Thistles and Thieves

by Elizabeth Preston

  Juliette couldn’t help herself. Ignoring her slimy, coated arm, she rushed into Tam’s embrace. He hugged her back tight.

  “Life surprises me all the time,” he said, laughing again, twirling her around, and swinging her in the air. “What joy. Today is a day to remember.”

  Juliette stepped away, still aglow, and feeling more elated than she could ever remember feeling before. With a sliced-moon smile, she said, “I’m coated in slime.”

  “Aye, and I’ve never seen a lass look so lovely.”

  Chapter 6

  Juliette put the looking glass down and took her sister’s hand. “The festivities will begin soon. We need to firm up our stories before our carriage arrives. The king seems like a meddling man, don’t you think?”

  Vienna nodded.

  “I do not trust him. He loves to match-make, tis obvious.”

  “And we don’t want to be match-made with Highlanders, do we, Juliette?” Vienna studied her sister suspiciously.

  “Nay,” Juliette said, studying her feet.

  Vienna fiddled with the fastener at her collar. “But, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that you were already sweet on one.”

  Juliette bolted upright. “Nonsense. I haven’t forgotten what we agreed to do a few years hence. I still want to live next to you in England, so I mustn’t be matched with a Scotsman.”

  “Really? Just to stay on English soil, and be near me of course, you’d marry Vincent? Admit it, Juliette. You barely like him.”

  “I like him.”

  Vienna rolled her eyes. “At best, you like him, but that is not the same as love.”

  “Who loves the man they marry? Hardly anyone. Anyway, do not talk about Vincent in that derogatory manor around Mama or Pa. They believe I’m in love with Vincent. And I want them to go on thinking it. Tis the only reason I’m still unwed. I do not want Mama and Pa choosing me a husband twice or trice my age.”

  Vienna patted her hair and studied Juliette’s fine work in the looking glass. “If you ask me, your Lord Ashworth is sweet on Lord Warren. His eyes never leave Lord Warren’s person. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Lord Warren was made of honeycomb, all ripe and dripping. Vincent has trouble sitting around the man, so keen is he to go up and lick his friend.”

  “Vienna!”

  “A mere observation, tis all.”

  Juliette took a deep breath. “You need to remember that Vincent, Lord Ashworth, is my intended. You need to find a way to like him. From now on, you must speak kindly about Lord Ashworth. Always.”

  “Pah, he is all wrong for you, Juliette. He will not make you happy. What I must do is open your eyes. You need to see Vincent for what he is.”

  Juliette rushed to change the subject. “We must invent a young man for you too, Vienna. We’d better invent him right now. Otherwise, if the king believes you are unattached and that no one holds your heart, then he might match you with a Highland husband. That won’t do.”

  Vienna agreed. “I’d rather pick my own husband than suffer one of the king’s matches. I might call my made-up man Beau. I’ve always liked that name. My intended shall be called, ‘Lord Beau.’”

  “If you wish.”

  “Lord Beau of York, I think.”

  “I’ll try to remember.”

  They heard the clatter of the horses’ hooves as the coach rumbled through the archway. The coach was exactly on time. Both she and Vienna were wearing their best gowns, and their capes were of the finest fashion too: lined in ermine. They’d decorated each other’s hair with ribbon and seed pearls. Admittedly they’d gone to much bother, but they were about to meet a king, even if he was only King of Scotland.

  “Can’t wait to tell Pa about this,” Vienna said, flying down the stairwell. “Think how impressed he will be.”

  Juliette followed. “Do you suppose Sybilla will be at the gathering this noon?”

  Vienna turned to face her sister. “I didn’t think of that. If she’s not there, I’m going to ask the king if we may visit her soon. He sounds like an accommodating fellow. I think he’ll make it happen.”

  Tam slammed the great hall door and paced toward them. Their eyes met. Juliette drew in breath. His hair was freshly washed and hung about his shoulders in gentle waves. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were piercing and bright. Even his clothing was shiny and fresh. He’d outdone himself. On his shoulder, he wore a jewelled silver brooch fastened to the fall of his plaid. It was magnificent.

