He chuckled. “I saw you in the hall at your tapestry, and you looked so delicious I found myself wanting you,” he told her. “Aye, we have surely made a bairn from this day’s work, for I believe you have drained me of all of my seed, my sweet ladyfaire.” Then he kissed her mouth again.
But despite his love and all of his reassurances, the lack of her dower kept nagging at Cicely. It wasn’t right that the Gordons had been given a portion of it, nor that the king retained the remainder. Oddly, she did not begrudge the queen’s cousin Beth Williams whatever James Stewart had taken from Cicely to add to the girl’s dower. Beth was a sweet-natured girl who would be a good wife to Fairlea. In truth she was the perfect wife for him, because she had fallen in love with him. And in time that laird would come to realize the treasure he had in Beth Williams. If a bit more gold had been all that was needed to soothe Andrew Gordon’s pride over what had happened and assure the happiness of the queen’s cousin, Cicely thought, I would have given it to her myself.
But she hadn’t. And seeing the need at Glengorm for her monies, Cicely fretted more and more. True, the king had promised he would return her dower when the queen birthed a son, but Cicely didn’t want to wait. She would write to her father and tell him what had happened. Hopefully he would aid her. And she would send her letter by one of the Douglas men-at-arms so her father would receive her message quickly.
Ian was not pleased by her plan at all. “Why can you not wait until the queen has her bairn? It’s sure to be a son this time, and the queen will see the king keeps his word to you, ladyfaire.”
“The king has four sisters,” Cicely reminded her husband. “If Jo births another daughter I will never see my dower again. These are not James Stewart’s monies, my lord. He did not promise me a dower. My father, the Earl of Leighton, dowered me. He deposited my dower with a reputable goldsmith. The king took it, and I want it back!”
The laird shrugged. He would not prevent her from corresponding with her father. She was unhappy enough at the lack of her dower, and perhaps a message from her father would calm her. He was certainly not going to replace the monies he had put aside for her. He had other children to consider, especially Cicely’s half sister. “I’ll send Fergus to carry your letter, and await a reply,” he said to his wife. “Will that suit you?”
She flung her arms about his neck. “I knew you would come to understand!” And she kissed him enthusiastically.
He didn’t understand, but if it made her happy to think he did, then so much the better, the laird thought to himself. He sent for his younger brother.
“How would you like to take a little ride?” he asked Fergus.
“How far?” his brother demanded, already suspicious.
“England,” Ian answered.
“England is just over the border,” Fergus said dryly.
“To Leighton, Cicely’s family home,” the laird responded. “She is sending to her father regarding her dower. Now, I know he’s not going to restore what the king took, but if it will make her happy to write to her father about it and receive his counsel in the matter, then I cannot complain.”
Fergus nodded. “Actually he might be able to help, although I will agree with you that he’ll not replace what James Stewart stole.”
“Watch your mouth!” the laird cautioned his younger brother.
“Well, he did,” Fergus retorted. “The money wasn’t his. It was Cicely’s father’s until she wed, and then it should have been yours. Aye, I’ll take her message to her da.”
Cicely wrote to her father explaining how the king had seized her dower and used it for his own purposes. That the queen had gotten him to agree to restore what remained when she birthed her son. But what if she does not have a son? Cicely wrote. What am I to do, Papa? Ian says it does not matter to him, for he loves me, but it matters to me. This lack has made me feel worthless. Please tell me what I should do. She then went on to tell him of her life at Glengorm, and of how happy she was. When she had finished she folded the parchment and sealed it, pressing the little signet with the Leighton coat of arms into the hot wax. And the next morning Fergus Douglas departed for England.
When he returned to Glengorm just over a month later he had an unhappy tale to tell them as they gathered in the great hall of the house. Cicely’s half sister, Catherine, had died the previous winter, just after her second birthday. Cicely’s stepmother, Luciana, had lost her reason, although at first no one realized it, given her normally volatile nature. She had attempted to poison her husband, Cicely’s father, but fortunately Donna Clara had learned of it before it was too late, and saved Robert Bowen’s life with an antidote.
