip about him being a Satanist. Didn't he mind other men looking at her?"
"Showing us all what we'd missed. Her blond hair fell like a curtain to the floor, and her skin' was like white velvet. There wasn't a man in the room who didn't get excited just looking at her."
"Christ, I'm hard just listening to ye." Douglas laughed.
It was after two o'clock in the morning. Tabrizia was getting angrier by the minute at the drunken shenanigans that were keeping her from sleep. She sat up and lit the candles in the candelabra.
"A cock swollen with unsatisfied lust is too bloody painful for me to put up with all night. Do ye suppose ye could get us a couple of your serving wenches, Paris?"
Tabrizia had heard enough. She took one of the pistols Magnus had given her from its case and threw open the adjoining chamber door. The two men sprawling before the fire were taken completely by surprise. Brandishing the heavy candlestick in one hand and the pistol in the other, she flew into the room in her frilled white night rail, her red hair flowing about her like crackling flames:
"Out, pig!" she shouted at Paris. "Out, pig's friend!" she ordered the Black Douglas.
Paris gaped. "What are you doing here?"
"It's my house, in case you'd forgotten, and since I won't sleep under the same roof as trash, I'm putting you out."
"I'd like to see you," he challenged, slightly swaying on his feet.
She took aim about a foot above his head, cocked the pistol and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The resulting explosion reverberated through the whole house and did considerable damage to the wall behind him. Surprised, Paris gave her a mocking bow. "Come, James, I know a place where the reception will be warmer."
The two men found themselves out on the street, laughing uproariously.
"I don't know why were laughing. She's put us out in the rain in the middle of the night," James pointed out.
Paris grinned. "Wasn't she magnificent? She needs a good beating and a good bedding, and someday I'm going to give her both!"
CHAPTER 11
Magnus was on the verge of ordering Tabrizia to Tantallon when she capitulated and got Mrs. Hall to pack all her lovely new clothes for her. The only condition she made was that Stephen Galbraith accompany them so they could finish the work they had begun.
Magnus closeted himself with Margaret, making it clear that he expected his companion to step down from the prominent, highly visible position she had held, to a more discreet, behind-the-scenes role. Tabrizia's heart swelled with compassion whenever she came face-to-face with the dark beauty. Magnus made no secret of his plans to find Tabrizia a husband. The subject came up again and again in their discussions. Tabrizia was more amenable to the idea since she had discovered the right match would give her some of the freedom she desired, so she came to an understanding with her father that a match would only be made if her future husband was someone they both totally agreed upon.
"Do you have anyone in mind?" asked Magnus, already suspicious.
"I'm not sure. What do you think of Stephen?" she asked tentatively. She was not prepared for her father's reaction. He almost went berserk. "A clerk? You want to wed a clerk? Your mother must be weeping in heaven! By Christ, I didn't do right by her, but I'll do right by our child if it's the last thing I do. Aye, and it might be! I get a misery in my chest so great sometimes that stabs into my heart, and I'll see you settled before aught befalls me!'
"Must you work yourself into a fit every time I speak? I'm not in love with Stephen, so calm down. It's just that we like each other, and we'd probably deal well together."
"Love? Like? What the hell do these things have to do with marriage? Security, wealth, strength, power— these are the qualities you want in a husband."
"Father, show me this paragon, and I promise to consider him.".
His eyes kindled. It was the first time she had called him father. "As a matter of fact, I've already had an offer for you."
"Who?" she asked, amazed.
"I'll tell you this much— his line goes back for centuries. The Royal Stewarts are newcomers beside his ancestry. He has not one earldom but two, and can call on a thousand men at the crook of a finger, so large is his clan."
"But what does he look like?"
"You'll be able to see for yourself. He's invited for dinner tomorrow night."
"And that's all you are going to tell me?"
"Let's see— he's a lord and a baron as well as being a double earl."
"Plague me no further." She held up her hand. "I can see you are enjoying this game. I shall reserve judgment until I meet this prince among men."
