This Heart of Mine (71 page)

For the first time in months Velvet spoke of her child. Looking directly at her father, she said, “It was such an easy birth, Papa. She was so eager to come into the world that she was born almost before I realized what was happening. Most of my lord’s wives were jealous of me but for Jodh Bai, the mother of the heir, and my lord’s first wife and cousin, Rugaiya Begum. They were my friends, and it was they who aided me.

“There was a golden cradle, all bejeweled, ready for Yasaman, and after her birth she was placed in it. My lord came, praised me, and acknowledged the baby as his own true child. Then the others were sent away, and when we were alone my lord Akbar presented me with this.” Velvet held out her hand to display a large pigeon’s-blood ruby carved into a heart shape and set into a gold ring.

“She is the most beautiful child, Papa. She was never scrawny like some newly born babies are. She was plump and dimpled. Her eyes are turquoise blue, and her hair as black as night, yet in the sun it has reddish lights in it. She will be very smart, I could tell. She always turned her head at the sound of my voice, or of her father’s, and she could laugh. She was just learning how when they took me from her.

“Oh, Papa! I shall never see my child again, and I do not think that I can bear it!”

Adam de Marisco thought that his heart was going to break. Whenever things had gone awry for Velvet in her youth he had been there to make it right. Now he could not. There was absolutely nothing he could do to spare his only child this terrible pain. Reaching out, he lifted her from her seat in their coach and cradled her in his lap. “I am so sorry, my poppet,” he whispered, his usually strong voice ragged and torn with his own emotions. “I am so very sorry! I would do anything in my power, Velvet, to spare you this anguish, but I cannot. God help me, I cannot!” And then he began to sob, great, wracking sobs that shook his whole body, and Velvet, stunned by her father’s grief, was, after six months, finally able to cry herself.

Skye felt her own tears slipping silently down her cheeks, and she impatiently brushed them away. It was enough that Velvet was now purging some of the bitterness from her soul.

After a time, Velvet’s weeping dissolved into little hiccoughs, then finally ceased altogether as she fell asleep in her
father’s protective arms. Adam raised his head and looked across the coach at his wife.

“I feel as if I have failed her,” he said quietly.

Skye shook her head. “No. You have helped her greatly. Neither of us can change what has happened to Velvet, but we can see that she is happy from now on, and that means that Alex Gordon must honestly want her back. It would be a tragic mistake to allow him to take Velvet back to Scotland if he does not love her.”

Adam nodded. “I agree, my love, but she is legally his wife. There is little we can do to stop him, whatever his attitude. I am sure, however, that he would have demanded an annulment before this had he not wanted her back. Angus Gordon, his father, was a strong but gentle and good man. He raised his son to manhood before his untimely death. I am certain Alex will show his father’s ways once he sees Velvet again.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Skye, but in her heart she fretted, for from what she had seen of her Scots son-in-law he was a proud, stubborn man. Still, he had not demanded an annulment. She closed her eyes and allowed the rocking motion of the coach to lull her into sleep.

As she slept the de Marisco messenger galloped north, stopping only to change horses, to eat, and to relieve himself. It took him five days to reach
Dun Broc
, where he was immediately ushered into the earl’s presence. Kneeling, he handed Alexander Gordon his packet.

“My wife is safe in England?” Alex questioned the messenger before even opening the packet.

“Aye, my lord. She landed in London on the ninth of August. The family left for
Queen’s Malvern
the following morning. Lady de Marisco asks that you join them there.”

“Alanna!” The earl’s voice was sharp. “Take this man to the kitchens and see that he is first fed then sheltered for the night.” He turned back to the messenger. “Ye will carry my message back to Lord and Lady de Marisco tomorrow.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said the messenger, rising.

Alanna Wythe pouted prettily at the man who had been her lover, but the effect was lost, for Alex was not even looking at her. He was far too busy tearing open the packet he had just received. With a little huff of indignation she rose from the floor before the fire where she had artfully sprawled herself. The de Marisco messenger eyed her boldly, thinking that she was a prime young bitch.

Alanna gave him a haughty look and stalked from the room. With a chuckle he followed after her, noticing as he did so that he towered over her, for she was but five feet tall. Her hair, which when unbound looked like it would cascade to just below her hips, was a pure sunshine yellow. She wore it in two fat braids that fell over her very full bosom. The de Marisco messenger leaped around her in the corridor and, with a grin, stood blocking her way.

“I’ve traveled far, sweeting. I don’t suppose you’d have a kiss for a tired man.”

“So much as touch me, and my lord earl will have your randy pizzle cut off and fed to the wolves!” she snapped. “I’m not for the likes of you.”

“Your pardon, me lady,” he said mockingly, and then stepping aside continued, “I wasn’t aware you saved your whoring for only the earl.”

Alanna’s brown eyes flashed with anger. “The earl loves me,” she hissed at her antagonist. “You’ll soon see!”

The messenger laughed harshly. “I’ve yet to know a man who’d leave his rich and beautiful wife for his doxy, sweeting. You’re riding for a hard fall. Now that my lady Velvet’s home you’ll be sent packing quick enough. Now get me something to eat like your master ordered you!”

Outraged, Alanna ran down the hallway on her short legs, the messenger easily keeping up with her.

In his library Alexander Gordon carefully opened the packet. Within the protective wrappings he found the heavy parchment message sent to him by Skye. He unfolded it and read.