  Tam moved forward. “Juliette, you are a fetching sight in your finery. The other wee lassies won’t stand a chance.”

  Vienna spun around. “I thought you didn’t like adornments. Didn’t you tell us to dress plainly?”

  Tam rubbed his hand through his hair. “Can I help it if your sister looks glorious in whatever she wears? An old flour sack would look fetching on Juliette.”

  Vienna smirked. “The prickly bear has a silver tongue. Who knew?”

  Juliette had never been called glorious before. “Thank you, Lord Tam, but I’m sure you compliment all the young ladies who visit you here at Tulloch.”

  “I do not,” he said, bundling them into the carriage.

  “He wouldn’t,” Vienna stated in her matter-of-fact way. “I bet he never says anything nice to anyone, ever.”

  How Juliette hoped that was true. She would find out soon enough, though, because they were not the only maidens going this aft. Bonnie Scots girls had been invited to the festivities. And chances were, the king had handpicked only the most beautiful of the bunch.

  They rumbled through the wee town of Dingwall. As soon as they entered the town’s main street, they caught a glimpse of the king’s castle looming ahead. How much more grand it looked than Tulloch. There were towers and turrets aplenty. The king flew a pretty collection of banners and flags too.

  A little way on and they could see the guard towers in detail. The king’s castle was heavily manned. The portcullis was closed. The iron gate did not rise to admit them, not till the guardsmen sighted the king’s carriage and waved it open.

  Tam signalled to the guards as they rumbled through. The carriage drew to a halt in the main cobbled bailey. Tam helped them both down then walked them up to the inner bailey toward the great hall. He clearly knew his way around and strolled about the place with ease. Clusters of folk stopped to watch as they walked on through the archway toward the great hall. As they entered the huge assembly place, a band of men came up to Tam and slapped him on the back.

  “Colban, Silas, Ben,” he responded, greeting each with a nod.

  The swell of music wafted from the screens inside. What a room! There were window openings all along one side that let in glorious sunlight. Every inch of the giant walls was decorated. Some ceiling panels were whitewashed in contrast to the dark wood, making the roof look striped. Huge carpet hangings filled other wall spaces. Planking tables ran along the lengths of both side walls, and of course the king’s table was at the far end, raised on a dais. A huge fire dominated the centre of the hallway.

  Gaiety, and the swell of celebration, meant they had to lean close to each other to talk. How glorious it was. Six harpists nestled in one corner, and they played like angels. Folk milled about everywhere. All the men wore plaids, and the women wore the finest tunics, each decorated with beading and jewels, fur, and embroidery. Juliette saw swallows flying across hemlines, fruit bordering sleeves, and even pretty animals such as dear and rabbits leaping across silk bodices.

  The Scottish king, Alexander, was seated ahead, surrounded by a bevy of young women. He looked up, and when he saw Tam, he gestured them forward, hurrying them over.

  “Come, my friends,” he cried out in his kingly way, his voice silky and entitled.

  Juliette bowed. “Sire.”

  “Your Ma
jesty, King Alexander,” Vienna said, bowing even lower.

  The king was a man who had lived through many winters, but he was, nevertheless, in fine form. The richness of his clothing helped to liven his appearance. He wore a cherry-red gown trimmed in the softest snow fur. The belt around his middle shone, the sunlight bouncing over the gold. He turned to offer Tam a seat, and that was when Juliette noted the back of his gown. An array of jewels had been sewn into the back of his surcoat, making it sparkle. The Scots king was a grand sight from whatever angle you looked.

  “So, you two are the sisters? You are the sisters of Sybilla, of Caithness Castle, kin to Laird Fergus of Caithness?”

  “Sire,” they chorused again, bobbing once more in a short curtsey.

  “And as bonnie as bluebells too.” He gave Tam a knowing look, but Tam turned away.

