“Duin,” Matthew said in an understated manner.
“It looks impressive at first glance, I know,” Jean said, seeing the look on Annabella’s face, “but I promise it is very comfortable within. You will be happy here.”
They descended the hill on the castle road, the pipers playing a cheerful march ahead of them. Then from out of the castle and across the drawbridge came a party of riders. Two outriders rode with gaily colored flags flying. Matthew grinned and Jean laughed, delighted. A cheer went up from the men-at-arms escorting the bride.
Leading the welcoming party was a tall man on an enormous dappled gray stallion. Annabella knew in an instant that this had to be Angus Ferguson. Her party had stopped, and as the other group of riders drew near, she saw his face for the first time. They had not lied. She almost wept then and there. He was without a doubt the handsomest man she had ever set eyes upon. She felt her plainness now more than she had ever before felt it. This beautiful man shouldn’t be wed to her. His wife should be some glorious female whose beauty matched his.
He had a sculpted face with high cheekbones and a long straight nose. His chin was squared, not with hard lines, but soft ones. There was the faint impression of a dimple in the exact center of that chin. His mouth was long and just full enough without being big. She could not see the color of his eyes yet, but his hair and brows were every bit as dark as hers were. God’s mercy, how envious Myrna would be, Annabella thought.
Angus Ferguson’s stallion came to a halt. He dismounted, going quickly to where Annabella sat upon Snow. She couldn’t look at him for fear of weeping. Seeing him, she wanted him, but he would certainly send her back having seen her. A little gasp escaped her when, reaching up, he lifted her from the back of the mare. A single finger slipped beneath her chin, raising her head up. Deep green eyes met her startled gray gaze.
“Welcome to Duin, madam,” a deep voice said.
How she found her voice, Annabella wasn’t certain, but she heard herself replying, “Thank ye, my lord. I am glad to be here.”
He smiled a quick smile at her, then, turning to both mounted parties, said, “Go home. The countess and I shall walk the mile together.” Then his big hand gripped her small one. “Come, madam,” he commanded her. “We will walk and talk so we may come to know each other better.”
The horses and riders galloped off immediately, leaving the newly wedded pair alone. They began walking down the road to the castle.
“Ye’re twenty, I am told,” he said.
“I am,” she answered him.
“I am thirty-five, and said to be set in my ways,” he answered.
“Most men are set in their ways by the age of two,” Annabella replied.
He laughed aloud. “Ye have a quick tongue, madam.” Aye, she was plain, he thought, but not ugly; and he was already finding her interesting, which was to the good.
“I am said to be forthright in my speech,” she admitted. She was finding him easy to talk to, and that was a small comfort, Annabella considered.
“Are ye in love with any other?” he demanded to know.
“Nay!” Her tone was genuinely indignant. “My father should not have made this match between us if I were.”
“Yer father had something I wanted,” the earl said candidly. “And he needed a husband for his eldest daughter. Gaining an earl for a tower laird’s wench was quite an achievement for yer family, madam.”
“Had my heart been engaged elsewhere, my lord, I can assure you, even if ye were a king, my father would not have acceded to this match. Neither of my parents would have forced me to the altar had I not wanted to go.”
He was silent for a brief time as they walked. Then he said, “Were ye ever in love, madam?”
“Nay,” Annabella told him. “There has never been any to take my fancy. Nor, were I a member of the old Church, would a convent have been for me. I thought I might be one of those women who never weds but remains home to care for her aging parents. With the border wars these many years, it was difficult to socialize among the border families in the east, thanks to the English. And fewer young men to meet, as so many were killed,” she explained.
“There was less trouble here in this region of the west,” the earl said. “We have little that the English want.”
“Yet it is said ye are a wealthy man,” Annabella replied. “How does one gather wealth from nothing?”
He chuckled. “The Fergusons are said to be magical folk,” the earl told her.
“My sister said if ye were magical ye would make me as beautiful as ye are, my lord,” Annabella challenged. “Should we not be a matching pair?”
He stopped but he did not release her hand, rather turning her to face him as he looked down at her. “Ye are not ugly,” he said quietly. “And I did not want a beautiful wife. I wanted a wife who would respect and be loyal to me, madam. I have been in love. I learned that beautiful women are vain, selfish, treacherous. I did not want a wife like that. Ye will be the perfect wife for me,” he assured her.