To Alexander Gordon, Earl of BrocCairn:

My lord. My daughter, Velvet, arrived home yesterday evening. Although she appears to be in good health, she is exhausted both emotionally and physically. If the last two and a half years have been difficult for you, the last six months have been equally hard for Velvet who, believing herself a widow, had allowed the Grand Mughal, Akbar, to woo and win her only to learn that you were alive. She is, as you may well imagine, quite confused. For my daughter’s sake, I beg that you be certain you wish your marriage to continue. You will need patience, a quality of which I am not convinced you possess a great deal; and you will need to love Velvet with your whole heart. If you cannot, then I beg of you to release my child from your marriage vows, lest you destroy each other. We shall await your arrival at
Queen’s Malvern.

(Signed)
Skye O’Malley de Marisco, Countess of Lundy.

Alex reread Skye’s letter several times over, realizing as he did so that now that his wife had returned he was going to have to make some serious decisions. The first of those decisions involved his wife, and the second, Alanna Wythe.

Velvet de Marisco.
Did he love her still? Did he
really
love her, or did he simply want to revenge himself upon her for leaving him? God only knew that he had once loved her, once promised her that there would never be another woman to engage his heart. That much at least was true. He had never seriously loved a woman before Velvet, and he loved none now. The question remained, however: Did he yet love Velvet herself, or was his anger deeper than his love?

He gazed up at the portrait above the fireplace. There she stood in her wedding gown gazing down at him in all her youthful innocence. How excited she had been to surprise him with the portrait their first and only Christmastide together. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and she was his wife. A wife who had deserted him, leaving him for dead, not even staying to give him a Christian burial. He had not understood it when it happened, and though he knew more of the facts, he did not comprehend it now.
Why?
It was a question that had haunted him these past two and a half years. He would see her again if only to learn the answer.

That brought him to his other problem, Alanna Wythe. She had already borne him a daughter, Sybilla, but he had never loved her. She had been there in her father’s house to nurse him, and she had one night, when he was particularly drunk with self-pity, climbed into his bed to ease his pain in a far pleasanter way. She had not been a virgin, and so he had felt no regret. It had amused him to bring her to Scotland, for he was well aware that his mother-in-law had sent him home in order to separate him from his light-o’-love. That had been a mistake, for it had led to Sybilla’s birth and to a tie he could not easily break. Alanna was an overproud girl with a greed for possessions and position. Even so, however, she cheated on him, although he had not told her that he was aware of her infidelity.

He had learned about it quite accidentally, going to her tower apartment one night to see his daughter. Sybilla’s cradle had been placed in the hallway outside Alanna’s bedchamber, and the door was ajar. Hearing voices, he had peeped around the door, feeling very foolish to do such a thing in his own castle. The sight that greeted his eyes was an astounding one: a naked Alanna entertaining two of his men-at-arms. He had quietly departed. He had avoided her bed after that, and had set Dugald to spying on his
mistress to learn that, as Dugald so pithily put it, “The woman fucks more than a doe rabbit in season, m’lord.”

He should have confronted her with his evidence then and there and sent her back to England, but he worried about the child he had fathered on her, if indeed the child were his. Alanna Wythe, it seemed, was a born whore. So she had remained at
Dun Broc
because that was easier than making a decision. Now he was going to have to take some action. He could hardly have his mistress living here in his wife’s home.

Suddenly she was there, though he had not even heard her come into the room. Wrapping her arms about his neck, she kissed his mouth, and her perfume was almost that of a feral beast, heavy and ladened with musk. He detached her.

“I’m going to England to bring my wife home, Alanna. Ye have a choice. I will either take ye back to your father’s house and settle a goodly amount on ye and the child, or ye can have a cottage and income in the village in the glen.” He fully expected her to return to England, as she had done nothing except complain about the Highland climate since he had brought her to
Dun Broc.

“You’d send me away, Alex?” She pouted again and looked saddened. “How can you send me away when you know how much I love you? What will happen to our little Sybilla without her dear father?”

He had to laugh. It was really quite a wonderful performance, but he knew that now was his chance to settle this matter once and for all. “Alanna, I have recognized Sybilla as my child even though I am not entirely certain that she is mine. Nay, lass, dinna protest. Ye’ve got a healthy appetite for men that ye’ve been indulging in my west tower these past three months. I’ve said nothing because there was no need for ye to leave, but now there is. Make yer choice. Either way, I’ll take care of ye both.”

“?’ll not go back to England! Sybilla is your child, and if we were wed she’d be your heiress.”

“God’s cock, lass! Dinna tell me ye ever expected marriage from me because ye didn’t. I am married. Sybilla’s my bastard, nothing more.”

“Married!” Alanna said scornfully. “Married to a wench who ran and left you dying! She’s as big a whore as I am.”

His face darkened. “Ye know nothing of my Velvet! Get out! Get out of my sight, bitch!”

“Which cottage am I to have then?” Alanna was quite unperturbed by his anger.

“It will be built new. I’ll have ye out of here long before I return from England. I don’t want to see yer face again, Alanna. Keep
from my sight, or as God is my witness I’ll give Sybilla to a decent woman and have ye driven from my lands.”

When she had left him, Alex poured himself a dram of peat whiskey from his own still and sat down before his fire. His argument with Alanna had taught him one thing he hadn’t previously been certain of. There was still something in his heart and soul for Velvet. He needed to see his wife and, come the morning, he would send the de Marisco messenger back to England announcing his impending arrival within a few short days. He would not delay the reunion between himself and Velvet any longer. Whatever had happened between them, they had to resolve their differences now.

“S
he has changed!” declared the Countess of Alcester. “She has changed greatly.” Her voice held a hint of disapproval.

“She has grown up,” replied Lady Blackthorn. “Do not forget, Willow, that we have not seen Velvet for two and a half years.”