Chapter 14

O n the last day of August in the year 1591, the Earl of BrocCairn's party crossed over the Cheviot Hills and rode through the invisible gateway that separated England from Scotland. They had traveled slowly, for Velvet was still worn out from her long voyage. It had been a strange week for Alex since he reclaimed his wife. Velvet remained subdued in both manner and speech with him, but at least she had stopped trembling against him during the night. He knew that if he made love to her she would acquiesce, but it would have been like rape to him. He waited for her to want him again even as he wanted her. Patience, Skye had said, and she had been so very right. He only hoped that he had enough patience, for it was not easy to lay with Velvet night after night without loving her.

The air was yet warm in the Cheviots during the day; still, there were already signs of autumn around them. The heather had begun to bloom, and Velvet saw whole hillsides of the purple-pink flowers. The bumblebees loved the heather and flew busily from flower to flower gathering the nectar that would make their delicious honey. The whortleberry bushes were long stripped of their delicious fruit, but already the foliage had begun to assume its rosy-red autumnal tints. Here and there flocks of Cheviot sheep grazed the seemingly peaceful land, but the men of BrocCairn were ever-watchful for an unseen enemy who might attack without warning.

Alex had sent a messenger on to Hermitage requesting the hospitality of his cousin, the Earl of Bothwell. Bothwell was once again in his royal cousin James's bad graces, and Lord Home had been sent in early summer to arrest him. Sandy Home, however, had decided that he preferred hunting and fishing with Francis Stewart-Hepburn to arresting him, and he had remained at Hermitage with his friend.

Most believed that the royal wrath against the Earl of Bothwell had been brought to a fine froth by the king's chancellor, John Maitland. Maitland had caused Bothwell to be imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle for several months, but on Midsummer's Eve the earl had escaped and publicly mocked Maitland at Nether Bow, daring him to come out of his house, where, rumor had it, the chancellor was cowering in a cabinet, to return the earl to prison. All of Edinburgh had enjoyed a good laugh at Master Maitland's expense, and he had not forgotten it. Learning from the king's chamber boy that James secretly coveted Catriona Leslie, the beautiful Countess of Glenkirk, Maitland allowed the king to learn that both Bothwell and Lady Leslie sought divorces from their spouses and planned to marry. In fact, Margaret Douglas, Bothwell's wife, had already been granted her decree. James had then used Bothwell's past misdemeanors and "his lewd conduct wi' a certain lady of the court" as excuses to outlaw his cousin. And he had prevented Lady Leslie's divorce. The lady, however, was not to be bullied by the king and remained with her lover in defiance of the Stewart's anger.

Under normal circumstances, Alex would have avoided Bothwell's hospitality at this time. He had no desire to bring the king's temper down on BrocCairn. Velvet, however, was simply not strong enough to ride too great a distance at a stretch, yet, and he had to break their journey at Hermitage. Perhaps, he hoped, the king would not learn of it.

The stone keep that was Bothwell's home had no sooner come into view when its great gates opened and a small party of horsemen rode out to meet them.

Francis Stewart-Hepburn's face was split in a huge smile as he greeted his cousin of BrocCairn. "Alex! 'Tis good to see ye!" Then he turned to Velvet, and his smile softened. "I'm glad ye're home safe, lass," he said quietly.

Velvet felt quick tears prick her eyes, and she blinked them away. "Thank you, Francis," she said, and for the first time in days Alex saw a small smile touch the corners of her mouth. "I am told the king is most put out with you, my lord. I would have thought you had outgrown your bad habit of teasing His Majesty by now."

Bothwell chuckled. "Jamie is too tempting a target, lass," he replied. Then he moved his horse just slightly so that the rider next to him was visible to them, and both Alex and Velvet were surprised to see that it was a woman. "This is Cat Leslie," Bothwell said simply. "She is to be my wife one day."

"Oh, Francis!" Velvet burst out, "you are finally happy! I am so glad! So very glad!"

Bothwell flushed, pleased by her words, but the beautiful Lady Leslie gave a soft, husky laugh. "Were she not yer cousin's wife, Francis, I think I should be jealous," she teased him.

"Velvet is the sweetest of lasses," Bothwell said, "but there is only one woman in the world for me, Cat, and 'tis ye, my darling."

Now Lady Leslie flushed becomingly, and Velvet thought that, next to her mother, she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Tall, slender, and full-bosomed, Cat Leslie had fair skin like Velvet's, leaf-green eyes, and dark, honey-colored hair. Her face was truly heart-shaped, with a stubborn little chin. She was dressed in doeskin riding breeches, a creamy, open-necked silk shirt, and a leather jerkin with silver-rimmed horn buttons. Her boots came to her knees, and her long, heavy hair fell about her shoulders.

"It's not safe for us to remain outside the castle walls, Francis," reminded the earl's bastard brother, Hercules Stewart.

Bothwell nodded and, turning his horse, led them safely into Hermitage Castle. As they dismounted, he said, "Cat, take Lady Gordon to the apartments ye prepared for her. She looks fair worn."

"I am," Velvet admitted. "It's been a long time since I've ridden like this."

"Almost three years?" he ventured.

For a moment Velvet thought, and then another smile lit her features. "Aye, Francis, 'tis almost three years, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "Ye're a lot more docile now than ye were then, lass."

"I have but to regain my strength, my lord," Velvet answered mischievously, realizing as she spoke that she was suddenly feeling better than she had in weeks.

Cat Leslie slipped her arm through Velvet's. "Come, Lady Gordon, I will wager that ye want a bath, and if I don't get the water brought now, ye'll be out of luck, for 'twill soon be time for dinner."

The two women departed, and Francis ushered his cousin Alex into the Great Hall, signaling a servant as they went to bring them wine. When he had settled his guest comfortably, Bothwell said, "Ye take a great risk coming to Hermitage , Alex. I am put to the horn and outlawed. If our cousin Jamie should learn of your visit, it could go hard wi' ye."

"I must risk it, Francis. Velvet was simply not strong enough to go any farther today. Actually, I should like to bide wi' ye for a few days before going on north."

"Will ye stop in Edinburgh?"

"I must."

"Tell Jamie then that ye were here and why ye came. Then no one, Maitland in particular, can accuse ye of duplicity. He means to bring all the earls down, Alex. He begins wi' me, but beware, for I suspect he will turn on Huntley next. He is an ambitious man, Master Maitland. If he can break the power of the earls, then he can rule James himself without interference."

"Is it true what I heard as I came south? That James stopped Lady Leslie's divorce from Glenkirk?"

"Aye! The bastard! He forced her to his bed, and when she finally fled him she came to me. I have loved her for some time now, but she knew it not until she sought refuge wi' me. The queen had managed to keep James from stopping the divorce, to hold him off until Maitland found out and told him that Cat was wi' me. The queen, of course, has no idea that her lord and king desires Cat. She would be most hurt if she knew, and Cat loves the queen, which Jamie well knows."

"What will happen to ye, Francis?"

"I know not, Alex, but perhaps someday I shall seek refuge at Dun Broc." He smiled. "Will ye gie it me?"

"Aye!"

The servant arrived with the wine, and the two men stood by one of the large fireplaces drinking together, while in another part of the castle Cat had brought Velvet to a comfortable, airy apartment.

Pansy and Dugald were already there, and, seeing them, Cat said, "I will give instructions to have a bath brought to ye, Lady Gordon. I shall see ye at dinner."

"Please, won't you call me Velvet?"

"If ye will call me Cat," came the other woman's reply, and then she was gone.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Velvet said to Pansy.

"She's caused a great scandal here in Scotland, Dugald says. She ran away from her husband to be with Lord Bothwell!" Pansy told her mistress.

"I can understand a woman falling in love with Francis," said Velvet. "He's devilishly attractive, but 'tis not just his looks."

"Aye," agreed Pansy. "He's got a way about him. They say there ain't a woman alive who can resist him."

"Fine talk for a couple of seemingly respectable married women," grumbled Dugald, and Velvet and Pansy giggled. "Laugh if ye will, but 'tis said the Earl of Bothwell is a warlock, a wizard."

"He can cast a spell on me anytime," Pansy laughed.

"Hush yer mouth, woman, or I'll take a stick to ye!" threatened her husband. "Such talk, and from my own wife!"

"Lay a hand on me, Dugald Geddes, and I'll turn right around and go home to England—and I'll take me son with me, too!" Pansy snapped at her spouse. "I birthed him without you, and I've raised him for two years without you."

"Now, lassie," wheedled Dugald, " 'tis just jealous I am, hearing ye talk about Lord Bothwell. I dinna mean it."

Pansy sniffed, but said nothing more, and Velvet hid a smile. Her tiring woman certainly had the upper hand where her new husband was concerned. Dugald adored his wife and son, and Pansy knew it and used her advantage to great effect.

Within a few minutes the oaken tub was set up before the fireplace in the bedchamber, and a line of kilted Borderers brought buckets and buckets of hot water to fill it fully. Velvet bathed gratefully, hearing Alex come in and, attended by Dugald, bathe as well in the outer chamber before its fireplace. He entered the bedchamber, a towel wrapped around his loins, before she had climbed from her own tub. Pansy blushed, and he chuckled.

"Run along, lass, and see to yer bairn, who I've heard is wailing for both his mam and his supper. I'll attend yer mistress until ye return." He gently shooed Pansy from the room, closing the door behind her. Then taking the large towel that had been warmed on its rack before the fire, he opened it out and, holding it up, said, "Come on, Velvet, and let me dry ye. Ye'll get a chill."

She rose and stepped from the tub into his arms, which closed about her, enfolding her in the warmed bath sheet. For a moment they both stood very still, and then Alex began to rub her down briskly. She knew that he wanted to kiss her, and had he done so she would not have minded. Yet he kept his promise not to force her.

When he dried her, he threw the towel aside and, picking her up, walked over to the bed where he tucked her beneath the sheets. " 'Tis several hours before dinner, Velvet. Rest while ye can. We are going to stay several days here at Hermitage before we move on to Edinburgh."

"Are we going to court, my lord?"

"Nay, but I must pay my respects to Jamie. We may not even stay overnight before pushing on to Dun Broc."

"Good," she said. "I don't want to go to court, Alex. I want to get to Dun Broc. I grow more and more anxious to see my new home. I remember you once told me that the castle stood on cliffs above the glen; that it soared with the eagles! I have never forgotten that. You made it sound so beautiful."

"It is beautiful, Velvet, and ye will see it first at the prettiest time of the year to my mind. The birches will make the mountainside appear to be covered in molten gold, and the mountain ash and rowan trees will be heavy with their red and orange berries. Ye will be happy there, Velvet, I promise ye."

She took his hand in hers, and, raising it to her lips, she gently kissed it. He looked startled, and she smiled. " 'Tis just my way of thanking you, Alex, for your kindness and your patience." Then she closed her green eyes and seemed to fall asleep, yet she did not release his hand.

