Chapter 1

Scotland, Turnberry Castle, 19 February 1402

H er bare skin was as smooth as the silky gown she had worn before he'd helped her take it off. His fingertips glided over her,

stroking a bare arm, a bare shoulder, its soft hollow, and then the softer rise of a full breast heaving with desire for him.

Cupping its softness, he brushed a thumb across its tip, enjoying her passionate moans and arcing body as he did and feeling

the nipple harden.

Part of him had hardened, too. His whole body urged him to conquer the lush beauty in his bed. But, although he was an impatient

man, he was also one who liked to take his time with women. Experience—a good deal of it—had taught him that coupling was

better for both when he took things slowly.

Neither of them spoke, because he rarely enjoyed conversation with sex. Preferring to relish the sensations, he favored partners

who did not chatter.

Stimulating them both with his kisses, he shifted an arm across her to position himself for taking her. As she spread her

legs for him, she caressed his body with her hands, fingers, and tongue, sparking sensual responses from every nerve.

He found it increasingly harder to resist simply taking her, dominating her, and teaching her who was master in his bed.

The bed shifted slightly on the thought. He had a fleeting semiawareness that he was dreaming—fleeting because he shoved the

half-formed thought away lest, if true, he might waken too soon.

Somehow, in the odd way that dreams have of changing things about, the beauty had got to one side of him. He could no longer

see her in the darkness, but ever willing, he shifted to accommodate the new arrangement.

Finding the warm, softly silken skin of her shoulder, he reached for her breasts again, rising onto his elbow and leaning

over her as he did. He felt her body stiffen. And when his seeking hand found one soft breast, it seemed smaller than before,

albeit just as well formed and soft. Sakes, but the woman seemed smaller.

Most oddly, though, he touched real silk instead of bare skin.

Undaunted, he ignored her increasing rigidity and slid his hand down to move the annoying silk out of his way, seeking access

to his primary objective.

As he eased his hand along one silken thigh, her body heaved. A gasping cry sounded near his right ear, and in a flurry of

movement, she slid from his grasp.

Flying from the bed, she managed on her way to deal him a stunning blow on his cheek with a bare-knuckled fist. He saw only

flashes of movement after that, and light. Before he could collect himself enough to know that he was awake and had been toying

with an unknown but very enticing female in his bed, a sound near the door told him that she was rummaging through the kist there.

Leaping from the bed, he shot toward her. But the door crashed back as he reached for her, hitting his outstretched fingers

and hand hard when it did.

The glow of torchlight in the corridor revealed long, lush, dark-red hair; a drab robe hastily flung over a pink shift that

barely concealed long, lovely legs; curving hips; and a tantalizingly small waist as she ran. His aching hand and burning

cheek provided excellent reasons to retaliate. But he had no sooner started to give chase than he recalled his own state of

naked readiness and collected his wits.

Chasing a nubile young beauty by dead of night in a state such as his might find favor in some masculine establishments. But

his grace the King's royal castle of Turnberry was definitely not one of them.

The young woman fleeing up the corridor did not dare look behind her, lest her pursuer know and recognize her. But as she

gripped the handle of the royal nursery door, she could not resist glancing back through the veil of her unplaited hair to

see with a surge of relief that the dimly lit corridor behind her was empty.

She had been sure that he would pursue her. But what a coil if he had! And worse had he chanced to recognize her or see her

well enough to know her later.

Shoving the nursery door open, she whisked herself inside. Quietly shutting the door, she eased the latch hook into place

and shot the bolt, giving thanks to God that Hetty had not done so before then.

Feeling safe at last, she noted in the light of the one cresset still burning in the chamber, and the dimmer glow of embers

from the banked fire, that Hetty was fast asleep on a pallet near the hearth. In the far corner of the room, the drawn curtains

of a cupboard bed warned her to wake Hetty quietly.

Moving to the pallet, listening for sounds from the corridor that might herald a search by the man who had been sleeping in

Hetty's bed, she gently shook the plump, middle-aged mistress of the royal nursery.

"Hetty, wake up," she murmured. "Oh, don't screech, but do wake up!"

The woman's eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright. "My lady!" she exclaimed. Softening her voice, she added, "What be ye

doing in here?"

Seventeen-year-old Lady Marsaili Drummond Cargill grimaced. "I could not sleep, Hetty. I went to your room and climbed into

your bed as I used to do, but—"

"Och! Ye did nae such thing! Not tonight of all—! What time is it then?"

"I don't know. Midnight I think. Oh, Hetty—"

"Mercy, but his grace's man did say—"

"Someone was in your bed, Hetty. A man!"

