The Captive Heart

Chapter Six

In August of 1460 James II of Scotland had been killed when a cannon misfired during the siege of Roxburgh Castle. A special salvo had been arranged to greet Queen Marie, who had arrived to view the proceedings. The canon, however, had been overcharged with gunpowder. It exploded and a piece of the metal had shattered the king's leg as he stood nearby. He died almost instantly, and once again Scotland was faced with a child king. James II had been six years old when his father had been murdered. James III was eight.

Queen Marie took no time to mourn. Instead she hastened to fetch her eldest son, James. Bringing him before the commanders of Scotland's armies she asked them to make her husband's death not a defeat, but a victory for Scotland's new king, James III. Encouraged by her bravery, Scotland's army responded to the queen's words and the sight of their young boy king standing proudly before them. Within a few days Roxburgh fell, and the new king was crowned at nearby Kelso Abbey on the tenth day of the month.

The queen mother quickly took charge of the situation. The bishop of St. Andrew's, Bishop Kennedy, was out of the country when the king was killed. This allowed Queen Marie to put her own people into place, much to the bishop's annoyance when he returned. Still, the bishop's powerful family was amenable to compromise. So was the queen. Although she had given sanctuary to her kinswoman, Margaret, and her mad husband, King Henry of England, she quickly saw the way the winds were blowing to the south. While she would do nothing to harm the English fugitives, she would do nothing to help those who would pursue them either. Still she made a long-term peace with the new English king, Edward IV, who was being tempted into supporting a war against Scotland in order to partition it. The south would be held by the exiled Earl of Douglas, and the north by the MacDonald Lord of the Isles, both of whom would rule as vassals of England's king. Queen Marie's signature and that of her son's on a document put a stop to that treasonous plan.

The Douglas family had been a thorn in her husband's side since his youth. The fifth earl of Douglas had been governor of the realm when James II was a child, but he had proved a poor one. His weakness had allowed two lesser lords, Sir William Crichton, keeper of Edinburgh Castle, and Sir Alexander Livingstone, keeper of Stirling Castle, to seize the king. When Lord Douglas died, Crichton and Livingstone took the opportunity to murder his sons in the presence of the ten-year-old James II. It was believed the young Douglases' uncle, known as James the Gross, who now inherited the title, was involved.

James II learned a lesson that terrible night when he begged for the life of the two Douglases. And ten years later, encouraged by his queen, he finally asserted his authority, executing several of the Livingstone family and destroying their power. The Douglas family now headed by James the Gross's eldest son, William, however, was a more difficult problem. The Douglas earl had immense holdings in the borders. But when James II discovered him involved in treasonous dealings with England, and that he had formed a traitorous alliance with the Lord of the Isles, he called the Earl of Stirling and ordered him to repudiate his alliances and reaffirm his allegiance to Scotland's king.

William Douglas refused, and after two days of negotiation James II lost his temper and stabbed the earl in his throat. The men with the king joined the fray. Considering that the Douglas earl had insisted on a safe conduct before coming to Stirling to see the king, the murder was a breach of the medieval code of honor. James II moved quickly, however, to shore up his defenses in the matter. Moving his pregnant queen to the bishop's palace at St. Andrew's, he quickly gained the support of his earls by a means of various reassurances and rewards for their loyalty. And considering that William Douglas's brother, the new earl, arrived at Stirling with a large force of armed men, crying for vengeance, and then burned the town in their defiance of James II, who had already departed Stirling, the king's actions were suddenly considered reasonable. The Douglases had obviously grown way too powerful in too short a time.

James II went to war against the Douglases. Fascinated by the new science of gunnery, he systematically battered down the walls of the Douglas strongholds with his great canon, Mons Meg, which he had acquired from his wife's uncle, the Duke of Burgundy, and which had been brought from Edinburgh Castle. Defeated at the battle of Arkinholm, James, the ninth Douglas earl, escaped to England. Of his two remaining brothers, one died at Arkinholm and the other was captured and executed.

In England at that time the War of the Roses had broken out, and James Douglas allied his fallen fortunes with the Yorkist faction. The king of Scotland, however, chose to support the Lancaster side of the quarrel. And then James II proved himself a worthy successor to his father, reestablishing the rule of law in Scotland. His patronage of his nobility extended to creating several new earldoms, namely Rothes, Morton, Erroll, Marischal, and Argyll. Then, having stabilized his domestic affairs, the king devoted himself to foreign diplomacy, including arranging the marriage of his eldest son, James, with Margaret of Denmark.

In 1460 war broke out again as James II thought to strike a blow for his ally, King Henry VI, laying siege to Roxburgh Castle, which was currently held by a Yorkist governor. Roxburgh had always been hotly contested between England and Scotland, but it had been in English hands since the reign of David II of Scotland, over a hundred years previously. And while the Scots regained Roxburgh that summer, they lost a capable king and once again found themselves ruled by a regency in the name of James III.

Although the Highlands were fraught with disorder, Scotland remained basically at peace, thanks to Queen Marie and Bishop Kennedy. Even the borders were quiet but for a small raid now and again.

At Dunglais, Malcolm Scott continued to pursue Alix. And Alix was finding it more difficult to resist him. Her experience with the Wattesons had left her wary of men. She had felt nothing for her husband, for she had not really known him. She had liked her father-in-law's company as a friend until he had attempted to debauch her, and then she had felt revulsion.

