Authors: Patricia; Grasso
“This is the verra chamber where assassins dragged Rizzio from Queen Mary’s presence and murdered him,” Gordon whispered as they reached the top of the staircase.
Rob said nothing. Treachery abounded here; it was as tangible as the stones beneath her feet. She made a protective sign of the cross and hid her left hand within the folds of her gown before stepping inside the supper room. She only hoped that treachery wouldn’t reach out to grab her that night, but the knowledge that she’d strapped her last resort to her leg gave her the courage to place one foot in front of the other until she stood inside the chamber.
Rob spared a quick glance around. The room’s starkness surprised her, especially since her aunt had told her of the luxury of the English court.
Disappointment surged through her as she spied Mungo MacKinnon, Lavinia Kerr, and several of her husband’s former mistresses accompanied by their husbands. Apparently, she’d be forced to face Gordon’s past indiscretions all evening. Seeing Henry Talbot and Roger Debrett, as well as the Earl of Bothwell, calmed her rioting nerves. At least, she’d have three allies in attendance. Four, if she counted her husband.
“This way, angel,” Gordon said, drawing her toward the king.
Being certain to keep her deformed hand hidden, Rob dropped King James a deep curtsey and bowed her head.
“Stand,” James bade her.
With her husband’s assistance, Rob rose and lifted her gaze to the king’s. The sight of his dribbling mouth sickened her stomach, but her placid expression never altered.
“So yer Gordy’s bride,” the king said with a wet smile.
“Yes, Sire,” Rob replied, fighting her nausea.
“Gordy tells me yer with child,” James remarked. “He wants his heir born at Inverary too.”
Uncertain of what to say or to do, Rob nodded and flicked a sidelong glance at her husband.
“Apparently, Lady Rob is a woman of few words,” James remarked. “I admire that trait in a female. ‘Tis proper for a woman to be seen and not heard.”
“My opinion mirrors yers,” Gordon smoothly replied.
The king reached out and slapped Gordon’s shoulder in easy camaraderie, whispering loudly, “I hope ye didna tell yer wife how much gold ye lost to me today.”
Gordon grinned. “Well, Sire, I daresay she knows now.”
The king chuckled. “Come and sit beside me at supper, my friend. Lady Rob can sit on yer left.”
Gordon nodded. “Thank ye for the honor, Yer Majesty.”
King James headed for the supper table already set for fifteen. When he moved, everyone else in the chamber moved too.
Rob was relieved when Henry Talbot sat beside her and Roger Debrett sat directly opposite her. At the far end of the table were Mungo MacKinnon and Lavinia Kerr. At least, she’d be spared the ordeal of dealing with them as she supped.
The servants arrived with their supper. A salad of damsons, artichokes, cabbage lettuce, and cucumber in a vinaigrette arrived first. Next came fresh sturgeon and chicken baked in caudle and fritters. The last course consisted of scraped cheese with sugar, quince pie, marchpane, and wafers with hippocras.
Keeping her left hand hidden on her lap, Rob sat quietly throughout supper and let the conversations swirl around her. Sitting between Gordon and Henry Talbot made her feel secure. As long as she called no attention to herself, she would survive the evening.
“’Tis an excellent feelin’ in this time of our mournin’ to have my friends offer me comfort,” King James was saying.
What a lying hypocrite, Rob thought, losing her appetite. She’d always assumed that the king would be nobler than any other person in the realm. Apparently, she’d been mistaken. Noble or not, a king was subject to the same human frailties as the basest commoner in his realm.
“Yer brother-in-law is the renowned Earl of Basildon,” King James said, looking down the table at Henry as supper came to an end. “Tell me aboot Elizabeth’s ‘Midas.’”
“Lady Rob is his blood niece and passed more than a year in his household,” Henry replied. “She can probably tell you more than I ever could, although I will gladly share anything of interest that I can.”
When the royal gaze shifted to her, Rob squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. She cleared her throat and said, “Sire, I would be honored to answer any questions ye have concernin’ my uncle.”
“I want to know aboot his business ventures,” the king said baldly.
