Wild Hearts (46 page)

Bothwell cleared his throat. "The Gordons have come to answer the charges you have made. The charge of rape is denied. However," he added hastily, "seduction is admitted and restitution offered."

"Restitution?" asked Paris coldly.

Bothwell plunged in. "They offer marriage, an honorable solution."

"I have no time for jests." Cockburn waved his hand in dismissal and turned away.

"And also," added Bothwell in a doggedly determined voice, they are willing to offer adequate compensation."

Paris turned and subjected Adam Gordon to a close scrutiny. He was a younger version of his handsome father, without any of the cruelty in his face. Paris summoned a servant to fetch Alexandria. She came, pale and tremulous, eyes downcast, heart aflutter. Paris's eyes never left Adam Gordon's face. At sight of Alexandria he saw the boy's face soften. As she raised her eyes to seek Adam, the sweetness of his smile warmed the room.

Paris spoke directly to the younger Gordon. "If I give my sister to you in holy wedlock, are you willing to live here at Cockburnspath for one full year while we get to know you better?"

"I am willing, milord." Adam spoke up clearly, without hesitation, although the elder Gordon looked displeased.

"I will send to the church, and we will witness the ceremony today. I have no wish to detain your father under my roof any longer than is necessary," he told the boy bluntly.

Bothwell spoke. "And what monies or castles do you ask?"

Paris spoke directly to John Gordon. "You are Huntly's heir, are you not?"

Gordon nodded guardedly.

"Make Adam your heir, instead of your other son."

John Gordon almost balked, then swallowed the insult and the threat to both his and his father's life, implied in Cockburn's words.

"A signed affidavit to that effect is all I require," said Cockburn airily. "Of course, it goes

without saying: that the mortgages owed to my wife must still be paid."

Gordon gritted his teeth and nodded.

Bothwell pressed Paris. "And the bond of peace?"

Paris exploded. "By God, you drive a hard bargain. Go on, then," he acquiesced, "have it your way."

The formal exchange of vows by the extremely youthful pair was dwarfed by the all-important signing, witnessing and exchanging of the documents. Pride spurred John Gordon to quit Cockburnspath the moment the business was concluded. Only then did Paris crack open a bottle to toast the newlyweds. He raised his glass to the couple. "May fortune attend you."

Adam answered formally, "Thank you, milord."

"Call me Paris."

Adam bowed. "I am honored."

Alexandria sipped her wine in a dreamy state of euphoria. Paris put his finger under her chin. "Since I don't have the managing of you any longer, perhaps it will be possible for us to become true friends. I do love you, you little imp of Satan."

"I never doubted it for a moment," she replied saucily.

"I think you should turn the Black Tower rooms into your own private suite of rooms." Then he spoke to Adam. "You will need privacy from the family."

"You are being very kind, milord, considering the bad blood there has been between our clans."

Paris grinned. "You are about to receive your punishment."

Adam blanched momentarily, until Alexandria laughed. "He means, the family is about to descend upon you. Our reputation isn't undeserved, you know."

"I feel a fool." He smiled.

"Self-awareness is a priceless gift," she teased. He pulled her hair and kissed her.

Paris turned to Bothwell. "Let us escape to the barracks before the family descends
en
masse."

Long after the evening's celebrations made most everyone seek their beds, Paris found Alexander looking a trifle lost. "If you still want to go to the university, I'll make the arrangements for you, Alex, old man."

"By God, do you mean it? I'll go and pack right now."

"We'll go one day next week. I'd seriously consider studying for the law. You'd be invaluable to the family. We are always in one legal scrape or another!" He smiled at the boy and patted his shoulder.

Tabrizia opened her eyes as Paris got into bed.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, love," he murmured.

She knelt upon the bed and reached her arms up to him. "Oh; my love," she breathed, "it's been quite a day."

"Will you always welcome me thus?" he begged huskily.

"Need you ask?" she responded, delighting in his familiar scent of lingering sandalwood.

"I ask because I swear, if your warmth and richness were denied me, I would perish."

"Paris, I want to thank you for letting Alexandria marry Adam. I know what it cost you to form an alliance with the Gordons. In my heart of hearts, I know you have done the right thing. The peace bond stills so many of my fears, not so much for myself but for my child."

He slipped one arm. under her shoulders and placed the other hand on her belly, resting it there. "You seem so small, compared with Venetia."

"Venetia is due any minute, darling. I have until November."

"I thank God you are feeling well."

"That's because I lead a completely normal life. I even ride every day— no pony carts for me, thank you!"

He pulled her to him possessively. "Just be careful, that's all." His lips brushed her forehead where the tiny tendrils curled at her temples. "You will be happy to know I just told Alex he could go the damned university."

She wound loving arms around his neck. "There are times when you are almost bearable," she whispered against his throat.

The air had been heavy, and sultry all day. A heat haze shimmered over the hills and had even penetrated the thick walls of the castle, making it, oppressive. Tabrizia noticed Venetia push her supper away listlessly and wince at the backache she had endured since breakfast. Tabrizia was relieved to see Alexandria and her new husband disappear to their own wing as soon as the meal was over. She spoke low to Shannon and Damascus, "I think Venetia's labor has begun."

They took her up to the solarium, as they knew a first labor seldom lasted less than eight hours. They made her comfortable in a big easy chair with her feet elevated and cushions at her back. Then they talked of anything and everything to make the time pass more quickly. Venetia was restless with hard pains coming about five times every hour. They gave her drinks, they rubbed her back, they told jokes and riddles. When the pains began to come every five minutes, they decided to move her to her bedchamber to wait out the vigil. The eight hours crept by with no sign of an imminent birth. The girl on the bed was wringing wet with the sweat of her exertions; the three who tended her were perspiring freely from the heat and their anxiety.

