Bond of Passion (36 page)

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

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

He grunted his approval of her plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am Angus Ferguson,” the earl admitted.

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

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

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

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

“Ye must choose!” the Hamilton leader insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What proof hae ye brought back for my sire to judge ye?” Donal Stewart said.

The earl told Donal Stewart of his most recent travels to France, and how he and Monsieur Claude had forced a confession of fraud from the magistrate.

“But the gold, the letter to Mary Stuart?” Donal Stewart asked.

“Slipped into my saddlebag as I traveled,” the earl said. “No one was more surprised to see them than I was when yer man brought them into the hall. Ye must admit that the letter itself was a bland bit of writing, making no offer to Mary Stuart of help.”

“Aye,” Donal Stewart agreed. “And it was probably written by the agent. The parchment showed no seal in the wax. I was suspicious, but the rest seemed to involve ye, my lord. I will need proof of some sort if ye are to convince my sire of yer innocence.”

“I have documented all, and have two copies of everything. One will go wi’ ye when ye and yer men leave Duin tomorrow to seek out the regent.”

“Ye will nae go?” Donal Stewart was surprised.

“Yer sire’s first instinct would be to throw me in prison while he considered the matter at his leisure,” the Earl of Duin said. “His time is better spent governing Scotland right now. But he will sit long enough to listen to yer report and yer advice in this matter. Perhaps he will be able to come to a quick decision. He is welcome to come to Duin and speak wi’ me himself. ’Tis bold of me to suggest it, but I hae been away from home long enough these last months. I wish to pick up the threads of my life and live in peace again,” Angus Ferguson declared.

“My opinion counts for little among my sire and his friends,” Donal Stewart said, “but I think it will be several years before Scotland is at peace again. For now my sire fears the return of his half sister, for many wish it. And the care of a child king, as ye know from our history, is a perilous one, my lord.”

His companions all nodded.

“Poor wee bairn,” Annabella said. “I’m sure he hae everything he needs, and is warm and dry, but where is the love in his life? A bairn needs a parent or a keeper who will hug him, rock him to sleep in her arms, cuddle him when he is frightened. The unfortunate mite is surrounded by greedy men, all eager to rule in his name.”

Donal Stewart nodded. “I mean nae disrespect to my own sire, madam, but ye’re correct. They all see the laddie as a pawn for their own use and the enrichment of their families.”

“Yet she left him,” Annabella said. “If I were asked I should nae be able to support a woman who abandoned her own bairn.”

“I think yer plan a sound one, my lord,” Donal Stewart said to the earl. “Ye’re right when ye say my sire would toss ye in the nearest prison in fear of ye. Aye, I’ll take yer proofs to him, and explain myself how ye went off to France to clear yer name. Ye hae witnesses other than the French involved.”

“I was wi’ my husband,” Annabella said. “I know the courts will nae take a woman’s sworn word, but surely the regent would if I spoke wi’ him.”

“Ye were wi’ yer lord?” Donal Stewart didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

Angus laughed. “Aye, the vixen disguised herself as a lad, binding her breasts flat and hiding her hair beneath her cap. Then she followed after me, and saved my life when a pair of villains attempted to murder me.” He went on to explain in detail how Annabella had gone after him and hidden her identity. How he had learned of her deception only when she had to reveal herself to save him.

Donal Stewart was amazed. His sire would be intrigued. The young Countess of Duin was the kind of woman whom every man should be so fortunate as to possess: loyal to a fault, and loving. “Madam,” he said, “I dinna think I approve of yer actions, but I must say that I admire what ye did for yer man.”