The Captive Heart

Chapter Seven

Ravenscraig Castle sat on a low rocky promontory' set between two dark shingle beaches overlooking the Firth of Forth. Two rounded gray stone towers greeted the visitors approaching from the land side of the castle. A drawbridge lay over a water-filled moat at the gate entrance. The tower to the west was the oldest part of the castle, but the tower to the east had a deeper foundation where steps led down to an underground stable. The queen resided in the West Tower. Their party clopped across the oak bridge, beneath an iron portcullis, and into the courtyard between the towers. They were met by a captain wearing the queen's badge.

Malcolm Scott dismounted, saying as he did to the man, "I am the Laird of Dunglais, here at the queen's command. My daughter and her companion travel with me."

"I am David Grant, the queen's captain at arms," the soldier replied. "Aye, you are expected, my lord. If you and the ladies will follow me, I will take you to Her Highness." He turned to the Scott men-at-arms. "You men stable your mounts and then you may come to the great hall to be fed. You'll sleep with your horses. Ravenscraig isn't a large dwelling." He signaled to a soldier at arms, who came immediately. "Show the Laird of Dunglais's men where they are to go and then bring them to the hall."

"Aye, sir!" came the quick reply, but David Grant was already hurrying away with the guests.

"Your trip was an easy one?" the captain inquired pleasantly.

"Good weather always makes a trip smoother, especially when you travel with a woman and a child," the laird answered as they entered the tower, following the captain up a flight of stairs to a second level into a great hall.

Another man wearing the queen's badge hurried forward. He had an air of self-importance about him.

"This is the Laird of Dunglais and his family," David Grant said to the man. Then to the laird, "This is Master Michel, the steward of Ravenscraig Castle. He will see that Her Highness knows you are here." He bowed neatly to them and left.

The steward nodded to the laird and waved a servant to his side. "Go and tell Her Highness that her guests have arrived from the borders." As the servant dashed away, Master Michel said, "I have a bedspace for you, my lord, here in the hall. The ladies must share a small chamber." He signaled to another servant, who dashed to his side. It was obvious that those who served Master Michel were well trained. "Please take these two ladies to their assigned chamber," he told the serving woman who had come in response to his silent demand.

"Da! He called me a lady," Fiona said excitedly.

"Fiona," Alix admonished, but she saw the steward's quick brief smile out of the corner of her eye. "Come along now." And taking the little girl's hand, she followed the servant from the hall.

They were led up two flights of stone stairs to a narrow hallway. Down the dim corridor the woman trotted, finally stopping before a small door. She opened it and ushered Alix and Fiona inside. "You've a hearth," she said proudly. "Her Highness likes her guests to be comfortable. I lit the fire earlier. There's wood and peat both. Ah." She turned at the sound of footsteps. "Here's your trunks. Put it there at the foot of the bed, Finn, and you, Gordie, place yours beneath the window."

The two servants did as they were bid.

"There's water to wash the dust of your journey off," the serving woman said. "Shall I wait, or can you find your own way back to the hall?"

"We'll find our way," Alix said. "Thank you so much for your kindness."

The serving woman gave her a quick smile. It wasn't often guests thanked her. She departed the small chamber, closing the door behind her.

"We will bathe and change our clothing. We do not want to meet the king's mother dressed in our travel garments," Alix said to Fiona.

"I liked it when they called me a lady," Fiona told her companion. "They did it three or more times!"

Alix smiled. "I always felt special when I was your age and someone would refer to me as my lady. I wasn't, of course, but everyone in the household knew it pleased me. My father began it," she remembered with a smile. "We must hurry now, ma petite."

They quickly removed their travel clothing and bathed their hands and faces in the warm water they found in a pitcher in the hot ashes of the hearth. Then Alix helped Fiona into her scarlet velvet gown, and, after brushing the child's long dark hair, outfitted it with a matching ribbon with tiny freshwater pearls about her forehead. She made Fiona sit upon the bed while she quickly dressed herself in the green velvet gown she had made. Brushing her hair out, she confined it in a delicate gold caul. She found the little chamois bag and took two thin gold chains from it, putting them over her head. The gold took away from the severity of the deep green of her gown. She then pulled out her rings, slipping them onto her fingers. Rings were an important accessory, and many women wore them on every finger, and the most fashionable wore several rings on each finger, fitting them onto each joint. Alix had five rings. She wore three on one hand, and two on the other. They had been her mother's but for one that her father had given her.

"I wish I had jewelry," Fiona sighed wistfully.

Alix reached into the bag and drew out a long strand of pearls.

"These were my mother's," she told the child as she looped them twice over Fiona's head. "You may have the loan of them only, but they do show nicely on your red velvet."

Fiona flung herself at Alix and wrapped her little arms about the older woman's neck. "Oh, Alix, I do love you! I wish you were my mother! Thank you!"