Gingerly he shifted himself onto the bed next to her, but lay on the outside of the coverlet. With a sigh Velvet put her auburn head upon his shoulder. He did not sleep. Indeed he lay by her side, awake, his mind boiling with a thousand thoughts. In the few days that they had been together again he had come to realize once and for all that he loved her. It pained him yet that she had given herself to another man, but he understood it even as he understood her difficulty in resuming their full married relationship. In her mind Akbar was yet her husband, and he the interloper. He wasn't sure how to overcome such a hurdle, but then he realized it was Velvet's battle to fight, and not his. She must be clear in her mind. He was ready. He understood how hard it must be for her.

Still, it was uncomfortable for him to face the plain fact that she had only lived with him as his wife for three months whereas she had lived as Akbar's wife for sixteen months. God's bones! Could she ever love him again? He found himself silently praying that she could.

The fine dinner that was served at the Earl of Bothwell's board that night caused his cousin to remark, "For a condemned man, Francis, ye eat well."

"Ye know my love of good living, Alex," came Bothwell's laughing reply.

"Aye," said Cat Leslie, "I worried myself sick when he was imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle, only to learn that he was living better than the castle warden himself, the rogue!"

One of the men in the hall now took up his pipe and began to play while several others raised their voices in song. Alex and Lady Leslie began to explore their degree of kinship, for his mother had been a Leslie. Bothwell stood up, pulling Velvet with him.

"Come and walk about the hall wi' me, lass," he said, seeing her beginning to grow sad from the music, an ancient Border tune that dealt with unrequited love. He led her away from the high board and slowly moved down the room, her hand tucked securely in his arm. "I will listen, Velvet lass, if ye want to talk," he said quietly.

"There is little to say, Francis. I have come home to Alex."

"Yet yer heart isna wi' him. Why?"

"Oh, Francis, I am so confused! I believed him dead. I loved again, but then I learned he was not dead and I had to come home. I love Alex even now, but I cannot, it seems, stop loving Akbar. To give myself to another man when I was a widow is far different than the position in which I now find myself. I want to begin anew with Alex. I must! Yet I cannot stop thinking of Akbar, of India, of.… " She stopped, looking stricken when he finished the sentence for her.

"Yer bairn."

"Oh, God," she whispered. "How did you know?" Her eyes were filled with tears.

"It is the only thing that could possibly bind ye so tightly to another man, Velvet."

"Alex must not know! It would hurt him so to learn that I had given another man a child, and yet not borne him one."

"Then gie him one, Velvet." Stopping, he drew her into a little alcove, and, taking out a silk handkerchief from his doublet, he gently wiped her tears away. "Did the bairn die?"

"Nay. She is in India with her father. He would not let me take her. He said she was all he had left of our love. I didn't want to leave her, Francis! She wasn't even a year old, my Yasaman!" Then she began to weep.

"Velvet!" The urgency in his voice penetrated her sorrow. "Velvet lass, ye mustna grieve so. Alex will see yer face and know that something is wrong. What will ye tell him?" Frantically he mopped her cheeks.

In the midst of her grief Velvet suddenly found humor. "I could tell him you spurned my overtures, Francis," she said, starting to giggle through her tears.

He grinned at her, both delighted and relieved. "Ye're a bad lass!" he teased her, and Velvet began to laugh. Pleased, he stuffed the dampened silk back into his doublet, and then he turned serious once again. "Yer secret is safe wi' me, Velvet, but heed my advice and get yerself with bairn as soon as possible. Ye'll nae forget the other, but ye'll be so busy with the new bairn ye'll nae have time for too much remembering."

"Alex has been so very patient, Francis. He has promised not to force me, and he has kept that promise."

"Are ye telling me, lass, that ye've nae made love since yer reunion? Christ, Velvet! Ye'll nae get yerself wi' a bairn that way!"

"I couldn't," she quavered, her lower lip beginning to quiver again.

"Ye damn well can, and tonight ye will! The longer ye wait, the worse it will be for ye, and my poor cousin has been patient long enough!"

"He consoled himself quite nicely while I was away!" snapped Velvet. "So did ye!" Bothwell shot back.

"I did, didn't I?" Velvet considered. "Dear God, Francis, I've been wallowing so much in my grief over Yasaman that I've never stopped to consider that life goes on. Alex and I have chosen to remain together after all our difficulties. No one forced us. Oh, Francis! I have been so unfair to him, haven't I?"

"Nay, Velvet, ye haven't been unfair to Alex. Ye simply needed time to come to terms wi' yerself. Now, I think, ye have."

"Thanks to you, my lord. If I have a son, one of his names will be Francis!"

"God's nightshirt, lass, dinna go sentimental on me now! Ye know I can't abide milk-and-water lasses!"

She flung her arms about him and kissed him full on the mouth, much to Bothwell's surprise. It was a lovely kiss, and her mouth tasted of sweet wine. Standing back, she looked up at him and said boldly, "Take me back to my husband, my lord. 'Tis time for us to retire for the night."

Bothwell grinned. "I suspect Alex will never know the great debt he owes me, Velvet." Then he escorted her from the alcove back through the Great Hall to the high board where Cat and Alex were still talking, never having really missed them.

"I shall not tell him if you don't, Francis," she replied pertly, and he grinned at her again, winking conspiratorily.

The piper was now playing a livelier tune, and some of Lord Bothwell's men were dancing while others had begun to dice, kneeling upon the floor by one of the fireplaces. Cat now joined them, to Alex's surprise, but Francis only smiled.

"She's a great favorite wi' my men. They would die for her as would I," he said.

"Somehow it will resolve itself happily for you both, I know it," Velvet soothed him. Then she turned to Alex and said, "I am tired, my lord. Shall we retire now, or would you prefer to remain and dice for a bit?"

"I'll stay for a while, sweetheart," he replied, and she curtsied and left him.

Alex stayed only for a few minutes with his cousin drinking another cup of heady wine. Then the Border lord, claiming fatigue, took Cat off, and there was no excuse for him to remain. It would hardly do for the world to see him but newly reunited with his wife and avoiding their bed.

Dugald had waited for his master and quickly aided him to undress, being eager to gain his own bed and Pansy's company. Alex chased his serving man off when he had disrobed and, having completed his ablutions, tiptoed into the bedchamber. A fire burned low in the large fireplace, and the room was toasty warm. Slipping quietly into the big bed in an attempt not to disturb her, Alex was very startled when Velvet, fragrant, warm, and quite naked, slipped into his arms with a purr.

He was stunned. "Ye're not wearing a night rail," he gasped.

"Nay, Alex, I'm not," she teased him.

Instinctively his arms tightened about her. Jesu, he thought, her skin is so damned soft and smooth. "Velvet …" His voice was slightly strangled as he sought to keep himself under control.

"Yes, Alex?" Her tone was bland and innocent.

"What is it ye want of me, Velvet? For God's sake, lass, I'm only human!"

"What do I want of you?" She began to laugh softly. "Dear God, Alex, I should think that would be obvious. I want you to make love to me. Here. Now. Tonight, my darling."

She snuggled closer to him, pressing her round breasts against his furred chest, leaning over to nibble on his ear, and he groaned. She was driving him absolutely mad, and he suspected she knew it. What had happened to change her in these few short hours?

"You took my virginity in this castle almost three years ago, my darling. We began our marriage here. I want to begin it again in this place, Alex. Can you understand that?"

He hadn't suspected this sentimental side of her, but he didn't care any longer. All that mattered was that his beautiful wife, his wife from whom he had been parted for so long, was offering herself to him, and he wanted her. Pulling her hard against him, he found her mouth and kissed her with all the hunger that had been building up in him for the last two and a half years. He kissed her until she was breathless, and her mouth was bruised with his ardor. In defense she parted her lips beneath his, and his tongue plunged almost violently into her mouth to love hers with a fierce abandon. Their tongues were like two burning silk banners that twined and intertwined over and over again.

Rolling her beneath him, he caught her face between his hands. "Look at me, Velvet!" She slowly opened her eyes and gazed directly at him. "I love ye, lass! Do ye understand that? I love ye!"

"I never stopped loving you, Alex," she answered.

The unsaid words lay between them, however: I never stopped loving you, Alex, but I loved another also. Still, she was trying, and in time he hoped he could erase the memory of Akbar from her heart and soul, if not her mind. "Ah, lass," he murmured, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers while his other hand smoothed her forehead. Then his mouth descended on hers again, kissing her tenderly this time, re-learning her sweet lips. He trailed a line of kisses down her neck, lingering in the hollow of her throat where he could feel the pulse leaping beneath his lips. His slender fingers slipped up to tangle in her soft hair, while the finger of his other hand turned her face to him.

Gently he nipped her little chin with his teeth, then kissed the corners of her mouth. Velvet pushed her tongue forward to lick at him, and, delighted, his own tongue gave battle. They teased and played thusly for some minutes, enjoying the game and learning to relax once more with each other. Finally he nuzzled one of her ears, running his tongue around it.

"Ye're absolutely delicious, lass," he murmured with hot breath in her ear. Then one of his hands captured a breast, and, turning himself, he sought the other breast with his mouth. While the first hand kneaded and fondled, his mouth began a most delightful torture of the second breast. He sucked softly at the nipple, but gradually he began to draw harder upon it, then he nibbled tenderly, sending little darts of desire through her.

She shifted beneath him almost skittishly. It had been so long since she had been loved. For a moment she felt disloyal, but to whom? To Akbar who she was bound to by an Eastern marriage and a child, or to Alex who was her only husband before the God of her own faith? It was too confusing a puzzle to struggle with, she thought. She must concentrate on the here and now, not on what had been.

Wiggling away from him, she said, "I want to love you, my darling."

"Ye are loving me, Velvet," was his reply, but she laughed.

"Nay, my lord. You are loving me." She pushed him back against the down pillows. "Now, I shall love you!"

Before he realized what she was about, Velvet turned herself about, and, grasping the half-hard shaft of his manhood in one hand, she bent her head and took him in her mouth, while her other hand sweetly caressed the pouch of his sex. For a moment Alex was frozen in shock. He had never taught her such a thing! Where had she learned it? The next emotion to slam into him was a wave of raging jealousy. Akbar! She had learned this from him! She had taken him between her honeyed lips and driven him to madness as she was surely going to drive him.

"Jesu!" The word burst from his throat, and his anger dissolved as the enjoyment she was giving him mounted with each moment that passed. Her tongue licked his full length, teasing the ruby knob of him. His hand reached down to touch her head, to encourage her further, and she sucked strongly upon him while shafts of pleasure plunged into his brain and body like sharp knives, and his manhood hardened like marble.

