Bond of Passion

by Bertrice Small

“They should nae be, if Matthew managed to keep Donal Stewart penned up,” he answered her. “But I would nae take any chances. I’d rather send Stewart to his da wi’ my parchment than hae to face Moray before I can explain the truth of the matter. The innkeeper tells me there hae been more troubles along the border the past two weeks. I dinna know if they are involved wi’ her or nae. Damn the woman! Could she nae just keep Bothwell as a lover, the way her mam did wi’ Patrick Hepburn?”

  “How could she hide her belly?” Annabella said as she pulled off her cap and unpinned her braid. “She was a widow, and Knox would hae pilloried her publicly again. ’Tis nae like the old days, when a queen might be indiscreet privily.” Annabella went to a small table where a basin of water and a towel were waiting. She washed her face and her hands.

  “What madness that both of these Marys should fall in love with Hepburn men. What is it women see in them that I canna see?” He sat down across from her.

  “That’s because ye’re a man,” Annabella said with a giggle. “I watched as he spread charm to every pretty female wi’in his ken, and his charm is genuine. Women wanted to please him just because of his charm. They couldna help themselves, and he couldna help himself.” She laughed. “But I truly believe that he loved the queen, a fact that surely confused him, for I doubt he had ever really loved any woman wi’ all his heart and soul. How tragic that it should be the downfall of them both.”

  The earl was astounded by his wife’s acuity. His respect for her grew. “Aye,” he said. “I believe ye’re correct, but it was up to the queen to consider Scotland first, and her own heart second. Her poor wee bairn, being raised by Erskine and his cold wife. A good man and a good woman, yet they lack the kindness needed for a bairn.”

  Annabella sighed. “I know,” she said. “But after her great disappointment in Darnley I suspect it was very difficult for her to resist James Hepburn. I dinna know what it is about the Hepburn men, but they hae always been as fascinating to women as are the Stewarts. Can ye imagine what a child of Mary Stuart and James Hepburn would have been like, Angus? I wonder if God has not spared Scotland.”

  He smiled at her, thinking as he did that his wife was indeed very wise. “Aye,” he agreed. “God may have indeed spared Scotland.”

  While she spoke she had carved him a goodly piece of beef, and piled his plate with some mussels in a mustard sauce, fresh peas, a bit of breast from a fat goose, bread, and cheese. She filled his goblet with rich red wine, then placed it before him. “Eat, my lord,” she said. “It looks and smells delicious. ’Tis the first good meal we have shared in several weeks.” She then attended to her own plate, which contained a similar array of food. They both ate with a good appetite.

  A small tartlet of apple had been left on the sideboard. When Annabella had cleared their plates away, she divided the little sweet, covering it with clotted cream. She gave him the larger portion, for she knew how much her husband enjoyed this particular treat. He devoured it quickly, and she gave him what remained upon her plate. With a guilty smile he accepted it, and ate it quickly.

  “Did ye think I would take it back?” Annabella teased him as he wolfed down what remained of the sweet.

  He laughed. “Matthew, James, and I always squabbled over the last bit of a treat, and usually while we did Jean snatched it for herself,” the earl told his wife.

  “Roosters do a lot of crowing,” Annabella teased him.

  He chuckled, then, reaching across the small table, took her hand in his. He kissed each finger in its turn. “I hae come to love ye so greatly that were I ever to lose ye, madam, I think my life would be bleak forevermore.”

  Annabella felt herself near tears with his passionate declaration, but then he continued.

  “But, if I should ever hae to leave Duin again, and ye follow after me when I hae told ye nay, I swear I shall lock ye in the castle’s highest tower, and never let ye roam free again! Do ye understand me, madam? When I tell ye nay, I mean nay.”

  “Ye would hae never known I followed ye had those villains nae attempted murder,” Annabella said. “I could nae let them kill ye.”

  “I was awake, madam, for I was expecting such an attempt. Do ye think me such a fool that I was nae aware I was being followed? Actually I thought there were three of them, particularly when ye decided to remain after the meal,” he told her.

  Annabella giggled.

  “Ye find this amusing?” he said to her, standing up.