She was not naive enough to believe all marriages were like her parents'. Alix knew better from her childhood at court. But did that elusive something called love really exist? Could she find it? Or was what she was suddenly feeling for Malcolm Scott the more common and forbidden emotion that was known as lust? Why did her first sight of him at the beginning of a day make her heart race? Why did the touch of his lips on hers, or his hand in hers, render her weak with longing. Longing for what?

Since the early spring the laird had found himself courting Alix. He fully intended to seduce her into his bed, but for some reason he could not explain, he did not want to rush her. When the moment came, he wanted her to desire it as deeply as he did. They rode out daily, with little Fiona accompanying them on her pony. In high summer they took bread and cheese with them, picnicking on the heathered hillsides. One afternoon as the child lay sleeping on a blanket, her companions found themselves lying together nearby.

Alix was only slightly startled when Malcolm Scott loomed over her. She smiled up at him. "The sky is so blue today," she said. "I do not think I have ever seen so blue a sky even in England."

"I want you," he said softly, and he bent to brush her lips with his.

"I know," she responded as softly. "I have no experience with a lover, but I would be a total fool not to realize, to sense, how you feel, my lord."

"Then why…" he began.

"I am afraid," Alix answered him simply.

"Of what?" he asked, surprised.

"I did not like coupling with my husband. What if I do not like it with you? Worse, what if you find me displeasing? Do we-can we-go back to the way things were, my lord?" Alix wanted to know. "I think not. And then I must leave Dunglais and my sweet Fiona. I do not know if I am brave enough to take this chance you are asking me to take, my lord." She reached up and touched his face with delicate fingers. "And yet…"

"I cannot imagine you would not please me, and I swear I will please you," the laird said. Then he bent, kissing her deeply, the tip of his tongue stroking her lips, encouraging them to part, and when they did his tongue plunged into her mouth, found hers and caressed it ardently.

In the few weeks during which they had been exchanging chaste kisses he had never invaded her person as he was now doing. Yet it was exciting, and Alix arched against him, her own tongue stroking his and heat suffusing her body. She reached up to wind her fingers into his thick black hair, kneading his scalp with a need that surprised her greatly. She protested softly as he raised his head from her, but he put a single finger over her lips to silence her.

"Hush, lambkin," he told her. "Let me have my way now, and I promise you that you will not regret it."

"Fiona," Alix said.

"I will do nothing that will awaken my daughter," he promised. Smiling into her hazel-green eyes, he slowly undid the little horn buttons on the doeskin jerkin he and Fiona had given Alix on her birthday in April. Then he unlaced her shirt while she watched him nervously. Pushing the fabric aside, he gazed down for the first time upon her naked breasts. "God's foot," he murmured. "You are perfect, lambkin. Absolutely perfect!"

Alix blushed, suddenly shy, for no man had ever before looked upon her breasts, and his compliment surprised her.

The laird continued to stare for a long moment at the two sweetly rounded breasts that reminded him of two ripe peaches. Her nipples were small, the color of dusky rosebuds. They puckered beneath his ardent look. He brushed the fingers of one hand around the curve of the firm globe, tracing its delicate shape. She trembled beneath his touch. "Don't be afraid, lambkin," he said softly. "I am not like him. I will never hurt you. I want to make love to you the way a woman should be loved. Tenderly, and with unrestrained passion. You must never fear me, or fear my passion." He bent his dark head again and kissed her nipple. Then he began to lick it, slowly encircling it with the tip of his warm tongue.

Alix gasped softly with surprise. The only time Hayle Watteson had touched her breasts was to squeeze them hard and mock their delicate size. Maida had big breasts where a man could pillow his head, he always told her. Hayle had never touched her gently as Malcolm Scott was doing. She gasped again. And he had certainly never fondled her breast and sucked hungrily upon it as the laird was now doing. A little cry escaped her. "Oh! Oh!"

He looked up and into her face now. "Do I please you, or distress you, lambkin?" he asked her quietly.

"I never knew…" she began, and then, "Yes, my lord. You please me muchly."

He lowered his head and began to pay court to her other breast while she sighed with her obvious pleasure at his renewed devotion. Her scent-or was it the heather about them?-filled his nostrils, making him almost giddy with his rising desire. He felt his cock growing harder and harder in his breeks. But he knew this was not the time. Not with his daughter sleeping so innocently but a few yards away from where he lay with Alix. Finally he forced himself to raise his head from her breasts. He laced her shirt back up.

"We can go no further here with Fiona nearby us. But make no mistake about it, Alix Givet. I want you in my bed. I have never taken a mistress, but I think you would have me, lambkin, as I would have you."

"But what if I should disappoint you in the coupling, my lord?" she asked him once again. "The man to whom I was wed put me on my back that first night and thrust himself into me so cruelly that he hurt me. I could not see his face in the pitch black of the room. And after that whenever he came he would make me kneel upon my bed, for he said I was no better than a bitch hound and should be fucked as a bitch is fucked. I quickly came to dislike the act, my lord. What pleasure is to be had in it?"