Tabrizia, watching from the top of Tantallon Castle, saw a cavalcade of a hundred men ride in. They wore the blue-and-white livery of their clan, every man displaying a red heart emblazoned across his breast. She kept them waiting a full hour before she went down to dinner. Her gown had a black velvet skirt and, in vivid contrast, a turquoise quilted top with a low-cut, square neckline and extravagant sleeves. She set off the gown with earrings encrusted with aquamarines.
Magnus awaited her at the bottom of the main staircase. "Tabrizia, I want you to meet James, Earl of Douglas."
With her head back to take in his great height, she gazed up at the Black Douglas, who grinned down at her, his white teeth flashing in his black beard. Her eyes snapped, and she greeted him very deliberately, "Hello, pig's friend."
His eyes lost none of their admiration as he said, "By God, when you toss your head in that willful way, I could warm my hands on the blaze of your hair."
Magnus looked worried. "You two know each other?"
Tabrizia's laugh rippled forth at the ridiculous situation. "I know he is the most audacious man in Scotland!"
As he bowed before her, she saw the heart of Douglas pricked out in diamonds on the breast of his doublet, and she sighed for what could never be. In that moment, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loved Paris Cockburn and would never love another so deeply. A love like that could only happen once. To marry his best friend would be impossible; Paris would always be there between them. She didn't want the Earl of Douglas, but she knew someone who would. If he liked willful redheads, she had the perfect mate in mind for him. She tucked the knowledge away secretly and took his arm. "Come, let us dine. The reasons I have for not accepting your offer will sit better on a full stomach, I think."
If Tabrizia and James both appreciated the humor of the situation, not so Magnus. He glowered and fumed through the first two courses until Tabrizia decided to take his mind off his troubles and give him something to think about. "Father and I have decided to go to Court for Christmas."
James Douglas admitted almost grudgingly, "That is probably the wisest move you will ever make. Most of Scotland's nobles are in England at the moment, and if none of them suit, there is the English nobility to choose from. It is said their wealth makes us look like paupers."
Before the evening was over, Magnus was so convinced of the soundness of the venture, he spoke as if it had been his idea all along.
In bed later, Tabrizia could not dispel Paris from her thoughts. She longed to go to him and tell him she would be his mistress, if that was the only way they could be together, but then she saw clearly that that was exactly what her mother had done before her, and she knew that she must have the security of marriage. She would never brand her children with the stigma of illegitimacy. She must go to England and put as much distance between herself and Paris Cockburn as possible. A tear slipped down her cheek. She needed a way to exorcize the influence of the handsome devil.
Margaret Sinclair was bitterly disappointed when she discovered Magnus was leaving her behind. Silently, she swore vengeance upon him and upon this upstart daughter of his. She did not mind him breeding a bastard; what almost choked her was the fact that he had brought her home like a trophy. Now she was to be flaunted and displayed at Court. So Margaret planned her revenge, bit by bitter bit.
Mrs. Hall was thrilled to the marrow of her bones to think that Tabrizia valued her enough to take her to England. She tirelessly laundered and pressed all her mistress's wardrobe before it was packed. The clothes were spread out across Tabrizia's chamber with wild abandon. Partly filled trunks spilled out lavish garments trimmed with ribbons and fur edgings. The exquisitely embroidered, lingerie that lay upon the bed embraced every material from mere wisps of satin and lace to heavy velvet chamber robes. Tabrizia couldn't believe the amount of baggage they were taking, because, as well as their personal effects, they were taking their own furnishings and bedding.
Magnus was taking his own horses, including two palfreys for Tabrizia. He intended to lease a small house when they arrived in the capital, and he would leave his ship, the Ambrosia, moored in the Thames estuary.
Mrs. Hall painstakingly folded every item still strewn about the room before Tabrizia retired for the night. Just as she was about to get into bed, Magnus knocked and came in with a small casket of jewels, including a delicate set of pale amethysts that had belonged to the old countess.
As Tabrizia looked at him, she admitted to herself that she had developed a fondness for the Earl of Ormistan with his gruff, booming voice and his ruin of a face that once had been so handsome. He had treated Tabrizia with such generosity, she could not help feeling gratitude toward him.
"I came to wish you good night, and to bring you these." He held out the casket, and as she picked up the amethysts, she caught her breath. "Oh, they are lovely. That violet color is my favorite."