“Ye are called the handsomest man in the borders, my lord. Yer reputation, however, is not that of a vain and selfish man. My sisters are beautiful, and while they can be silly, even foolish sometimes, they will be good wives to their husbands, because they have been raised by a good mother. As for respect and loyalty, they are not gifts easily given. They are earned and must come from the heart.”
“Will ye be a good wife to me, madam?” he asked her.
“By yer reasoning, my lord, I will, for I am not beautiful,” she answered sharply.
“God’s bones!” he swore, surprised. “I believe I have disappointed ye,” the earl said to her.
“Nay, my lord, ye but surprised me. I am no fool. It is obvious ye have been disappointed by beautiful lasses. I am not beautiful, but if I were I should still endeavor to be a good wife to ye,” Annabella told him.
He raised to his lips the small hand he held, and kissed it. “Madam, I apologize, for I have offended ye. It is not a good way for us to begin. Will you forgive me?” He smiled a little smile at her.
Unable to help herself, Annabella smiled back, showing him a row of perfect little white teeth. How many women, she wondered, had given in to that smile? “Ye’re forgiven, my lord. This walking and talking was a wise decision. Now tell me what ye have planned for today. I am anxious to conclude the formalities so I may bathe. I stink of the road and of my horse. I want a hot bath more than anything.”
“I had planned to have the ceremony immediately, but ye cannot be wed to me in that gown. Whoever chose such a color for you did you no kindness,” the earl told her. “Yer pale skin needs clear, bright colors, not this dull gray. Duin has its own church, and my people will be crowded into it to get their first glimpse of their new lady. I would have them see ye at yer best, madam.”
“I fear my other two gowns are as drab,” Annabella informed him. “One is brown, and the other is black.”
“Ye will find a complete new wardrobe in yer apartments, madam,” he told her. “Yer mam was kind enough to send me the measurements I required. There may be some small adjustments needed, but ye shall have a fine gown to wear at our wedding ceremony. Ye will have yer bath first, and then Jean will garb ye in yer new finery.”
“But how did ye know which colors would suit me?” Annabella asked him.
“I was told ye were as pale as the moon, with hair like ebony,” he said. “It was enough. Tell Jean to choose something particularly festive.” He smiled down at her again, and she felt her knees weaken. “Now we are almost home, madam, so let us hurry.”
They continued on down the castle road, finally crossing over the broad oak drawbridge. There was no moat, Annabella saw, but rather beneath the drawbridge was a chasm that fell to the sea itself. Duin Castle, she now realized, stood upon a great cliff separated from the land. “Where is yer village?” she asked him, curious.
“Look to yer left,” he said. “Ye can see the church tower from here. The village was built around St. Andrew’s. Ye can inspect it in a few days. Our people farm and fish.” He led her beneath the great iron portcullis and into a large courtyard. “Welcome home, madam!” he said to her. “Welcome to Duin!”
Looking about her, Annabella could see the lines of the original house that had become a small castle. Her curiosity aroused, she looked forward to exploring it and learning all about it. “Thank ye, my lord,” she said, accepting his welcome.
Jean came forth from the house, smiling.
“The countess will bathe and change into something more suitable,” the earl told his half sister. “Help her choose something festive, Jeannie. When she is ready we will celebrate the formalities at St. Andrew’s.”
“Aye, my lord,” Jean answered him. Then she said, “My mother is here to meet yer bride. She’ll want to help.”
“Ye’ll like old Jeanne,” the earl said. “She is a second mother to me.” He raised her hand to his lips once more, kissed it, and then released it.
Annabella felt suddenly and strangely bereft at the loss of the strong fingers that had wrapped themselves about hers just a moment before. “I will try not to keep ye waiting too long, my lord,” she said as she curtsied to him.
He smiled a brilliant smile at her that seemed to light his whole face. “A woman preparing for her wedding cannot be faulted if she takes her time,” he said.
“Bothwell is in the hall, and he’s in a rare temper,” Jean told her brother before she turned away to escort Annabella to her apartments.