When he could bear no more, for he was close to bursting with desire, he commanded her through gritted teeth, "Enough, lass! Tis time for turnabout." Then pulling her up, he forced her back against the pillows, his head moving down between her legs. He had never before tasted of her, but he realized that if she knew how to use a man as she had just used him, then Akbar had also introduced her to similar delights. He found the little pearl of her womanhood, and, reaching out with his tongue, he began to love it tenderly and was pleased to hear a soft cry of rapture escape from between her lovely lips. "Does that please ye, lass?" he whispered, and she cried "Aye!" but no more. His tongue worked the silky, pink flesh until she was moaning with desire.

It was too sweet, she thought, as her passion began to build. The feathery touches of his tongue, his mouth, against that greatest secret of her sex was driving her farther than she had ever been driven before. She didn't think she could bear much more of his loving, and yet she didn't think she could bear it if he stopped. She would lose her sanity shortly, but she didn't care. Briefly she remembered back to the beginning of their marriage. He had loved her sweetly and tenderly then, but never as he was loving her now. His own passion had such an incredible intensity that for a moment she feared it would incinerate them both.

Then he lifted his head and, with a soft laugh, pulled himself up and over her. Taking his pulsing shaft in his hand, he positioned it and then plunged into her almost violently. With another cry Velvet wrapped her legs about his torso, her arms about his neck, and together they moved back and forth, dancing to love's rhythm.

"I've waited so long, lass, to be inside of ye again," he groaned in his passion.

"Oh, my darling," she sobbed as all the memories of their togetherness flooded her soul, "love me well! You're so big, my wild Highland lord. How you fill me! Don't stop loving me, Alex! Don't stop!"

He didn't, and for several long, sweet minutes they lay locked in that most intimate of conjugal embraces. Then, unable to control themselves any longer, they attained paradise together as he exploded within her, his manhood bursting forth furiously to flood her with his creamy essence. "Ah, Velvet lass! Ah, sweet one!" He almost sobbed the words.

He had collapsed against her breasts, and she held him tenderly there as she floated down from her own heaven. Would it always be this intense with him, or was it but the excitement of their reunion? she wondered to herself. Her fingers slipped through his fine, dark hair, caressing him, loving him, and he felt her touch through his own daze.

Raising his head, he gazed at her, and Velvet suddenly felt warm and safe again. Smiling back, she gently teased him, "And just what are you looking so pleased about, my lord husband?"

"What kind of a woman have I taken to wife?" he wondered musingly.

"A passionate one," she answered promptly, "and I shall not change, my darling."

"Christ, no! My God, Velvet, I never suspected yer depths! Ye intoxicate me, my love, and knowing yer passion now, I shall become the most jealous of husbands."

"I do not belong to you, Alex. I belong to myself, and you must remember that. I will never betray you, my love. I truly never have. But I will not be treated like a possession."

"Nay, Velvet, I have learned this night that ye're an equal. I may forget that from time to time, but ye will, I've not a doubt, remind me."

"Indeed, my wild Highland lord, I will!"

He chuckled and, lying back, tossed an arm about her. "Ye did not jest when ye said 'twas time to start our family, did ye, Velvet, but ye've fair worn me out. I will need to rest now for a little bit."

"Not yet," she said and, slipping from his embrace, arose. Going to the fireplace, she lifted a small kettle from the grate. Pouring water from the kettle into a silver basin by the hearth, she returned to the bed with it and several soft cloths. "In India a bout of passion is followed, my lord husband, by a careful cleansing so that when Eros's dart strikes again, the combatants are ready." Dipping one of the cloths in the basin, she wrung it out and began to wash his manhood. When she was satisfied, she bent and kissed it, sending a surprising flash of heat through him. "Now," she said softly, "you must do me," and she handed him the second cloth.

Bathing her sex as she stood before him was, he found, one of the most sensually stimulating things he had ever done. He found himself working slowly, carefully, going back over already traveled territory until she laughed softly, saying, "You will but arouse me again, Alex, and that is not at all the purpose of this exercise. Kiss me now, and then let us rest." Mesmerized, he obeyed her, kissing the puckered pink flesh, but unable to resist tweaking her once with his tongue, which caused her to shriek and jump away from him. Laughing, and content at having regained some measure of his self-esteem, he dropped the cloth and climbed back into their bed.

She slid into his arms, warm and sweet, and lay her head against his shoulder. Soon he heard her soft, even breathing and knew that she had fallen asleep. He, however, lay awake for some minutes. The girl he had married almost three years ago was so long gone that he could barely remember her. The woman who had replaced her was a delicious mystery that he suspected he would never quite solve, but in the ensuing years they had together he would enjoy seeking the pieces to the puzzle Velvet had become. Gradually Alex drifted into sleep himself.

Velvet awoke to kisses being lightly pressed over her torso. With a murmur of contentment, she stretched, saying, "Don't stop, my darling. 'Tis too delicious!"

He chuckled. "Ye've turned into a magnificent wanton, my young wife. Dinna change!" Then he was kissing her lips, his tongue pushing into the fragrant cave of her mouth to re-explore. Challenging his invasion, she played a game of hide-and-seek with his tongue. His passion was slow to rouse this time, the edge having been taken off of it by their last love bout. Sitting up, the plump pillows behind his back, he placed her between his open legs and began to learn once more the curves and lines of her body.

The lushness of her delighted him. Her lovely round breasts fit perfectly into his big hands; her waist curved in so deeply that he could span it with his two hands; her torso was long and smooth. Her hips flared beneath his seeking fingers, and she murmured again signifying her pleasure at his touch. She drew her legs up, allowing him to smooth his hands up her thighs, down her calves. Then he held her in a tight embrace against his chest. His lips pushed her thick auburn hair aside, finding the soft nape of her neck upon which he placed several warm kisses.

"Ye're the most beautiful woman I've ever known," he whispered against her ear.

She smiled in the firelight, but he could not see her. "Is your little mistress, Alanna Wythe, not fair, my lord?" she asked wickedly.

"Alanna hasn't been my mistress in months, Velvet."

"Yet she resides at Dun Broc , I am told."

"I gave her the choice of returning to England or of remaining in my village of Broc Ailien with her daughter."

"Her daughter?" Velvet stiffened.

"She claims the child is mine, and in all probability it is," he replied, dreading each word as he spoke it, but it was better that she know it now before they reached Dun Broc. Alanna was still enormously put out by her removal from the castle and would cause mischief given the chance.

"How old is the child?" demanded Velvet.

"A year or so," he answered.

She almost laughed at the irony of it. She had been forced to relinquish her precious daughter because it was necessary that she resume her role as a good Christian wife. Her husband's whore, however, was allowed to keep her bastard, and none thought the worse of her for it. Alanna Wythe might raise her daughter, but she, Velvet, the Countess of BrocCairn, must not even admit to Yasaman's birth for fear of offending her husband and their peers. For a moment Velvet thought her heart would break all over again with the unfairness of it, but, taking a deep breath, she said, "I'd as lief the girl were back in England, Alex. Is there no way you can make her go?"

"I'll try, sweetheart," he promised, relieved that she was not going to cause a scene, "but Alanna can be stubborn, and I do feel a responsibility for little Sybilla." He hugged her tightly. "Dammit, Velvet, I don't want to talk about this now! I want to make love to ye again, lass. It's driving me wild wi' desire being wi' ye like this!"

And indeed she could feel him burgeoning and swelling, pressing against her back. She took a deep breath so that her breasts swelled within his hands and moved provocatively against him, tipping her head back so that he could look into her face. "Do you know what I want, Alex?" she asked him. When he shook his head, she said, "Once you said that I reminded you of a kitten, but the kitten has grown into a sleek cat, and like a cat I enjoy being stroked. Stroke me, Alex. Stroke your wee cat," and she slipped from his grasp to lay upon her belly.

She was a most delicious temptation, lying upon her stomach, propped up on her elbows, her round breasts hanging like ripe apples, her adorable bottom thrust up like twin hillocks. He feasted his eyes upon her in the waning firelight that cast golden shadows over her luscious form. Reaching out, he pushed her hair aside and massaged her neck gently before sweeping down the long length of her back to fondle her buttocks. He found the springy flesh of her bottom almost as exciting as he found her delightful breasts.

Velvet lay flat now, stretching her arms and legs out. Unable to resist, he lay atop her and began to tease her by licking at the side of her neck and blowing softly into her ear until she began to squirm slightly. Then he whispered, "Admit that ye are hot to fuck me, Velvet."

She laughed. "You're too impatient, Alex. I see that I shall have to teach you that half the pleasure is in the wanting, my darling! The truth is that you are hot to fuck me!"

He was astounded by her bold words, and she knew it.

"Do you really want that sweet child back, Alex? The one who fought constantly with you and lay passively during your lovemaking?"

He thought a minute and then, laughing, said, "Nay, sweetheart, I don't. She was sweet, but Jesu! I far prefer the hot wanton that ye've become in our bed. It still disturbs me that ye learned these things beneath another man's tutelage, yet I love ye."

"Always remember, Alex, that I believed Akbar was my second husband. I do not ask where you learned how to be a man, nor do I resent the women who taught you. Do not resent the man who has taught me, for he is now without me, and you will have all the benefits of his skill. Now, dammit, get off of me, my wild Highland husband, for you're crushing me beneath your great weight!"

He rolled off her, saying, "Then crush me beneath yours, lass!" She neatly straddled him, laughing softly down in his face. Reaching up, he began to tease her nipples, rubbing them softly until they began to thrust forward like little thorns. Watching her passion rise through his slitted amber eyes, he firmly pinched each nipple, sending little thrills throughout her so that she rubbed herself against him in a most erotic manner, her breath coming in shorter gasps.

"Now, my wanton wife," he said softly, "I shall teach ye that ye yet have things to learn, things that ye will learn from me, and no other man. Lean back, Velvet, and brace yerself upon yer arms." When she had obeyed him, he lifted his heavy and hardened loveshaft and began to rub it against her throbbing little jewel.

Velvet whimpered deep in her throat as tiny flames of pure desire began to touch her. This was a most delicious torture. She quivered slightly as she felt him caressing her softly, sensually, but when she attempted to shift herself so that he might enter her body, he reached out and prevented her.

"Nay, lass. Not yet. I will say when this time."

"I … I can bear no more, Alex." Her voice was beginning to quaver.

"Aye, lass, ye can bear more, and ye will, or in the end I shall not gie ye that hot sweetness ye crave. Did ye not tell me that the wanting was a part of the lovemaking?" Then he began again to tease her.

Velvet thought that she would die with the pleasure that his touch evoked. Looking down, she saw the ruby head of his shaft, almost glowing with its passion, stroking at the fountain of her very desire, which was now pearly with her lovejuices. She felt poised upon a precipice, and each touch brought her nearer to the brink. Finally she could bear it no longer, and with a little cry she slipped over the edge to whirl away into pure pleasure.

"That's it, lass," she heard him encourage her.

When her head cleared, he was still playing with her, and she could feel her hunger beginning to rise once more. "Oh, Alex," she sobbed.

"Stop trying to gain control, Velvet," he said. "Let it happen, lass. Let me pleasure ye for ye'll soon pleasure me."

