Chapter 12

T he wind, which had been blowing all day from the north-northeast, suddenly shifted to the east. It was almost as if it wanted to aid the Sea Hawk as she ploughed her way through the deep swells of the English Channel up into the Strait of Dover, around Margate Head, and into the Thames estuary. The sky was as flat and as gray as slate, and a fine mist of rain had begun to fall. England! As green and lush as only it could be in early August. How Velvet had dreamed of the soft green hills of her homeland those blazing hot days in Lahore, and now that she was faced with the reality it was like bitter ashes in her mouth. She was glad that Alex had not wasted his life in the foolish duel, but, oh, what unhappiness that prideful action had wrought, and he would never know the real truth of it.

Leaning over the ship's rail, she looked down at the dark, swiftly moving water. How easy it would be, she thought, and then the mewling cry of a gull made her raise her head to the sky, and the softly falling rain mixed with the tears on her cheeks. How could she even consider such a thing? Death would change nothing for her. She would still be separated from Akbar and her daughter, Yasaman. It took far more courage to live, and she was, after all, her parents' child.

Velvet remembered little of her departure from India. After Akbar had drugged her, Adali had kept her in a sleeping state for most of the several weeks it took to reach Cambay and the coast. The eunuch had seen her aboard Murrough's ship, settling her in her quarters as his last service to her. She had been awake then, but very weak.

Tucking her into bed, he had said to her, "My lord has told me several things to say to you, things to ease your fears. The little princess has been given to Rugaiya Begum who will raise her as if she were her very own. She will be instructed secretly in your faith, for our lord Akbar thought you would want that. I am to be Yasaman Kama Begum's eunuch and head of her household. He thought that would please you. Among your belongings you will find a thin gold chain upon which there is one pink pearl. Each year to celebrate the little princess's birthday another pink pearl will be delivered to your father. In this way you will know that the child lives and thrives."

"Make sure that she knows I did not want to leave her," Velvet whispered weakly. "Make sure that she knows that I love her."

"I will not let her forget you," he promised.

"Uncle!" Velvet called out.

Michael O'Malley hurried to his niece's side. "What is it, my child?"

"Give me the miniature that you carry of me. I am certain you have one that you planned to show my lord Akbar."

"I do," he said, reaching into his robes where it had been all these weeks. Drawing it out, he handed it to her.

"Give it to my daughter when she is old enough," Velvet said to the eunuch, and then she fell back against the pillows.

Adali nodded his head, his eyes filled with tears. Kneeling, he kissed her hand, and then rising once more he hurried from the cabin, not even daring to turn as he said, "Farewell, my princess," lest she see the tears upon his cheeks.

Velvet was exhausted and worn. Her will to live had been badly sapped. For the next three months she slept constantly, only rousing for Pansy, who spoon-fed her mistress soup made from chickens that had been brought aboard and were kept caged on deck. It was only in the fourth month of her journey that Velvet began to rouse from her torpor.

They sailed in a convoy of six ships, for the de Mariscos would take no chances in bringing their child home safely. They had stopped in Zanzibar to take on fresh water, more chickens, fruit, and vegetables; and later when they had rounded the horn of Africa, they stopped several times to trade for these items with the natives, most of whom were wary when they saw the ships, fearing slavers. Halfway up the African coast, Murrough put well out to sea, for although he and his fleet could outgun any Barbary pirates rash enough to attack them, he preferred to avoid such danger with his sister in such a weakened condition of both body and mind.

Velvet, however, improved daily, for her basic will was to survive. Her body responded to Pansy's tender nursing and her uncle's and brother's concern, even if her conscious mind did not.

Pansy, although she attempted restraint before her mistress, was totally overjoyed to be going home. Velvet overheard her thing woman one day as she sat upon the deck, little Dugie in her lap.

"You're going to meet your father soon, Dugie. You'll like him, for he's a wonderful man. Did I tell you that you look just like him? And you'll see your grandmam and your grandpa, too, my lamb. Oh, you'll like England, me darlin'!"

Dugie stared up at his mother, bright-eyed, taking in every word she said. At first he'd been afraid of the sailors who looked so very different from the emperor's soldiers who had courted his mother and played with him in an effort to please her. He was, however, unable to resist the ship's elderly sailmaker who sat cross-legged sewing upon the deck almost every day. The sailmaker, a man without chick or child, was flattered and happily demonstrated his craft to the tiny boy, watching over him when Pansy was serving her mistress. Gradually the child began to win over other sailors on the vessel, many of whom rarely saw their own children, if in fact they even acknowledged them. Dugie, to his delight, found himself being petted and spoiled quite royally.

