“The king always said he meant to rule Scotland as it had not been ruled in many years,” Cicely remarked.
“And he is, although several in his family have suffered for their past behaviors, or those of our near relations. He has instilled fear in his nobles by executing the Duke of Albany and his two sons, his own kinsmen. He has sent the Earl of Strathearn and the master of Atholl to England to stand hostage until his ransom is paid. He holds his nobles responsible for his long sojourn in England, and now he punishes them for it.”
“But if he hadn’t been so long in England, or had returned to Scotland as a lad, he probably would have been killed by his uncle, who was not loath to kill his elder brother, David,” Cicely responded.
Joan Beaufort laughed. “I know. But James’s logic is his own. And he has begun to restore the courts, make new laws that aid the common folk, punish those who would break those laws, and strengthen the coinage of the land. And by taking back royal lands from those who ill-used them, he helps to increase the treasury. Government cannot function without hard coin. Sometimes when you are doing good things you must also do unpleasant things as well. And it does not always rest easy on his conscience, I know. That is why it is so important that I have a son, Ce-ce. The Stewarts will not be safe until I give Scotland some heirs. Jamie’s grandfather had a second wife, Euphemia Ross, and she gave him sons too. There are those who would supplant my husband with one of those young men, if they dared.”
“I did not know,” Cicely exclaimed.
“For now James is safe, for he is the male heir in the direct line of descent. We are young, and I am fertile,” the queen said. “You must not worry, Ce-ce.”
“Will there be a war with the lords in the north?” Cicely asked her friend.
“I think, and ’tis only my thoughts, that if by next summer the MacDonald, lord of the isles, and the other northern clans haven’t come to Scone to pledge their fealty, that James may go north to impel them to do just that. He has not been to Inverness yet.”
Cicely nodded. If she gave Kier a son by then he would have to lead his men, and she could lose a second husband. She sighed. Perhaps Scotland had not been such a good place for her to come. And yet she’d had no way to remain in England without a husband. Certainly one could have been found for her, but that Luciana was so jealous.
Jealous enough to have even attempted to murder Cicely’s father. “I hope there is no war,” Cicely said softly. “I am not of a mind to wed another husband. I was barely used to the first one, and now I have a second.” She smiled wryly, and her companion smiled.
For the next few days the two friends sat in the hall for most of the day while the king and the laird hunted game birds and deer. Finally the king announced one morning that they would be departing for Edinburgh, and from there to Scone. “We have very much enjoyed your hospitality, Ce-ce,” James Stewart said. “Make your farewells, my love,” he told the queen.
“Why didn’t you tell me you would be leaving today?” Cicely asked Joan Beaufort. “I must have Mab prepare something for you to eat along the road. You will probably be staying at a religious house tonight.”
“James is like this,” the queen explained softly. “He makes up his mind on the spur of the moment. He didn’t tell me until we were abed last night. Oh, Ce-ce, please pray for me that this child is a son.” The two young women hugged.
“My liege, you must allow Mab the time to prepare some food for your journey today,” Cicely said. “The queen should not travel in her condition without sustenance. It will not take long. Please!”
“Very well,” the king replied, “but I would go within the hour.”
Cicely ran to the kitchens and explained to Mab their problem.
The old woman grinned. “Men!” she said with a cackle of laughter. “Well, we’re in luck, my lady. I’ve a fat roasted capon in the larder that I did not serve last night. There is fresh bread, cheese, apples, and pears. Quick, Bessie and Flora! Let us get a basket prepared for our king and his bonny wife.”
The two kitchen maids swiftly gathered together the supplies, and wrapped and packed them carefully in a woven willow basket. They covered the basket with a fine linen cloth, handing it to Mab.
“I shall bid the king farewell myself,” the old woman said. “Come, my lady. We do not want to keep Himself waiting. He’s an impatient laddie, and does not easily tolerate foolishness or delay.” Clutching the basket, Mab hobbled up the stone stairs, Cicely coming behind her. Crossing the floor, Mab curtsied, the basket pulling her slightly off balance.