It was too much this time, and she fell forward, but he caught her in his embrace. Turning her onto her back, he spread her wide to him and drove into her throbbing, honeyed sheath. Her scream of satisfaction almost caused him to lose his careful control, but he held fast and began to pump into her with long, slow strokes of his manhood.

"Ah, Alex," she cried, " 'tis sweet! 'Tis so sweet, my darling!" Her nails raked a path down his straining back.

His rhythm increased, and he towered above her, thrusting fiercely within her eager body. He felt all-powerful! She inspired him to the heights of passion such as he had never attained before, and she kept pace with him, thrusting her buttocks up to meet his every downward stroke. Wrapping her legs about him as she had done earlier, she smoothed her hands down his back, cupping his tight buttocks within her warm hands, sending hot thrills of delight through him.

"Christ, Velvet!" He groaned as he moved from sanity to total mindlessness.

"That's it, my wild Highland lord," she breathed in his ear, "love me! Love me well!"

Neither of them remembered the ending to this interlude, for Velvet, climbing passion's peak, found herself falling away into a state of unconsciousness, so great was her lust for her husband. As for Alex, he could not remember a great deal more than the fact that, unable to bear any more of the delicious combat between them, his throbbing body had dissolved into hers, and he had rolled away from her in his last conscious moment.

Velvet awoke, chilled and exhausted. The gray light of early dawn was beginning to creep into the room. Beside her, Alex was sprawled, his long legs and arms akimbo. Her eyes went to his sex, and she smiled to herself. One of God's great mysteries surely had to do with a man's cock. It was hard to believe that the cupid's bow now between her husband's legs was the mighty lance that twice the night before had pierced her so sweetly.

Slipping from the bed, she knelt by the fireplace and, finding several hot coals left there, fed them little pieces of kindling until she regained a small flame, which she then encouraged into a decent fire. There was still a half kettle of water left, and this she heated while emptying the cold basin out the window. Refilling the silver basin with the now warmed water, she took a fresh cloth and began to bathe herself.

"I thought that was my duty," Alex said sleepily, and with a smile Velvet brought the basin to the bedside and handed him the cloth.

" 'Tis a nice way to wake up, lass," he teased her as he worked.

She grinned down at him. "I don't remember the end of it at all last night, Alex, do you?"

He had finished, and while she took up the cloth to bathe him, he shook his head ruefully. "Nay, lass, I dinna remember anything except the fact that ye're the most delicious piece of goods a man ever held in his arms. If I wanted to tell find the proper words, for I dinna think they exist."

"Why, Alex," she said, coloring becomingly, "that is most gallant." Finished with her task, she put the basin with its cloths aside and climbed into bed with him. "I'm cold," she complained.

He wrapped his arms about her, and she snuggled contentedly next to him. "Dinna get too comfortable, lass," he cautioned her. "I've promised to go fishing wi' Bothwell, and 'tis almost dawn."

"You'll need better bait than this," she said, tweaking his manhood mischievously. "What happened to that fine, randy fellow who entertained me so well last night?"

"Ye've worn him out, Velvet lass, but dinna fear, for he'll be calling upon ye again quite soon." Then he chuckled. "Ye're a bold wench, Lady Gordon, and full of surprises, I'm learning. I think that living wi' ye isna going to be either quiet or dull."

"Never dull, Alex, my wild Highland lord! That much I can promise you," she said, and, leaning over, she bit his shoulder sharply.

"Little bitch!" he growled, smacking her bottom lightly. Then detaching her arms from about his neck, he arose from the bed and dressed himself while she lay watching him. Kissing her tenderly, he said, "Go back to sleep, my bonny wife. I'll bring ye home a fine salmon." Then he was gone out the door.

Velvet snuggled down beneath the coverlet, warm now and feeling better than she had in months. Bothwell had been absolutely right. It was time that she put the past behind her and rebuilt her life with Alex. She needed another child to love, not that she would ever either forget or stop mourning Yasaman. There was not a day that went by that she didn't wonder about her little daughter. Yasaman would be thirteen months old in a few days. Did she walk yet? Was she talking? For a moment Velvet felt the old sadness sweep over her. It was Rugaiya whom her baby would call mama. It was Rugaiya to whom Yasaman would entrust her childish confidences and run to when hurt. Velvet's eyes filled with tears for a moment, but then she brushed the moisture away. There was nothing she could do about Yasaman's loss. Yasaman was Akbar's child, too, and he had probably been right when he had said that she would face the stigma of bastardy in Europe, whereas there was no such taboo in India. How would Alex have reacted to Yasaman? Probably in the same way she had reacted to the news of Alanna Wythe's daughter. He wouldn't want her baby about any more than she wanted the Wythe woman and her child.

She and Alex had been successfully reunited last night. She intended to give of herself as generously while they were here, and in Edinburgh, too. By the time they reached Dun Broc she intended that her husband should be so totally enamored of her once more that Alanna Wythe would not, even with her bastard, be able to regain even the slightest bit of Alex's attention. It startled Velvet to realize that she was a jealous woman. She had never felt jealousy for either Jodh Bai or Rugaiya Begum with regard to Akbar, but then that had been an entirely different world. This was Scotland, and she'd throw the bitch off the walls at Dun Broc if Alanna Wythe ever came near her husband again. "Defend or Die," she remembered, was the motto of the Gordons of BrocCairn, and she was certainly becoming one of them quickly enough. With a chuckle, Velvet turned over and went back to sleep.

Alex stood next to his cousin, Francis, in a freezing, fast-running stream wondering what in hell had possessed him to agree to come fishing when he could be warm in bed with his wife. As if reading his thoughts, Bothwell chuckled and said, "She'll keep all the better for the waiting, Alex. Ye're looking a bit worn, however, this morning. Did ye nae sleep last night? I hope the bed was comfortable."

"Damn comfortable." He watched as his line drifted downstream, and then he said, "Does it bother ye that the king has known Cat, Francis?"

"Aye, but there's little I can do about it, Alex. She dinna want him, nor did she encourage him for all his lechery." Bothwell paused, then looked at his younger cousin. " 'Tis Velvet we're really speaking of, Alex, isn't it? It bothers ye that she's known another man? For God's sake, lad, get a hold of yerself! Ye're lucky to have her back!"

"Yer Cat didna go willingly to the king, but Velvet went willingly to Akbar, Francis. Christ, I am glad to have her back, but I canna help think of her in another man's arms, doing to him the wonderful things she did to me last night that I certainly never taught her!"

"Did she do them well, Alex? These wonderful things?"

"God's bones, yes!" muttered the Earl of BrocCairn.

"Then be grateful to this Akbar, ye idiot. Besides, when ye begin to think about him, remember that Velvet believed herself a widow. She's too toothsome a morsel, yer wife, to remain alone and celibate should ye die, Alex. Best ye remember that and take care not to worry yerself into an early grave. If ye do, ye'll have to sit up in heaven and watch some other lucky man plow wi' yer mare!" At Alex's startled look, Bothwell punched him jovially and laughed.

"Ye're a bastard, Francis, but by God ye're right!" replied Alex, and then he chuckled, seeing the situation in a somewhat brighter light.

"Then, cousin, that's settled," said Bothwell. "Come now, and share wi' me the secrets yer wife brought back from the East. By God, I've got to know these ‘wonderful things'!"

"Francis! I've got a bite!" shouted Alex, and in the stream a large salmon leaped at the end of his line. "Help me, cousin!"

"Merde!" swore Bothwell, but he reached for the net to aid his kinsman.

For several days Alex and Velvet partook of Bothwell's hospitality, the two men going off to fish early each morning; and one day Bothwell and Lady Leslie took both Gordons hunting. It was a peaceful time, the long, lazy days followed by equally long nights of incredible passion between Alex and Velvet. In the magical atmosphere of Hermitage so ripe and full with the love between Francis Stewart-Hepburn and Cat Leslie, Velvet and Alex found once more the love that had been just blossoming between them when they had been separated, and that love grew quickly with each day that passed.

Finally, they could stay no longer, for the trip to Dun Broc was yet a long one, and they knew that they must stop in Edinburgh to pay their respects to the king. Velvet had found in Cat Leslie a good friend and an admirable companion even though the Countess of Glenkirk was some eleven years her senior.

"Life is short, Velvet," Cat told her. "Take yer happiness, try to harm none, and let no man, even the one ye love, dominate ye. 'Tis my rule of life now."

"What will happen to you and Francis?" asked the worried Velvet, who now knew the entire story of their love wild and fair.

" 'Twill work out, Velvet, I'm certain. I sense that I am meant to be wi' Bothwell through eternity." Then the Countess of Glenkirk kissed the young Countess of BrocCairn upon the cheek and, hugging her, bid her a safe journey.

Next it was Bothwell's turn, and he couldn't resist giving Velvet a kiss as he enfolded her into a bear hug of an embrace. "Take care of Alex, Velvet lass, but then from the smug look he's been wearing these last few days I suspect ye are doing so already."

She laughed wickedly, and as he lifted her to her saddle she gave him a saucy wink.

Bothwell whooped with laughter as well. "By God, Velvet, I think perhaps that Alex will have a hard time wi' ye in the years to come. I dinna know if I envy him or pity him."

"Time will tell, my lord," she said pertly, and then she grew serious. "Have a care, Francis, and if you should ever need our hospitality it is yours despite the king. You have my word on it, and I am mistress of Dun Broc now." Then she bent from her horse and kissed him on the mouth.

His bright blue eyes met hers for a long moment, and without words they understood one another. "Godspeed, lass!" he said. Then, saying farewell to Alex, he sent them off toward Edinburgh and their cousin, James Stewart.

The king knew of their imminent arrival. John Maitland's spies had brought word to the chancellor who had then carried it to James. The Earl of BrocCairn and his wife were visiting at Hermitage. James had gone into a rage, a rage that was fed to excess by Maitland. "I've warned Yer Majesty about the earls time and time again," he said mournfully. "I have been suspicious of the Gordons for some time now, Huntley in particular, and BrocCairn is related to Bothwell. Who knows what they plot together."

"They are so arrogant," complained the king bitterly. "They hounded my mother, my grandfather, my great-grandfather. There hasna been one James Stewart who has not been interfered with by them. They're always sowing rebellion when things dinna suit them! Well, Maitland, I'll hae no more of it, d'ye hear me? I'll hae no more of it!"

"Ye hae but to command me, Yer Majesty," Maitland replied smoothly. "Ye know that ye can trust me to do what is best for ye, for Scotland."

"Arrest BrocCairn when he arrives in Edinburgh!" commanded the king.

"Jamie! You cannot do such a thing," the queen interjected. "You have no reason to arrest Alexander Gordon. What has he done that has you so angered?"

"He has been wi' Bothwell this last week, Annie. No loyal Scotsman should be associated wi' Francis any longer. Have I not outlawed him?"

