Chapter 17

V elvet's prayer had been echoed in Alex's heart a thousand times daily since he had learned of her kidnapping. Unable to gain anything of real value from Ranald Torc, he had returned to Broc Ailien where he sought out Jean Lawrie at her cottage. Her husband, Angus Lawrie, had been one of the six men with Velvet on the day of her kidnapping. Like his companions, he had been ruthlessly cut down by Ranald Torc's outlaws. The others had been young, unmarried, and untried men left behind due to their lack of experience because the mission to Huntley had held more danger than guarding the countess when she rode out. He had first visited the families of the other five paying them an indemnity for their loss, thankful there were no widowed mothers or single-son families amongst them. His visit to Jean Lawrie, however, was much harder, for he had known her since childhood when they had played together like brother and sister. Angus Lawrie had been her one and only love, and he had been, Alex thought with regret, a good man.

For several long moments he held his old friend in a close embrace and then said, "There is nae time now, Jeannie, but I promise ye that Ranald Torc will pay for Angus's death, and he will pay dearly. He owes us both a large debt."

She nodded, her eyes swollen from hours of weeping and worrying about her three children, now fatherless. "What of her ladyship, Alex?"

"She seems to hae disappeared off the face of the earth, Jeannie. I'm off to England tomorrow to her parents' home. Perhaps she fled there wi' Pansy. Dugald is as frantic as I am, and even Morag has expressed worry."

"Aye," said Jean, " 'tis very possible that she fled to her mother's house. 'Tis the natural thought of a young woman carrying her first bairn. Ye'll find her at her mother's right enough!"

"I hope so, Jeannie," said Alex feverently, "but now I want to speak wi' ye about yer future and that of yer bairns. This cottage is yers now, whatever ye decide. I'd like ye to come up to the castle and be nurse to Sibby and to the bairn Velvet will bear in the spring. Yer children can be brought up wi' mine, even given an education if they show an aptitude for it. Can ye care for Sibby knowing that her mother is Ranald Torc's wife?"

"Och!" said Jean Lawrie. "The little lass is nae responsible for who her mother is. Will her ladyship allow the bairn in the castle, however?"

"Aye," he said. "Ranald Torc told me that she had already fought wi' Alanna about it, saying she would raise Sibby as her own, and that she'd set the dogs on Alanna if she ever showed her face at Dun Broc again. She has a bonny spirit, my lass!"

"Go south to England, Alex, and bring yer wife home," said Jean Lawrie, patting his arm comfortingly.

Giving her a hug, the Earl of BrocCairn did just that, traveling swiftly with Dugald and but a dozen men-at-arms. Reaching Queen's Malvern in record time, the first person he saw was his mother-in-law.

Surprise was written all over Skye's face as Alex and his men rode up the drive. She had just returned from a long ride with Adam, who had taken their horses to the stable. "Alex! Where is Velvet? Isn't she with you?"

He felt his heart sink, and he slid from his mount to take her hand. "Madame," he said, "I had hoped that you could tell me where Velvet is."

"What?" Skye's blood ran cold in her veins.

"Velvet was kidnapped several weeks ago and taken to Leith. She managed to escape her kidnappers, but we have not be able to find her. She's disappeared entirely. I had hoped she had come to you."

"Who in hell kidnapped her?" Adam de Marisco had come from the stables in time to hear his son-in-law's brief explanation.

"Please, Adam!" Skye put a restraining hand on her angry husband's arm. "Let us go into the house and hear Alex's explanation. Can you not see how worried he is?" She led her husband, Alex, and Dugald into the library to settle them down with goblets of dark red wine, all the while moving as if in a dream, though none of the men noticed it. Velvet was her baby, perhaps the dearest of her children, if a mother who has borne eight children can have a favorite. They waited tensely until she had joined them, and then Alex began his tale.

When he had finished, Adam exploded with rage. "You entertained James Stewart's sworn enemy in your house, you damned fool? What in hell ever possessed you to consort with a traitor? If anything has happened to my daughter, my lord, I'll settle with you myself!"

"Lord Bothwell is nae a traitor, Adam!" rejoined Alex. "None of us can help it that the king is and always has been both envious and afraid of Francis. Oh, 'tis true that Francis sometimes deliberately bedevils Jamie, but it has always been that way between them, and a more loyal subject James Stewart never had than his cousin, Francis Stewart-Hepburn!"

"Where did you look in Leith?" Skye interrupted, finally beginning to regain her wits.

"Where could we look, Skye? She was gone from the lodging. There was no place else."

"Leith is a port, Alex. Did it ever occur to you that she might have taken passage on a ship?" Skye asked.

"But why?" he said, surprised.