James Stewart caught Glengorm’s cook by the arm, aiding her to regain her equilibrium. “Now, Mistress Mab, have you come to bid me farewell? I’ll not go without a kiss from you,” he teased her gently.
Mab chortled. “Ye’re a wicked laddie, King Jamie Stewart,” she teased back, shaking a finger at him. “I’ve brought our good queen a basket to sustain her today.”
“What?” the king cried. “Is there nothing for me?”
“Hee, hee!” Mab cackled. “If Queen Joan will share the basket with you I would be pleased. There’s a chicken, some fruit, bread, and cheese.”
“Thank you, Mab,” the king responded, and, bending, he kissed her withered cheek. “Your lady has said you are the heart of Glengorm. I have seen over my visit here that it is truth. I am honored to have met you and eaten your fine cooking.” Then, stepping back a pace, the king bowed a most courtly bow to the old woman.
Mab’s eyes filled with tears. “God bless you, King Jamie Stewart,” she said to him. “Our Scotland is the better for your coming home. And God and his Blessed Mother bless your good queen with many sons,” Mab concluded, curtsying to the royal pair.
Joan Beaufort took Mab’s hands in her own. “Thank you,” she said. “Watch over my beloved friend, Mab.” Then, releasing the hands in hers, the queen turned and left the hall, her husband and her hosts walking with her. Her padded cart was before the house. Kier helped the queen into it, then set the basket of food next to her. Reaching out, Joan Beaufort caught the laird’s sleeve. “Treat her well,” she said quietly. “She will love you in time, I believe.” And the queen smiled at him.
The laird’s face was grave, but his voice was gentle when he replied, “How is it that one so young and fair understands so well?” Kier asked her.
The queen laughed. “You are not really too difficult to comprehend, my lord. You and Ce-ce are very alike in many ways. And remember, she and I grew up together. Be patient. I can see that you are beginning to love her.”
Kier Douglas flushed. “I don’t even like her,” he said stubbornly.
The queen laughed again. “My lord, you are a poor liar. I will pray that both you and Ce-ce gain some sense where your marriage is concerned.” She held out her hand to him and he dutifully kissed it.
Cicely had bidden the king farewell, remembering to thank him for returning her dower to her husband. Then she hurried to the cart where the queen was now settled. “I will miss you,” she said. “It has been so good being with you again. I will write, I promise, Jo. And perhaps you will come into the borders again to visit us.”
“Be good to your man, Ce-ce,” the queen advised her. “Love him, and tell him so. Men need such reassurance more than we do. I never let a day go by that I do not tell Jamie that I care for him.”
“We shall see, Jo,” Cicely said candidly.
Then the royal party rode off from Glengorm, the queen waving from her cart.
The laird and his wife watched them go. Kier Douglas then told his wife that he was going hunting, for their larder needed more game if they were to get through the winter. He walked away, feeling her eyes upon his back as he went. Was it possible, truly possible, that she might love him one day? And was the queen right? Was he coming to love her? He shook his dark head. Love was a weakness. He had to remember that. The only time he had given his heart he had been cruelly rejected. The shock of it had sapped him of his strength, of his very will to live.
He had been horrified by how he had felt for so many weeks afterwards.
Kier Douglas had thought he would never recover from the blow to his heart delivered by a small girl with honey gold hair. He could not believe that the bitch had almost destroyed him. And he had vowed never to allow his emotions to get away from him again. But now here was Cicely. Cicely, his wife, who had lain in his arms and praised his prowess in their bed. An English girl. His cousin’s widow. He didn’t like her. He didn’t! She was outspoken, beautiful, brave. All the things she shouldn’t be. But he had to admit to himself that she was a perfect border wife, and he had a grudging respect for her. And her passions certainly matched his. What more did he want? He wanted her to love him, God help him! He wanted her to love him! And if she did, then perhaps he could allow himself to love her.