"Just the color of your eyes, and hers, too," he said sadly.
Tabrizia could see that he was remembering her mother. She was hungry to know of her, and sensed that he wished to share his memories.
"Tell me of her," she softly urged.
"I adored your mother; worshiped the ground she walked on. When I do things for you, it gives me the deepest delight that I am doing it for Danielle's child. I was already wed to the countess when I met Danielle at Court. She was the young daughter of one of the Queen's ladies, and I lost my heart the first day I saw her. I wangled it so she could be one of the countess's ladies, and she left court and came to Tantallon without hesitation. She was too good for this world." He shook his head at the bittersweet memories. "I remember one spring afternoon; we had ridden out quite far. A sudden snowstorm came up, blinding, vicious, as only a storm can be in these parts. Bad weather didn't bother me, but I feared for her. She was so fragile; so sweet. I took her to a shepherd's cottage to shelter. It was empty; we were completely alone, deliciously cut off from the world. After I tucked up the horses in the lean-to on the sheltered side, I built us a roaring fire. I remember my saddlebags were filled with wine and cheese and little oat cakes. As darkness descended, I began to feel very amorous, as you can imagine. That's when she heard it. A big ewe outside began pawing a nest for herself and bleating pitifully. I explained it was going to give birth soon. That did it! She was frantic with worry for that damned ewe giving birth in the snowstorm. Though I tried to explain it happened every year all up and down the mountains, she made me go out every ten minutes to see if it had dropped the lamb. Finally, nothing would do but that she must come out with me to see for herself. I'll be damned if the ewe hadn't given birth to triplets. There they lay— three bloody little heaps, almost frozen stiff from the cold. We carried them inside. I wiped the birth mucus from their little heads and began rubbing and slapping them to revive them. She even made me melt snow in a pot on the fire so we could wash them and make them pretty again. Do you think she was satisfied with all my hard work? Not a bit of it! Instead of letting me take the lambs back to their frantic mother, she insisted the bloody ewe come into the cottage to spend the night with us. An idyllic tryst, guaranteed to dampen the ardor of the most rampant male, but I cherish the memory."
&n
bsp; Tabrizia felt a lump in her throat. "Thank you for telling me."
"She was too soft," he whispered hoarsely. "Never thought about money, never thought to put herself first, which should be life's first lesson. Anyway, it will be different for you. Try to get a good sleep; we sail tomorrow with the tide."
It was the last day of November when the entourage was rowed out to the Ambrosia, and by the time Tabrizia was safely aboard, she was glad to go belowdecks to thaw out. Snow had begun to fall, and the wind that whipped the Atlantic threatened to cut her in half. The earl's ship was comfortable and well appointed, though it lacked the exotic furnishings and atmosphere of the Sea Witch.
It took a full fortnight to sail down the length of England to the estuary of the Thames. Tabrizia was content to stay below out of the cruel elements. The first two days on the rough ocean made her queasy, but after she got her sea legs, the nausea was forgotten.
Though the papers and mortgages she had inherited had been returned to her father's bank vault for safekeeping in her absence, she still found many areas of business and finance to discuss with Stephen Galbraith. Magnus had made it plain to him that he was only welcome if he put all ideas of courting Tabrizia from his mind. He could not do this, of course, but nevertheless, since he must appear to do so in Magnus's eyes, his behavior toward Tabrizia was more gallant than loverlike.
When the Ambrosia reached southern England, the climate was milder, gentler, and on a sunny afternoon in mid-December, Tabrizia came up on deck to watch as the great ship maneuvered into the wide-estuary. In Scotland it had seemed the dead of winter, yet here everything was still as fresh and green as late summer. The traffic was busy on the waterway, and Tabrizia felt alive and free and filled with anticipation. Ships from around the world plied their trade at this great port, and with fascination she watched the docks go by. The wooden docks were indelibly stained by the cargoes that had been unloaded there for scores of years. They were black with coal, white from flour, blue with indigo, brown with tobacco, and some stained with purple wine. The smells were as varied as the colors, changing from fish to spices to the acrid stench of piles of hides.
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