Alix hugged the little body against hers back. "I love you too, Fiona," she said. Then she untangled them, saying, "We must return to the great hall. The queen will certainly have come by now, and your father will be wondering what happened to us." Taking Fiona's hand in hers, Alix led them downstairs and back to the hall.

Marie of Gueldres was already there and in light conversation with the laird. She was a lovely woman of medium height who still retained a good figure despite the six children she had born her late husband. Her complexion was a light olive and tone, and her hair was jet black. She had fine amber-colored eyes. She was known to be intelligent, educated, and devout.

Alix led Fiona to where the queen and the laird sat. Then she waited politely to be acknowledged. The widowed queen did not wait. She turned almost immediately, smiling at them. The laird came at once to his feet and drew his child forward.

"Madame, this is my daughter, Fiona," he said.

Fiona curtsied prettily as Alix had taught her.

"What a lovely child she is, my lord," Marie of Gueldres said. "Welcome to Ravenscraig, Fiona Scott. We are pleased to see you."

"Merci beaucoup, madame la reine," Fiona answered easily.

"Vous parlez Français, m'enfant?" Queen Marie smiled.

"Oui, madame, un peu," Fiona said.

"Très bon!" the queen replied, and then she laughed.

"And my daughter's companion is Mistress Alix Givet," the laird said.

Alix curtsied a deep court curtsy.

"You did not learn to curtsy like that anywhere but in a court, Mistress Givet," Queen Marie noted, curious. "In what court were you raised?"

"In the court of King Henry and his good queen, Margaret of Anjou," Alix replied politely. She realized the laird had said nothing of her background to the queen, leaving that up to her. Alix was grateful for his thoughtfulness.

"And what brought you there?" Queen Marie wanted to know.

"I was born there, madame. My mother was a lady-in-waiting to Queen Margaret, who is my godmother. My father was the queen's personal physician. They are both now deceased, God assoil their souls," Alix said, crossing herself piously.

The Scots queen crossed herself as well in a gesture of respect. "But how came you to the household of the Laird of Dunglais?" she asked Alix.

"I had traveled into Scotland and became lost upon the moor. The laird's men found me and brought me to him. As he has no wife and his daughter's nursemaid was elderly, the child needed to be educated in a manner befitting her station as the laird's heiress; he asked me to remain at Dunglais and care for Fiona. I am recently widowed, madame, and to be candid, his offer was the answer to my prayers. The husband my godmother had seen me wed to had died but seven months after our marriage was celebrated. I was planning to find her, but the truth is in her current condition she would not have been able to take me back into her household. That is why the laird's offer was such a blessing."

"But why would your husband's family not give you refuge?" The queen was curious and surprised.

"My husband's father had no other heirs," Alix said. "He sought to marry me himself, madame, which is why I left. He is a good man, but he was my husband's father. I felt it went against the laws of the church and of nature that he desired such a thing of me. But he sent the house priest to the archbishop at York for a dispensation. When I told him the archbishop would certainly not grant it, my husband's father said he had sent a large purse with his priest as a bribe. That is when I knew I must leave, and so I did."

"And you were perfectly just in doing so!" Queen Marie said. "Desperate men, however, will do desperate things, I fear, Mistress Givet. You are most welcome to Ravenscraig."

Alix curtsied again, and knowing she was dismissed, moved away with Fiona.

"She's lovely," the queen noted.

"She is good for my daughter," the laird answered.

The queen smiled a small smile but said nothing further.

"Tell me, madame, why have you called me to you?" Malcolm Scott inquired. "There is certainly nothing I have that can be of value to you or our young king. I am nothing but a simple border lord."

"You have a knowledge of guns, my lord," the queen said. "I wish to fortify this castle and arm it. Sitting on the edge of the Firth of Forth, it is vulnerable to attack."

"There are others who have a greater knowledge of canon than I do," the laird replied modestly.

"But I know I may trust you completely, for you were my husband's old and good friend, my lord. My position is precarious, now for my son, the king, is only a little boy. You know what happened to his father in a similar situation. I stand between him and the horrific childhood his father had. Bishop Kennedy has his own agenda, and only I can keep him at bay, making certain his loyalty remains with my son. But there are those among the earls and other lords who would kidnap the king given the opportunity and use him for their own power base. That is why I would make Ravenscraig impenetrable to any who would attack it. And you can tell me what weaponry I will need, for I know for a fact that you have no loyalties other than to yourself, my lord."

"And to Scotland, madame," the laird murmured softly with a small smile.

She returned the smile. "And to Scotland," she agreed. It was silently understood between them that Scotland meant the young king, James III.

"I will advise you as best I can," he told her.