Chapter 17
While he had come to her bed, Kier had not taken her since their wedding night. She had been puzzled at first, but then she realized he was considering all that had happened between them. They had coupled twice, and both times their passions had exploded wildly. Cicely began to wonder if it would always be that way between them. Nay. It was their pent-up abstinence that had brought about such near violence between them. Surely that was it.
Cicely requested a bath that first evening they were finally without guests. She was soaking peacefully when her husband entered the small bedchamber. Both Cicely and Orva looked startled, for he had not bothered to knock.
“Good night, Orva,” the laird said in a tone that brooked no refusal.
Orva curtsied, casting a quick glance at her mistress. “Good night, my lord, my lady,” she said, reluctantly departing when Cicely said nothing. The chamber door closed.
“You bathe muchly,” Kier remarked as he began pulling his clothes off.
“You should bathe more,” Cicely replied. “I don’t know why it is men avoid bathing except in the summer, when they swim in the loch and count it a bath.”
“I don’t want to smell like some damned flower,” he said.
“But you like it when I do,” Cicely noted mischievously.
“Aye.” He grinned. “I do.”
“You stink of horses and sweat,” she told him.
“If you can swear to me honestly that you got my cousin to bathe more, then I will bathe more, too,” he promised her.
Cicely laughed a wicked laugh. “Of course he learned to bathe more. He wanted to please me. Come!” She held out her hand to him over the top of the tub. “You are naked now, and I will bathe you myself. When you learn how to do it properly I will make you a soap that is scented with sandlewood and clove, a more manly fragrance. The quicker you learn how to wash yourself, the less you will smell like a stable.”
He had never bathed with a woman. It was an intriguing invitation. Of course, he could haul her from her tub and have his way with her without bathing. He was the laird of Glengorm, her husband, and he was to be obeyed. But he realized she was making an attempt to reach out to him, to offer more than just public respect and private lust. He remembered how it had been between his stepmother and father. They actually seemed to enjoy each other’s company, smiled secret smiles at each other, laughed at things he did not consider amusing but they did. They were more than content. They were happy in each other’s company.
He climbed the small steps up to the edge of the tub, then lowered himself into the warm water, facing her. It occurred to him that she was fully naked herself, and he began to consider the many possibilities of bathing that had little to do with cleanliness. Kier Douglas began to smile. When Cicely stepped before him, a washrag in her hand, the tips of her breasts touched his chest, and his cock began to stir.
Cicely began to wash his face. The cloth scrubbed his forehead, his cheeks, and his chin. It followed the outline of his nose, and then his mouth. The smell of the soap was actually very pleasant and delicate.
“Your face is even handsomer when it is clean, despite its roughness,” she noted, her fingers running over the dark stubble. She next moved to wash his neck. “When I was a child, before I was old enough to bathe myself, Orva did it for me,” Cicely told him. “If she saw a neck as dirty as yours is, my lord, she would have asked you if you were growing onions in it.” Cicely washed the dirt from his neck, and then rinsed the soap away.
She next tackled his shoulders, chest, and back, her cloth working up a lather, then rinsing it away. Then she moved on to his long arms and his hands. “Your nails need paring,” she said. “I shall do it when we remove ourselves from the tub, my lord.” She moved with care so as not to splash water from the tub onto the floor. The addition of another person to the tub had brought the water dangerously high, to the tub’s edge. When she had finished his arms she handed him the cloth. “You will have to do the rest now,” she told him, easing herself up from the water onto the tub’s ledge, and swinging her legs about, her feet reaching for the stairs. Finding them, she stood and stepped down.
“But I don’t know how,” he said in a futile attempt to sound helpless. He was staring at her now, and his cock had hardened as his eyes swept over her nakedness.
“Don’t be silly,” she scolded him. “Of course you know how to wash your legs, feet, and other parts. If I tried to help you we would have water all over the chamber.” Then she quickly picked up her warm towel and began to dry herself, aware of his eyes on her nudity. He had never really seen her quite so fully bared. Cicely reached out for her chemise and made to draw it on.
