Bond of Passion (30 page)

“Angus is bathing, and will eat in his apartments before sleeping,” Annabella said. “Matthew spends this time of day with Aggie. We have time before the hall fills for the evening meal. Let us go quickly!” She hurried from the hall, and Jean ran to catch up with her as Annabella made for the door at the end of the corridor that led down into the dungeons. “There will be nae guard on duty,” Annabella said, “for Stewart and his men are securely locked in their cells. Only the menservants who bring them food will come here.” Opening the door, she stepped through onto the landing, and then began to descend.

Jean followed. She found herself surprised by this new and capable Annabella.

At the bottom of the staircase they found themselves in a corridor lit by a flickering torch that sat in a wall holder. There were several doors with grates in them.

Donal Stewart and his half dozen men were housed in four cells at the end of the corridor, which they discovered by looking through each grate into the cells. Finding the Earl of Moray’s man, Annabella called to him to come to the door so they might speak.

Donal Stewart smiled ruefully at her. “Hae ye come to release me, madam?”

Annabella chuckled. “Nay, sir, I hae not. But I do need yer help, if ye will gie it to me, please. My husband is nae a traitor, but here ye must remain until we can prove it. I know that ye were given orders by yer sire that should Duin’s earl prove traitorous ye were to dispatch him wi’out delay,” she said quietly.

Donal Stewart had the good grace to flush guiltily, but he said nothing.

“Such a cut-and-dried order doesna leave room for my husband to prove his innocence,” Annabella said wryly. Then she went on to explain to Donal Stewart that she thought the packet and purse had been slipped into Angus’s saddlebag without his knowledge. That whoever was to take it to Mary Stuart could be certain of only one thing: The Earl of Duin would go home. “It was here wi’ the aid of one of our stable lads that he meant to gain possession of the message and the purse. We will learn which of our lads it was, sir. And we must read the message in the packet. It will surely prove my husband is nae traitor, sir. Where is the packet?”

“It was on the high board in the hall, my lady,” he answered her. He was very impressed by her reasoning, and her effort to save her husband. Reaching into his doublet, he drew out the bag of coins, pushing it through the grate for her. “Ye’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned her gently.

“Neither ye nor yer men will be harmed, Donal Stewart,” she told him. “But here ye will remain for the interim. I doubt yer sire will gie ye much thought for a while.”

Donal Stewart laughed. “Nay, he will not. He is far too busy consolidating his position and chasing shadows.”

“Jeannie will keep ye informed as to what is happening when she is able to do so,” Annabella said to him. “Dinna attempt to bribe a servant. They are loyal.”

“Apparently one was nae,” he reminded her.

“A stable lad offered a few coins to take two items from his master’s saddlebags canna be held accountable or considered a spy. Buying men is what the powerful do best, is it nae?” Annabella said cynically. “And the poor are always willing to cooperate wi’ them, especially if they think they do their own loyalty nae harm.”

“Dinna ever allow yer husband or my sire to learn how clever ye are, madam,” Donal Stewart said with a small smile. “I hae nae doubt that ye will see yer husband’s heretofore good name cleared.”

“Oh, I will,” Annabella said. “I will.” Then, without another word, she and Jean returned upstairs from the dungeons, careful not to be seen by any. They hurried into the hall, and there was the packet still lying on the high board. “Thank God!” the Countess of Duin said, picking it up. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment to read what it contained. Her eyes quickly scanned the writing. It was in French, but she knew enough to be able to translate the words.

Annabella folded the letter back up. The signature on the letter had not been important, other than that it had been signed by a de Guise. She suspected it was one of Mary Stuart’s cousins with whom she had grown up. “There is nothing here that cries treason, nor implicates Angus in any plot against Scotland or my lord of Moray,” she said. “But that is not the point. As long as Moray and his ilk believe that Angus carried the letter from France, meant to have it delivered somehow to Mary Stuart, and accepted coins for his service, it will appear that he did something guilty.” She handed the letter to Jean. “Secrete it until we may add it to the rest of our evidence.”

“What evidence?” Jean inquired.

“The evidence we shall obtain in France,” Annabella said with a small smile.

“Ye really mean to go wi’ him?” Jean said.

“I do. I must,” Annabella said.

“Ye love him,” Jean replied quietly.

“Aye, I love him,” Annabella said, “and I’ll nae be left a widow wi’ bairns, like so many other border wives! I will go wi’ him, and I will help him to prove his innocence, to prove that the Fergusons of Duin are an honorable and loyal clan.”

T
he servants had begun to bring in the evening meal. Angus had already eaten, Tormod told his lady, and was already sleeping. Aggie was filled with complaints this evening as they sat at the high board. She was close to delivering her first child, and her feet were swollen badly. Annabella attempted to soothe her, to no avail.

“One bairn will be more than enough for me,” she whined. “There is scarce enough to leave one if it’s a lad, but more than enough of a dower for a daughter. I dinna believe ye suffered as much as I do.”

Annabella wanted to laugh. Agnes had never been happy when constrained from physical activity. She had not been able to ride in several months. It was late summer, and the weather had been warm and muggy. “I carried twins,” she reminded her younger sister. “Ye will survive, Aggie. Ye should spend more time out of doors, rather than lying down in yer apartments. How is yer house coming along?”

“I canna walk that far,” Agnes complained.