"Good! My uncle of Burgundy has agreed he will have the canon I need cast and delivered here to the beach below the castle. He will also send men to install the canon."

The Laird of Dunglais nodded. "Has Martzioun built you battlements?" he asked.

"Aye, he is constructing them now," the queen answered.

"I will want to inspect them to make certain they are sturdy enough to hold the guns you will need," the laird told her.

"Tomorrow is time enough," Queen Marie said. "In the meantime, let us pretend I have simply asked my husband's old companion for a visit because I am feeling nostalgic. I have all the children here with me. You daughter must meet them. How old is she?"

"She will be seven in December," the laird said.

"My son Alexander is eight, and his brother David is six. They will need wives one day, my lord."

"And you will need greater names for them than mine," he replied with an amused smile. "You can do better for them than a border heiress." She did not need to bribe him. He would help her for the friendship he had had with her husband.

"You must wed again and have sons," Queen Marie said.

"So my housekeeper tells me." The laird chuckled.

"Your daughter's companion would make you a good wife. Her bloodline is respectable," Queen Marie noted thoughtfully. "And your daughter loves her, or perhaps you had not noticed it. However, seeing how well she does with your daughter I wonder if she might not make a good addition to my own household. My daughters are still babies, but Mistress Givet is just the sort of young woman I would want in their nursery influencing them. And her French is excellent, of course. Still I would repay you ill if I stole her away from you, my lord." Queen Marie smiled mischievously.

"I need no wife as long as I have Fiona," Malcolm Scott responded stubbornly. Nay. He needed no wife. Why would he need a wife? He had an heiress for Dunglais, but Alix was testing his reserve of late. She had become a passionate lover under his tutelage. He had thought that that would be enough, but suddenly the queen's teasing banter was making him wonder what his life would be like without Alix. He had lived without her before, hadn't he? And then he realized with a sharp sudden clarity that he didn't want to live without her now.

Was he in love? Aye, he was in love! Yet what he felt now was nothing like what he had felt for Robena. It had been time to take a wife. Robena was beautiful and exciting. Her dower was generous. Her family a good one. Malcolm Scott had approved the match his uncle wanted to make, and married the Ramsay lass. He hadn't been quite certain on their wedding night she was a virgin, but she had seemed at first to be loyal. But he realized now he had never loved her. And when she had betrayed him it was his pride, his honor, that had been hurt. She had gone from his life as easily as she had come into it, and he hadn't cared.

But it was different with Alix. He didn't want her to go away. He didn't want her to marry another one day. She was his! He loved her! And if he loved her then she deserved better from him than to be his mistress. She should be the wife he had been so certain he did not need. Fiona loved her too.

"My lord." Queen Marie broke into his thoughts.

"Madame?" He was immediately alert.

"May I present Eufemia Grant, my captain's wife, to you? Eufemia, this is Malcolm Scott, the Laird of Dunglais."

"Madame." The laird bowed over the elegant white hand that was offered.

"Eufemia is a member of the Stewart family, my lord. My late husband saw to her marriage several years ago," Queen Marie explained.

Eufemia Grant was a tall woman with an arrogant carriage. She had rich auburn hair and large breasts that almost spilled from her dark blue gown. "My lord," she greeted him in a husky voice, her bright blue eyes assessing him as a feline would a particularly plump mouse. The tip of her tongue snaked quickly across her lips. "You have traveled far?"

"From Dunglais in the borders," he answered her.

"I know it not," she replied. As the queen moved away to greet another gentleman who had just entered the hall, Eufemia Grant moved closer to the laird.

"There is no reason you would know Dunglais, madame." Jesu! Her scent was overpowering, and he had to refrain from pulling away when she slipped her arm into his.

"Is Dunglais beautiful?" she murmured so quietly he had to bend his head to hear her, and in doing so was treated to a fine display of her bosom, which he realized was exactly what she had intended.

"It's a simple border holding. Pretty to some, but not all," he answered her.

Across the hall Alix saw the laird bending low over the beautiful woman. Her heart contracted in her chest as if someone were squeezing it. Who was the woman? And why was she clinging to the laird in such a proprietary manner? Alix felt something akin to anger welling up in her. She wanted to go over and scratch the woman's eyes out. But she remained where she was until Fiona, noting the woman with her father, pulled away from Alix and headed straight for the couple.

"Da!" she said, hurrying up to him.

Eufemia Grant looked down at the little girl disdainfully.

"Qui êtes vous?" Fiona said, looking up boldly at the woman.

"What is she saying?" Eufemia Grant wanted to know.

"Vous êtes laide," Fiona continued. "Jene vous came pas."

"Fiona!" Alix hurried up. "I am so sorry, my lord."

The laird's mouth was twitching with amusement.

"Are you her servant?" Eufemia Grant demanded to know. "Take the brat away! I do not like children, especially those who chatter in a rude tongue. Having to dodge the queen's brood all the time is more than enough for me."