"He's going to be impossible when I get him home," Pansy said indulgently.

Tonight they would anchor in the London pool, and Velvet would see her parents for the first time in five years, and her husband for the first time in two and a half years. Alexander Gordon. "Alex," she whispered his name into the wind. What kind of chance for happiness did she have with him now? Perhaps he would want their marriage annulled, and that, thought Velvet, would suit her quite well. She would go back to Akbar. She had, after all, been unfaithful to Alex even if she hadn't known it. She couldn't believe Uncle Michael when he said that Alex wanted her back. Her parents wanted her back, but Alex? She did not think so, proud bastard that he was.

Did she want to be his wife? No! Yes! At this point she simply didn't know. How could she love again the man who had ignored her pleadings and fought a duel over nothing? His alleged death had caused her to flee, had brought her to Akbar, had given her Yasaman, and now his resurrection had stolen her happiness and taken her child from her. It was all his fault, and she was not certain that she would or could ever forgive him.

"You look so serious, little sister." Murrough was by her side, throwing an arm about her.

"I am afraid of the future," she said truthfully.

"Come, poppet," he said in an attempt to cheer her up, "Mother and Adam are anxiously awaiting your arrival at Greenwood. Be happy! You are finally home."

"And Alex? Will he be anxiously awaiting me, Murrough?"

"Mother sent Alex home to Scotland before I left. She said she would send for him when you returned. Since she couldn't know exactly when we would arrive, I do not believe she has yet dispatched a messenger to Scotland."

"Good! I am not ready yet to see him."

"Velvet …"

"He is as much to blame for this situation as I am, Murrough. Had he not involved himself in a duel with Lord de Boult, none of this would have happened. I have lost far more than my husband in this matter."

"He's a proud man, Velvet. Be generous," Murrough counseled.

"Why?" she demanded. "Should we both not be generous and forgiving of each other?"

God's boots, he thought, how she has changed. I wonder how wise we have been in bringing her back. "Sometimes," he said aloud, "a woman must show a man the path, sister. Remember that in your dealings with Alexander Gordon."

"What is today's date?" she asked him.

"It is the ninth of August," he replied.

"Today is my daughter's first birthday," she said, and then, turning, she left him to return to her cabin.

He felt as if she had hit him. The timbre of her voice had been calm, almost matter-of-fact, but how he had felt the raw pain in it. A loving father himself, Murrough O'Flaherty could not help but wonder about his sister's child, the infant princess she had been forced to leave behind. She had not talked of her daughter until now, and frankly he had not been brave enough to ask her. He had spoken to Pansy, who had told him of his little niece's early beauty, of her rare turquoise eyes.

"I ain't never seen a baby so pretty," Pansy had allowed, and then she had said, "It weren't right making m'lady leave her baby behind, but the bishop feared that Lord Gordon would not accept the lass, and the lord Akbar wouldn't let his daughter go anyhow. He said 'twas all he had left of his love for m'lady. They said in the zenana that they never saw him so taken with a woman as he was with Mistress Velvet." Then Pansy, as if remembering her place, had stopped speaking for a moment before saying, "I shouldn't talk so much. You're not going to tell on me, Captain O'Flaherty, are you?"

"No, Pansy, I'll not tell on you if you'll not tell Velvet that I was asking."

Murrough shook his head. It was a tragic situation. All he could hope was that Alex and Velvet would make their peace and that Velvet would have another child as quickly as possible. She would never forget the child in India, but perhaps in time with other children around her the memory would fade and her lost daughter would seem like a child stillborn. Remembered, but not known.

He gave orders that a boat was to be lowered over the side of the Sea Hawk. With luck the family barge would be awaiting them when they docked. For once his plans were executed like clockwork, and the barge was indeed at the appointed place. Velvet, Pansy, Dugie, Michael, and Murrough boarded it, and it began its trip up the river to Greenwood. It was already dark, and the night was cool. Velvet drew her cloak about her.

When she had been well enough to care, she'd learned that some of her clothes had been packed by Daisy and sent with Murrough to India. Although there were several pretty gowns among her things, she had chosen that morning to wear a black silk dress with a low neckline and plain sleeves with simple white lace cuffs. There was something spare, almost severe about the gown. The matching cloak was lined in white silk.