"Jamie, Lord Gordon returns from England with his wife who you know was lost to him for over two years. The girl has had a long and exhausting journey. I imagine Lord Gordon but stopped so that his wife might rest. It is possible, isn't it?"

James liked his queen. Anne of Denmark was blond, pretty, and basically feather-headed, and she had actually nothing in common with her husband but a passion for hunting. She did, however, have a strong streak of common sense, which on occasion she exercised. She also had, like almost every woman at the Stewart court, fallen under the spell of Francis Stewart-Hepburn and defended him, much to Maitland's annoyance.

Because James liked his wife, he was often influenced by her in small matters. "The Countess of BrocCairn had plenty of time to rest at her mother's," he grumbled.

"Nay, Jamie, she didn't," the queen replied.

"Ye're singularly well informed, madame," said the chancellor archly.

"Aye, Mas-ter Maitland, I am," replied the queen quickly. "Lord Gordon informed me of of his circumstances in a message that was delivered to me even as he hurried south for his reunion with his bride. He did so because he wished me to know that he would be stopping in Edinburgh on his return to present his wife to me prior to their homecoming at his castle in the north. His wife had only just returned to England, so I doubt very much, Mas-ter Maitland, whether she had a great deal of time to rest. You have never been on a long voyage, but, as you will remember, I have. There is no doubt in my mind that the Countess of BrocCairn and her husband stopped at Hermitage so that she might recuperate." The queen turned to her husband. "Jamie, you must at least give Lord Gordon the chance to tell you that he stopped before you assume the worst of him. Neither he nor his father ever caused you difficulties, did they?"

"Nay," the king admitted grudgingly.

"There, you see!" the queen said, smiling at him winningly. She put her head against his shoulder and looked up at him with her blue eyes. "Now promise me, Jamie, that you'll not arrest Lord Gordon?" Her rosebud mouth was inches from his, and he thought of how nice she had been to him last night.

Sliding an arm about her waist, he said, "Aye, Annie, I'll promise, but if he gies me no explanation, then I'll have to assume the worst."

"I suspect the worst is that he might fear to tell you because you're so put out with Francis right now, though why I will never understand," the queen replied.

"Lord Bothwell has flaunted the king's authority by escaping from prison where the king placed him," said Maitland, seeking to extricate James before he could give himself away.

"A lot of faradiddle over nothing," said Anne, and then she smiled warmly at her husband. "You'll come to see me tonight, Jamie?"

"Aye, sweetheart." He smiled back at her, giving her a quick kiss, then loosing his hold upon her.

The queen curtsied prettily to the king and then left the room. "Until tonight, sir," she said as she went.

"Yer Majesty must not allow the queen to wheedle ye," the chancellor began, but he was cut short by James.

"She is right, Maitland. Let us see what Lord Gordon has to say for himself. I dinna want to act rashly, for Annie is correct. Neither Alex nor his father, nor any of their family, has ever given me any difficulties. I canna afford to make enemies."

"Of course not, sire," said Maitland sourly, forced to let the matter rest.

Two days later, the Earl and Countess of BrocCairn arrived from the Border country and went directly to the town house of George Gordon, the Earl of Huntley, the most powerful of all the Gordons and the head of the clan. They planned to stay but one night as both were anxious to reach Dun Broc. Since the Earl of Huntley was not in residence at the time, there was plenty of room for all of Alex's retainers. A message saying that the Earl of BrocCairn and his wife wished to pay their respects was sent immediately to the king. It was quickly answered, and they hurried off to Holyrood Palace.

They had taken the time to bathe and change, and Alex was enormously proud of his beautiful wife. The young Countess of BrocCairn was attired in a gown of rich, dark brown velvet. The dress had a very low square neckline, and with it she wore a starched cream-colored, fanshaped lace neck whisk. The sleeves of her gown were full to the elbow but fit the arm tightly below it, and the skirt was a pleasing bell shape. About her neck Velvet wore a necklace of red Irish gold from which hung a large, oval-shaped, golden-brown topaz surrounded by yellow diamonds. Her hair was parted in the center and caught in a caul of thin gold threads, drawn back over her ears so that her red gold necklace and topaz earbobs might be shown to their best advantage. As the day was warm, she wore neither hat nor cloak, but she did have delicate, pearl-embroidered French kid gloves of a beige color to protect her hands when she rode and to hide her rings from the cutpurses. It was altogether a simple but rich look and Alex knew that she would once again win over the king, and most assuredly the little queen.

Alex had debated as to whether or not he should tell James of their visit to Hermitage , but when he came face to face with his sire, he immediately realized from the king's suspicious attitude that James knew of it already and was but waiting for Alex to say something. Before he could, however, Velvet spoke up ingenuously.

"We saw Francis at Hermitage , Your Majesty. Do you remember the first time that we met, when Alex and I had just been married at Hermitage , and you were forced to return me to England because Alex had stolen me away from the queen's court?"

James Stewart was forced to smile. "Aye, Lady Gordon," he said, "and if I remember correctly ye were refusing to acknowledge yer marriage because it had not been performed by a priest of the old kirk. Do ye now admit to being married to this very disobedient earl of mine?"

"Aye, sire, for when we returned to England we were married twice more. But, sire, if I may ask a question of you?"

"Aye, madame?" James replied.

"Why do you call Alex disobedient? He is your most loyal servant."

"That, Lady Gordon, is a matter of opinion. Yer husband knows full well that Francis has been outlawed, and would even now be languishing in prison were we able to catch him. Yet knowing this, Lord Gordon still stopped at Hermitage. I should like an explanation of yer behavior, Alex!"

"There is nothing complicated about it, Jamie," Alex drawled, his very tone making the king feel foolish. "Velvet is but newly returned from India. It was a long voyage, but nonetheless her mother notified me immediately upon her return, and I hurried south to be reunited with my wife. Since we didna wish to stay in England under her entire family's watchful eye, we left almost immediately for Scotland. Velvet isna used to riding cross-country after two years away, and by the time we had passed over the border she was exhausted. Ye know the quality of inns in the Border, Jamie. They're full of petty thieves and whores. I couldna take my wife to one of them. There was no choice but to stop at Hermitage. I made no secret of my visit, nor did Francis. Had he wanted to hide it, then yer spies wouldna hae already brought ye word that we were there. Francis sends ye his most loyal greetings and says he wishes to make peace wi' ye."

"Francis can go to hell!" snapped the king. "He already has my terms for peace between us, but he willna comply. He has but to gie me back what is mine." Then the king, realizing that his wife was in the room, hurried on to say, "I'll forgive ye, Alex, for I dinna really believe ye would join any rebellion. Come now and present yer wife to the queen."

Alex hid a smile, for he had caught the king's little slip although the queen apparently had not. "As always, Jamie, yer graciousness is welcome." Then he turned his head to the queen, and, bowing, he lifted her hand to his lips. "Madame, it is good to see ye again. Ye're fairer than ever."

The queen dimpled prettily. " 'Tis good to see you, Lord Gordon. Is this your bride then?"

"Aye, madame. May I present ye my wife, Velvet, the Countess of BrocCairn."

Velvet curtsied low to the queen, but it was the king's eyes that plunged to her décolletage, something that Alex did not miss.

"Welcome to Scotland at long last, Lady Gordon," said the queen.

"Thank you, madame. I am glad to have finally come home," said Velvet.

"Will you be staying in Edinburgh long?" asked Queen Anne.

"Nay, madame. I am not yet up to following the court. My voyage was of almost six months' duration, and although Alex and I have been married almost three years I have never seen Dun Broc. It is past time that I settled down to the business of being a wife and a mother."

"Yes," agreed the queen. " 'Tis for that purpose God created women."

Before Velvet could reply, the king was raising her from her curtsy and saying, "Surely ye needn't continue yer journey so soon, Lady Gordon? Would not the gaiety of court gie ye pleasure?" He could scarcely take his eyes off her. How young she was, thought James. Young and tender and undoubtedly quite delicious. She had green eyes like his Cat's, not the same leaf-green, but more of a green-gold; and he would wager that her unbound hair fell to her hips in auburn waves as did Cat's dark gold locks.

Velvet had seen the king's look and was somewhat startled, yet her voice when she answered him was calm and friendly. "Your Majesty is so kind, just as I remembered you, but please understand that for all the time I was away I longed for Dun Broc and my husband." She sighed deeply. "Surely you will not forbid me my home when we are so very close? We will visit the court eventually, I promise Your Majesty, but for now I really do want to go home." She smiled at him sweetly, and James could not help but acquiesce.

"Very well, Lady Gordon," he said, "we shall let ye go this time, but the next time I shall not take a nay from ye." How prettily she pleaded with him, he thought. He would like to have her under him pleading for his love.

Later as they rode back to the Gordon town house in the Highgate, Alex complimented his wife on her behavior. "Yer performance, lass, was magnificent."

Velvet frowned. "Did you see how he looked down my dress, Alex? Poor Cat! The man is a terrible lech for all his pious mouthings. I wonder if the queen knows."

"If she does she'll say naught, for I believe she is basically intelligent for all her feather-headed ways. She's queen of Scotland, come what may, and Jamie is fond of her. So she'll have his bairns, and as long as he treats her wi' kindness and respect she'll tolerate his behavior provided it causes no scandal or embarrassment to her or the crown."

"I should not be as tolerant," muttered Velvet ominously.

Alex heard her words and knew that whether she had meant them as a warning or not, they were a warning nonetheless. He should, he thought, not have given Alanna Wythe any choice, but rather returned her to her father's house in London. Still, there was the child to think of.

They left Edinburgh the following day, beginning the last leg of their journey northward to Dun Broc. The countryside began to change, becoming wilder as they found themselves farther and farther from the city and entering the Highlands. The gentle hills of the south quickly gave way to the rugged mountains of the north, thick with forests of mixed conifers and hardwoods. There were trees of many kinds: alders, beeches, larches, sycamores, pines, firs, oaks, and birches. The mountain peaks were dark and granitelike, and fast streams of clear water tumbled over the rock-strewn streambeds. It was, to Velvet's eyes, an incredibly beautiful and lonely land; the only signs of life being occasional flocks of sheep, herds of cattle upon the moors, or a suddenly come-upon village consisting of a few cottages, perhaps a small inn, and a church.

They were not the picture-pretty villages of England with their whitewashed cottages and windowboxes of brightly colored flowers. The houses here were of dark stone, and the summer season, Alex told his wife, was not long enough to encourage flowers. Besides, such things took time, valuable time that was needed for more important things like helping in the fields of barley and oats or for keeping the kitchen garden free of rabbits so that there would be onions, leeks, and carrots through most of the winter.

" 'Tis a beautiful land, lass, but often 'tis a harsh one for our people."

She was beginning to understand him through this. "At least the cottages are sturdy," she noted.

"Aye, but they dinna belong to the people who live in them. They belong to the lord of the land. Only the roofs belong to the peasants. If they move, the roof goes with them."