  The young ladies seated beside the king were clearly Scottish. Each wore a strip of tartan pinned to her tunic. They were an attractive bunch in an earthy, the-cold-will-not-kill-me, way. Juliette would not like to fall foul of any of those hardy souls. The Scottish girls barely acknowledged them. Instead, they feasted their eyes upon Tam.

  The table hushed whenever the king spoke. “Tam, no need to introduce you to these young lassies. You know them well already, do you not, hmm?”

  What did that mean?

  Tam nodded, acknowledging each one by name: Ainsley, Elena, Shona.

  The king signalled for wine. “Sit down here. There are seats aplenty for you all.”

  Juliette and Vienna chose the benches opposite the bracing Scottish girls. But Tam did not seat himself anywhere. He waited, standing tall until the king rose and led him away, their heads pressed together in talk. Soon they disappeared behind the far screens.

  One of the Scottish maidens leaned over the planking table toward Vienna. “You’re both Sassenachs, are you not?”

  They nodded in unison.

  “We won’t hold that against you,” said another, and they all laughed.

  Juliette could tell that the opposite was true. She stared after Tam, thinking that the hours before eve might prove to be long and arduous.

  “How are you enjoying Tulloch Castle?” one of the girls asked.

  Vienna responded, “Tis gloomy.”

  Juliette flashed her sister a warning. “We are being treated well. Thank you for asking.”

  The girl, Shona, piped up. “Ah, but surely the sight of Tam is enough to brighten every day.”

  Juliette gave her a wary smile. She didn’t want to say aye, but nor did she want to say nay. This was a trap.

  But Vienna, never one to hold her tongue, asked, “Do you believe that Tulloch is haunted? The old housekeeper believes it to be.”

  The three Scots girls laughed again. “The ghosts that Martha Pins speaks of are naught but things that go bump in the night.”

  “I didn’t believe her tales for one moment,” Juliette hurried, trying to save face on behalf of Mother England.

  “Oh, they’re real all right, or the noises are, at least. But the murmuring sounds Martha speaks of do not come from ghosts. At night, Martha hears the sounds of slipper feet on the rushes and thinks those footsteps belong to the dead. Nay, they are the slipper feet of maidens who rush about under the cover of dark, scurrying toward Tam and his mighty four-poster bed.”

  Juliette’s mouth fell open.

  Not content, the girl pushed on. “And the ghostly moans that Martha Pins is speaking of, those are pleasure groans. When you hear those, you know that Tam is working his magic. Tam if deft at making a maiden lose herself, but I’m sure you know that already.”

  Juliette bolted upright. “We know no such thing!”

  The rude girls made snake eyes at each other, and their mouths were smiling without warmth.

  Believing that the girls were yet to be convinced, Juliette strengthened her point. “I am not one bit interested in Laird Tam.”

  Vienna poked her leg, a poke that screamed, Liar! Then Vienna helped herself to another swig of wine.

  Juliette snatched a spare goblet and signalled for the server to pour her a drink too. It was going to be a long noon indeed. “Anyway,” Juliette continued, “I’m promised to an Englishman, an English Lord—an exceptionally handsome one.”

  After that statement, she got her first genuine smile from each of the Scottish girls. Vienna, however, drained her goblet and signalled for more.

  As if to cement her point, Juliette recited her suitor’s name. “Lord Vincent Ashworth. I shall marry him. He’s very rich.”

  “Does he fight?”

  “Not much.”

  “Does he farm then?”

  “No.”

  The one with the long red hair looked puzzled. “What does this Lord Vincent of yours do with himself all day, if he does not fight nor farm?”

  Vienna slammed her empty mug on the table. “He looks at himself in the knives, in the spoons, and in any piece of shiny metal he can find.”

  Juliette felt the hairs on her arms rise. She glared at her sister. “Enough wine, Vienna. No more for you. You must put that goblet down, forthwith.”

  Vienna shook her head, and the Scottish girls huddled closer, sensing that fun was not far off.