The barge bumped the Greenwood landing and was made fast. Looking up, Velvet thought she had never seen her mother run so quickly, and Daisy easily kept pace with her. Behind them came Velvet's father and Bran Kelly. Murrough jumped out of the barge and, turning, lifted his sister onto dry land.

Skye stopped short and stared at the young woman in the black cloak. In her mind she was remembering the child of almost thirteen years she had last seen, and the woman before her did not fit that memory. This was a beautiful woman, a woman who had known love and suffered for it. What had happened to her little girl? Then, as quickly as the thought flew through her head, the answer came behind it. Time. Time had passed. Time she and Velvet had not shared together, and in that time the child had become a woman. Her eyes filled with tears, but whether they were for the lost moments she and her daughter had missed or for Velvet's own pain, she knew not.

Opening her arms, she said, "Welcome home, my darling!" And Velvet, enfolded in her mother's embrace, knew that nothing had changed between them.

Skye hugged her daughter tightly, instinctively knowing her child's greatest fear, and whispered reassuringly to her, "I have not yet sent for Alex, my love. First we must talk." Feeling Velvet relax, she knew that she had said the right thing. She caught her daughter's face between her hands.

"Oh, how beautiful you have become!" Then she kissed Velvet once on each cheek.

"There is so much to tell you, Mama. Things I haven't talked about since I left India. They cannot wait! I need to talk with you!"

"Yes! Yes!" Skye agreed. "Tonight! I promise!"

"Velvet!"

She turned from her mother and ran into her father's arms. With a groan Adam de Marisco buried his face in his daughter's neck. "I thought never to see you again!"

"It's all right now, Papa," she reassured him.

"The thought of your suffering, my poppet …"

"I did not suffer, Papa."

"But you were sent to the harem of the Grand Mughal," he protested.

"It is called a zenana in India, Papa, and my lord Akbar loved me. He took me for his wife. I did not know that such happiness existed."

Beside them, Daisy wept tears of relief at the sight of her daughter, Pansy, and her first grandchild. Bran, however, the more practical where their children were concerned, seeing his child in good health, relieved Pansy's most immediate fear.

"That bandy-legged Scotsman you handfasted yourself to promised to wait for you. He even asked my permission to formally marry you. I hope you're still of a mind to do so if only for my fine grandson's sake."

"Aye, Da! The more little Dugie looked like his pa, the more I missed Dugald. He'll be mightily surprised to learn he's got a son."

"And what were you doing tumbling into bed with the man before you were properly wed?" demanded Daisy, recovering and reaching out to give her daughter a smack.

"Ma! 'Twas only once!"

"Once is enough!" snapped Daisy.

"Do you think we might adjourn to the house?" Michael O'Malley asked plaintively from the barge where he still sat, blocked from disembarking by the crush upon the quay. "Night air from the Thames is not particularly salubrious and is known to harbor bad humors."

"Oh, Michael darling, yes!" Skye said. "I've not even thanked you for all your help!"

"Thank me inside, dear sister, and I can but hope you have some good peat whiskey to take the chill from my bones. I ran out months ago."

"Aye," replied Adam de Marisco, pulling his brother-in-law up from the barge. "I've a barrel, and for all you've done for us, Michael, you can bathe in the damned stuff if you want!"

They moved up the lawn from the river into the house, and Bran and Daisy took Pansy and her son off to their own rooms, while Adam, kissing his daughter good night, promised to come and see her first thing in the morning. Then he escorted his stepson, Murrough, and brother-in-law to his library for some of the promised whiskey.

Taking her daughter's hand, Skye led Velvet upstairs to her apartments.

In Velvet's room a large oak tub stood steaming with the hot water emptied into it by a line of footmen. "I thought that you would prefer to bathe yourself tonight," Skye said quietly. "Pansy and Daisy need their time together, too. When was the little boy born?"

"Shortly after we arrived at Akbar's court in Fatehpur-Sikri, Mama. I didn't even know that Pansy was with child. She carried small, and she was afraid to tell me. The court physician informed me. Dugald had cajoled her into bed the night they were handfast." Velvet removed her cloak and, turning her back, had her mother aid her with her bodice and skirt. "Have they brought my things from the barge yet?"

"They are in your dressing room, my darling."