It took several days for them to reach Dun Broc , and, to Velvet's surprise, they stopped well before sunset each day and only at the houses of people who were bound by oath of fidelity to the great Gordon clan. Velvet and Alex were welcomed warmly there, fed simple suppers, and given beds from which they arose before dawn to eat bowls of hot oat stirabout with honey and cream, still warm from the cow, and then went on their way.

Velvet, having been advised by Cat Leslie, was now dressed very much like the Countess of Glenkirk. She rode astride, wearing dark green trunk hose and a cream-silk shirt over which she sported a leather jerkin with bone buttons belted with a wide, brown leather belt that had a silver buckle and showed her tiny waist off to perfection. Her brown leather boots came to her knees and her auburn hair was clubbed back with a black ribbon. Atop her head was perched a velvet bonnet with one eagle's feather in it, and she carried a Gordon plaid of warm wool should she grow chilly. Alex was dressed in his kilt as were all of his men, but in his bonnet he wore two eagle feathers denoting him as a chieftain of a cadet branch of the Clan Gordon. Only the Earl of Huntley, George Gordon, had the right to wear three feathers, and, in all of Scotland, only the king himself wore four.

Pansy was also dressed like a boy, to the delight of Alex's men and the belligerent annoyance of her husband, who, seeing his comrades eyeing his wife's shapely legs hugging her pony, became quite jealous. Before Pansy on her saddle rode little Dugie, although sometimes Dugald couldn't resist carrying his son himself to both his and the boy's delight.

Velvet's heart began to hammer with excitement when on the third afternoon Alex suddenly said to her, "We're now on BrocCairn land, lass."

"Where is Dun Broc?" she asked, looking about.

He smiled at her innocence. " 'Tis several miles away over the next ridge of hills, but ye canna see it yet."

They rode on through the forest, sunlit this afternoon, and around a small lake he told her was called Loch Beith, meaning birch. Indeed, the loch was surrounded by them, their leaves bright gold with the autumn sun, reflecting themselves vainly in the blue, blue loch. The sight took her breath away.

On they rode up the hills surrounding the loch, through the pine forest, and once Velvet thought she saw a fox, and another time a family of pine martens. Alex told her that the area was home to weasels, wolves, and wildcats as well. When they reached the top of the small mountain that Alex insisted on calling a wee hill, the sight that met her eyes as they stopped to rest the horses was one of incredible beauty. Below them was a small glen where the village of Broc Ailien was located as well as the manor house of his brother-in-law, Ian Grant, Alex told her. She could see a great herd of cattle grazing in a meadow near the village.

"Cattle, lass, is the sign of a man's wealth here," he said. "A good deal of our wealth comes from them. We raise the cattle, and then each autumn a portion of the herd is slaughtered, then pickled, and barrels of it shipped to France, Holland, Denmark, and certain German states. I have a permit from the king to take salmon from my waters, and these, too, are exported either smoked, salted, or dried. My wealth comes from my cattle mainly, however."

"Who ships your goods?" she demanded, ever her mother's daughter.

He chuckled. "In my youth I convinced my father to let me invest in the purchase of several ships, and we now ship our own goods rather than pay another to do it. Before that time we had to contract out to a middleman who usually took too great a fee and still cheated us." He pointed. "Look across the glen, Velvet, and then look up upon the mountain above it."

Velvet's eyes followed his finger, and suddenly she saw it, a castle that seemed to spring up from the very rocks of the mountainside.

"Dun Broc!" he said.

A small thrill raced through her. Dun Broc! Her home! It was not a large castle, but, oh, how beautiful it was with its battlements and towers soaring high above the glen. It would be practically impregnable, she thought. She could not even see how one could reach it, and she asked Alex.

He smiled. "Look carefully, lass. There is a very narrow, walled road that leads from the glen up to Dun Broc."

"Then the castle cannot be attacked, can it? You couldn't get enough of an army up that narrow road at one time to make an attack, could you?"

"Nay," he answered, "but we are not totally impregnable, lass. The north side of the castle sits atop the mountain on a narrow plain. Although we are walled, like any castle walls they are breachable in certain instances. Still, only once in the history of Dun Broc were those walls scaled successfully, and that was during the reign of James IV. A castle serving girl who was in love with one of the opposing soldiers let a ladder down to her lover one night, and he, after rendering her unconscious, opened the main gate to the king's soldiers."

"Why was the lang besieging Dun Broc?" asked Velvet.

He smiled. " 'Twas a small dispute over a pretty lady. The lady, however, preferred my ancestor and married him after he had carried her away. The king broke in and found them honeymooning, but instead of being angry he is said to have laughed, admitted he was well bested, and given them a wedding gift of a golden candelabra, which you will see on the sideboard in the Great Hall tonight."

Velvet laughed. " 'Tis a very romantic place that is to be my home." Then she turned, her face radiant. "It's beautiful even from here, Alex, and I know that I'm going to love it!"

"Let's go home then, lass," he said, and they began their descent into the glen.

"The earl is coming!" A barefooted boy ran at top speed through Broc Ailien shouting, "The earl is coming!" He was proud to be the first one to trumpet the news.

The cottage doors flew open, and the residents of the village poured forth to welcome their lord and his wife. Broc Ailien, Velvet noted, was more prosperous-looking than so many of the other villages that they had passed through. Some of the cottages had front gardens that did indeed boast flowers, and those that didn't had boxes of herbs on the windowsills. The faces were smiling and filled with welcome; the men casting approving looks at Velvet, the women nodding slyly at one another.

"Welcome home, m'lord!"

"Welcome to yer lady, m'lord!"

"God bless ye both, m'lord!"

The greetings came thick and fast, and Velvet couldn't help smiling. Alex, who knew each and every resident of his village, had a word for them all. "Allan, I thank ye kindly! Gavin, ye've gotten fat while I've been gone. Hae ye been poaching in my woods again, man? Jean, another bairn? This will make three in three years, won't it?" They looked absolutely delighted to see him, to be acknowledged so personally. He knew all about them, their problems, their strengths, their weaknesses, and Velvet could tell that they loved him for it.

There was a small village square with a Celtic cross to mark it, a small inn, and a little church in Broc Ailien. This is a good place to live, thought Velvet. Then a woman stepped directly in front of Alex's horse. She was petite and blond, and she was holding up a child, a little girl.

"Will you not bid your daughter a good day, Alex? Have you brought her a fine gift as I promised her?" the woman asked boldly.

"Ye should nae promise what ye canna give, Alanna," Alex said quietly, and attempted to move his horse by her and her child.

Alanna poked her daughter, and as if on cue the child cried out, "Papa! Papa!" She was too tiny to say much more, but it had its effect.

Unable to help himself, Alex reached down and took the child up into his arms. "How are ye, Sibby?" he asked, his face tender. It was obvious that he loved his daughter.

It was as if someone had thrust a knife into her vitals so sharp was the pain. Velvet turned her head away, and quick tears filled her eyes, but only Pansy saw them. The tiring woman glowered at Alanna Wythe, but the blond English girl merely tossed her head and smiled boldly.

"Is this your wife, then Alex?" she said.

Without answering her, the earl handed her back the baby, then turning to Velvet said, "We're almost there now, sweetheart. Ye're beginning to look tired." Then they moved on and rode out of the village.

Jean Lawrie, the goodwife to whom Alex had spoken, looked archly at Alanna Wythe. "Ye'd best beware, ye bold baggage! I've known Alex Gordon my whole life, and I can tell ye that he'll nae put up wi' yer forwardness, nor will he allow ye to offend his bride."

"You've two daughters, don't you, Mistress Lawrie? If you want that fine son you're carrying to be born safe, I'd not offend me." Alanna's eyes narrowed.

Jean Lawrie crossed herself. "Oh, ye're a bad one, ye are! Ye'll nae frighten me though. I dinna believe the tale that ye're a witch. Perhaps ye can fool some of the younger girls in this village wi' yer love charms and potions, but ye canna fool me. If ye're so all-powerful, then why has yer witchcraft not kept the earl's favor?"

"Alex loves me," Alanna Wythe declared firmly.

"Humph," snorted Jean Lawrie. "Ye're a fool if ye believe that, lass. I saw the look he gave his beautiful wife. He'll hae her belly filled in nae time at all, and when her son is born, he'll nae gie ye another thought. He wouldn't now except for wee Sibby." Then she flounced off, satisfied at having bested the Englishwoman.

Angrily Alanna stared after her, but then she turned to look after Alex. She had given him a child, and what was her reward? A cottage in this backwater village and a pension that could barely keep them. She detested keeping house, and no woman in the village would work for her. Sybilla was forever hanging onto her skirts, whining for this or that. Alanna hated it here, but eventually she would be back at Dun Broc with a servant to care for her and another to look after her brat. She had already begun casting charms that would bring Alex back to her and away from the proud bitch who had not even bothered to look at her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Alex apologized as they reached the narrow, walled road that led up to Dun Broc.

Velvet took a deep breath. " 'Twas not your fault, Alex, but now perhaps you'll see why she must go. She'll not give you up, and she uses the child to gain your attention."

"If I send her away, God only knows what will happen to wee Sybilla, and she's a bonny little bairn, Velvet. Surely ye saw that?"

"I did not notice, Alex, but you could give the child to some kindly village woman to raise. Surely she would be better off, and I suspect that Mistress Wythe will be happy to accept a bag of gold from you and her passage home to London."

"God, Velvet! I dinna think a great deal of Alanna, but what kind of woman would leave her child? She'll nae do it, I'm certain, but gie me a little time and I will try to have her gone before the winter sets in here. Be patient lass. Ye need nae see her again."

He couldn't know how his words wounded her, but she would not tell him of Yasaman. Instead she said, "I will see her each time I go down to the village, Alex, you may be certain of it."

"She'd nae be so bold," he said, and Velvet thought how little her husband knew women.

"You cannot be sure what she will do, Alex. Remember Mary de Boult," she warned. Then she changed the subject entirely, asking, "Where is your sister's house? Did you not say 'twas in this glen also?"

" 'Tis on the other side of the village," he answered. "We'll go there in a few days, but I am certain that we'll find both Annabella and Ian awaiting us at Dun Broc. Dinna invite her to spend the night or we'll nae get rid of her for a week."

"Alex! She's your sister, your only sister!"

"She's a spoilt and willful minx," he answered her. "When Mother and Nigel died, she moved herself and that weak-kneed husband of hers right into Dun Broc , and it wasn't until Father passed away that I was able to rid myself of her. She was already telling her bairns that they would inherit Dun Broc one day because I wasn't married or likely to be so. She herself could have made a better match than the one she made, but for some reason she wed wi' Ian Grant. I have never been able to understand it."

They were close to the head of the road, and Velvet could see the lowered drawbridge and the portcullis raised to welcome the castle's master. Suddenly upon the battlements appeared a lone piper whose bagpipe wailed a spirited tune that Alex told her was called "BrocCairn's Triumph." The sound of the pipe hovered in the air over the glen, the notes blending one into another until the last of the melody was played in a victorious burst. Velvet could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising in excitement.