Business ventures? She knew nothing about her uncle’s businesses. Apparently, James wanted inside information in order to fatten his own coffers. At a loss for words, Rob sent her husband a silent plea for help.
“Yer Majesty, my wife knows less than nothin’ aboot business,” Gordon said with a smile, giving the king an arch look. “Why, I canna recall even seein’ her read a book, which is as it should be. Women were meant for breedin’ and child rearin’.” At the king’s look of disappointment, he added, “However, while I was a guest at Basildon’s, we closeted ourselves in his study each night and discussed business. I’ve made several successful investments for clan Campbell.” He dropped his voice, “I would be honored to share that information with ye, Yer Majesty, but hesitate to do so in such a crowd as this.”
King James nodded with satisfaction. “Well, Gordy, I’m glad yer father had the foresight to marry ye off to the Earl of Basildon’s niece. How aboot a game of chess while we discuss the advice Basildon gave ye?”
“With pleasure, Sire.”
King James and Gordon rose from the table and sat in the chairs near the hearth. Between them on a table rested a chess set, and the two began to play. Henry Talbot and Roger Debrett stood near them to watch as well as to discourage any would-be eavesdroppers looking to fatten their own purses.
Feeling conspicuously out of place among these strangers who knew each other, Rob carefully hid her left hand within the folds of her gown and wandered across the chamber to stare out a window. Night shrouded Edinburgh Castle in the distance, yet she felt the presence of its horrifying scaffold with every fiber other being.
How long would Gordon’s chess game take? Rob wondered, desperate to escape the chamber and the king’s presence. She knew without looking at her star ruby that insidious danger lurked within the palace’s darkened corners and awaited the predestined moment when he would step forward to claim his due.
“Good evenin’, Lady Rob.”
Turning toward the voice, Rob pasted an insincere smile onto her face and greeted the woman, “Good evenin, Lady Kerr.”
“And where are yer gloves this evenin’?” Lavinia asked with a sarcastic smirk. “I thought we’d never see ye without them since they’re the latest rage at the Tudor court.”
“My pregnancy makes me unwell this evenin’,” Rob said, fearing the redhead would notice her devil’s flower. “Please go away and leave me alone.”
“I’ll leave after we’ve cleared the air between us.”
“Can it wait until the mornin’?”
Lavinia stood her ground. “No.”
“What is it ye wish to say to me?” Rob asked, irritated not only with the woman but her own husband whose past had brought her to this uncomfortable moment.
“How does it feel to know ye’ve separated two people who truly love each other?” Lavinia asked, her voice low so that no one else could hear.
“Dinna talk in riddles,” Rob snapped. “Speak straight if ye’ve somethin’ to say.”
“Ye realize Gordy and I were lovers?”
Rob stiffened and gave her a curt nod. “I had an inklin’ that somethin’ illicit had passed between ye, but yer the interloper since he’d already married me.”
“Gordy only married ye to suit his father,” Lavinia informed her, giving her a feline smile. “As a matter of fact, Gordy and I were abed when the message to fetch ye arrived from Argyll.”
Rob flushed with appalled anger, and rage simmered in her blood. How many other women in this room were waiting to have this same conversation with her? Damn Gordon Campbell and his unbridled lust!
“Go away. Lady Kerr,” Rob managed to choke out, her stomach churning with her angry humiliation and her pain.
Encouraged by the obviously anguished expression on Rob’s face, Lavinia went in for the kill. “Gordy planned on ridin’ to Dunridge Castle and then droppin’ ye off at Inverary. He was in a hurry to get back to my arms. Yer waywardness ruined our plans.”
Pushed beyond endurance, Rob reached down and, in one swift motion, flicked the bottom edge of her gown up to draw her last resort. She pointed the deadly little dagger in the general vicinity of the other woman’s flawlessly beautiful face and threatened, “Go away, ye adulterous jade, or I’ll give ye so many scars no man will want to look at ye much less bed ye.”
“She’s goin’ to kill me,” Lavinia screamed, leaping back several paces.
In the next instant, everyone rushed across the room and surrounded them. Pushing his way through the small crowd of shocked spectators, Gordon demanded, “God’s balls, what are ye doin’? Ye brought a dagger into the king’s presence? Are ye daft?”