Velvet walked into the smaller room and, opening a leather-bound trunk, rummaged until she found what it was she sought, a small stone vial. Moving back into her bedroom, she uncorked the little bottle and, climbing up the steps to the tub, poured a stream of pale gold liquid into the hot water. Immediately the room was filled with an exquisite fragrance. Descending from the steps, Velvet pulled off the rest of her clothes.

"What is that?" Skye asked. "It's absolutely lovely!"

"Jasmine, Mama. I prize its perfume above all others." She rolled her stockings off her shapely legs.

Skye could not help but look at her daughter. She was simply gorgeous in her nudity. Velvet's long legs rose up into a wide span of hips and taut, round, silken buttocks. Velvet had had no breasts to speak of when her mother had last seen her, but the dainty buds of childhood had become full and voluptuous with five years' passing. Her belly was faintly rounded, not as maiden flat as it should have been. Suddenly Skye looked closely at her daughter, and Velvet, caught unawares, could not hide the sadness in her eyes. In that moment, Skye realized the truth.

"Was my grandchild a boy or a girl?" she asked.

"I have a daughter, Yasaman Kama Begum, Mama. Yasaman means Jasmine. She is one year old today." Velvet climbed into her tub, leaving her mother speechless.

When Skye managed to recover from her surprise, she said, "Why is she not with you, Velvet?"

"Because her father and Uncle Michael would not let me bring her. Uncle Michael feared that Alex would never accept my bearing another man's child. My lord Akbar said that Yasaman was all he had left of our love, and he would not allow me to take our daughter from him. They were quite agreed, if for different reasons."

Skye nodded mutely, understanding but suffering for her beloved child, who was obviously in great pain over the loss of her own daughter, even if she hid it behind a calm and brittle exterior.

"How did you do it, Mama? How did you manage when you were my age to run your own life without interference? If there is a way, I want to know it, for never again will I allow anyone, man or woman, to rule my life! I will be mistress of my own fate, for I can live no other way," Velvet declared.

Skye sighed deeply. "I could tell you to grasp your destiny by the throat, Velvet, and in a way that would be true, but the real answer lies in my wealth. Wealth is power for a woman of independent spirit. But in the end everyone must answer to a higher authority. My authority has been Elizabeth Tudor."

"She has used you shamefully, Mama."

"And she has paid a high price for it, Velvet. The queen has had to answer to England all these years. I have served this English queen, but never have I been subservient to her."

Velvet nodded, fully understanding her mother's words. "I think I am rich," she said, "although I have never bothered to learn about trading and investments as Willow has. I have brought back from India jewelry worth a king's ransom. Those jewels, however, I shall not sell. They will be returned to India one day for my daughter when she is married. Akbar, however, did send with me certain items which I believe should make me a wealthy woman."

"What are they?" Skye was frankly curious.

"There are five trunks of spices, one each of peppercorns, cinnamon sticks, nutmegs, cloves, and cardamoms; as well as three caskets of gems, one of Indian Ocean pearls, one of Ceylon sapphires, and the third of rubies, some of which come from Mogok and some from a mine near Kabul. I want to sell these things. Will they make me a rich woman, Mama?"

Skye nodded slowly. "Yes, my darling, they will make you quite respectably rich in your own right. The market for spices is, because of the Portuguese monopoly, quite high here in England. Spices are very much in demand. As for the jewels you have brought back, I will have to see them, of course, but your gems come from mines that are considered the best. Lord Akbar obviously held you in great esteem."

"We loved one another, Mama. He is like no man that I have ever known." She then ducked her head beneath the bath water and, coming back up, began to wash her hair.

Skye bit her lip. Her child was hurting, and there was nothing she could do to ease that hurt. In time, of course, the pain would lessen, but right now the wound was much too fresh. How was Velvet going to receive Alexander Gordon? Skye knew that she was going to have to send for him within the next day or two.

Finishing her bath, Velvet climbed from the tub and wrapped herself in a large towel. Seating herself by the fire, she began to dry her hair. "I do not want Alex to know that I possess great wealth. He will claim it for himself, and then I shall be powerless against him. Will you help me, Mama?"

"Yes, my darling, but I will aid you only if you promise me you will do nothing rash or foolish. Come what may, you are married to the Earl of BrocCairn, and unless he seeks to annul your union you will remain married to him until death. I know about the rash act that led to your separation. There is blame on both sides, and as Alex must accept his responsibility in this matter, so must you. Then you must both put the past behind you and start afresh, Velvet."

"Does he really want me back, Mama?" She took up a hairbrush and began brushing her damp tresses.