"Tis how the chief is welcomed home," Alex said, "and today is a most joyful homecoming for my people because ye're with me, Velvet. They've long awaited their Countess of BrocCairn, lass. My mother's been dead close to five years now."

They passed over the drawbridge, the horses' hooves drumming on the heavy wood, and beneath the portcullis arch into the castle courtyard. On the south wall was the stables, with its blacksmith shop and its armory. Directly before them across the courtyard was the castle itself with its walled garden. The double-arched main doors of the castle were open, and waiting on the stone steps leading to them were a man and a woman.

" 'Tis Bella and her weakling," muttered Alex.

Velvet giggled. "Alex!" she admonished.

"Nay," he replied. "Look at her standing so proudly as if 'twas she who was the lady of the manor. The minx should be on the lowest step awaiting us, nae on the top!"

They rode up to the foot of the steps, and Velvet got her first good look at her sister-in-law. She was wearing a deep crimson silk dress, one of her best, Velvet suspected, which flattered her dark hair and gray-blue eyes. She had a pretty, fair-skinned face, but she did not look particularly like her brother, and Velvet suspected she favored their late mother.

Alex slid easily off his horse and, turning, lifted Velvet down from hers, kissing her on the nose as he did so. She laughed up at him, and he couldn't resist a chuckle himself. She looked so damned adorable in that outrageous riding outfit. Then, slipping an arm about her, he walked up the steps to where his sister and her husband awaited.

"Welcome home, brother," said Annabella Grant, but her very disapproving gaze was upon Velvet.

Alex kissed his sister in a perfunctory manner. "How nice of ye to be here awaiting us, Bella." He loosed his grip on Velvet and drew her forward. "My wife, Velvet Gordon, the new Countess of BrocCairn."

Annabella Grant was forced to curtsy, but as she inclined her head, Velvet, in return, said graciously, "You need not curtsy to me, sister." Then, taking the surprised woman by the shoulders, she kissed her upon both of her cheeks. "I do hope we will be friends," she finished.

"Of course," said Annabella, quite flustered by this young and beautiful woman in her outlandish garb. This was not how she had imagined this meeting would go. She was, after all, her new sister-in-law's senior by eight years, yet Velvet made her feel positively awkward.

Velvet tucked her arm through Annabella's. "I want to know everything about Dun Broc , and since it was your childhood home, I am sure you can tell me. When I ask Alex, all he can talk about is history and architecture."

Bella felt a burst of warmth suffuse her slender frame. Why Velvet was very much like herself. How wonderful! "Men," she said importantly, "simply dinna understand the running of a household, sister." She looked archly at her brother and her husband, and then, as if remembering something, she said with a wave of her hand, "This is Ian, my husband." But before Ian could open his mouth, she was chattering on again about the numerous details necessary to running a castle like Dun Broc , quoting her dear, departed mother frequently as they walked into the castle.

Alex couldn't help but grin. Bella was incorrigible. He turned to his brother-in-law. "How are ye, Ian? Is all well at Grantholm? And wi' my nephews?"

"Aye, Alex. The cattle ye gave us last spring hae prospered, and we've just slaughtered them. They'll bring a pretty penny, and I'll finally be able to make repairs to the roof."

"Ye dinna slaughter all the cattle, did ye, Ian?"

"Aye," came his brother-in-law's reply.

"God's nightshirt!" exploded Alex. "How in hell do ye expect to build yer herd if ye hae no cows to breed to my bull?"

"Bella said we couldna afford to keep the cows this winter if we were to make all the repairs needed. She said ye'd gie us new stock in the spring. That it was her right."

"Her right? Christ almighty, man, the only rights yer wife has are those ye gie her! I warned ye that I would not help ye again, Ian. Bella has no claims to Dun Broc , and ye both well know it. Ye should hae seen that ye couldna make all the repairs necessary to yer house this year. The roof would hae been a good start. If ye'll take my advice, ye'll repair it and save the rest of yer money to buy fresh stock in the spring."

Ian nodded. "I'm nae wise like ye, Alex, but I'll take yer good advice. Bella is nae easy to live with, ye know," he finished apologetically.

"She needs a stick taken to her," snapped Alex, "and until ye do it ye'll nae be able to control her. She's a willful wench, Ian. For God's sake, man, show some backbone!" He stamped up the steps into his home and, turning back to Ian, said, "Now take yer wife home, Ian. Ye know that the road is difficult in the dark, and 'tis getting close to sunset."

"Are we not to stay the night, then? Bella said we were to stay."

"The hell ye're going to stay! It's taken me three years to bring my wife home to Dun Broc , and I dinna intend to spend our first night at Dun Broc entertaining ye and my sister."

Annabella was outraged at her brother's behavior, and though Velvet pleaded sweetly, Alex held firm. Within a few short minutes the Grants of Grantholm were trotting down the narrow, walled road toward the glen and their own home. The portcullis was lowered, the drawbridge raised, the men-at-arms paced upon the castle heights, and Dun Broc was secured for the night. With a self-satisfied grin, Alex returned to his wife.

Velvet loved Dun Broc from the first moment she saw it. It was not a large castle. Indeed, there was an almost cosy air about it. The building was set firmly against the north wall of Dun Broc and ran along a portion of the northwest and northeast walls as well. The windows on these particular walls were high enough to prevent entry through them by an enemy, for it was this area of the castle that was the most vulnerable. Most of the views from Dun Broc faced south, west, and east.

The gardens on the west and southwest walls of the castle were badly overgrown, except for the small kitchen garden. It was still warm enough, Velvet thought, that something could be done there before winter set in. At the very end of the gardens, and directly off the castle itself, was a small chapel.

Dun Broc had been begun two centuries before when a laird of BrocCairn had fortified the mountaintop and started to build upon it. The first Earl of BrocCairn had been created by James IV as reward for his support in his war of insurrection against his father, James III. The last laird had fought against his son, the first earl, and died with his king, James III, at Sauchieburn along with his two younger sons. It was said that James Gordon, the first Earl of BrocCairn, was punished by God for his rebellion against not only James III but his own father as well in that he had but one child, his son, Alexander. The second earl was also childless but for a single daughter.

Lady Alexandra Gordon, the heiress to BrocCairn, was a wild and willful girl with flaming red hair and black eyes. At fourteen she had attracted the attention of James V, the handsome and unmarried king. For close to a year Alexandra had held the king at bay, only yielding to her liege after a handfast marriage that James Stewart afterwards denied. Alexandra had died in childbirth at sixteen, bearing the king a son, Angus Gordon, the third Earl of BrocCairn. Young Angus, though recognized by his father, was raised by his grandfather and bore his name, not the king's. Angus was matched with Isabel Leslie who bore him two living sons and a daughter, of which Alex and Annabella were the survivors.

Since the time of the creation of the earldom, Dun Broc had grown: its walls going higher; sprouting round towers from which the land below might be viewed; its manor house giving away to the small jewel of a castle that now held sway over the bailey.

Within the castle Velvet found a fine, good-sized hall containing two large stone fireplaces to heat it. There were several large, beautiful tapestries hanging upon the walls, the stone floors were swept clean, and the tables were well polished. Bella's handiwork, Velvet thought, and reminded herself to thank her sister-in-law. The air was fragrant from the applewood fires and bowls of sweet herbs that had been discreetly placed about. The main level of the castle also contained the steward's office, Alex's private library, the kitchens, storage rooms with their casks, barrels, and boxes, as well as the granaries and the servants' hall. There were more storage rooms, as well as the castle's dungeon in the cellars below. On the upper level of Dun Broc were the family quarters, consisting of the earl's apartments, which adjoined the countess's, guest chambers, and the nursery. The servants slept in the attics above.

Alex led his wife to the kitchens so that she could meet Dun Broc's cook. A big-boned woman came forward at their entry, a smile upon her handsome face. Her dark hair was liberally streaked with gray, and she carried herself proudly.

"So here she is," the woman declared in a deep voice. "Welcome home, m'lady!" Then she curtsied.

Alex smiled at the woman. "Velvet, this is Morag Geddes."

Velvet looked closely at the cook and, suddenly seeing the resemblance, asked, "Are you Dugald's mother?"

"I am," came the reply, "and my son tells me that we both owe ye a great debt of gratitude, for ye saved the life of my only grandson."

"But how could you know that already?" demanded Velvet, astounded.

Morag Geddes laughed. "There's nae witchcraft about it, m'lady. Dugald rode on ahead of the main party to prepare me for the wonderful surprise. He says the lad is the spit of him. Is it true, then?"

"Aye," said Velvet, smiling, "and he's a fine little boy, too."

"Well, then," replied the big woman, "perhaps I'll take to the English girl my son's wed wi'."

"I've known Pansy all my life," Velvet said, hiding her smile, "and I am certain that you'll like her, but, more important, she loves Dugald."

" 'Tis something to be said for that," replied Morag.

The kitchens smelled wonderful, reminding Velvet that she was very hungry, but nothing would do until Alex had showed her the upper level with their quarters. "I had the countess's apartments redone before I first came to England to fetch ye," he said, his voice holding an almost boyish note, anxious and seeking her approval.

"I'm sure they will be lovely," she said in reply, but secretly she wished he had not presumed to do such a thing without even knowing her first. When, however, she went through the door into her chambers, she was stunned and delighted.

It was not a large apartment, but both rooms overlooked the gardens below and a view west-southwest over the mountains. Each room had a large fireplace: the one in the dayroom flanked by carved stone dogs, the one in her bedchamber guarded by two winged angels. In both rooms wooden floors had been laid over the stone, and upon the floors were beautiful, thick, wool India rugs of acceptable quality. With a pang of remembrance, Velvet felt her feet sink into the carpet, and she wondered where he had obtained them and when but she did not ask. She never would.

The dayroom's main window was bowed, and there was a window seat within it. The drapes and the upholstery were coral-colored velvet sewn with threads of gold. There was a lovely rectangular table of polished oak in the center of the room, and upon it sat a blue and white porcelain bowl filled with heather. Two carved chairs with their plump cushions were before the fireplace, one on each side. At one wall there was an oak sideboard with carved legs, its polished top reflecting the candlelight from the twin candelabra on either end of it. At another wall stood a tall, two-door oaken chest. The walls were paneled, and the ceiling was of coffered oak. Above the fireplace was a magnificent tapestry depicting a handsome hunter closing in with his dogs on a big stag. There was something familiar about the man.

"The tapestry was worked by my grandmother, Alexandra Gordon. She did it in the two years that she knew King James V. It is his face ye see on the hunter."

"Were these her rooms, Alex?"

"Aye. 'Tis said the king used to visit her here."

"That's very romantic," Velvet mused, "and I love the room, Alex!"

"Come and see the rest of yer apartments, lass," he invited.