“Don’t!” he told her sharply.
“Oh. Very well, my lord, but if you do not mind I will await you in bed. The night air is chill, and the heat of the fire is somewhat blocked by the tub,” Cicely said, climbing into her bed and drawing the covers up.
“Will you not dry me?” he teased, and climbed from the tub down the steps to the floor. His aroused state was so obvious she blushed.
“Dry yourself,” she told him. “You are a big lad.”
“You noticed.” He chuckled, rubbing the water briskly from his body.
Cicely giggled. She couldn’t help it. “Aye, I’ve noticed,” she admitted, thinking that something was different tonight between them. What was it? And why? Was there some kind of relief in the fact that their marriage was now a fact, or that their guests were gone, and they were alone in the house but for the staff and wee Johanna? She felt the bed shift as he climbed in, sitting next to her, his back against the pillows.
“Well, madam,” he said softly, “here we are once again. Are you satisfied now that I smell like a field of posies?” He took her hand in his.
“I must wash your hair on the morrow to be content with you,” Cicely said to him. The big hand wrapped about her fingers was warm.
“I intend that you be content long before the morrow,” he replied, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss it. Then he nibbled lightly upon her knuckles for a brief moment.
She was silent, for if the truth be known, she was not certain what to say to him.
“What, madam, I have finally stilled that sharp tongue of yours? How is this possible?” Kier inquired of her.
“There is something different between us suddenly,” Cicely said candidly. “Do you not feel it, my lord?”
He did feel it, but he wasn’t certain whether he should admit to it until he knew exactly what it was. Now he was silent.
She saw the play of emotions across his face, for Cicely had turned her head to look at him. He was uncertain what to do or say, and it surprised her. Then she remembered that Jo had said men needed more assurance than women did when it came to matters of the heart. The words came out before she could think further. “Perhaps now that you are clean, my lord, I am coming to like you better,” she told him.
“Are you?” he answered her, looking wary.
“Aye!” Cicely told him. “I do believe that I like you, husband.”
She liked him! But wait. Why this sudden change of heart? What mischief was the woman up to? From the moment that they had b
een matched they had disliked each other intensely. When they came together in conjugal union it was rough and wild. Nay, it was he who had been cruel, not Cicely. Still, he was suspicious. “What has caused this change of heart, madam?” he demanded of her in a hard voice. Then he pulled her into his arms so he might look down into her face when she spoke to see if she lied.
Cicely almost quailed at his tone, but instead she decided she would face him with the truth. Truth was a powerful weapon. Looking up into his handsome face, she said, “I believe that you like me despite what you have said in the past. And I told you I didn’t like you only because you spoke the words to me first. They were hurtful, Kier. I had to wonder if your anger was only because you couldn’t have Glengorm without me. So when you expressed your dislike of me I responded in kind.”
He nodded. “But you like me now,” he said.
“I never disliked you, my lord. First I came to love Glengorm. And I loved Ian in my own way. And then he was gone, but Johanna was born to bind me even closer to Glengorm. I was frightened that I would have to hold these lands for my daughter. I am not, for all my fine upbringing, a weakling, but I never expected to find myself in a border house alone with my child. Frang will tell you that I asked him to teach me the art of defending this house, and he did.
“But then Sir William sent you to me as soon as he learned of Ian’s death. I cannot tell you the relief I felt when you took charge. I should have done whatever I had to do to keep Glengorm and its folk safe, but I was glad for your coming. And when I went into labor with Johanna, you were there in Ian’s place helping me. You were kind, and I thought then that perhaps you were not so terrible. But why did you tell me you did not like me, Kier? What had I done that made you say those words? Though I do not believe for a moment that you ever meant them, even as I did not mean them.”
She had indeed surprised him. Finally he said, “I have not had good fortune where women are concerned.”
“There are no tales about you, as there were about ‘the wenching Douglas,’ ” Cicely said thoughtfully. “And you are past thirty, but have had no wife. And certainly not because you are unable to please a woman.”
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