  “Aye, I do. Ye thought I was an assassin when I was really there to protect ye.” And Annabella began to laugh. “Did I really look like an assassin?”

  “Assassins dinna hae a look,” he said, coming around the table and pulling her into his arms. The feel of her sweetly rounded body against him, her plain little face looking up at him with those trusting gray eyes of hers, the subtle fragrance of her, set his senses reeling. This was his woman, and she had put herself in danger for him. God’s blood! Was there a more fortunate man alive in Scotland today than he was? All he wanted to do was get them safely home to Duin to live their lives in peace, and never have to leave it again.

  Annabella had grown silent, watching the play of strong emotions crossing his outrageously handsome face. What good luck had brought her this wonderful man who loved her? “I think, Angus,” she said softly, “that it is past time ye kissed me and took me to bed, my dearest lord.” Her fingers caressed his cheek.

  He smiled suddenly, and nodded. Then his mouth took hers in a slow, deep kiss even while he picked her up and took her into their bedchamber. Together they undressed each other by the light of the fire in the hearth before crawling between the lavender-scented sheets. Annabella sighed with happiness as he stroked the length of her body.

  His touch sent little shivers of delight through her. She lay on her belly while his lips pressed little kisses down the length of her spine. She lay on her back as his hands caressed her breasts and belly. His mouth suckled slowly at her nipples until they were sore, but she was so filled with pleasure that it didn’t matter.

  Finally he whispered in her ear as his big body began to cover hers, “I need to be inside of you, sweetheart.”

  She felt his length and thickness against her thigh. Her legs opened for him, wrapped themselves about his torso as he pushed himself slowly, slowly into her wet and waiting sheath, and she groaned as he filled her entirely. “Oh, Angus!” She sighed, clinging to him, her nails digging lightly into his broad shoulders.

  Jesu, he thought. She felt so damned good. His cock was throbbing with his need for her. The wall of her sheath tightened about him, clenching and unclenching, until he cried out low. He began to move upon her, slowly at first, but as his lust increased, faster and faster, deeper, deeper, deeper. He could feel the crisis approaching for them both, and struggled not to race ahead of her.

  Then Annabella said hotly in his ear, “Now! Now! Now!”

  His creamy tribute burst forth and their love juices combined, leaving them both satisfied and breathless. “God’s blood, how I love ye!” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Nae as much as I love ye!” she whispered back.

  They slept, exhausted, for the next several hours, but, aware of their need for haste, he awoke just before first light to arise, wash, and dress. Only when he was fully clothed did he awaken his naked wife, who lay sprawled upon her belly amid the tangled sheets, her limbs askew, her sable plait undone and spread across her upper torso. Even clothed he found he was tempted to climb back into the bed and take her again. Instead he shook her gently. “Wake up, sweetheart. We’ve got miles to go before we reach Duin.”

  Annabella protested sleepily. Then with a little groan she opened her eyes and rolled over onto her back. “Come back to bed, my lord,” she entreated him. “The light is nae even tinting the skies yet.”

  “We’re leaving at first light,” he told her. “Get up now, Annabella. Are ye nae anxious to get home? We have several days’ riding ahead of us before we do.”

  With ano
ther small groan she pulled herself up, swung her legs over the bed, and stood. Her eyes were closed again, but she smiled when he said he would leave her to her toilette.

  Annabella heard him close the bedchamber door. She quickly washed herself and pulled on her garments. Then, sitting back upon the bed, she brushed her hair out with the brush she pulled from her saddlebag. Her hair felt sticky with salt from her two sea voyages, and she could feel the dust of the summer roads in her scalp. She brushed and brushed until her head and long tresses felt a little better. Then she quickly braided the long, dark hair into a thick plait, securing it with a small scrap of red ribbon. She left it hanging. Riding with her husband, she no longer had a need to conceal her identity.

  He was waiting for her in the dayroom. To her surprise the supper dishes were gone from the sideboard, and in their stead upon the little table was a hot meal of oat stirabout in a bread trencher, a bowl of hard-boiled eggs, some cheese, and bread. She sat down and began to quickly eat as she saw Angus was already half-finished.