"I am hardly a servant, madame," Alix answered icily. "I am Mistress Alix Givet, goddaughter to Queen Margaret of England."

"Take your child away, then, Mistress Givet," Eufemia Grant said. "She is annoying us."

"She does not annoy me," the laird said, and reaching down, he lifted Fiona up into his arms. "She is my daughter, madame."

"I don't like her, Da," Fiona whispered to her father. "I will be very angry if you want to marry her."

"Mistress Grant has a husband, Fiona," her father reassured her.

"Then why is she clinging to you and showing you her tits?" Fiona demanded.

"Fiona, Mistress Grant's gown is the height of fashion and I am quite jealous," Alix said in an effort to smooth things over. She saw the laird was close to laughter, and so was she. Poor Eufemia Grant looked so outraged, for Fiona's whispers were quite plainly understood.

"Your daughter's manners lack gentility and delicacy, my lord," Eufemia Grant said and, turning, she stalked away.

Malcolm Scott chuckled, unable to restrain his amusement. Alix was caught up in a frenzy of giggles. Neither could help themselves. Fiona looked between them, and deciding that they were not angry at her, grinned.

"Praise God and his Blessed Mother that the woman didn't speak French," the laird said. "Fiona told Mistress Grant she was ugly."

"She is," Fiona said. "And she smelled beneath all that perfume she had bathed herself in, Da. She obviously does not wash regularly like Alix and like me. I did not like her. Why was she hanging on Da that way?"

"She is part of Queen Marie's household," Alix told the girl. "I think she was just attempting to make your father feel welcome."

"Precisely!" the laird agreed.

"I did not like her," Fiona repeated.

It was at that moment the queen returned, escorted by a handsome gentleman. "My lord, have you met Adam Hepburn? Adam, this is the Laird of Dunglais, Malcolm Scott."

Adam Hepburn was a tall, big-boned man with rich auburn hair and light eyes that seemed to waver between green and blue. He held out his hand to the laird, shook it, then smiled at Alix and Fiona. "And who are these two fair ladies?" he asked.

"My daughter, Fiona," the laird said, "and Mistress Alix Givet, who is her companion."

"Mistress Givet is my kinswoman of Anjou's goddaughter," Queen Marie said.

"And how did an English queen's godchild end up in Scotland?" the Hepburn lord asked, curious.

"I will tell you the story later, my lord," Queen Marie murmured.

"Have you seen the battlements yet?" Adam Hepburn asked Malcolm Scott.

"Nay," the laird answered.

"Tomorrow," the queen said quietly. "The laird's visit should be considered social, my lord. I do not wish to draw the attention of others to its real purpose."

"Forgive me, madame," Adam Hepburn quickly replied. "I am as anxious as you to hear his opinion. I forget that even here at Ravenscraig we are not entirely safe from prying eyes and sharp ears."

The queen smiled a tender smile at the Hepburn. "Always be here to watch over me, my lord," she said quietly.

Malcolm Scott caught Alix's eye. He saw the faintly surprised look upon her face. "Tell me," he said, turning the subject, "is the captain of your guard aware of his wife's nature, madame? Forgive me, but I am not used to being approached so boldly."

Adam Hepburn laughed heartily. "I believe Eufemia Grant has feline blood in her veins. She seems to stalk naturally. So far she hasn't caused a scandal, and so far her husband hasn't killed her."

The laird joined in his laughter. "He probably will have to eventually," he remarked. "She quite put my little daughter out."

"Eufemia doesn't like women of any age," Adam Hepburn said.

"My lords," the queen gently admonished them. "David Grant is most loyal."

A group of children suddenly entered the hall and came to where the queen stood. The eldest of them was a handsome young boy between nine and ten with an olive complexion, dark hair, and fine dark eyes. It was obvious who he was.

"Jamie!" the queen said, and she curtsied, as did Alix and Fiona. The two gentlemen bowed to the young king.

"Michel said we had guests, Mama," the boy said.

The queen presented the laird, Alix, and Fiona to him.

"Would you like to come and play with me?" the king asked Fiona. "I like chess. Do you like chess, my lady Fiona?"

"I have never played," Fiona said cast down. Then she brightened. "But I am learning French, Your Highness."

"But I shall teach you!" the king told her. "And you will practice your French with me. My mother spoke French in her homeland. I speak very good French."

"I should like that, Your Highness," Fiona told him.

"Come along, then," the king said. "You don't want to play with my brothers. They are much too rough for a fine young lady as yourself."

"Jamie plays with lasses," Alexander, the eight-year-old Duke of Albany said with a sneer, and his two brothers, David, the Earl of Moray, and John, the Earl of Mar, snickered and punched each other.