Malcolm Scott felt himself filled with anger as he listened to her. How could a man brutalize a woman so cruelly? "I will show you the pleasure in the coupling, Alix. And you will give me pleasure with your fair body as I will give you pleasure when we are joined as one. You will never displease me, lambkin. I can only hope I will not disappoint you." He brushed her mouth with his.

She nodded. "I will trust you, my lord, but remember I want no husband who will have dominion over me. I will be your mistress, but I do so of my own free will, not because you force me to it." She sat up and began to rebutton her jerkin.

"And I want no wife, although I ask one thing of you, lambkin. Never deceive me with another man. If the time comes that you want someone else you have but to tell me and I will let you go, but do not betray me, Alix Givet."

"I will not ever mislead you, my lord," she responded. "I swear it!" He was thinking of his wife, Alix thought. "But you must make me the same vow. If you decide you wish to have another for your mistress, or a wife, you will tell me in order that I not be shamed."

"If that day should ever come I will indeed inform you, and I will provide for you as well, lambkin. I know my responsibilities."

"I ask nothing of you but courtesy," Alix quickly said. "My father left me provided for, and I have the wherewithal to make my own way if I must, my lord. I am no whore to be cast off and paid for services rendered you other than my compensation for educating your daughter." There was a proud tilt to her little chin.

"It is not a matter we are faced with, so why should we argue over it?" he replied. Her stubborn pride pleased him well. Robena had wanted everything of him.

"I will awaken Fiona, my lord." Alix stood up and brushed her skirts off. Then she went to gently shake the little girl awake.

They rode back to Dunglais in the late-afternoon sunshine, listening to the now-rested Fiona chatter about how she wished to ride all the way to Edinburgh one day to see the king. "Do you think he would marry a girl like me?" she wondered aloud.

"Kings usually marry great ladies," her father told her.

"Are you not a great lord, Da?" Fiona wanted to know.

Malcolm Scott laughed aloud. "Nay, lassie, I'm just an insignificant border lord with a herd of cattle, a flock of sheep, and an old stone keep."

"But you were the old king's friend. Can't you be the new king's friend too, and ask him to make you a great lord?" Fiona wanted to know.

"Our new king is a little boy, Fiona. He's just two years older than you are. And his days are spent very much like yours are, learning his lessons and learning how to be a good king of Scotland like his father and his grandfather were. And he is already betrothed to little Princess Margaret of Denmark. His wise father did that for him before he was killed, God assoil his soul," the laird told his daughter.

"Am I betrothed?" Fiona wanted to know.

Malcolm Scott chuckled. "I am not certain yet that I ever want to let you go," he said with a smile at his little daughter.

"Oh, Da!" Fiona replied, but they could tell she was pleased.

As they sat afterwards at the high board when Fiona had gone to her bed, Alix asked the laird, "How did you know the king, and were you really his friend?"

"Jamie Stewart and I were educated together," Malcolm Scott said. "When King James the First was murdered and his eldest son became king, his mother, Queen Joan, sought for a few lads his age who were not involved with either the Douglases, Lord Chrichton's family, or the Livingstones to be companions to the boy king. Jamie had been the survivor of twins and he bore a rather harsh birthmark. Half of his face was the color of an amethyst. In the streets he was known as James of the Fiery Face."

"Oh, how sad!" Alix noted.

"Because of it he didn't like great public shows or spectacles where he had to show himself. He was intelligent, inquisitive, and preferred companions like himself. He had nothing but scorn for old Douglas, and as for Crichton and the Livingstones he but bided his time until he could take control of his kingdom, for there was a ruthless streak in him. It was shortly after he married Marie of Gueldres, the Duke of Burgundy's niece, that he exerted his influence. Many thought she was behind it, and while I am certain she encouraged her husband, Jamie was his own man. We learned to like bad women, good whiskey, and guns together. Of course, I went back to the borders right after he married. He didn't need me then. My father had just died, and a border holding not strongly held by its owner is apt to be taken by another."

"Were you with him at Roxburgh?" Alix asked.

"Aye," the laird replied grimly. "I said that damned canon was ill loaded, but he was so anxious to show off for his queen. He loved her, you know, and got four sons, and two daughters on her. She has not just the little king to worry about, but the other five as well. Hers is not an easy task, but she was a good wife to Jamie, a good queen, and she is proving stronger than anyone anticipated as the queen mother."

"So in a way you were brought up at a court too," Alix remarked.

"Not really," the laird replied. "We moved from place to place. We were always on the go. There was no real court as you would know it. The idea was to keep the king safe and alive. To get him educated to take up his duties. Most of the other boys fell away in the furor between all the factions trying to control the king's person. But he would never go anywhere without me, and I even slept in his bedchamber most of the time. We were bedded by the same whore for the first time when we were fifteen," Malcolm Scott chuckled as he remembered. "Livingstone was a prig, but Crichton arranged it for the king, and if the king did it then I had to do it. Jamie Stewart would have it no other way."

"And after that you never looked back," she teased him.

"Nay, I never looked back. And now I am looking forward to a new adventure, lambkin." He took her hand and kissed it, laughing softly when she blushed.

"You are so bold," she said softly. "You frighten me, and yet I trust you. 'Tis odd."

"I don't want you frightened of me," he told her earnestly. "But I believe once we have become lovers in every sense you will not be afraid of me, Alix. At least I hope not." He still held her hand in his, and now, turning the palm up, he placed a kiss upon it.

