Wild Hearts (29 page)

"Oh, now I know who he is. My friend Frances Howard is betrothed to Northumberland. I should like to have Frances for my sister."

"Then there's young Harry Lindsay. He's a Scot, and that's in his favor. He could rise high here at Court. He won't stop at master of the Queen's household if I know aught of the ambitious Lindsays. Still, all in all, I'd say the best choice is Percy. Charles Percy. Shall we invite him?"

"If that is the way things are done, then by all means invite him to sup with us, and we shall dissect the poor devil between courses." She paused and searched her father's face seriously. "There is no great hurry for me to decide definitely, is there?"

"Of course not. We'll give it six months. If you've found no one who suits you by summer, we'll return home."

During the next few days, Tabrizia grew tired of smiling. They entertained each of her suitors, and the subject of marriage came up tentatively. It was apparent that what it all boiled down to was the size of the marriage portion. Frances Howard, excited at the prospect that they could become sisters-in-law, advised her to offer a larger dowry as the Percys were extremely avaricious though masqueraded as anything but.

Tabrizia liked Sir Harry Lindsay best. He was a plain-faced young man with wide shoulders, a strong Scots accent, and he had a hearty sense of humor. Tabrizia agreed to accompany Sir Charles Percy to see a new play by Ben Jonson, the Queen's newest playwright, if Northumberland and Frances Howard made up a foursome. It was great fun, and the ladies carried eye masks on long sticks to cover their faces while out in public. She returned to Magnus with many praises for the play but few for Percy.

Magnus had news to impart. "This afternoon I had a visit from the Earl of Orkney. You remember him from the investiture?"

"How could I forget?" she asked, a small curl of excitement tightening in her stomach.

"What he had to say was most interesting. Come and be comfy, and I'll tell you all about it. Patrick Stewart has come to Court to make advantageous marriages for his brothers. He makes no bones about the fact that they need money, which is refreshingly honest; at least. He is building two great fortifications— a palace at Kirkwall and a castle at Scalloway. He rules the Orkney and the Shetland Islands and is obviously setting up a kingdom of his own. They are royal Stewarts, and though he is prevented from taking the throne by his illegitimacy, he has a throne in his own kingdom. He has seven brothers, one of whom is already married and two who are too young to wed. That leaves four brothers to choose from. He seeks an heiress for each and hopes to secure you for the eldest brother if you are interested."

She smiled a dreamy, secret smile. "The answer, I think, is no, but I should like the pleasure of delivering it myself, if you would be good enough to summon him tomorrow."

"Think you a royal Stewart would answer a summons from me?" Magnus asked dubiously.

"If he needs money badly enough, he just might." She laughed. "Mrs. Hall, where are you? Do you suppose we could resurrect the pale green gown with the silver ribbons I wore to the-wedding last week?"

"Och, child, 'tis already cleaned and pressed and hanging in yer wardrobe upstairs, but do ye think it suitable for an afternoon caller?"

"You've been listening again." Tabrizia laughed.

"And don't ye think I have a right to listen, you bein' like my own child?"

Tabrizia kissed her fondly. "What would I do without you?"

The next afternoon Tabrizia spotted Patrick Stewart from her bedroom window. As he came from Denmark House, she noticed that he was accompanied by his brother, a younger version of himself. They wore sober black velvet with snowy stocks, the inevitable stag hounds following at their heels.

She glanced into the mirror to make sure she looked her prettiest, and ran lightly downstairs to await her visitors. The firm knock upon the door sent her own heart hammering as she opened it-herself and bade them enter.

Patrick Stewart's steel gray eyes went wide with instant recognition. "My damsel in distress. What are you doing here?" he asked warmly.

The sullen look had left his brother's face and had been replaced by one of smoldering admiration. She took her time, pouring them brandy and thoroughly enjoying herself. They both drained their glasses in a single swallow and replaced them upon the silver tray.

"My father has explained your brother's offer for me, Your Grace," she began formally.

"You are the daughter of the Earl of Ormistan?" He smiled as her identity became plain to him.

In that moment, a devilish desire to tease him overcame her, and she said sweetly, "I have decided to accept your brother's offer."

The smile vanished from his face instantly. While his brother waited in vain for an introduction, Patrick's eyes never left her face. He gazed at her unblinking, as the minutes stretched between them. Finally, he broke the tension. "Summon your father," he commanded with quiet authority. As she dipped him an obedient curtsy, his eyes traveled to the soft curves of her breasts, which rose above the neck of the familiar green gown.

It took only a moment to call her father, and she let him go into the Stewarts alone. Patrick wasted no time. "I withdraw the offer I made you yesterday." Before his brother could protest, he said, "I formally request that you betroth your daughter to me, the Earl of Orkney."

Magnus beamed: "I am aware of the great honor ye do me, Your Grace. I am totally satisfied with the match, but my daughter is her own woman and a little headstrong, I fear. She will need to be wooed and won before I can give ye my consent."

Patrick bowed formally. "I shall return this evening." It was a statement of his intent.

Magnus went in search of her, and he didn't have far to look. "I don't know what ye've been up to, and I don't care. Ye've done it, lass. He actually offered for you!"

"You didn't accept, did you?"

"I know ye better than that; besides, the terms haven't been agreed upon yet, but I think y'er wise enough to know ye'll never receive a better offer than this. Ye will reign like a queen in yer own right." Magnus chuckled. "The wee laddie wi' him was fair grinding his teeth with disappointment."

"I'm afraid that was my fault. I told Patrick I would accept his brother's offer."

"By God, y'er a Cockburn, all right. Every last one devious to the bone!" He laughed. "He's coming back this evening, as soon as he rids himself of the wee laddie."