"Is that no what I was just trying to tell ye? The King's gentleman—"

"It cannot have been Dennison," Marsaili said. "Dennison would never—"

"Whisst now, will ye whisst? I'm trying to tell ye, if ye'll just hearken to me. Bless us, but I thought ye'd learned to curb

such foolish, impulsive—"

"Hetty, the man was naked!"

Henrietta Childs, mistress of the royal nursery, grabbed the lady Marsaili firmly by the shoulders, gave her a shake, and looked into her eyes. "Lady Marsi, have done! Tell me right

now, was the man awake?"

"Not at first."

"At first!" Hetty's voice went up on the words. With a swift look at the curtained bed in the corner, she lowered it to a

whisper to add, "What did he do?"

"He rolled over and… and… Before I realized that he wasn't you—"

"Ay-de-mi! Did he touch ye?"

Remembering, and instantly feeling the strong, hitherto unfamiliar but most pleasurable sensations that his touch had stirred

in her, Marsi swallowed. But Hetty looked fierce. And Hetty had known her from her cradle and was reminding her of that with

every word and look. So Marsi said, "He did, aye. But he did not see me, Hetty. I jumped out of the bed, snatched up my robe,

and fled here to you."

"Snatched up your robe, did ye? What more have ye got on under it?"

"My shift. But, Hetty, who is he?"

"I dinna know his name, and I'm no to tell anyone about him."

"Hetty, it's me. Who would I tell? I haven't a friend left in this whole castle except you, and haven't had since Aunt Annabella

died." Twisting the ring on her left middle finger as she pictured her beloved aunt, she added, "What's more, they say that

Albany may arrive tomorrow! And if not tomorrow, then Tuesday. His grace warned me that Albany wants to see me wedded at once

and will not wait the year that I should wait if I am to mourn Aunt Annabella's death properly."

"My lady, I ken fine that the duke comes soon to Turnberry. Sithee, that is why that man sleeps in my bed now."

"He is Albany's man?"

"Nay, he is not." Hetty looked upward, as if seeking guidance. Then, drawing breath and letting it out, she said, "I'll tell

ye, then. But only so that ye willna go trying to find out for yourself, as I ken fine ye will if I keep silent. But ye must

no breathe a word to anyone else of what I say. Swear to it now."

"You know that I will tell no one," Marsi said. "I keep secrets even better than I ferret them out, Hetty. You know that,

too."

"I do, aye, or I'd say nowt of this to ye. Your wee cousin Jamie's future may depend on it, though, so see that ye keep your

word. Sithee, his grace did send for that man to take our laddie away from here before Albany arrives."

"Away? But when do they go? And where will he take him?"

"Dennison didna say where we will go," Hetty said. "Nor were I so brazen as to ask him. But we may go as soon as tomorrow, for I was to pack for Jamie."

"Aye, sure, his grace must want Jamie away at once if Albany is coming. Recall that Albany told dearest Annabella that he would look after Jamie and

Davy and keep them safe from harm. But she feared that he meant to take charge of Jamie as soon as he could after she was

gone and would use him as a pawn whenever he thought that doing so would serve his own ends, just as he means to use me. Then,

if he controls Jamie when the King dies, and aught should happen to Davy…"

"Jamie would be all that stands then between Albany and the throne," Hetty said. "As ruthless as Albany can be, our laddie's very life might be in danger then."

"But I wish that you need not go, Hetty, either of you."

"I'd liefer we didna have to go, either," Hetty said. "I ken fine that ye'll miss us sorely. But if we stay and Albany does

come, he'd likely take charge of ye both if he means to arrange for your wedding straightaway. And I doubt that he'd let me accompany either of ye then."

"Faith, I wish he would recall that I am not his ward but the King's," Marsi said. "As set as Albany is on marrying me to

his boot-licker Redmyre, and as aware as he must be that Aunt Annabella supported my rejection of the match, I doubt that

he'll heed my protests, especially if Jamie eludes his grasp."

"He might have to heed ye, though," Hetty said. "Although he is the King's brother and much stronger of will, his grace has stood against him before."

Marsi gave an unladylike snort. "Aye, he has, but rarely. You ken as well as I do that his grace cannot hold out long if Albany

gets him alone and says that he must do as Albany wishes. What can I do, Hetty? Albany has threatened me with dire punishment

if I do not obey him, and in truth, he frightens me."

"Aye, he frightens most folks with any sense."

"Come with us, Marsi," piped up a third voice. "Wherever we go, it must be a happier place than Turnberry will be whilst my

uncle Albany bides here."

Both women turned toward the curtained bed, where the tousled auburn head of Marsi's cousin James Stewart, Earl of Carrick,

peeped between the blue curtains.