He excited her. She had never before felt excitement for a man, but Malcolm Scott excited her. His touch set her pulses racing. "My lord," she whispered, looking into his handsome face. And he was indeed handsome to her eye.

He smiled a slow smile. "May I come to you later?" he asked her softly.

Alix's heart thundered in her chest. For a moment she wasn't even certain she could breathe. She was actually considering what it would be like to be naked in his arms. But what if his gentle words were just that-words? What if Hayle's treatment of her was the way all men behaved with women? But it couldn't be! Her mother could not have loved her father had he been such a brute as Hayle Watteson. Nor could Queen Margaret have loved her husband if he had been so cruel. But both her mother and the queen were devoted to their men. And she would never know the truth of men and women if she did not take this one chance. And if it was awful? Well, then she would flee Dunglais.

"Alix?" His deep voice penetrated her thoughts.

"Aye," she whispered. "You may come to me, my lord."

"Colm," he said. "If we are lovers, Alix, then you must call me Colm."

She stood abruptly, pulling her hand from his. "I must go to my chamber now, my lord," she told him and fled the hall.

I must bring some wine with me, he thought. My lambkin is yet frightened, but struggles to be brave. I will give her time. Perhaps I shall even let her sleep a brief time. Coming down from the high board he seated himself by the fire, gazing into the crackling, leaping flames as they burned. "Wine!" he called out to no one in particular. And after a brief time a goblet was placed in his hand. "My thanks," he said, looking up to see Fenella by his side. "Sit," he invited her.

"You were in deep conversation with Alix earlier," Fenella noted.

"She will be mine before morning," the laird said. "She has agreed to it."

Fenella nodded. "Be kind, my lord. Be gentle. Alix has suffered at a man's cruel hands, and while she may have agreed, she will still be frightened."

"She is to be my mistress," he said.

Fenella nodded again. "Better you took her to wife, my lord."

"I want no wife and she wants no husband," Malcolm Scott answered his kinswoman. "It is an excellent arrangement. We have agreed to be open with each other should we find another who pleases us more. She will be the perfect mistress."

"And what kind of an example is that to set for your daughter?" Fenella asked candidly. "Fiona believes you loved her mother so much that you can love no other."

"Fiona is young, and will not see the change in the relationship between Alix and me," the laird declared. "And she loves Alix, who is like a mother to her."

"Fiona loves you. If she discovers you have taken Alix to your bed she will assume you love her," Fenella pointed out.

"Have you not been nagging at me to take a woman?" the laird grumbled.

"I want you to take a wife, and Alix Givet is the wife for you. She is young enough to give you sons. She is educated and sophisticated enough to keep you from becoming bored with her. But she has also learned the lessons of loyalty to a husband, to clan, as Robena Ramsay did not. Alix will never betray you, my lord. She will never shame our name. She deserves better than to be your mistress."

"Hush your mouth, Fenella. I want no wife, and Alix declares she will have no husband to hold dominion over her. She has agreed to my coming into her bed. The bargain has been struck!" He emptied his goblet and stood up. "I will bid you good night, kinswoman." And he strode from the hall.

"I told you you wouldn't get your way in this, my pretty schemer," Iver chuckled, coming forward from the shadows to join Fenella at the hearth.

Fenella laughed. "Oh, yes, I will," she said. "He will show her she has no need for fear, and she will respond to his passion. And then, Iver, they will fall in love, for they are two people who are meant to be together. They are already half in love, though neither knows it yet. But once he admits to loving her he will want her for his wife, for the thought of another having her will drive him mad."

"We shall see." Iver grinned his lopsided grin. "What else do you know will happen for certain, Fenella? Do you know you will soon be my wife?"

"Of course I do," she surprised him by answering. "But only when the laird takes Alix to wife, Iver, my lad, will I take you for my husband. Now come and give me a kiss to seal our bargain."

He pulled her up and kissed her heartily, a hand fondling her bottom as he did.

"Ah," Fenella said, laughing again, "I can see you'll be a lusty mate, which pleases me well, for we Scotts are lusty people, as I'm sure our lord is now proving."

When Malcolm Scott had left the hall he went to his own bed-chamber, where he stripped off his boots, his breeks, his leather jerkin, and his camie. Naked, he bathed himself with the water he poured into a small basin. Then, wrapping a piece of plaid about his loins, he left his chamber, walking down the narrow corridor to where Alix was probably now sleeping. There was an empty bedchamber next to his, and he would as soon as possible install her there as it had a connecting door.

Putting his hand on the door latch to her chamber he entered the room, barring the door behind him. There was a fire burning low in the hearth. He added wood to it so that the blaze burned brightly now. Then, walking to her bed, he tossed the plaid aside and climbed in next to her. She stirred as he drew her into his arms and kissed her lips gently. "Wake up, lambkin," he murmured into her ear.

Alix slowly opened her eyes, and seeing his face before her, realizing she was being held in his arms, her heart leaped in her chest. "My lord!" she whispered.

"You did say I might come," he reminded her.

"I know I did," Alix answered.

"But now that I am here you are reconsidering," he said.

She didn't answer him, so he continued.