"My lords, the king seeks to make a guest welcome," Adam Hepburn said. "You might learn from him."

"I know what you are and what you do" the young Duke of Albany said with a leer. "There are no secrets, my lord."

"Alexander!" the queen admonished her second-born son. "Apologize to Lord Hepburn at once."

"Your pardon," the boy said with a sneer, and then he led his two younger brothers off across the hall.

"He is jealous," Adam Hepburn said softly. "He thinks he should be king."

"My lords and my ladies," Michel, the queen's steward, called, "the meal is served."

"You will sit at the high board with us," the queen told the laird.

Alix moved discreetly away, but the queen called to her.

"Nay, Mistress Givet. You will sit with us. I know it is two years since you have seen my kinswoman of Anjou, but you must tell me what you know nonetheless."

The meal was served quickly and efficiently. Alix was surprised at the simplicity of it. There were prawns that had been broiled in sweet butter and wine with a sauce of mustard and dill. There was a fish she could not identify, which the queen proudly told them was caught fresh that morning. It too was broiled, filleted, and served upon a bed of crisp cress with pieces of lemon. Alix hadn't seen a lemon in several years, although they were always available at the English court's kitchens. Fat capons roasted golden and sauced with oranges and raisins came next along with ham and venison. There was a potage of vegetables, peas, carrots, leeks, and beets in a cream sauce tasting of rosemary. The bread was fresh. There was butter and several cheeses. How long had it been since she had seen a Brie? Alix asked herself. At Dunglais there was hard yellow cheese. It was tasty but it wasn't Brie. She indulged herself shamelessly until she caught Adam Hepburn grinning at her. Alix blushed, and he chuckled.

"The fare in the borders, I know, is hardly grand," he said.

"Fenella does well enough for us," Alix replied, "but growing up in my godmother's court I grew to love the different cheeses that were available to us."

"It must seem strange living such a rustic life after the life you have lived," Adam Hepburn said. "Yet you seem happy, Mistress Alix."

"The last few years were so chaotic," Alix told him. "The king's bouts of madness grew worse. The Yorkist faction jockeyed for precedence over the king's men. Battles were fought back and forth, and we were never certain that we were safe. The queen was particularly frantic for Prince Edward's safety." She sighed. "And then my mother died. She was one of the queen's ladies and had been with her since they were both girls in Anjou. She had always been so hearty, but suddenly she was tired all the time. My father knew that even if he could take us back to a quieter life in Anjou she would die sooner than later. All those years of looking after her mistress had taken their toll upon her health. She died just before we were finally forced to flee north."

"I am sorry," Adam Hepburn said. "It is always the women and children who suffer in these wars we men create. Your father is gone now too, and you have become orphaned. You had a husband, I am told, and he too is dead."

"Gracious!" Alix exclaimed. "When you put it all together, and I am the only one left standing…" She looked momentarily distressed.

"You are a survivor," he told her. "There is nothing wrong with being a survivor, Mistress Givet. Better to survive than not. Have you become your laird's mistress?"

"My lord!" Alix's fair skin grew quite pink with her blushes.

Adam Hepburn laughed. "You are a survivor," he repeated.

"I am not that kind of woman," Alix began, but the Hepburn lord shook his head.

"Nay, you are not. I can see that. You love him, but being a wise woman you have said nothing. He loves you, you know. His eyes follow you everywhere."

"Oh no, my lord!" Alix said. "He was cruelly betrayed by his wife. He will not love or trust again any woman."

Adam Hepburn laughed softly again. "What a charming innocent you are, Alix Givet. Your laird loves you, and eventually he will admit to it. Will that make you happy, ma petite?"

"Mais oui, my lord," Alix whispered.

The meal over, the queen's musicians began to play from a little gallery at one end of the hall. The music was sprightly, and Alix found her foot tapping to it.

"Madame, shall we dance?" Adam Hepburn asked the queen.

Marie of Gueldres smiled and clapped her hands. "What a lovely idea!" she agreed, and arose from her place at the high board. She led them to the floor, and clasping hands, they made a circle. David Grant and his wife joined them. Together they circled first one way and then another, to the music. Then the circle broke briefly as they paired and danced as couples. At first the queen danced with Adam Hepburn while the Grants made a couple, and Malcolm Scott took Alix in hand. The gentlemen bowed. The ladies curtsied. The women were twirled several times and then lifted up to shouts from the men-at-arms seated at the several tables in the hall.

They joined hands again, circling, broke apart as pairs once more but this time with different partners. The laird partnered the queen while David Grant danced with Alix, leaving Adam Hepburn with Eufemia Grant. Alix was flushed and laughing as the queen's captain lifted her up to the shouts from his men-at-arms. They circled a third time and then danced together again, Alix with Adam Hepburn now. Finally the music ceased and the dance was ended.