The earl nodded and hurried off.
“The Earl of Bothwell?” Annabella asked as they hurried into the castle and up the stairs to her apartments. “James Hepburn?”
“Aye,” Jean said. “He and Angus have been friends since they were lads. His da, the fair earl, fell in love with Marie de Guise and divorced his wife so he might woo her. Of course, it was useless, for Marie’s sole reason for living was her daughter. Eventually Patrick Hepburn betrayed Scotland. I think that is why his son is so loyal to it. It’s as if James Hepburn is attempting to make up for his father’s treason. His sister, Janet, is married to John Stewart, another bastard son of King James V. He controls and has the income from the priory of Coldingham.”
They walked down a hallway lined in windows on one side. They had reached their destination. Jean flung open one side of a double door and ushered her mistress into her new apartment. Annabella was enchanted. The dayroom was paneled in warm wood. There was a stone fireplace flanked by stone greyhounds that was blazing with a bright fire. The leaded windows overlooked the sea and were hung with burgundy-colored velvet draperies. The furniture was warm golden oak, the settle and straight-backed chairs cushioned. There was a red-and-blue carpet upon the wood floor. Her mother did not have a dayroom, although they had heard of such chambers, and she had always believed a dayroom was for the rich. Then she recalled that her husband was a wealthy man. And as his wife, she now had a dayroom. She could not help but think that Myrna would be very jealous.
An older woman resembling Jean came forward. She curtsied politely to Annabella. “I am Jeanne, my lady. I served the earl’s mama until her death several years ago. If I may be of service to ye at any time, ye have but to ask. I live in a cottage in the village, tending to my two grandchildren.”
“Thank ye, Jeanne,” Annabella said. “I didn’t realize Matthew was wed and had two bairns of his own.”
Jeanne chortled. “I doubt I shall ever live to see my son wed. The bairns I care for are Jeannie’s. Both she and her man are in service to the earl.”
“But I should not take ye from yer bairns,” Annabella said to Jean.
“Aye,” Jean replied, “ye should! Mama is much better with them than I am.”
“All here is as it should be, my lady,” Jeanne told Annabella. “I have served my time with my mistress, Madame Adrienne. We were girls together in Brittany. I chose to come to Scotland when she married the laird. Now it is my daughter’s time to serve ye. My grandsons are my joy. Now, having met ye, I will leave ye, for it is past time for ye to prepare for yer wedding to the earl.” She curtsied and departed.
“Ye have a special chamber for bathing,” Jean said to her. “I can pump cold water into it, but we must send for hot water.” She reached for the bellpull near the fireplace and yanked on it. A maidservant immediately appeared, and Jean gave her instructions. The girl hurried off. “Let’s choose yer gown,” Jean suggested. She led Annabella to a small windowless room off the dayroom. There were two large wooden wardrobes against a wall inside the chamber. Jean flung open the doors to the tall chests. “Here are the gowns the earl had made for ye. There is a burgundy velvet I particularly like, but ye must pick yerself.”
Annabella caught her breath as she looked at the beautiful gowns hanging from pieces of carved wood within the cabinets. What luxury! At home, their gowns had been packed in their trunks until needed and set out the day before wearing to air and lose their wrinkles. The colors were wonderful. Bright and clear. Scarlet. Rich deep green without a hint of yellow or blue. Sea blue. A sunny gold, tawny orange, deep bright pink, lavender, violet, apple green. But it was a cheerful yellow velvet skirt that caught her eye. She looked about for a bodice to go with it and found a cream velvet one embroidered with copper silk butterflies and fat bumblebees.
She took it out. “This one with the yellow skirt,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything so lovely in all my life.”
“Aye,” Jean agreed. “It’s a perfect choice for ye.” She set out the two garments. “Let’s go and see how yer bath is coming along now.”
She led the way to another room, where Annabella was surprised to see a large square stone tub half-sunk into the floor of the chamber. There was a fireplace with a hot fire burning in it on the wall opposite the tub. There were two doors: the one they had entered through, and another. Annabella was surprised to see a maidservant taking bucket after steaming bucket from an opening in the wall and dumping it into the tub.