“Then ye must have the dog cart, and go tomorrow,” Annabella said cheerfully. She turned to Jean. “Ye’ll see to it?”

“Aye,” Jean replied. She wondered whether Agnes would continue to complain after her bairn was born. Well, at least she would be in her own house then, for Matthew, true to his promise to his bride, was having a fine stone house constructed on his nearby property.

The meal over the hall grew empty on this summer’s night. Annabella went upstairs to see that Angus was still comfortable. He was sleeping very soundly, and from the looks of it would sleep until Tormod woke him to dress before the dawn. Poor man, she thought, touching his dark head lightly. To come home to such a welcome and to have to turn about immediately wasn’t fair. Angus Ferguson was not a man who enjoyed adventure, unlike Bothwell, who seemed to live for it. Well, look where it had gotten James Hepburn. A prison cell in Denmark. All Angus wanted was to stay home, shepherd his lands, and watch his family grow.

Annabella sighed. She was mad, she knew, to be following after her husband, but something deep within her told her that Angus was in more difficulty than he realized, and through no fault of his own. Although he could not realize it, or even admit to it, he would need her by his side, seeing what he did not see, hearing what he would not hear.

Jean was waiting in her apartments when Annabella entered them. “I went into the attics,” she said, “and found some of the clothing Matthew wore as a lad. Try them on to see if they fit or if I must seek elsewhere.” She handed Annabella a pair of breeks and a shirt, relieved to see they fit her mistress perfectly. “I’ll pack two more shirts in yer saddlebag, a brush for yer hair, and a few other sundries that ye’ll need. Go to bed now. I’ll wake ye when it is time.”

“How will I get out of the castle wi’out being seen?” Annabella asked.

Jean grinned. “There’s a small back portal that’s rarely used. I used to meet my Douglas outside of it when we were courting.” She chuckled. “I took a horse through that gate earlier and left it at my mam’s cottage. I’ll go wi’ ye to get it, and so ye’ll hae a way around the Duin village so no one sees ye. And I hae the perfect spot for ye to wait for Angus so ye may follow him wi’out his realizing it. Ye’ll hae to be very clever, Annabella, if ye dinna want to reveal yerself to him till ye’re a-sea. If he catches ye he’ll bring ye back.”

“I’ve no experience in such stealthy activities,” Annabella said, “but I cannot fail. He’ll go to Leith, won’t he?”

“Aye, he will,” Jean said. “He’ll take no chances going to Berwick, lest it compound his alleged guilt.”

“Make certain that Donal Stewart and his men are well looked after,” Annabella told Jean, “and tell Matthew I’m keeping to my quarters because I am so upset by my husband’s return to France. See if ye can keep him at bay for three or four days. I can’t have Matthew coming after me.”

She had been removing her garments as she spoke, and now she climbed into her bed. A bed that would have contained her husband had it not been for Donal Stewart and the Earl of Moray. It had been weeks since they had made love, touched, or even kissed those long, sweet kisses she had come to love. And it would be weeks more before they did again, Annabella realized, a trifle irritated. But proving Angus innocent of treason was far more important than the incredible passion between them. “Good night,” she said to Jean. “Dinna let me oversleep.”

But it was not her tiring woman who woke Annabella. It was her husband climbing into bed with her, growling into her ear. “I canna leave ye wi’out tasting yer passion, sweetheart.” Undoing the ribbons holding her night garment closed, his hand slipped beneath the two halves of the gown, and he sighed as he caressed the silken skin of her perfect body. “God’s blood, Annabella, ye are so sweet.”

She turned in his arms to face him, forgetting briefly that in a few hours she would have to arise earlier than she had ever risen in her life in order to follow after him without his knowledge. But for now all she could think of was his hard body, and his mouth now seeking to kiss her. Her lips parted eagerly for him.
Holy Mother!
It seemed as if it had been forever since their bodies had entwined in delicious conjunction, and they kissed and kissed without end.

“Angus, dinna leave me,” she pleaded softly. “There must be another way we can solve this problem. Send Matthew to France to seek the answers ye need. Stay wi’ me.”

His hand stroked her lovely body, fondling her breasts, smoothing down the length of her spine. “Matthew wouldna know the questions to ask. He would nae hae the familiarity wi’ the magistrate in Mont de Devereaux that I hae. Besides, yer sister is too close to whelping her bairn.”

“She doesn’t need him to hae a bairn,” Annabella said. She was being selfish for the first time in her life, but she didn’t care. “He did his part months ago.”

The earl laughed softly, and then kissed her once again before saying, “I am the lord of Duin, and ’tis my honor that has been challenged. I must return to France to clear my name, sweetheart. Ye know it to be so.”

“Aye, I do,” Annabella admitted, “but I had hoped ye might . . . Oh! I dinna know what I was thinking.”

He laughed again. “I dinna want ye to think of anything but me when I enjoy yer fair body,” he told her. His head dipped to her breasts and, taking a nipple between his lips, he suckled upon it. “
Only me
,” he murmured against her soft flesh. “
Only me!
”

Her hand stroked his dark hair, which had become a bit unruly where it met the nape of his neck. Her fingers played amid it, stroking the sensitive flesh as he tugged upon her, his teeth gently grazing the nipple, sending shivers of delight throughout her eager body. If he could arise in the next few hours and ride off, then so could she. Her arms wrapped about him, her body encouraging him with the unspoken signals lovers learn from each other over a period of time.