“But your da will never be the same again,” Fergus told Cicely. “He is weak, and unable to walk more than a few feet at a time, poor man. And it is difficult for him to reflect for too long. Your eldest half brother has come home from court to help.”
Cicely shook her head. “Charles is only twelve,” she said. “What has happened to Luciana, my stepmother?”
“They have confined her to her apartment with her servant,” Fergus said.
“Donna Clara,” Cicely noted.
“She’s as mad as a rabid fox,” Fergus said. “I saw her being taken for a walk in the gardens. Her hair and garments were in disarray, and she spoke not. But then when she saw the gardener’s small child she began to screech and tear at her hair, poor soul.”
“She belongs in hell,” Cicely responded coldly.
“I spoke briefly with your da,” Fergus said. “He sends you his tenderest love, but he cannot aid you financially. He will, however, send to the goldsmith in London who put your dower with his kinsman in Edinburgh. The earl says the goldsmith in Edinburgh had no right to give what was yours to anyone but you. He will press his man in London to see what can be done.”
“The goldsmith in Edinburgh will avoid responsibility for fear of the king,” Cicely said. “He will claim that as the king was my guardian he believed he might give him my monies. And who will fault him? I should go to Leighton and look after my father.”
“You cannot be in the same house with that madwoman who is your stepmother,” Ian Douglas protested. “She will know you are there and seek to harm you.”
“I can stay in the cottage where Orva and I lived when I was a child,” Cicely said.
“I agree with the laird,” Orva spoke. She had been in the hall and heard all. “Your father will be well cared for at Leighton. You are no longer a child, my lady. Your duty is here with your husband, and your Glengorm folk.”
Ian Douglas felt sorrow for his wife, but at least now she had something else to think about besides her wretched dower. Why wouldn’t she understand that he was satisfied with what he had? It was her he had wanted, and nothing more.
And then came word that Queen Joan had given birth to her second child, another princess, Isabella.
Upon hearing the news Cicely burst into tears. “I shall never be able to give you my dower now,” she wailed.
“I don’t give a damn about the dower,” Ian said angrily. “I don’t care about it! Can you not understand that, ladyfaire? Give me what I really want. Give me an heir! At least the queen is trying to do her duty.”
Her tears suddenly ceased. She was astounded by his words. “Ian,” she began.
“Nay, Cicely, not another word!” He looked angry, and she had never before really seen him angry. “I will hear no more about your dower. The king has taken it. He is unlikely to return it to us. Do not tell me again that without your dower you are valueless. All the gold in Scotland would not suffice me if I lost you. You are precious to me, and of great worth to Glengorm. You have fretted and fumed over your monies since the day the king told you he took them; but I swear to you that if I had them in my hand at this very minute I should throw them into the middle of the loch and be done with it!”
It took a moment but his words finally made sense to her. He was right, of course. It was unlikely she would ever see her dower, and to
ruin her happiness over a pile of gold was worse than foolish. He loved her for who she was, not for the gold she might have brought him. Blessed Mother! She was so fortunate. Little Beth Williams had had to prove her worth with a fat dower. Andrew Gordon wouldn’t have had her otherwise. But she, the Earl of Leighton’s daughter, was loved for herself and naught else. What a fool she had been! And how fortunate she really was.
“The matter is closed, my lord,” she told her husband.
“For good?” he demanded.
“Forever,” she said with a small smile. She moved to stand before him. “Now you must kiss me, for your words were harsh, and you frightened me.”
Wrapping his strong arms about her, he kissed her a hard kiss and then he laughed. “I have never frightened you, my love. Even when I trussed you up and stole you from Perth you assailed me with your fierce spirit. You are as braw a lassie as I have ever known. Now, that other matter we earlier discussed . . .” he said, smiling into her face.
“We will simply have to try harder, my lord.” She giggled.