"Jamie, were you listening to us?" Marsi demanded. "Naughty laddie!"

"I couldna sleep," the dark-eyed boy who stood second in line for the Scottish throne said soberly. As always, he sounded

older than his seven and a half years.

Hetty got up and reached for a yellow silk robe that lay across a nearby stool. "I'll warm some milk, sir," she said. "It

will settle ye again."

"I don't want milk. Must I command ye tae go with us, Marsi?"

"Oh, Jamie, I wish you could. But your royal ways don't fool me, laddie. You fear your uncle almost as much as I do."

"Aye, sure, but he canna find either of us if we be elsewhere," James pointed out. "When he leaves Turnberry, we can come

back and be comfortable again with my royal sire. Do come with us, Marsi. Ye make me laugh, and Hetty does not."

Marsi hesitated, absently twisting the gold ring that her aunt Annabella had given her while she considered Jamie's suggestion.

Hetty gave her a stern look. "Lady Marsi, ye must not. For once, prithee, heed old Hetty, who kens ye best. And heed the consequences,

if ye do such a daft thing. Ye're a noblewoman, my lady, and still a maiden! Ye'd be the talk o' all Scotland when it became

known that ye'd run off. No to mention what Albany would do when he found ye, as he would. That man believes he has as much right as the King does to order your future, and ye've said yourself that his

grace will likely agree with him."

But Marsi rarely heeded consequences. Before her doting parents had died and left her a ward of her aunt, the Queen of Scots,

most consequences had been pleasant. And when they were not, they were always soon over.

However, with Annabella dead and no longer able to protect her, the cost of staying to face Albany alone could be even worse

than she had imagined.

"I could pose as your assistant, Hetty, and help you look after Jamie."

"And I could help ye look after Marsi, Hetty," Jamie said, grinning.

Henrietta looked dourly at Marsi. "What was I thinking to tell ye, ye must not ?" she muttered. "If ye obey Albany, ye'll face only a marriage ye dinna want, as does many a noble maiden by obeying her

father. But a body would think that after knowing ye for most of your eighteen years, I'd ken better than to challenge ye

so."

"Is anyone else going with you?" Marsi asked. "Any of Jamie's gentlemen?"

"Nay, for his grace kens fine that some of them be in Albany's pay. And nae one save Albany kens which ones. We'll leave afore

they arise, I expect."

"Then there is naught to stop me," Marsi said. "I must collect some of my things, but I'll come right back."

"Ye've nowt that be suitable for a maidservant to wear, my lady! Nor would ye fool anyone for long in any menial guise. Ye

were no born to it."

But now that she had made up her mind, Marsi dismissed those objections without hesitation. "I can easily talk as a maidservant

would, Hetty. Having often scolded me for doing so, you know that I can. I shall say that I served Annabella and that she

gave me some of her cast-off clothing. She did give me some, my fur-lined cloak for one. I can say that, when my position

ended with her grace's death, I offered to help you because you and I come from the same part of Scotland."

"I can say that I know Marsi well, too, Hetty, because I do," Jamie said.

"I can also say I just want to go home," Marsi said. "We will likely go north or east from here, so if worse comes to worst,

I can ask whoever escorts us to take me to Uncle Malcolm in Perthshire. He wants me to marry his second son. And I vow to

you, Hetty, if the choice is between marrying a boot-licker of Albany's and my dullard cousin Jack, I'd prefer Jack."

Two hours earlier

Striding across the flagstone floor of the royal audience chamber at Turnberry, the tall, broad-shouldered young knight filled

the room with crackling energy even as he dropped to a knee before its sole, elderly occupant and bowed his head.

"You sent for me, sire?"

"If ye be the knight that men call Hawk, I did, aye," the King of Scots said, his raspy voice little more than a whisper.

"I have need of ye."

"I am Hawk," Sir Ivor Mackintosh said, fighting to conceal his dismay at how much the King had aged since he had last seen

him, three years before, and how frail he looked. "How may I serve your grace? Your messenger said it was urgent."

" 'Tis Jamie," said the King, who had never sought his exalted role or enjoyed it.

Into the silence, Sir Ivor said gently, "Jamie, my liege? Your younger son?"

A log shifted in the nearby fireplace and sparks leaped before the King said, "Annabella…" Pausing when his voice cracked, he added with tears welling in his pale blue eyes, "My Annabella feared mightily for Jamie's future. The lad

be only six months into his eighth year, and she feared that after she was gone, my brother Albany would take charge of him

and keep our laddie under his thumb."

"Many people do fear Albany, my liege."