"This will not be rape, Alix," the laird told her. "But you will never overcome your fears if you do not face them. You are a brave lass, for only a brave lass would have fled England in a blizzard. Now be brave for me, lambkin."

"I don't know what to do. What I should do," she admitted.

He smiled warmly into her hazel eyes. "You will do what your body desires," he said, "and you will let me guide you into the paths of passion, Alix. And you will not be fearful of telling me if something displeases you. Now, let us rid you of this garment you wear and then we will begin."

"You want me naked?" she said nervously.

"I am naked," he replied.

Alix's eyes widened. What was the matter with her? Of course he was naked. Could she not see his smooth chest, his broad shoulders, and his sinewy arms? "Aye," she nodded, feeling foolish, "you are, aren't you?" Alix pulled her little night chemise off over her head and dropped it to the floor.

"Now," he said, "we will become familiar with each other's bodies."

"How?" Her voice trembled.

He drew the coverlet that shielded them back. "Like this," he said as his eyes swept over her fair young body. The sweet breasts he had earlier caressed were even fuller, more beautiful, he thought to himself. Her waist was slender, but her hips were broader than he had imagined. Her plump mons was free of growth, to his surprise. Garbed she gave the appearance of being delicate, but seeing her naked he realized she was quite a sturdy lass. She would not break beneath his desire, which was beginning to exert itself. Her thighs were rounded and firm, as were the calves on her slim legs. "You are quite the loveliest lass I have ever beheld," he told her.

While he had perused her so thoughtfully Alix had examined a male form for the first time. The chest, the strong arms, his shoulders she had previously noted. His torso was long, his belly flat, and beneath it a tangle of thick black curls that surrounded his manhood. Alix swallowed as she beheld it. It was pale in color, veined in blue, and long. But it lay quietly, seemingly innocent of any wickedness. She forced her eyes away from it to view his long hairy legs and large feet.

"Am I pleasing in your sight?" he asked her mischievously.

"I think I am prettier in form," she answered him and he laughed.

"Aye, a woman's form is fairer I will agree, lambkin," the laird said.

"What do we do now?" Alix asked him shyly.

"Sit up," he said, "and undo your hair for me. When you are alone the plait will do, but when we are together as lovers I would enjoy your long hair."

Alix sat up against the pillows and began to unbraid her honey-colored curls.

"Why is your mons like a little girl's?" he asked her.

"The women of the court are taught to keep that part of their bodies hairless," Alix explained to him. "Only peasant women have bushes to tend. I did not know men did."

When she had finished undoing her long hair, he inquired of her, "Where is your hairbrush, lambkin?" and when she told him, he fetched it. Then, climbing back into the bed, he began to brush her hair with long, slow strokes of the brush.

She had not had anyone brush her hair since she had been a child, Alix thought. She had quite forgotten how pleasant it was and found herself almost purring. She did not see his smile as he finally laid the brush aside. Pressing her back, he spread her hair over the pillows, admiring it for a moment, then kissing her soft mouth slowly, deeply. Alix's lips parted beneath his. Immediately his tongue darted into her mouth, sweeping about it, seeking her tongue to tease it with his. Alix was so mesmerized by the two intertwining digits she didn't notice at first that one of his hands was caressing her belly until his fingers touched her mons and began to play with her nether lips.

"What are you doing?" she cried, breaking off their kiss, her head spinning with the sweetness she had been receiving.

"I want to touch you there," he told her. "You need to be prepared to take my manhood within your sheath, lambkin."

"Prepared?" Now she was puzzled. Hayle simply had her assume the position he desired and thrust himself inside of her. What preparation could the laird possibly mean? "I don't understand," Alix told him.

"You are a tender creature, and you cannot easily receive my manhood until you are ready to receive it. Your husband used you like one animal would use another. He wished to harm you because you had wed him. I will not do that to you. Men do not, lambkin. You have love juices, and they must be encouraged to flow for me. Now be quiet, Alix, and trust me to give you pleasure. Can you do that, lambkin?"

Alix nodded. It was suddenly all very exciting, and it was certainly very new for her. He began to kiss her again, slowly, slowly, their mouths almost melting into each other's. She sighed with delight when his mouth went to her breasts again as they had that afternoon. When he tugged upon her nipple, she felt a corresponding throb in the secret place between her legs. "Yes!" she heard her own voice whispering. She struggled with herself not to cry out and leap from the bed when his fingers gently played with her nether lips, when one finger pressed between them. To her great surprise she seemed to be wet. She flushed. Had she peed in her excitement? But no. As his finger played between her nether lips the moisture felt almost creamy in its consistency. And the finger suddenly touching a most sensitive spot, teasing at it, made her feel wonderful, not fearful at all. She sighed audibly.

He was hard. God help him! His cock was as firm as he could ever remember it being. He kept the sight of it from her, for he didn't wish her to panic, which she surely would have. He was longer than he had been earlier and far thicker. Gently he moved his finger to the opening of her sheath and pressed it forward into her. He felt her stiffen and murmured against her ear, "Nah, nah, lassie, 'tis all right. Do I hurt you?"

Alix thought a moment. No. He was not hurting her. "Nay," she whispered.

He moved the finger back and forth so that she would get used to the rhythm, and after a few moments she gave a little cry of surprise as she experienced a first burst of sweet pleasure from that finger.