In early autumn Glengorm found itself assailed by raiders from the English side of the border, and a flock of sheep was driven off, but no one was harmed. Ian was surprised, for like everyone else on the border he had hoped an English queen of Scotland would help keep the peace. Andrew Grey arrived to say Ben Duff had been attacked, and he had lost some cattle but no lives were lost.
“Do you know who it is?” Ben Duff asked Ian. “They came before moonrise, and I couldn’t identify anyone or anything.”
“I suspect ’twas Hunter Grahame and his ilk. An English queen of Scotland wouldn’t make a difference to him,” Ian replied. “That family has little respect for anyone or anything. We can’t let these two raids go unpunished, Andrew.”
“I know,” the laird of Ben Duff answered with a sigh. “Maggie’s breeding again, and I don’t want her upset, but if we don’t strike back they’ll take it for weakness. God knows what will happen then.”
“We should strike at them at dawn,” Ian suggested. “They won’t be expecting us to do that. They will think of us coming in the night, as they did. We’ll take our livestock back and leave them to themselves. I have no real quarrel with the Grahames of Greyhome. How many men did you bring with you, Andrew?”
“Only a dozen,” he replied. “I didn’t want to leave Maggie unprotected.”
“ ’Tis enough,” Ian said. “Let us get it over and done with before they slaughter any of our beasts to eat.”
Cicely had never seen a party of border raiders. They had been sleeping when the Grahames had stolen the Glengorm flock. At least three dozen men filled the hall, crowding the trestles as supper of rabbit stew and ale was served up. One of Ben Duff’s men found himself smacked upon his head when he slid a hand beneath Flora’s skirts as she served him. There was much good-natured laughter. Cicely’s terriers slipped beneath the high board, hoping for fallen tidbits. Finally, with the meal cleared away, the men settled down to catch some sleep before riding out several hours before the dawn.
“We should be back by afternoon,” Ian told his wife, giving her a quick kiss. “I’ve told the men to keep a sharp watch, but ’tis unlikely you’ll be bothered. Still, keep the doors barred, ladyfaire.”
Cicely went back to bed, for it was nowhere near dawn. She arose at her usual time and went about her day as she always did, telling Mab to prepare a hot meal for when the men returned. Cicely began to worry as the afternoon wore on, but then one of her husband’s men rode in to tell her that when they had reached Greyhome the sheep and cattle were not there. Storming the house, they found it virtually empty but for two terrified old women who told them the Grahames had gone to the Michaelmas fair in a nearby village.
“The two lairds decided to travel on to the fair because they realized the English borderers had probably taken their livestock there to sell,” the young messenger said. “My lord bid you not to fret. They will be back tomorrow.”
“Are you returning to join the laird?” Cicely asked.
“Nay, mistress. The laird told me to remain here,” came the answer.
“He’s totally reckless!” Cicely said to Orva. “He and Ben Duff both. They plan to ride into an English village and take back their livestock? They’ll be killed!”
“Nay, lassie,” Mab, who had come up from her kitchen, said. “They’ll lay waste to the village first to secure a safe retreat before they take the beasties back.”
“What? There are innocent women and children in that village!” Cicely exclaimed. “What is going to happen to them?”
“What always happens in these raids,” Mab said with a shrug.
“Blessed Mother!” Cicely swore softly.
“And there is certain to be more raiding now,” Mab predicted. “Ah, well, these months of peace have been enjoyable, my lady.”
“Will we be safe?” Cicely wanted to know.
“Safe as some, but not as safe as others,” Mab said.
Cicely grew pale suddenly, swaying slightly. “Nay! Not now! Not now!” She gripped the back of a chair to keep from falling.
“My lady, what is it? What do you mean, not now?” Mab asked nervously.
“She’s with child,” Orva said bluntly.
“Bless us,” Mab said, smiling her toothless grin, “Glengorm is to have an heir!” Then she patted Cicely’s small hand. “Don’t fret, my lady,” she said. “Glengorm is one of the safest houses in the border. This bit of thieving by the Grahames is nothing, and the two lairds will stop it. Nothing more will come of it.”