Speechless at being blamed for this confrontation, Rob could only stare at her husband. Why was he shouting at her? She glanced toward Lavinia, whom Mungo MacKinnon had protectively encircled within his arms. King James, dribbling a river of saliva, stood beside them.
“Yer blamin’ me?” Rob asked her husband.
Gordon held out his hand and ordered, “Give me the blade.”
“The plague and the devil take ye,” Rob cursed Lavinia as she passed her dagger to her husband.
“Get these bickerin’ bitches out of my sight,” King James ordered.
Needing no second invitation to leave, Gordon grabbed Rob’s wrist in a bruising grip and yanked her out of the chamber. Silence reigned as he pulled her through the maze of dimly lit corridors.
When they finally reached their own chamber, Gordon exclaimed, “I canna believe ye drew a dagger in the king’s presence.”
“Are ye worried for yer whore’s life?” Rob shouted, exploding with outraged humiliation. “I ken ye had affairs, but I dinna relish havin’ yer lightskirts accost me.”
She plopped down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand against her belly as if that could calm its churning. Watching her husband pace the chamber, Rob felt defeated and hot tears brimmed in her eyes. “I willna contest a divorce, Gordy. Ye can even use Old Clootie’s mark as the reason. I just want to be away from here. Attendin’ this court is makin’ me sick.”
“Aboot what are ye talkin’?” Gordon asked, stopping his pacing to fix his piercing gaze on her.
“I dinna want a husband on yer terms,” she answered, lifting her chin a notch.
“Ye really must be daft,” Gordon countered. “Do ye think I’d ever let ye rule our marriage?”
“I’ll have a husband who’s faithful or none at all,” Rob said, squaring her shoulders proudly and looking him straight in the eye. “Besides, ye’ll be happier if ye wed the woman ye love.”
Some unrecognizable emotion flickered in his piercing gray gaze, and his expression softened on her. Gordon sat beside her on the edge of the bed and put his arm around her, drawing her close.
“I never loved Lavinia Kerr,” he told her. “I took what she offered and nothin’ more.”
His admission left her depleted of energy. “I dinna like attendin’ the court,” Rob said, her misery obvious. “I want to leave.”
Gently, Gordon brushed his lips against her temple. “Tomorrow mornin’, angel,” he promised. “After ye apologize to the king, I’ll ask his permission to leave. If he wants me to stay in Edinburgh, we’ll move into Campbell Mansion. Will that suit ye?”
Rob nodded, and secure in his embrace, rested her head against his chest. Though outwardly calmed, Rob’s thoughts were troubled. Her husband insisted he never loved Lavinia Kerr, and she believed him. Yet, he refused to profess any love for her.
Rob sighed raggedly. Perhaps some day he would develop a fondness for her. Until then, she needed to concentrate on the babe she carried. Danger surrounded her, and any danger to herself placed her unborn child at risk. Great Bruce’s ghost, she’d kill the man or the woman who jeopardized her baby.
Chapter 18
“Brava, Livy. Ye performed most excellently this evenin’.” Mungo MacKinnon smiled with satisfaction as he watched his cousin pacing angrily back and forth in front of the hearth in her chamber.
“Humph,” Lavinia snorted delicately, throwing him an irritated glare. “I canna believe that Highland mouse had the audacity to draw her dagger on me.”
“I’d say Gordy was more than a little surprised too,” Mungo replied, pleased that the opening act of his scheme for revenge against the MacArthurs had gone so well. “’Twas even better than I’d planned. Not only did the stupid twit draw her dagger in front of the king but she also cursed ye in the presence of witnesses.”
“So what will ye do now?” Lavinia asked, flicking him a sidelong glance as she passed him in her pacing.
“In the mornin’ I’ll whisper in the king’s ear aboot her devil’s flower and then accuse her of practicin’ witchcraft.” Mungo reached out and grasped her forearm, saying, “Cousin, yer pacin’ is makin’ me dizzy.” He gently forced her to sit in the chair and ordered, “Stay put, and I’ll fetch ye a glass of wine.”