"I believe so. He is hurt, and he is angry, but he might have sought an annulment before this, which he hasn't done. I have not seen him since your uncle left for England some months ago. He has written me on several occasions inquiring as to the status of our search, but never has he suggested ending your marriage. I will send a messenger to him first thing tomorrow morning."

"So soon, Mama?"

"We're going to leave for Queen's Malvern tomorrow, Velvet. The word of your return will be quickly around court circles, and I do not want you to have to face the gossips until you and Alex have settled your differences. Besides, I believe the country is a better place for you to recuperate. It will take our messenger at least five days, riding at top speed, to reach Dun Broc. Then it will take Alex time to return with him. I do not expect you will have to see your husband for two weeks."

"It does not seem so long," Velvet replied.

"There is something that you should know, Velvet, and I do not want you to become angry when I tell you. When Alex was wounded, he was carried to the house of one Peter Wythe, a silversmith. Master Wythe had a daughter. I don't know how it happened, but Alanna Wythe became Alex's mistress. I thought to separate them by sending him home to Scotland, but he took her with him. She is at Dun Broc now."

Velvet laughed bitterly. "He did not wait long to replace me in his bed, Mama, did he? Does he love her?"

"That is something that you will have to ask him yourself, Velvet, but I doubt it. Men seldom really love their mistresses. They consider them playthings and secretly hold them in contempt."

"Is that how Geoffrey Southwood felt about you when you were his mistress, Mama?"

"Velvet! Where on earth did you ever hear such a thing?" Skye demanded.

"Don't forget, Mama, that I spent some months at court while you were away. There were those who couldn't wait to tell me of your adventures while you were young."

"I am not yet old," Skye retorted dryly. "Very well, Velvet, certain men love their mistresses more than their highborn wives. I do not believe, however, that this is the case with Alex."

"Then why is she still with him, Mama? Frankly I hope he is in love with her. Then perhaps he will free me, and I can return to the man I love and our daughter." Velvet stood up and shrugged the towel from her body. Her auburn hair was now dry, and it billowed about her shoulders. Walking to the bed, she donned the simple nightshift that was laid out and climbed into bed.

Skye plumped the goose-down pillows behind her daughter's back in motherly fashion and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Have you cried any?" she asked Velvet.

"Would crying change all of this, Mama? Would crying bring me my little Yasaman? Tears are a waste of time."

"Tears help to wash your pain from your soul, my darling."

"No, Mama. The pain will keep me strong when Alex attempts to weaken me with his bullying."

"Oh, Velvet, was your marriage to Alex that awful? I never meant that you should marry him unless you really wanted to. The betrothal was to please your father, but even he agreed that if, when you were grown, you did not suit, the match would be called off. I had hoped that perhaps you would love him."

"I thought that I did, Mama, but still we fought constantly from the moment that we met." "About what?"

"Everything! Anything!" Velvet smiled softly, but then her mouth grew grim again. "He does not know how to treat a woman, Mama. I was forever reminding him that I was not one of his dogs or his horses to be ordered about. Sometimes I thought that he was beginning to learn, but then we would be back to the old ‘I am the master and you're merely my wife.' I cannot live under such domination."

"Was not the lord Akbar a dominating man?" Skye inquired.

"Not with me. He said that all the women he had ever known were fawning creatures who would not dream of questioning anything he either said or did. I was the first, he said, the very first woman who ever challenged him. He talked with me a great deal about his conquests, of religion, of his eldest son, Salim, who was so rebellious and resentful that his father still ruled when he wanted to seize the kingdom for himself. My lord Akbar said that actually his younger son, Prince Daniyal, was better suited to rule, but Daniyal is a drunkard. He loves wine more than power."

Skye was fascinated. Velvet had obviously captured Akbar's heart that he would unburden himself to her, speaking with her as he would an equal. "You loved him very much, didn't you, my darling?"

"I shall always love him," Velvet said quietly.

"You must try and rekindle your love for Alex, Velvet. That is obviously your fate or you would not be here now. Once when I was your age and very mutinous about the way life had treated me, my dear friend, Osman the Astrologer, told me that I must not fight against my fate; that what was ordained would be even if I did not like it. It took me a long time to realize the truth of his words. You and Alex have been through a trying time. You have each coped in your own fashion, but now, however, fate has ordained you be reunited. Don't fight your fate, Velvet. Give your marriage a chance."