Malcolm Scott made his way to Alix. He took her by the arm, and while the others began to chat among themselves, the laird took her from the hall. His face was dark with his anger. "I thought you were different from other women, but you are no better, Alix Givet!" he snarled at her.

"What is the matter, my lord?" Alix cried softly. "What have I done to offend?"

"Do you think I would not notice you shamelessly flirting with both Hepburn and Grant as you danced with them?" the laird demanded. "Did you think I did not see you at dinner with Hepburn, your two heads together? You swore to be honest with me, Alix!"

"And I have been. I am," Alix responded. "I was not flirting as I danced. I was having a happy time much like I had at my godmother's court. Did you expect me to put on a dour face when I danced with others? Am I only to smile at you, my lord?"

"Aye, damn it!" he almost shouted, and then he was kissing her hungrily, pushing her up against the stone wall of the corridor in which they stood. "You are mine, Alix! Mine.' Both Hepburn and Grant were admiring you with their eyes. I saw it!"

Alix, reaching out, caressed his handsome face. "Colm, I am yours. I want no other, and that is the truth. I cannot stop other men from admiring me, and it is pleasant to be admired. But I do not encourage any man but you, my lord, and you know that to be a truth. I am not Robena Ramsay," Alix told him boldly. He was jealous! She almost laughed aloud at the revelation. He was jealous! Did he love her? Or was it simply that he thought of her as his possession? She would never know until he told her. "Let us go back into the hall, my lord, before we are missed. The queen has not ended the evening yet, and we cannot depart until she does."

He groaned low, pulling her against him. "I need you, Alix," he told her.

"As I need you, my lord," she reassured him, "but it is not to be until we return home to Dunglais. Now let us return to the hall."

Malcolm Scott slept restlessly that night. So this was love. The desperation. The longing. The frustration. The burning need. He wasn't certain he liked it, and yet he seemed to have no choice in the matter. Alix had been correct, of course. She had not been flirting; and both Hepburn and Grant had simply been having a good time as any man dancing with a pretty girl would have. Yet seeing her with other men had enraged him. He had never felt that way with Robena. He had always enjoyed watching her and seeing the effect she had on others.

It was not the case with Alix. He understood now he had married Robena Ramsay because he had believed it was time to take a wife. He had liked her at first for she seemed a pleasant enough lass. But he had not loved her. Not like he loved Alix. When she had run off with his half brother it had been his pride that had been hurt, not his heart. But if he ever lost Alix he knew it would kill him. He loved her. God and his Blessed Mother help him. He loved her! Now what the hell was he to do?

When the next day dawned the Laird of Dunglais had his duty to the queen to consider first and foremost. He ate oat stirabout, hard-boiled eggs, bread and cheese with Adam Hepburn, who then took him to see the fortification work now in progress.

"Our Jamie meant to fortify all of the shoreline of the Firth of Forth," Hepburn informed his companion. "Since it opens to the sea it opens Scotland, particularly Edinburgh, to any enemy seeking to invade."

"It's an entry to the lowlands as well," the laird noted.

"Aye, it is," Hepburn agreed.

They climbed to the stone battlements that were now being finished and connected the east and west towers of Ravenscraig.

"You need at least two canon openings on the land side as well," the laird said.

"There are four facing the water as you will see," Hepburn told him.

"The queen will have to set up a foundry here in Scotland. She cannot rely on her uncle entirely. He may cast her first weapons, but she will need to be independent of him eventually. If he dies, if he decides not to aid her, she must be able to fend for herself. She must be able to make her own ammunition. You need a reliable supply of ammunition. You can't control the quality if you don't make it," Malcolm Scott said. "And you'll need a goodly supply of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal for it. Saltpeter will be the most difficult to obtain, as it is in short supply. But large stones, the rounder the better, can also be used as ammunition."

"I never knew any of this," the Hepburn said.

"Jamie loved his guns, and frankly so did I," the laird said.

"Is your keep armed?"

"Dunglais? Nay. I don't have the means for it, but if I did I wouldn't bother. I have no neighbors for miles, and the only conflict we see is nothing more than ordinary border skirmishes," the laird told his companion.

"Six cannon are enough artillery for Ravenscraig?"

"Why would you need more? Especially if you build up other cannon forts along the coastline," Malcolm Scott said.

"It will be some time before they can be finished," Hepburn said.

"Scotland is at peace for now. The English prefer coming over the border and have no navy of any size with which to attack us. And they are too busy with their own civil strife to be bothered by us unless, of course, we poke the lion. The French are our allies. Who else is there? I'm a practical man, my lord. But the queen will make her own decisions in this matter. These battlements are well and strongly constructed. The will hold your artillery. I would see that sturdy wood shutters are made for the cannon ports to conceal them. I would not set my cannon on trestle benches like many do. Have good stone mounts in which to set them. I have heard that of late some are experimenting with wheels. It requires fewer men to move the weapons. The queen would have to ask her uncle, and he would have to speak with his foundry master." The laird looked about. " 'Tis a fair land, our Scotland," he said, gazing out over the Firth of Forth and its surround of green hills.