“I hope not,” Cicely replied. “The English king is an infant yet, and those ruling for him have enough on their hands with the French. Scotland’s English queen was meant to give England peace in the north.”
“I had heard that our King Jamie loves his queen,” Mab said.
“Oh, he does! Very much!” Cicely told her. “But that was God’s blessing on them both, Mab. For if they hadn’t fallen in love the marriage still would have been celebrated for the very reason I have previously said. England needs peace with Scotland, and nothing seals a peace between nations like a marriage between its king and the other king’s kin. Queen Joan and the king are well matched.”
“She had better cease having daughters,” Mab said darkly, “and give Scotland a fair prince. Two princesses in two years! We need a strong lad.”
“I know she’s doing her best,” Cicely replied with a smile.
“Does our laird know he’s to be a father?” Mab asked.
Cicely shook her head. “Not yet. I was planning to tell him, but then our sheep were stolen, and Ben Duff came, and off the two of them went. If he comes back I will tell him,” she said with a sigh.
“Not if, my lady, but when he returns,” Mab said. “When our men go raiding here in the borders we always say when they return.”
“Now don’t you go upsetting her any more than you have,” Orva scolded. “Sit down, my lady, and rest yourself. You have a ways to go till your child is born.”
“When?” Mab asked, curious.
“Spring,” Orva said. “My lady will have her babe in the spring.”
“I’ll pray for a son for Glengorm,” Mab said.
“It will be what it will be,” Orva said sharply, “and the laird will be happy as long as the child is strong, and its mother safe.”
“Yes, yes,” Mab agreed impatiently, “but first we need an heir for Glengorm. I hope my lady isn’t going to be like her friend the queen. A lad or two, and then there is time for the lasses.”
The raiding party returned by midafternoon of the following day. They had brought back Glengorm’s flock of sheep, and Ben Duff’s dozen head of cattle. They had killed several Grahames, but they had spared the English village hosting the Michaelmas fair, for they had arrived before their livestock was to be sold off. And the villagers had very wisely sided with Ian Douglas and Andrew Grey when they learned from where the cattle and sheep had come.
“Mind
you,” Andrew Grey said, “had the creatures already been sold they would have sided with the buyers. But there we were, and they knew they could save themselves if they were quick. The Grahames were very surprised.” He chuckled.
“Were you hurt?” Cicely said anxiously, running her hands over Ian’s arms and shoulders, seeking wounds.
“Hurt?” Ian looked surprised. “Nay, ladyfaire, I wasn’t harmed at all. This was simply a wee raid. There was no danger.”
“No danger?” Cicely looked outraged. “You dare to tell me there was no danger. You ride off with a troop of armed men to accost a group of bandits, and you tell me there was no danger? You send a messenger to say you will be traveling deeper into the English border to retrieve your sheep. Mab tells me you’ll burn the village sheltering the Grahames, and you say there was no danger?”
Andrew Grey’s face, surprised at first, suddenly took on a knowing look.
“You could have been killed!” Cicely shouted, and then she burst into tears, flinging herself against her husband’s broad chest, sobbing piteously.
The laird was astounded. “Ladyfaire, I have been on many such ventures.”
Andrew Grey snickered, close to open laughter.
“What if you had been killed?” Cicely wailed. “Who would take care of us?”
“Ladyfaire, I wasn’t killed or injured, and I am here to take care of you,” the laird comforted his wife. “You have never shown me weakness before. Why are you showing it to me now?” He stroked her hair.
Andrew Grey began to howl with his laughter.
“What the hell is so funny, Ben Duff?” Ian Douglas snarled.
“Don’t you know?” Andrew said, doubled over with laughter. “Cicely, you must tell him,” he said to her. “It is not my place to tell him.”
“Tell me what?” the laird demanded.
“I am going to have a baby!” Cicely sobbed. “And I don’t want its da killed.”
The Border Lord and the Lady Page 26