  “We can take what we don’t eat of the bread, cheese, and eggs wi’ us for our ride,” Annabella told her husband. “That way we won’t hae to stop but briefly at midday, and can ride until sunset.”

  He grunted his approval of her plan.

  When they had finished they went into the taproom and paid the landlord, who looked slightly confused as he attempted to identify Annabella’s gender, for he had been certain it had been a young man traveling with the earl. But suddenly the young man had breasts that swelled generously beneath his or her shirt, and a long braid that hung down her—for he suddenly realized it was a female—back. He didn’t approve of bold women, but, taking the earl’s coin, he wished them a pleasant journey.

  The two horses they had stabled several weeks ago were fresh and waiting for them. They mounted and turned onto the streets of Leith, making for the road that would take them southwest into the borders, and eventually to Duin. The first day was gray. The next two it rained, and they were forced to shelter in the open at night. Finally, on the fourth morning, the weather recalled it was September. The sun shone down on them as they rode onward.

  The main road remained relatively safe, with its busy daytime traffic, but once they turned off of it they became warier. Now and again they saw parties of horsemen in the distance, galloping over the moors. There were several times they heard the thunder of horses’ hooves before they even saw anyone. If there was a place of shelter they wisely sought it until the riders had gone by. But one afternoon a large party of men showing the red plaid of the Hamiltons caught them unawares, surrounding them upon the road.

  “Do ye stand for the Queen’s Men or the King’s Men?” the leader asked bluntly.

  “I stand for Scotland,” Angus Ferguson answered them quietly.

  “The queen’s Scotland or the king’s Scotland?” the leader persisted.

  “I stand for Scotland,” the earl repeated. “There is but one.”

  The leader of the Hamilton faction looked puzzled, but then the man next to him laughed. “Ye hae to be the Ferguson of Duin,” he said, “for only he would dare to keep himself from this fray.”

  “I am Angus Ferguson,” the earl admitted.

  “Why will ye nae declare for queen or king?” the Hamilton leader asked him now that he realized the man before him was no enemy.

  “The Fergusons of Duin hae always kept themselves from siding wi’ any faction,” the man who had recognized Angus said. “They truly do stand for Scotland.”

  “The queen must be restored,” the Hamilton leader said.

  “Scotland must hae peace,” Angus told him. “If ye want to fight, then fight wi’ the English, not yer own fellow Scots. It does our country nae good when we quarrel wi’ one another, but it makes England and the rest of Europe very happy.”

  “Ye must choose!” the Hamilton leader insisted.

  “I will take sides with nae one. I stand for Scotland,” the earl repeated once again.

  “Leave him be,” the other man said. “His wife’s mother is a Hamilton.” He turned to Angus. “Did ye nae wed Anne Hamilton’s daughter?”

  “I did,” the earl replied. Then, reaching out, he drew Annabella’s mount forward. “Here is my countess, who rides wi’ me on family business. I have learned she is the bonniest woman alive, and I’ll fight any man who says otherwise.”

  “Annabella Baird, I am yer cousin Jock Hamilton,” the man who had defended Angus said. “Yer mother’s family will be pleased to know how highly yer husband values ye. How do ye stand? For queen or for king?”

  “I stand for Scotland,” Annabella told him with a small smile.

  The Hamiltons within her hearing chuckled at her reply, and even their leader grinned. “Travel on in safety,” he told the earl and his wife as he moved his horse aside.

  “We thank ye,” Angus Ferguson said as he and Annabella rode by. They were just two days from Duin.

  Chapter 14

  They could smell the sea on the afternoon wind. The horses too sensed the nearness of home, which seemed to give more energy to their steps. And then they crested the final hill, and Duin lay below them on its cliff above the sea. Angus dismounted and, walking over to a little pile of stones, bent down, appearing to fumble with his hands. Then he stood tall once more. As he mounted his stallion a small rocket streaked from the rocks into the sky to explode over the castle.

  Annabella watched in amazement as the drawbridge began to lower over the chasm separating the castle from the cliffs. “I dinna know ye had a signal fixed,” she said. “How clever.”