"Oh!" Alix exclaimed softly.

He laughed quietly. "You see?" he told her, and he withdrew the single finger, quickly replacing it with two fingers, which he moved back and forth once again.

"Oh!Oh!" Alix cried out.

She was ready and while she tensed as he covered her body with his own, he soothed her with little kisses as he prepared to sheathe her. The laird positioned himself and pushed his cock forward. The portal gave way as he slid deep. Beneath him Alix was hardly breathing as she waited for the pain to engulf her. But there was no pain.

"Put your legs about me," he instructed her.

Then she gasped, for when she did he moved deeper into her. And there was still no pain. He filled her full, but there was no pain even when he began to move upon her. The fingers of their hands were intertwining as his rhythm grew faster and faster. Alix's eyes closed and pure instinct arched her body up to his every downward thrust. She found herself reveling in the sensations he was engendering within her. Her breath was coming in short hard pants, and she suddenly realized that she was experiencing pleasure. She had never before enjoyed such feelings as were now sweeping over her.

Alix cried out. "Don't stop," she begged him. "Oh, please don't stop, my lord! I am in heaven!" And then, as the hard core within her began to burst, she sobbed, "Oh, sweet Holy Mother, I die!" And she shook with her pent-up release as his love juices exploded within her exciting body.

The laird roiled off of his lover, panting with his exertions. For a moment he couldn't catch his breath, but then he did. Reaching out, he gathered the girl who had just given him such pleasure into his strong arms. To his distress Alix began to weep. She huddled against his chest, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. Disturbed, he asked, "Did I hurt you? You should have told me! I said I would not harm you, lambkin."

Hearing the distress in his voice, Alix quickly reassured him. "Nay, my lord. It was wonderful! I did not know! I never imagined! Now at last I am beginning to understand my mother's love for my father, the queen's devotion to the king." She hiccupped, and her sobs began to abate.

He kissed the top of her head, relieved, and stroked her long hair as much to soothe himself as to soothe her. There was that elusive fragrance of hers again teasing at his nostrils. "I gave you pleasure," he said simply. "I am glad."

"Will we lie together every night now?" Alix asked him shyly.

"Except those nights when your moonlink is broken," he told her. "I am going to move you into the bedchamber next to mine. It is larger, and there is a connecting door to my chamber. We are less apt to attract my daughter's attention that way. You must be no less attentive to Fiona now that you are mine," he said.

"Never, my lord! I love the child," Alix answered him.

"Colm," he said. "I am not your lord when we lay together. I am Colm, and you are my Alix," the laird responded. "Let me hear my name upon your lips, sweet Alix."

"Malcolm, my dear lord," she said softly. "Colm! And again, Colm!"

He laughed joyously, and Alix realized that she had never before heard him utter such a happy sound. In fact, he was laughing and smiling more of late than anytime since she had come to Dunglais. "I will leave you now, my lambkin," he said. "And you will no longer be afraid of the coupling, will you?"

"Nay, I will not, Colm," she promised him.

He arose from her bed and wrapped the length of plaid about him. Then, bending, the laird kissed her and bid her a good night. Unbarring the door, he departed, and Alix lay awake for some minutes reliving the first passion she had ever known. The passion she had shared with Malcolm Scott. She had been so afraid although she had concealed it well, she knew. While she had enjoyed his kisses and his hands upon her body when he had mounted her, she had waited in silent terror for the cruel pain that would shortly tear into her. But there had been no pain. None at all! He had used her gently and he had given her the first pleasure she had ever received from a man.

She wept again briefly as she considered how sad it was that her husband could not have given her that pleasure. That he could not have loved her as sweetly as Malcolm Scott had made love to her.

And Alix wondered if Hayle Watteson had not hated her for not being his beloved Maida, would their marriage have been a fruitful and happy one? But he had hated her, and there was no changing the past.

But there was the future to consider. She was lying with a man not her husband. She had agreed to be his mistress. Alix knew that both her mother and the queen would have been shocked, would have been disappointed by her behavior. But if she had not allowed the laird to become her lover she would have never known the delights of passion. And tonight, Alix suspected, was but the beginning of her education in the amatory arts. Tonight the laird had opened the door for her, and Alix found that despite the less than suitable situation in which she found herself, she was eager to know what else lay on the other side of that wonderful door. Had Hayle Watteson been an exception to the rule? Were all men like Malcolm Scott? She didn't care as long as she might be in his arms, his delicious kisses rendering her dizzy with delight.

The following day the servants moved her few small belongings into the bedchamber next to the laird's. When Fiona asked why, for she was a curious child, the laird told her it was because then Alix would be closer to her, for Fiona's bedchamber was on the other side of the laird's.

"We shall be like three little buglets all in a snug row," Alix added.

"I like that!" Fiona enthused and Alix actually felt a tiny twinge of guilt for beguiling her small charge.

The border was quiet that year, and as the summer waned the Laird of Dunglais found his lust for Alix Givet burning brighter with each day. It was not enough that he shared her bed each night now. They rode out one day alone while Fiona remained behind with Fenella, learning how to stuff a mattress, an absolute necessity for any lady, Alix assured her, and the housekeeper agreed.