"Aye," Adam Hepburn agreed. Then he said, "The queen should be ready to receive us now. It is her custom to break her fast each morning in a small private chamber with her children. She worries about her lads. Alexander is the wild son, and unfortunately David and John follow his lead rather than young James."

"They are braw lads," Malcolm Scott said. "Jamie was proud of them." He didn't ask how the Hepburn of Hailes knew all this. The rumor had it that Adam Hepburn was the queen's lover. Well, if he was, she was entitled to a bit of comfort. It didn't stop Bishop Kennedy from attempting to discredit her however.

Coming down from the battlement and reentering the great hall, they found the queen and Alix in conversation. The laird's heart leaped at the sight of her. Seeing them, the queen waved them over and the two men joined her.

"Malcolm Scott has given me an excellent assessment of what you will need, Your Highness," Adam Hepburn reported.

"I would say one or two more things," the laird interjected. "They are beginning to cast cannons with cast iron now as well as bronze. Cast iron is stronger. Have at least half your supply made from it. And do not use serpentine powder. The sulfur and the saltpeter fall to the bottom of the barrels, leaving the charcoal on top. It means the powder has to be remixed on site. It can be dangerous."

"Why does that happen?" the queen asked him. "How can it be prevented?"

"Saltpeter and sulfur are heavier elements than charcoal," the laird explained. "The newer method is called coming. All of the ingredients are mixed wet and then spread out and formed into a cake, which dries hard. The cakes, when broken up into granules, have the advantage of staying dry and are easier to transport. It offers more firepower using less." The laird did not tell the queen that the cannon that had killed the king had been loaded with too much corning. Its disadvantage was in making those loading the weapons understand they did not need as much. It was a better method nonetheless, and the king had approved it.

"The laird has suggested we set up a factory of our own to make the ammunition that you will need. And a foundry to cast our own cannon should your uncle's help not be readily available to you," the Hepburn of Hailes told the queen.

"You have been an enormous help to us, my lord," Marie of Gueldres said.

"Madame, I will always be ready to aid you and the young king," Malcolm Scott said. "I am honored you called upon me."

"It was better that others not be aware I intended carrying out my husband's plans to fortify the Firth of Forth," the queen told him.

"Then if my service to you is done, madame, and with your permission, I will begin my return home on the morrow," the laird said.

"It is but midautumn, my lord. Bide with us for a few more days," the queen said. "I am enjoying muchly the company of Mistress Alix, and my son the company of your little daughter. She is a lively and outspoken lass. The king is not used to such." The queen smiled a mischievous smile at Malcolm Scott.

Alix giggled. "She told the Duke of Albany this morning to mind his manners, which she thought no better than a cowherd's when approaching his king."

The queen laughed. "Alexander was mightily taken aback and equally offended, but the king was quite delighted to have a small defender."

The invitation to remain had not been a request. It had been a command, and the laird knew it. He had bowed and acquiesced, but he wanted to go home. They hunted in the hills surrounding Ravenscraig over the next few days. The young king was not a particularly good horseman. Though he strove to hide it, he was afraid of the great black horse upon which they seated him. His three younger brothers took every opportunity to spook the animal, laughing as their older sibling clung to the beast. One morning, just as they had started out, the king fell off of his horse. He lay still for a moment or two.

"Is he dead?" Alexander Stewart wanted to know. "If he is dead then I am king!"

"I am afraid Your Grace is doomed to disappointment this time," Adam Hepburn said dryly as the king groaned and sat up.

"What an unpleasant child," Alix murmured to the laird as they rode back to the castle, for the accident had shaken the king, and their hunt that day was over before it even began. "How he covets his brother's place."

"If young James grows up, his brothers will give him nothing but difficulty, I fear," Malcolm Scott replied quietly. "Come and walk with me on the beach, lass."

She smiled a slow smile of assent and nodded.

When they had dismounted within the castle courtyard the laird took Alix's hand, and they quickly departed across the drawbridge. The queen, seeing them go, raised a questioning eyebrow at the Hepburn of Hailes.

"I believe she is his mistress," Adam Hepburn said softly. "They have been gone from their home for over ten days now, madame. I believe he misses her company."

Marie of Gueldres laughed low. "He misses her body, my lord."

"I do not enjoy being separated from you," the Hepburn said quietly.

"Hush, my lord," she told him. "In public we must both remain circumspect. As it is Bishop Kennedy has admonished me, although even he is not certain of what we share. I prefer he never be sure of that."