  “Matthew was instructed nae to lower the drawbridge to any but me,” Angus told her. “Duin is impossible to take otherwise wi’out cannon.”

  “Mother of mercy, may there never be cannon pointed at our walls,” Annabella said. “Why would anyone want to take Duin?”

  “Times change, and we are nae longer as isolated as we once were,” he said.

  They cantered down the hill, crossing the now lowered bridge into the courtyard, where Matthew was waiting to greet them. When he saw Annabella his face grew dark with anger. “I dinna know yer vixen would follow after ye!” were the first words from his mouth. “She tricked me, wi’ Jeannie’s help, Angus.”

  The Earl of Duin laughed. “She saved my life,” he told his younger brother. “I’ll hear nae more of yer complaints, Matthew. Are our prisoners still being kept comfortable? I was successful in obtaining proof of my innocence.” He took Annabella’s hand as together they walked into the castle.

  “Aye, they’re well, though testy about being penned up so long,” Matthew said.

  “We’ll release them on the morrow,” the earl replied. “Ye can bring Donal Stewart to me in the hall now. He’ll eat wi’ us this evening. How is Aggie?”

  “Delivered me a fine son two days ago,” Matthew responded proudly. “With nae help but from my mother and Jeannie.” He shot Annabella a fierce look.

  “We’ll come see the lad tomorrow,” the earl said as they entered the hall.

  “I’ll fetch Donal Stewart,” Matthew responded, and hurried off.

  “He hae never really liked me,” Annabella said quietly. “Yet I know he loves my sister.” She sighed.

  “He’s old-fashioned, like our father was. Don’t pay him any mind,” Angus said candidly. Then he kissed her a lovely slow, sweet kiss that came to an end only when they heard Matthew harrumph. Angus released Annabella, and they smiled at each other as he eased his hold on her.

  God’s bones, Donal Stewart thought, seeing them together. How much they love each other.

  “I hope ye hae been comfortable in my care,” the Earl of Duin said.

  Donal Stewart nodded. “We hae been well treated and well fed, my lord. Other than the loss of my freedom I canna complain. Yer brother tells me ye returned to France.” He looked curiously at Angus Ferguson. “To what purpose, if I may ask?”

  “Ye may,” the earl replied. “But come; the meal is ready.
Let us adjourn to the high board, and I will tell ye everything.”

  The three men and Annabella seated themselves at the table. The servants brought in the food, and they ate as the earl spoke.

  “I am nae a traitor. Today on the road we met wi’ a band of horsemen who demanded to know whether I was for king or queen. I told them I stood for Scotland, and I do. The history of the Fergusons of Duin is a well-known one. We dinna involve ourselves in politics. Families who do generally meet with misfortune somewhere along the way.” He ceased his speech briefly to eat. Then he told them the story of his dealings with Monsieur Claude, the de Guise agent, and the magistrate.

  “Ye refused a larger offer for Monsieur Claude’s offer?” Donal Stewart was slightly disbelieving. He liked the Earl of Duin. His instincts told him this man was no traitor, yet he had refused a lucrative offer to accept a reasonable one. “Why?” He needed to know that.

  The Earl of Duin smiled at the frank request. “I am a rich man, Donal Stewart,” he said. “Everyone knows that. What they dinna know is the extent of my wealth. A wise man keeps such things to himself lest he be envied by his neighbors. My wealth stems from the generosity of my mother’s sister and her husband. They were childless, and left me all they possessed. Their lands, however, remained in his family, but the bulk of his wealth was passed on to me. I want for nothing, for I husband this wealth carefully, and hae increased it over the years. I would be a fool to lose all that I have by committing treason against the crown, to lose my home, my family, my bairns. James the sixth of his name is crowned king. He is Scotland, and I stand for Scotland.”

  “Mary Stuart was once crowned queen of Scotland, and she yet lives,” Donal Stewart said quietly.

  “Aye, she was, and she does. But she hae foolishly left her realm to flee into England,” Angus Ferguson replied.

  “Ye’re Bothwell’s friend,” Donal Stewart said.

  “I am, and I will nae deny it,” Angus responded. “It does nae mean that I approved his rash actions, however.”