On a hillside Alix and the laird sat watching his cattle grazing peacefully. She lay back and looked up at the sky, where clouds scudded back and forth sometimes blocking the sunlight, sometimes letting it blaze bright down upon them. She saw the lust in his eyes as he looked down upon her and held open her arms to him. In no time at all Alix found her skirts about her waist and her lover vigorously fucking her. Her legs about his torso, she ran her nails down his broad back as he brought her quickly to pleasure and then did it again as her cries echoed about them.

"I did not know you could share passion on a hillside," she told him.

"Passion can be shared at any time, in any place," he assured her.

He proved the point again several days later when he found Alix in the stables brushing her mare's roan coat to a fine shine. Standing behind her, he played with her breasts as she worked and her breath began to come in quick pants. Then, as there was no one about, he put her down upon her back on a fat bale of fresh hay and entered her.

"I am your stallion," he told her as he used her vigorously, and then he put his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries, for her arousal was very great.

"You are a wicked man," she said afterwards, but she was smiling.

He laughed at her admonishment. "You enjoyed it every bit as much as I did," he teased her wickedly, pulling a bit of straw from her hair.

In early autumn a rider came to Dunglais wearing the badge of Queen Marie. The directive he bore commanded the Laird of Dunglais to come to her castle of Ravenscraig in Fife as soon as possible. The laird send the queen's man back with a message saying he would be honored to wait upon her and would bring his little daughter to meet Queen Marie. "You will come with us," he told Alix as they lay abed that same night.

"You would bring your mistress to meet the queen?" she asked him, slightly shocked. "I am not certain that is right, my lord."

"You are my daughter's companion and a former member of Margaret of Anjou's household," the laird said. "I would hardly introduce you as my mistress. But Fiona will need you, and it is an excellent opportunity for her to see how she needs to behave among her own kind. And meeting Queen Marie may be of benefit to you, lambkin."

"Then it is fortunate that I have just made two new gowns from the material you gave me at Michaelmas," Alix responded. She had to admit it. She was excited about going to court, but of course there would not necessarily be a court such as the one she had grown up in around the Scot's queen mother, her young son, the king, and his siblings. And they were going to Marie of Gueldres's own castle, not Stirling or Edinburgh, or even Falklands.

"How long are we to be gone?" Alix asked the earl.

"I cannot say, but I doubt it will be long. There is no reason for the queen to desire my company unless it has something to do with guns," Malcolm Scott said. "And we will want to be back again before the weather turns."

"I must have a few days to prepare," Alix said. "I am not certain Fiona has the proper garments. She's a country lass. Her clothing is reflective of her simple life."

"This won't be the court as you know it," the laird responded. "Ravenscraig is the queen's private home. Jamie bought it for her the year he died, and set his royal stone mason, Henry Martzioun, to make the repairs needed and fortify it."

"Nonetheless you can hardly allow your daughter to meet the king's mother looking like a tinker's brat," Alix told him. "You do not know who will be with the queen, or who will see your child. Remember you will eventually have to make a match for Fiona. As your heiress she will be considered to have a certain value. But if she displays well, her value will increase, my lord."

"God's foot, lass!" the laird exclaimed. "Your years at court have taught you well. Three days, and no more."

Fiona was beside herself with excitement. "I am going to meet the queen!" she singsonged over and over again as she danced about her father's hall. "Will I meet the king too, Alix? Will I?" she asked, twirling about the older girl.

"Stand still, you little minx!" Fenella said irritably. "How am I to take your measurements if you persist in prancing about? You can't meet Queen Marie in your chemise, lass."

"Fiona! Do what you are told," Alix said sharply.

The little girl suddenly stood quiet. "I'm sorry, Alix, Fenella. I am just so excited to be going to court."

"It isn't really court," Alix explained. "We are going to visit the queen in her own home. She wishes to speak with your father on some unknown matter. He is taking us so you may meet the king's mother. And aye. You may meet the young king."

"Does he have brothers and sisters?" Fiona wanted to know. "I've always wanted brothers and sisters, but unless Da will take another wife I don't suppose I'll ever have them," she said with a sigh.

"But if your da remarried and had a son, you would no longer be the heiress to Dunglais," Alix said to the little girl.

Fiona looked up at the older woman with wise eyes. "Alix, whether I am the heiress to Dunglais or no matters not a whit. I will be matched and married one day. And if I am the heiress my husband will take over Dunglais when Da dies. It isn't really mine, and never will be. Either way I will have a good dower portion. I'd just as soon Dunglais remain in the Scott family, and in order for that to happen Da must wed again."

Alix was astounded that her young charge had such a firm grasp of the situation. Her eyes met Fenella's, and the housekeeper shrugged, but a small smile played about her lips. It told Alix that Fenella was Fiona's font of information.

"Maybe the queen will have a nice lady for your father to wed," Fenella said wickedly, and her eyes danced with mischief.

"Nay," Fiona said. "I want Da to marry Alix."

"Fiona!" Alix turned scarlet. "Your father has been quite clear that he doesn't want another wife."

Fiona sighed dramatically. "I know my da loved my mother, but my mother is dead, and my da is still young enough to have a nice wife. And I like you. Da wouldn't marry anyone I did not like, Alix. Wouldn't you like to marry my da?"