"Aye, perhaps, although few say such things to me, and I canna believe that he would harm a child, his own nephew. It would

outrage the country and gain him nowt whilst our Davy, who is years older and wields much power of his own, remains heir to

the throne. Albany says only that Jamie would fare better under his eye than under mine, and as frail as I am, he may be right.

But 'tis better, I trow, to keep Jamie safe than to weep for him if Annabella should prove to be right."

"What, exactly, do you want me to do, sire?"

"I received word a fortnight ago that Albany would be coming tomorrow or Tuesday to take the lad into his charge. I do not

want that, but he is nearly impossible for me to oppose, and he said that if he does not take charge of Jamie, other powerful nobles may seek to do so. However, the Bishop of St. Andrews assured me that he can keep Jamie safe from them all at St. Andrews, so I sent word to him as soon as I learned of Albany's intent. Ye ken Traill

fine, I think, and St. Andrews, too."

"I do, aye. I studied under him there. When he received your message, he sent word for me to hasten here to you. Have you

a plan in mind, your grace?"

With a feeble gesture, the King said, "I want to ken nowt of any plans, for I am incapable of lying to my brother. His will

has ever been stronger than mine, and as ye must ken, until I named my son Davy to govern in my stead three years ago, Albany had ruled for me. I owe him much. But ye must take Jamie to St. Andrews."

"I can be away in the morning if he can be ready by then," Ivor said.

"You need only give the nursery mistress your orders when ye arise," the King said. "Henrietta kens fine that Jamie may be

leaving tomorrow and is prepared to accompany him. Her family has long and faithfully served the Drummonds, and she was fiercely

loyal to Annabella. I trust her implicitly."

"Then, by your leave, sire, I would sleep now," Ivor said.

"Aye, sure. My own man, Dennison, will take ye to a room near the nursery."

Bowing, Sir Ivor bade him goodnight. Then, following the King's man to a bedchamber and asking him to tell the captain of

his fighting tail to be ready to go at dawn, Ivor retired, only to awaken betimes when the lass in his dreams became real.

Afterward, due to years of knightly training and preparing for battle, he soon slept again and woke when the dawn's gray light

crept into the room.

His bruised hand and aching cheek reminded him of the lass, but he dressed hastily. Then, deducing which door led to the nursery,

he rapped lightly on it.

Marsi opened the door, having returned to her own room long enough to pack things and don a plain moss-green kirtle, a white

apron, and a white cap large enough to conceal her long red hair, lest he whose bed she had invaded recognize it.

After one nervous look at the tall, well-formed, stern- looking man in leather breeks and jack who stood there, she quickly swept him a deep curtsy. Heat flooded her cheeks at the

memory of his large hand on her thigh.

Speaking over her shoulder as she rose, she said, "Mistress, methinks 'tis the gentleman ye be expecting, though he ha' come

earlier than ye said he would."

"Dinna chatter, lass, but come and help Lord Carrick dress whilst I speak with the man," Hetty said. "I am Henrietta Childs,

sir, mistress of the royal nursery," she added in her usual dignified way.

As Marsi moved to help Jamie, she glanced back at them.

Without awaiting further invitation, the man stepped in and shut the door. "I believe you understand the situation, Mistress

Childs," he said to Hetty. "We must be away as soon as we can and without more ado than necessary."

"I ken that, aye, sir," Hetty said. "His lordship will be dressed in a trice, and someone should be along soon with food for

us to break our fast."

"That is good, but do not let his lordship dawdle."

"As to that, sir, his lordship—" Breaking off at the sound of a sharp rap on the door, she added, "Prithee, sir, admit the

gillie. He brings our food."

Instead, the tall man stepped to the off side of the door and gestured for Hetty to open it. He had not spared a second look

for Marsi.

Hetty opened the door and stepped back to admit Dennison, the King's man.

"I thought you would be here, sir," Dennison said mildly when their visitor emerged from behind the door. "You have a visitor

below. I will take you to him."

"One of my men, I expect," the younger man said, nodding.

"I have also arranged for them to serve Lord Carrick's breakfast at once, sir. Therefore, I would respectfully suggest that

we go down straightaway." With that, Dennison held the door open for their visitor, and the two men left the chamber.

Hearing their footsteps fade in the distance, Marsi said, "Faith, Dennison whisked that man off without presenting him. We

don't even know his name!"

As they walked away, the King's man murmured, "I was sure you would prefer that the men who serve his lordship's breakfast

not see you with him, sir."

"You thought aright," Sir Ivor said, wondering if the captain of his fighting tail had encountered trouble. But when Dennison

turned right at the end of the corridor instead of left, Ivor stopped him. "This is not the way to the yard."