Before Velvet could reply, the bedchamber door opened and Daisy came in bearing a tray. "Welcome home, Mistress Velvet. I thought you might want a bite before you go off to sleep." She placed a tray containing a small bowl of clear broth, a plump capon wing, some fresh bread, a slice of runny Brie, and a fat peach upon Velvet's lap.

"Thank you, Daisy! I think I actually am hungry, and I have not had Brie in so long!"

"It is I who should be thanking you, Mistress Velvet!" Daisy had tears in her eyes as she turned to Skye. "She saved my Pansy's life, m'lady! She nursed her herself when Pansy got ill in that heathen land. Pansy could have lost her life, and that of little Dugie, had it not been for Mistress Velvet." Daisy looked again at her mistress's daughter. "God bless you, Mistress Velvet!"

Velvet flushed. "Oh, Daisy! Pansy makes much ado over little. Her pregnancy was advanced, and the fierce heat of India bothered her. I just saw that she was comfortable and had enough to drink. I didn't even know she was enceinte."

"I know what Pansy told me, m'lady. I won't ever forget it either, Mistress Velvet." Then Daisy bobbed a curtsy to the two women and departed.

"What really happened?" asked Skye, intrigued. She was beginning to see her daughter in a somewhat new light.

"The heat disagreed with Pansy to the point where her legs grew swollen, and she couldn't walk. She was unconscious, and the caravan master wanted to leave her behind. I couldn't understand his language, and he didn't understand me, but his meaning was very plain. I bribed him with my gold mirror, the one on the chain that Papa gave me for my tenth birthday. In return, he allowed Pansy to ride in one of the baggage carts, and I was able to care for her until we reached Fatehpur-Sikri where my lord Akbar's physician took over."

"How on earth did you ever get the caravan master to understand you?" Skye questioned.

"I drew a map in the dirt with a road that ended in a city. I placed the mirror by my drawing of the city. The chain I gave him immediately to show my good faith," replied Velvet.

Skye shook her head. "That, my darling, was very, very clever! You did indeed save Pansy's life and that of her little son. I am so proud of you, my daughter. Now use that same brave spirit to heal the breach in your marriage with Alexander Gordon."

Velvet sighed and pushed her tray aside. She had eaten every crumb of food and felt enormously better. Now, however, all she wanted was to sleep. "Let me go home to Queen's Malvern , Mama, and catch my breath for a little bit. You have said yourself that Alex will not be there for at least two weeks."

Skye stood up and, taking the tray, bent for a moment to kiss her daughter's cheek. "Good night, my love. I am so glad that you are home again!" Then she left the room.

Raising herself up, Velvet blew out the bedside candle, leaving only the light from the dying fire to brighten the room. Home , she thought, leaning back upon the pillows. Where is my home? Certainly not with my parents any longer. Nor with my beloved Akbar in my dear little white palace in Lahore or my beautiful, airy marble palace in Kashmir. Is my home at Dun Broc with Alex? Dear God, the very name sounds so harsh. Dun Broc. Is my place there? She sighed. I don't have to think about it for at least two weeks, and, she decided, I won't.

By midmorning the following day, Greenwood had been closed, and the de Marisco family was on their way to their estate near Worcester. Joan O'Flaherty was already there with her children waiting to greet her husband, Murrough, and the returning Velvet. Willow and James along with their family, Deirdre, John, and their children, and Padraic would all be at Queen's Malvern , Skye told Velvet.

"What of Robin and Angel? Gracious! I have not even asked about Angel's baby! Was it a boy?"

"Angel has borne Robin two sons." Skye laughed. "The first was born on the fourteenth of May two years ago. In accordance with the queen's wish he was christened Geoffrey. Their second son, John, was born just two weeks ago, which is why they cannot come to Queen's Malvern right now. Angel is still recovering from the birth, and the baby is over young to travel. Deirdre had another son last year. His name is Peter. The biggest surprise of all, however, is Willow. She and James had a daughter last year. Little Johanna."

"Willow had another baby?" Velvet was astounded. "She always said five was quite enough."

Skye chuckled. "It was very much a surprise to her. In the beginning she showed none of the usual signs of a woman with child, and when she finally realized what her ‘illness' was, she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Johanna, however, is a lovely child."

"How fortunate my sisters and sisters-in-law are," Velvet said softly.

Adam reached out and patted his daughter's hand. "Don't grieve, poppet. You will have other children." Skye had told him the previous night of Velvet's little daughter, Yasaman.

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.