Alix could feel her face burning. What was she going to say to the child? She couldn't say she hadn't liked being married. Fiona should not be swayed from the path chosen for her. But the truth was in the few months since she and the laird had become lovers she had begun to consider that a life with Malcolm Scott by her side would not be a bad thing. Fiona was looking at her expectantly, and so Alix finally said, "It isn't up to a lady to decide whom she will wed, little one. It is the gentleman who must want to marry, and your da does not."

"But would you marry my da if he asked you?" Fiona wanted to know.

Oh yes! Alix thought to herself. But then she said to the little girl, "A lady never reveals her heart until the gentleman has, Fiona. Remember that when you are grown." And Alix was shocked by what she had suddenly come to learn about herself. She had fallen in love with Malcolm Scott! "Le bon Dieu aidez moi," she whispered to herself. It was impossible! From what Fenella had said, the laird no longer trusted women because of his wife's betrayal. He had been willing to take a mistress who could be cast off if necessary, but he wanted no wife. And Alix found herself surprised to realize she wanted no other man but Malcolm Scott.

Two new gowns were quickly made for Fiona. One was a bright scarlet red that complemented the child's coloring. The other a medium blue that was particularly flattering with Fiona's lovely blue eyes. The gowns were carefully packed. Alix saw to her own wardrobe. When she had first come to Dunglais almost a year ago the laird had immediately noticed the paucity of her wardrobe. He had instructed Fenella to let Alix choose some material for two more gowns. She had chosen some velvet for a more elegant gown, and a practical jersey. And then just a few weeks ago at Michaelmas he had given her her wages for the year, and she had been invited to choose materials for two more gowns from the peddler who came each early autumn with his wares. She had been unable to resist a lovely deep green velvet and another velvet brocade in a dusky orange.

And Alix had quickly set about fashioning her new gowns. The peddler had told her that the fashions were changing. Sleeves were now more closely fitted and necklines were much lower. Alix made her new garments to reflect what the peddler had told her. And among her clothing she packed the small chamois pouch with her few bits of jewelry. She might not be a great lady, but she had learned from Margaret of Anjou and her own mother that less, especially if it was of the best quality, was far more impressive to the eye of the beholder.

"Such a great fuss over such a brief visit," the laird grumbled as they finally departed on a clear autumn morning.

"But, Da, we must look our best before Queen Marie and the king. Perhaps when he sees me he will decide a good Scots lass is more suitable than that foreign princess he is to wed," Fiona said with great confidence.

"I think the king will honor the commitment his good father, God assoil his soul, made for him, Fiona," Alix said. "Kings must always keep their word. But the king has three brothers. One is a duke and the other two are earls. Perhaps one of them will suit you." And she smiled over the child's head at Malcolm Scott, who smiled back at her.

Their trip took them three days, but the weather held and was pleasant. They avoided the city of Edinburgh with its great castle and bustling streets by adding a few more miles to their travels and skirting about it. Big cities were rife with many dangers and illnesses. The Laird of Dunglais had twenty men-at-arms with him, but traveling with a woman and his beloved child he sought no difficulties if he might avoid them.

Queen Marie and Bishop Kennedy between them had as firm a grip upon Scotland as any regency might have. The lowlands and the cities were peaceful. In the north the Highlands were a law unto themselves, but most of their difficulties were between feuding clansmen. As long as those local troubles did not spill over into the few towns there, or into the south, the government was content to allow the local lords to hold sway over their people.

And as for that great enemy, the English, they were too busy with their own problems, the least of which was a deposed king who had fled to Scotland. But as Queen Marie had switched sides, moving her tacit support from the House of Lancaster to the House of York, the new Yorkist king, Edward IV, was content to leave things as they were. And besides, he was too busy solidifying his support in the south to be bothered with what was happening in the north as long as the north would not prove a threat. Henry VI was a toothless old lion and was unlikely to ever reign again. And Scotland's king was a child unlikely to lead his armies over the border.

Each night of the first two they traveled, they stopped at a monastery where they were welcomed in a guesthouse, the men in one, the females in another. They were served a simple meal each evening and again in the morning before they departed. The Laird of Dunglais would leave a donation in keeping with his station, but one that erred more on the side of generosity in order that when they returned they might be welcomed back.

"We will reach Ravenscraig today, late," Malcolm Scott told his companions as they set off the third morning.

"Where exactly is this castle, my lord?" Alix asked him.

"In the region called Fife. It overlooks the Firth of Forth to the south. The king bought it from the Mure family, I believe. The owner had no heirs, was old, and had little wherewithal to keep it up. He died shortly thereafter."

"Is it a great castle?" Fiona wanted to know.

"It is a small castle," her father told her.

"Oh," the little girl said, sounding disappointed. "Shouldn't a king have a great castle, Da?"

The laird chuckled. "Kings have both great and small castles," he told her.

And then in late afternoon, even as the sun was hurrying towards the western horizon, they came in sight of Ravenscraig. While Malcolm Scott had said it was a small structure, he had not told them how impressive a castle it was. And upon its battlements the queen's banner was visible, announcing to all that Marie of Gueldres was in residence. Their party approached it slowly, showing the men-at-arms upon the walls that the visitors were friendly. The banner of Clan Scott with its great stag and the clan's motto, Amo, embroidered upon it, went before them, announcing their arrival.