"Why didn't you tell me? Get the cook to prepare a proper meal. None of that muck that we get at Court. Mrs. Hall, I need you again. I want to wear something very dramatic for tonight, something far removed from this frothy thing I'm in now."

In the end, she decided upon black lace and diamonds. With Mrs. Hall's tireless help, she braided her hair into a high coronet and fastened it with jeweled pins. It emphasized the prominence of her delicate cheekbones and gave an alluring slant to her eyes.

The moment Patrick Stewart saw her, he knew her answer would be yes. He was shrewd enough to realize by the way she had dressed, she was showing him she could fit the role of a queen. Oh, he knew she would lead him all around the park, giving neither a nay nor a yea, but he was certain of the outcome.

After dinner, Magnus went out for the evening so that the couple could be completely alone. Tabrizia brought the decanter of brandy and placed it at his elbow, and they made themselves comfortable before the fire.

"What have you heard of me?" he asked quietly.

She raised her eyes to his level, gray ones and knew it would be impossible to lie to him. "That you need money to build your own kingdom. That the King hates you and the Queen loves you."

He nodded gravely. "It is all true, I'm afraid, and there is yet more." He hesitated, then said tentatively, as if regretting that he had to impart the information, "I have two small children, a boy and a girl." He was not prepared for her reaction.

"Oh, how lovely, I adore children." The radiance that glowed from her face told him she would be tender toward his children. He hastened to explain further. "You don't understand. If we have a son, he cannot be my heir. The son I have from my first marriage will get my titles, my land, my castles."

"I see," she said slowly. "But if you have your own kingdom, could not you build him a castle of his own and create new titles for him?"

He moved to sit beside her on the loveseat before the fire. His fingers traced along her delicate jawbone. "If you give me a son, I promise I will do these things for him." He smiled. "I think you are as ambitious as myself."

She shrugged her beautiful, bared shoulders. "I have learned that might is right. Power is the greatest thing on earth."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not love, my little cynic?"

"I know nothing of love," she said clearly.

"You were married," he said.

"I know nothing of love," she repeated.

"Then I will teach you," he claimed hoarsely. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her slowly, thoroughly. His hand fell to her waist, and he drew her closer to fit her body against his. In his warm embrace, she began to relax and allowed herself to respond to his kiss. His kiss deepened, then; as he withdrew his mouth, she breathed, "Paris." She had been so lost in the moment, the name had come unbidden to her lips. She caught her breath as he moved away, yet he gave no sign that he had heard her whisper another man's name. The face that had appeared when she closed her eyes frightened her. She was determined to blot it out. "Let's settle things tonight, Patrick."

"'Tis already settled, isn't it?" he asked slowly.

She smoothed her hair and stood up to face him. "That all depends if you will accept me on my terms."

"Which are?" he asked.

"That I be allowed to keep half of my own money in my name. If we find a year from now we are unhappy and do not suit, you will allow me to set up my own establishment."

"I accept your terms gladly. I have some of my own you will find strange. The Queen must not learn of our betrothal. Her affection for me is the only thing that keeps the King's hand from my throat!'

"She is in love with you?" demanded Tabrizia.

He looked deeply into her eyes and said evenly, "Jealousy is an emotion neither of us can afford."

She flushed as she realized he referred to the name she had whispered.

"My time may be short here, depending on the mood of the King. If he should make charges against me, I must leave swiftly. Be prepared to exchange vows on very short notice. Pack your things in-readiness to take aboard my ship."

"It shall be as you wish, my lord."

He arose to leave but took her in his arms before he departed. "Tabrizia, I won't be able to dance attendance upon you in public, but be assured that you have all my thoughts, all my heart."

She went on tiptoe to brush her lips lightly upon his "Patrick, do you know what I like best about you? You don't swagger!"

"I don't need to. I am a Stewart."

CHAPTER 13

The New Year was celebrated with a frenzied round of balls and banquets, then five days later the Queen was planning a Twelfth-Night celebration for her intimates. As well as dancing and the exchange of silly gifts and baubles, the Queen planned to indulge her passion for gambling. Anne was shrewd enough to know if she set up card tables, it brought the men flocking to her salon.

Frances Howard had just helped Tabrizia fasten the back of her favorite lavender velvet and was exclaiming over the exquisite amethysts she had selected to go with it when there was a single knock upon the door. Tabrizia cautiously lifted the bar to find Jasper, who handed her a note and left as silently as he had arrived. She scanned the contents quickly.

My love,

I cannot attend the Queen's Court before midnight, but I shall come in time to give you a Twelfth-Night bauble and to relieve the Queen of some of the jewels she gambles away so recklessly. I count the hours.

P.

She traced the large initial with a loving finger and tucked the note into her jewel casket before they went below.

As Pembroke led her out in the dance, Tabrizia hugged the knowledge of her secret betrothal to her as he flirted outrageously and she responded in the light manner that kept him at a distance. It was the Gay Gaillard, the most exciting of all the dances, in which one continually changed partners, and the men lifted the ladies high into the air in a graceful arc.

Tabrizia was laughingly responding to a naughty suggestion by her partner as he relinquished her to the next man when she was swung higher into the air than she had ever been before. As she looked clown to identify her partner, she gazed into the fierce eyes of Paris Cockburn. For the span of a moment the world stopped, then the room swung dizzyingly around her. As her feet touched the floor again, she swayed in his arms and gasped, "No!"

As his hands reached to steady her, she recoiled in horror. He had grown a beard since they had last met, and it made him more threatening and frightening than ever before. Her hand flew to her head to still the dizziness, and he mocked, "Too much wine? That damnable spirit that doth enter our mouths to steal our brain."