  Juliette knew she had to try to cool the situation. If she wasn’t careful, those Scots girls would egg Vienna on, and Vienna would willingly take the bait. Vienna loved to entertain. “It is rubbish my sister speaks. Vienna has lost her head. She gets carried away when she drinks fine wine. Ignore Vienna. She says amusing things to make us laugh and doesn’t care one hoot if they’re true or not.”

  “I do not.”

  The girls chuckled behind their kerchiefs. Annoyed now, at her own sister and at the Scottish girls for encouraging her sister, Juliette fumed.

  “Vienna has a young man of her very own,” she said. “He is her intended. They shall wed soon.” Mayhap mention of the fictitious Beau would be enough to distract Vienna.

  “Oh, and what is your man like?” Shona asked, clearly delighted that both sisters were spoken for, and therefore they were no threat.

  “His name is Beau,” Vienna said, reciting the lie they’d formulated a few hours hence.

  “Beau,” Shona parroted. “That is French, is it not? He must be French.”

  Vienna drew her brows together and narrowed her gaze. Clearly, she did not want her young man to be French. He was meant to be English, an English Lord to be precise.

  Shona piped up again. “Beau, of course, means ‘beautiful’ in French.”

  “He is beautiful,” Vienna confirmed.

  “Is he more beautiful than your sister’s man— this Lord Ashworth?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Vienna was in a troublesome mood indeed. Juliette knew her sister was having fun and amusing herself, but this sort of fun could easily spiral out of control.

  “Come now, Juliette, even you admitted that Beau is the best-looking man you have ever seen.”

  “I did not.” Properly irked now, Juliette thought it best to put an end to this game. She would, any moment now, just as soon as she’d had her say.

  “Do you wish to know what Beau does all day long?” she asked them.

  The Scots girls nodded, eager as anything.

  “Me too,” Juliette responded. “I would also like to know. But I don’t know because Beau is quieter than a deaf and mute mouse. I’ve never heard him say one solitary word.” There, how could Vienna deny that! Of course, Beau didn’t speak because Beau didn’t exist.

  But they had grown up with two older, clever sisters, so Vienna knew how to hold her own. Quicker than a rat in a grain store, she replied, “Tis true, Beau is quiet. He is the silent, strong type.”

  “Oooh,” the S
cots girls cried with dreamy voices.

  “Sometimes Beau whispers to my heart. He whispers, ‘I love you, Vienna, I’ll love you till my very last breath.’”

  Juliette rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe the Scottish girls were falling for that rubbish.

  While they were busily sighing and placing their hands over their hearts, Vienna stole a sly glance at her sister. Her mouth turned up in a half-smile. There was also an annoying gleam of triumph on her lips.

  The king entered the room again, and they all stood. Tam trailed behind, and although he wasn’t wearing the King’s glorious fur-lined robes, and although Tam wore the same plaid as nearly every other man in the room, he still stood out. There was something solid and beautiful about the man. It might be his height, or mayhap his strength, or even his calm self-assurance. Juliette wasn’t sure exactly, but wherever he went, her eyes followed.

  “Sit, please,” the king said, and they all took their seats again.

  “Servers, pass around the fare.”

  Tam made his way toward Juliette and seated himself right beside her. She tried not to smile because she didn’t want to gloat. She then realised it wouldn’t matter if she laughed or cried or pulled crazy faces because the Scottish girls only had eyes for him.

  The server appeared, and Vienna selected slices of trout, a quail egg, and the tiniest beautifully round white bun she’d ever seen. When the dish of lamprey was bought around, the servers barely offered it to the women. Juliette recognised the tray of blood-sucking lamprey because she’d had those horrid fish in England too. It wasn’t so much their squirmy snake-like bodies she detested, but it was their sucker mouths and missing teeth she most abhorred.

  Once, when fishing in a manor stream with her father, a lamprey had squirmed right up to her leg, ignoring the rushing current. In her haste to get away, she’d fallen and plonked her bottom into the water. The lamprey seized its chance. It latched on to her arm and sucked, holding on tight. Her father had a job pulling the slimy parasite from her skin. It had sucked a fair amount of her blood before they managed to pry it off.