To Velvet's further delight her bedchamber was as lovely as the dayroom. Here, however, the draperies were of peacock blue velvet. There was a fine, big bed with hangings on silver rings that could be pulled around to enclose it. Upon the bed was a coverlet of red fox. There was a candlestand on one side of the bed and a large carved oak chest against one wall. The bowed window, the mate to the one in the dayroom, also had a window seat, and beside it was a round table containing a pewter bowl of late roses. Above the fireplace was a second tapestry, this one showing a seated pair of lovers embracing upon a hillside.

Velvet looked up at it. "Surely the lady Alexandra didn't do that tapestry as well as the one in my dayroom?"

"My mother did this tapestry," he replied. "These were her rooms also from the time she married my father. She worked the piece early in their marriage. She found the story of my grandmother a very romantic, if sad one. The lovers are supposed to be James and Alexandra. Two years after I was born my mother lost a set of twins and was ill for some months afterwards. She had a great deal of time upon her hands, and she spent a good bit of it designing and weaving the tapestry." He slipped his arms about his wife and drew her back against him. "I dinna want to think of past lovers, lass," he murmured in her ear. His hands slid up to cup both her breasts. "Ye're so damned tempting, Velvet Gordon."

She tingled deliciously beneath his seductive fondlings, but then she sighed and said, "I'm hungry, Alex!" and tried to squirm away.

"So am 1," he answered, holding her fast. Then he turned her so that she faced him and, looking down at her, said softly, "I want to make love to ye, my bonny wife." His fingers undid her clothing as he spoke. "We are home at last, my beautiful Velvet. Home! I have dreamed of this moment for more than two years, lass! Dreamed of our being here, together, in this room." His lips brushed her temple, and her silk shirt slipped to the rug. He had already managed to remove her jerkin and belt.

Velvet's eyes closed unbidden as a lovely languorous feeling filled her veins. She could feel his hands undoing her chemisette, and then her breasts were bared. His head dipped to take a soft nipple in his warm mouth. She murmured softly, a pleased little sound that encouraged his boldness, and her hands stroked his head. Food was forgotten as hunger for another pleasure swept over her. She helped him to remove her lower garments, and then nude, she began to undress him.

Passion devoured him as she teasingly unbuttoned his silken shirt. He could feel himself hardening as her soft fingertips feathered themselves over his broad chest. Her touch was almost painful, so intense was his desire to possess her. He couldn't wait for her, and with an impatient snort he almost tore the rest of his clothes off.

With a smile Velvet took his hand and drew him over so that they could see themselves reflected in the tall, silver-edged pier glass. "Are we not beautiful, my wild Highland husband?" she whispered as they stared at their naked forms in the mirror.

They were turned sideway, his arms about her waist. Her lovely full breasts pushed provocatively against his furred chest, and the rounds of her bottom were temptingly exciting to his eye. When she slipped her hand between their pressed bellies to catch him in her grasp, he groaned aloud; but she paid him little heed, caressing his length instead with a gentle, teasing touch that sent bursts of blazing desire flaming into his body and brain.

"Dear God, lass!" he managed to say through gritted teeth. "Ye're driving me wild!"

"Am I?" she teased him. "I love it when you grow so hard in my hand, Alex." Standing on her tiptoes, she bit his ear, whispering into it, "And I love it when you push yourself deep into me, my darling. You want to now, don't you?" she taunted him.

"What a vixen ye are," he said softly, and, sweeping her up, he moved swiftly to deposit her upon the bed. For a short moment he was startled by her creamy beauty upon the fox fur, and then he lowered himself down to join her. "A wicked, wanton vixen, my wild Highland wife; a vixen in need of taming."

Her emerald eyes glittered at him, and her little tongue swirled over her lips, moistening them. "Are you man enough to tame me, Alex?"

A lazy smile traveled all the way to his amber-gold eyes. "Aye, lass," he said slowly. "I think I'm more than man enough." He bent and kissed each of her breasts in turn. Then, sliding between her thighs, he surprised her by pulling her legs up and over his shoulders while his head found its way to her secret treasure.

Velvet felt her breath catch in her throat, and for a moment she couldn't breathe at all as she felt his tongue on her flesh. Slowly he licked the quivering insides of her satiny thighs. His tongue ran along the crease between each leg and her plump, pink Venus mont, traveling across the top of that temptation, finding its way to the moist cleft that hid even more secret delights. Shameless, she eagerly awaited his touch, her breath coming in short gasps, her fingers kneading the back of his neck. When at last his tongue found that sensitive little jewel, it was as if a fireball had burst within her. The pleasure was both unbearable and seemingly unending. She whimpered with pure bliss as his mouth wreaked havoc upon her tender body.

The first wave of rapture washed over her, and she cried his name in her wild passion. He raised his head slightly, a small smile upon his face, then returning to his sweet toil, he brought her to a second and third peak before drawing himself back up to find her mouth.

Her lips parted yearningly beneath his, and, filling her mouth with his tongue, he caressed hers for a long moment before drawing away and whispering softly, "That's how ye taste, my darling!" Then he pushed himself slowly into her warm and waiting body.

Velvet almost cried aloud as she felt his bigness filling her, so full that she couldn't believe her young body would be able to contain and satisfy him. "Ah, my love!" she finally sobbed, and knew in that moment that she was his once more. In her secret heart she called her "farewell" to Akbar. She would never allow what they had had together to haunt her relationship with Alex again. That time was over!

"Look at me!" His voice was fierce and demanding.

Her eyes opened, and he could see that they were filled with her passion for him, and her love. "Tame me, my wild Highland husband!" she challenged him.

Slowly he began to move on her, and then his tempo increased as he thrust faster and deeper, deeper and faster, into her burning sheath. He could feel her fingernails raking down his straining back, digging into his shoulders as he fanned the fires of her wild desires. Finally he could bear no more. "Ah, lass!" he cried aloud, " 'tis ye who've conquered me!" But Velvet didn't hear his confession, for he had taken her to the heights of their love, and then she plummeted down into a whirlpool of passion, sated.

In the village the following morning the goodwives gathered outside the kirk after morning prayer and gossiped with glee at the stories already coming down from the castle of how the earl had taken his wife to bed last night before they had even eaten dinner, that Morag Geddes's good meal had gone uneaten altogether!

"There'll be an heir for BrocCairn within the year," said Jean Lawrie, chuckling, "and that's certain!"

"Aye," the other women agreed, pleased.

"But how will the English witch take this news?" asked a young girl.

"Humph! She's nae a witch even if some silly gooses believe it. If she's a witch, then why did Lord Alex desert her for his bride? She has no power, girl," Jean Lawrie scolded.

"When she's willing to admit the truth, Alanna Wythe will return to England."

"I hope the earl will nae let her take her bairn. Poor wee girlie. She doesna hae an easy time wi' a mother who's nae really a mother to her at all," said another older woman.

Alanna Wythe heard it all, hidden in the shadows of the church she would not enter. Her anger was a black and bitter one. How she hated Velvet! If that woman had only stayed where she was, Alanna told herself, Alex would have eventually married her, and she, Alanna Wythe, would have been the countess of BrocCairn, not that red-haired bitch! They will pay for my pain, both of them, Alanna vowed. She didn't know how she was going to punish them, but she would indeed see that they suffered. She slipped silently away from the hurtful words of the women of Broc Ailien and hurried back to her own cottage where her daughter had awakened to find herself alone and was now wailing fearfully. Irritably Alanna slapped the baby.

"Be quiet, Sibby!" she snapped, but the child only howled louder. Annoyed, Alanna pulled her blouse down and pushed a nipple into her daughter's mouth. That at least would quiet the brat for the time being. She had been trying to wean Sibby for several weeks now. Her breasts were going to be ruined if she continued to allow the brat to keep tugging and sucking on them every day. God, how she hated children! She had only had Sibby in order to bind Alex to her. Even there she had been disappointed, for the baby turned out to be a girl and not the hoped-for son. No matter, she thought. He did have a certain weakness for the child, and that had certainly bettered her position with him even though his wife had returned.

She heard the back door to her cottage open and close, and she looked up, curious. A man stood in the shadows a moment, watching her nurse the child. Sibby had fallen back asleep against her mother's breast, and carefully Alanna returned her to her cot before she whirled and hissed at the intruder, "Are you mad to come here in daylight? What if one of those village biddies saw you?"

"Well, they didn't," he said. "I was careful, Alanna. Very careful. Besides, I needed to get out of the house this morning. I needed to see ye."

"What has happened?" She was instantly wary. This big fool of a man could ruin everything with his lack of caution.

"Bella started at me, demanding an accounting of the monies I received when I sold the cattle Alex gave us. I could hardly let her know I spent some of that gold now, could I, Alanna?" "What did you tell her, Ian?"

"Nothing," he said with a smirk. "Instead I took my good and wise brother-in-law's advice on how to handle my wife."

"What did you do?" She was very worried now.

"I took a stick and beat her bottom until she begged me for mercy, reminding her all the while that 'twas I who was master of Grantholm. God's cock, how she howled and struggled! If I'd known that beating Bella was so pleasant I'd hae done it years ago."

"You fool!" Alanna spat at him. "If she tells her brother, then Alex will ask those same questions. Couldn't you have just lied to her?"

"She'll nae go to Alex," Ian said with certainty. "It excited me so to beat her that when I finished I couldn't help fucking her. She'll nae sit or walk for several days, Alanna, and by that time she'll hae decided to say nothing. She won't want her brother and his wife to know what happened. Annabella is a proud little bitch."

He licked his lips, and his eyes glazed with the memory of his recent victory. Alanna could see that he was still quite hot with lust, for his cock thrust itself out against his red and green kilt. She marveled to herself that she had somehow managed to find the biggest cock she'd ever seen, in this damned Highland backwater, in this barbaric so-called country. It was Ian Grant's only redeeming feature, for he hadn't a brain in his head. She suspected it was his monster cock that had won him the hand of the fair Annabella Gordon. She somehow didn't think Alex's sister still relished her bargain.

"Alanna," he murmured hungrily to her, and came forward to turn her around and bend her over the cottage table. Tossing her skirts over her head, he thrust into her without any preliminaries. She grunted softly at his entry, but accepted his bigness as his hands fumbled to find her breasts, large breasts for such a tiny girl. He thrust with practiced regularity into her, and Alanna let the pleasure wash over her. When he had finished, her earlier irritation had been dispelled. Ian Grant knew enough about his one talent to know that the woman must also be satisfied if he was to be totally fulfilled.

Alanna straightened herself up and smoothed her skirts. Ian grinned down at her. "You're a good fuck," he said.

"Don't be seen leaving here," she said coldly.

"I'll be back tonight," he said smugly. "Jesu, I canna ever remember being so hot for a woman even after I've just had two." Then with a chuckle he was quickly gone the way he came.

"Fool!" she muttered after him, but she knew she'd welcome him back that night.