Venetia had long ago abandoned her efforts not to scream. She was in agony. Fourteen hours had passed.

Mrs. Hall clucked, "Guidsakes, we shouda had a midwife or a doctor, this canna go on much longer."

Venetia presented an arm of the child, but Mrs. Hall was horrified and explained the child mustn't come that way. "It must be lying crossways, and that's dangerous. The only birth I ever attended came head first as nature intended," she exclaimed, wringing her hands. "Oh, poor lassie, poor lassie!"

Alexandria was pounding on the chamber door, alarmed at the screams coming through the door. A white-faced trio of brothers stood at her back as she demanded to be allowed in.

Tabrizia sternly told Mrs. Hall, "I want you to get Alexandria away from here. Take her where she cannot hear what's going on, and for God's sake calm her fears. She has to go through this soon."

Tabrizia heaved a sigh of relief that Mrs. Hall had been occupied. She loved her, but she was more hindrance than help in this situation.

Shannon was shaking visibly. She could stand it no longer and left the chamber to find Paris. He was in the hall outside.

"We must give her something for the pain," she told him urgently. "Get some of that stuff for us that you gave to Anne."

"No!" he exploded. "I'd see her on her deathbed first."

The girl on the bed had reached the point of exhaustion. She sank into a stupor, no longer screaming, only moaning like an animal. Shannon bustled forward in her usual capable manner and promptly fainted away in a swoon.

Tabrizia looked at Damascus. "It's up to us." Damascus closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded rapidly.

Tabrizia instructed, "Hold her down now; I must try to turn this baby. If it doesn't survive, nothing can be done, but if I don't do something, Venetia is going to die." She soaped her hand well and gently took hold of the tiny hand. Slowly, she pressed it back up the birth canal and inch by inch manipulated the unborn child until the shoulder was presented. She stopped to catch her breath, and Damascus encouraged her bravely, "You're doing wonderfully, Tabrizia, keep going, keep going."

Tabrizia put pressure on the little shoulder until it slid around bit by bit and the top of the head came into view. They both urged Venetia to help, to push, and kept encouraging the agonized girl until she had no choice but to do as they bade her.

The little female slipped out in a gush of blood and water. A plaintive wail at the treatment she was receiving made tears brim up and spill over, not only from her mother, but also from the two who had accomplished her delivery. By the time mother and baby had been washed, changed and made comfortable, a full twenty-four hours had elapsed.

Shannon had to return to Douglas, so Paris decided he would accompany her home and take Alex to the university in Edinburgh at the same time. Paris made a point of never staying away overnight now, no matter how late he arrived back.

Tabrizia was already abed when he returned from, Edinburgh. He leered at her as she lay propped against her pillows. "I'll tell you one advantage to having a baby living here at the castle. It occupies that infernal Mrs. Hall so she doesn't keep dropping in on us just as I'm about to make love to you."

"Paris, you know you are as fond of her as I."

"Fond, yes, but she is as predictable as a bloody weathervane. The minute I get hard, I can count on her to come bustling in here on one pretext or another until I'm ready to burst my seams."

"Damascus is right. All men are vulgar." She laughed.

He gazed at her with pleasure. "You are so beautiful, you take my breath away."

"Oh, darling, I feel as big as a pig full of figs," she protested.

"You have never looked lovelier," he declared. "Come, I'll show you."

He swooped her up into his arms and carried her to their mirror. She leaned back against his strong body as she observed their reflections. How many times they had done this. They presented a true picture of happiness; they had never felt closer. As she looked at their reflection, some words floated to her; "
Take life's canvas and paint your paradise, then walk in!
" Life was so tenuous, but she had finally learned to be happy now, in this moment, not to save it for some future day that might never come to pass.

CHAPTER 20

September's russet bracken died with the bitter winds of October, turning the hills from a tawny blaze to a dreary dun. The haars rolled in on soggy, drizzling mornings, turning the horizon into endless shades of gray, and the dampness seeped into every place that was farther than six feet from a roaring fire.

Troy got on amazingly well with Adam Gordon. They went off together on endless hunts while Alexandria and Tabrizia sewed tirelessly for their expected babies. Tabrizia's longing for motherhood grew with each passing day.

When November arrived, the weather turned colder and dryer. A pale winter's sun shone bravely but gave off little in the way of warmth. The child was due this month, and Paris could not hide the apprehension he felt over the approaching ordeal his beloved had to face. He decided to go into Edinburgh and fetch a qualified midwife to stay at Cockburnspath until after the birth. Although his wife was in excellent health and did not look big enough to deliver for weeks yet, he would not take any chances. He set off at dawn; so he and the midwife could return long before nightfall.

Tabrizia came out of the stillroom next to the dairy. She had been to get some woodruff, an herb which when placed among the linens, made them smell like new-mown hay. She looked up in surprise as Margaret came riding into the courtyard, hell-bent for leather.

"What is wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

"Oh, Tabrizia, 'Tis your father. He has had some sort of bad attack. I don't think there is any hope; he is dying, and he has been asking for you over and over."

"Come inside, Margaret. I'll change into my boots and get my warm cloak."

Margaret's eyes slid to her swollen belly, and she said slyly, "Oh, I don't think you should come when your time is so near. I told Magnus you had more important things to think of than him at the moment."

"Of course I shall come," insisted Tabrizia. "Just let me change into warmer clothes. We can take it in easy stages. I feel fine. What sort of an attack was it? Is he suffering greatly?"