"Why should you not be happy?" he demanded of her. "You are a widow, not a nun in a cloister."

"I am happy, but I am also the guardian of Scotland's king and the mother of his five siblings. Unlike a man, I may not flaunt my lover, my lord, and you well know it. Besides, there are those who, if they knew for certain, would be angry the king's mother had taken for her lover a mere Hepburn and not an earl. They would say your family's ambition was shameless. Are you ambitious, my lord?"

"All men are ambitious, madame, but not all men love you as I do," he answered.

Marie of Gueldres smiled at him again. "And that is why you are my lover, Adam Hepburn. I know when a man's heart is true."

Then together they entered the castle while below them on the beach the Laird of Dunglais walked with Alix. A light wind was coming off the water. Above them the skies were partly cloudy. One moment the sun shone brightly, and then it was gone beneath the lowering gray. The dark waters of the Firth of Forth lapped at the shale beach. They walked hand in hand for some minutes, but then Alix shivered.

"You are cold," he said.

"Aye, 'tis chilly along the water," Alix admitted.

"The beach is low here," he said. "We'll climb up and walk back through the fields, lambkin." He put his arm about her now, and together they mounted the hillock, easily gaining the field above it. They reached an open shed as it began to rain. "It's only a shower," he assured her as they ducked inside. And then he pulled her into his arms.

"For the first time since we left Dunglais I have you alone and to myself," he growled.

"Nay," she said. "There was our first night at Ravenscraig when you accused me of flirting with other men and dragged me from the hall."

"I'm a fool," he said, and then he kissed her a slow, hot kiss, crushing her breasts against his leather-clad chest. The scent of her filled his nostrils, and his lust leaped.

"I miss you," she admitted. "I miss being in your bed, in your arms, Colm." Her fingers brushed lightly over the nape of his neck. Aye, she loved him.

The shed was filled with fresh hay. The laird pulled Alix down upon it. His hands pushed her skirts up, and he stroked the sensitive flesh on the inside of her thighs. The bodice of her gown felt as if it would burst open. He smiled down into her face, and she smiled back in agreement. No words were necessary. He wanted her, and she wanted him. The laird released his cock, which was already hard with his longing.

Alix pulled his head down to hers and began to kiss him hungrily. "Hurry, my lord," she whispered hotly against his mouth. "I have missed your hard length inside of me. I have missed the passion we share. Ahhh!" she cried as he thrust deep into her.

Having pushed within her, he lay quiet for several moments. He had been so desperate for her that he felt if he moved again even slightly he would lose control over himself. He had never needed a woman as much as he needed her. Aye! He loved her.

Alix sighed with pleasure, feeling his thick length within her velvet sheath. She undid the buttons of her jerkin and unlaced her shirt beneath so he might have access to her full round breasts. He groaned, and dipping his head, began to suckle upon one of her breasts. Her hands caressed him, silently encouraging him in his passion. Finally she whispered to him, "Please, Colm! I burn for you. Fuck me! Please!"

The laird lifted his head up and their eyes met. "You must keep your eyes open, lambkin, when I do. If you close them I will cease," he said wickedly. Then he began to move on her. She was like wet silk, like honeyed fire. He had thought himself near to release when he had first penetrated her, but now he had regained control of himself. He moved back and forth slowly at first, then with increasing speed. He looked deep into her eyes as he used her, enjoying the passion that burned within them until finally he saw her struggling to keep her eyes open as he had commanded. He increased his efforts, and Alix screamed his name. "Colm! Oh God, you are killing me!" Her eyes rolled back in her head as her body shook with fierce tremors, and he let his own passion pour into her with short, hard spurts until her sheath had milked him dry, and he collapsed atop her.

Finally they came to themselves, and he rolled off her body, laying on his back, his breathing slowly returning to normal. God help him! He would never get enough of her.

Alix sighed happily. "I'm glad we have found this little place where we may be together. I never again want to live without your passion, Colm."

"Nor I yours, lambkin," he told her. "Beg the queen to release us soon. She will give you what you desire, for your kinswoman's sake."

"I will, my lord," Alix promised him.

They reordered their garments, and as the shower had now stopped and the sun was peeping from behind a purple cloud bank, they returned to Ravenscraig Castle hand in hand. That night as they sat at the high board Alix spoke softly to the queen.

"Madame, my lord and his daughter are missing Dunglais, and so am I. May we not depart soon? The weather grows colder, and my lord's people will be worried if he does not return soon."

Marie of Gueldres sighed deeply. "I know it is not fair to retain your company any longer," she admitted. "You are free to leave on the morrow, Alix Givet. But before you go you will come and speak with me, for there is something you should know."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Alix replied. And she wondered what it was the queen could possibly have to say to her.