"No, sir. Your visitor insisted that you meet him at the sea gate."

"Sakes, I did not know that Turnberry boasted a sea gate," Ivor said. "And I'd wager that my men are as unaware of it as I

was. Who seeks me there?"

"I know only that he said you would know him, sir. And that he wanted to reveal his presence to as few as possible."

Intrigued, Ivor followed him down a narrow, damp stairway to an enormous, torchlit, water-filled cavern. To his astonishment,

it clearly served as a harbor. A fifty-foot Highland galley with Zee Handelaar on its stern rested at the main jetty.

As they approached it, a man in deerskin breeks and boots, a loose white shirt, and a leather vest emerged into the torchlight from nearby shadows. Grinning broadly, he strode toward them. Hatless, his soft, moplike, dark curls reflected

the torchlight in orange-gold shimmers. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief.

Dennison said, "You will want to talk privately, sir. I'll await you at the landing above this one unless you want me to fetch

your charges to you here."

"Nay, I'll fetch them," Ivor said. "I'll take no more time here than I must, and the boy will want to break his fast without

me to hurry him." Turning back with a smile to the man from the galley, he said, "Wolf, you devil, what brings you here?"

Shaking hands, the other said, "You do, Hawk, me lad." Nodding toward the galley, he added, "Behold your transport for the

first leg of your journey."

"I've been thinking," Jamie said to Marsi when the men who had brought their food had gone. " 'Tis good that Dennison paid

ye nae heed when he came tae fetch that man. Ye'd ha been finished afore ye'd begun had he addressed ye as ‘my lady.' But

what will ye do when they return? Ye canna think Dennison will let ye go with us when ye lack his grace my father's leave

tae go."

"We'll worry about that if it happens," Marsi said. "But eat now, Jamie. I'd wager that man meant it when he said not to dawdle.

And, if he is to get us safely away, we had better not anger him at the outset."

Without commenting on that opinion, Jamie said to Hetty, "Why did you not present that man to me, Hetty, afore Dennison arrived?"

"Because I ken nae more about him than you do, sir," Hetty said. "Moreover, Lady Marsi is right. We must be ready to go when he returns. I expect gillies will come soon to take

our things outside and load them on the sumpter ponies."

"Well, I warrant the reason we do not know his name is that Dennison does not know it either," Marsi said. "And I expect that

the two of them will take our things down for us rather than let all of Turnberry know that Jamie is leaving."

"If ye mean to pretend to be my assistant, ye'd better start addressing him as such a minion would," Hetty said mildly. "If

ye call him Jamie, that man will ken straightway that ye're no nursery maid. Nobbut what this whole pretense be daft."

"Nay, it is not. But you are wise to remind me of my place, Hetty. It may prove harder than I thought to act as I should,

but I will do it. Just to think of marrying a man old enough to have sired me, and only because he wants Cargill and has land adjoining

mine… I will do anything to avoid that, I promise you."

"Dinna fash yourself, Marsi," James said. "I'll remind ye tae behave when ye need such reminding."

"I don't doubt that," she retorted dryly.

Jamie chuckled, but she had no time to say more, because the door opened without ceremony, and the man who was to escort them

walked right in.

"Collect your things," he said. "The fewer people who see us, the better, so I'll help you carry them down to the sea gate."

"The sea gate!" Marsi's exclamation was out before she thought. Trying to conceal her dismay, she glanced at Jamie and saw

that his eyes were sparkling with pure delight. Turning back to their visitor, she said, "Where are we going then?"

The man looked at Hetty, who said sharply, "Hold your tongue, lass. Ye've nae call to put yourself forward so. If ye canna

behave, I'll leave ye right here."

Quickly bowing her head, Marsi strove to look contrite. But before she could think how to phrase her apology, James said in

a tone as stern as Hetty's, "Marsi must come with us, for I want her. And if we are to go on a ship, Hetty, I will need her. Ye ken fine that boats always make ye sick."

Eyeing their visitor again, Marsi saw that he looked sterner than ever. Before Jamie had stopped speaking, the man's gaze

shifted to her. Memories of the night before fired her imagination then. Feeling her cheeks burn, she licked her lips only

to feel them curve into a nervous smile.

His expression turned thoughtful. But he said only that Hetty should hurry them along.

The man had forgotten all about her , Marsi decided. He could have no suspicion that she was the girl who had fled from his bed the night before.

To be sure, she had donned the plain green kirtle and white apron and had concealed her memorably long, lush, dark-red tresses

under the large, frilly white cap. Even so, and although she was relieved that he did not recognize her, she felt an odd sense

of disappointment, as if he should have.