"I don't know why, Alex. We will have to find Velvet to learn that, but if she did, then she had a very good explanation, you may be sure, unless you are not telling me everything. Were you both happy? Truly happy? Or did you still hold her responsible for the separation that you both suffered?"

"Nay, madame!" he cried. "We had long reconciled our differences. We were both happy. She loved Dun Broc , and everyone there loved her."

"Aye," chimed in Dugald. "The countess is beloved by our people, for she is kind and loving. She had nae enemies but for the English whore."

"Your …" Skye hesitated. "That woman , the silversmith's daughter, was still in the castle?" Her look was one of outrage.

"I hae not been involved with Alanna Wythe for three years," Alex said quietly. "When Velvet was to return, Alanna was yet living at Dun Broc although I had not slept wi' her for many months. I offered to send her back to London or to gie her a cottage in Broc Ailien. I dinna expect her to stay, for she hated Scotland, or so she claimed. When she took the cottage, I could not go back on my word. She was naught to Velvet but a nuisance, but that is all, I swear it!"

"She had your child," said Skye quietly.

"Aye, she did, and I will always care for the little lass," Alex answered honestly, "but Sibby is my bastard. The child Velvet carries is my heir."

"Velvet is with child?" Both Skye and Adam spoke in unison. "The bairn is due in early spring as near as Velvet could decide. Had she not written ye? But nay. She wouldna had the time, would she?"

"If my daughter was happy with you," said Skye, "then I cannot understand why she has left you, but before we can know for sure we must find her. I will send one of my own people to Leith. They will know the questions to ask and the places to ask them, Alex. Will you stay with us until we know something? If Velvet returns to Dun Broc on her own, your people will send for you."

"Aye," he answered her gratefully, "I'll stay, Skye, and I thank ye."

"My poor child, alone and friendless," muttered Adam.

"She isna alone!" snapped Dugald. "My wife is wi' her, and Pansy practically due again of a bairn. Yer daughter has the damndest sense of timing, if ye'11 excuse me, m'lord, for each time my wife is to gie me a bairn, off goes m'lady, and Pansy wi' her!"

Skye couldn't help but laugh, and even Adam and Alex were forced to smile. "I'm sure that Velvet doesn't do it deliberately, Dugald," Skye said.

Dugald sniffed, sounding as if he wasn't too convinced.

"Will you go and explain this all to Daisy?" asked Skye of Alex's man. "She'll know you're here and will be anxious for word of her daughter."

"Thank ye, m'lady, and I will," said Dugald, rising from the bench where he had been sitting and hurrying from the room.

"It is too late in the day," Skye said, "to send my messenger out now, but he shall have his instructions tonight and leave in the morning for Leith."

"I'll send my men wi' him," replied Alex. "They can help him through any rough spots once he's over the border."

Adam de Marisco said nothing. Rather, he slouched in his big chair, his large hand gripping his goblet tightly, his eyes smoldering with anger. He was regretting ever having given his precious daughter to this Scot, for her life had been one crisis after another since the day Alex Gordon had come into it. All Adam wanted was for her to be happy. Why was it, he thought, that parents having learned from their own mistakes, could not make life perfection for their children? The autumn was almost over. Winter was near. Was Velvet safe? Was she warm and decently clothed? Was she hungry or thirsty? A thousand unanswered questions plagued Adam, and for the time being it appeared that there were no answers.

* * *

Upon his return to Chenonceaux , Henri de Navarre had smiled mysteriously at the jovial teasing of his hunting companions. Had he been successful in his hunt? they asked. Had he managed in one night to bring the pretty auburn doe to ground? Henri said nothing, but his gentlemen, many of whom had been close friends since his youth, knew that the king's look of satisfaction meant that he had gotten precisely what he wanted. They genuinely admired his great capacity for loving women, and they equally envied his tremendous success with the fairer sex, which strangely had little to do with his rank. When he had been a carefree boy in Navarre running barefoot like a goat over the hillsides, there wasn't a woman he couldn't have. So they teased him good-naturedly, and though he said nothing, they knew his night had been a far pleasanter one than theirs.

Now the king called his close friend, Robert, the Marquis de la Victoire, to him and instructed him to engage the Scots ambassador in conversation and told him what to say to him. The matter was to be one held in the strictest secrecy. The ambassador was not to know why the king was interested in the Countess of BrocCairn, or even that it was the king who was interested. And it was important that the information be extracted as quickly as possible.

The marquis, an old friend of Navarre's, asked no questions himself, but rather he did as he was bid, and, to the king's surprise, the answers he sought were quickly forthcoming.

"The Earl of BrocCairn is a cousin of the king's," said the marquis. "He lives in a castle in the Highlands. He is a Gordon by blood, but a small lordling. His wife is said to be a young Englishwoman, but the ambassador does not know either of them."

"That is all?" the king said.

"Yes, monseigneur."

"And what of my old friend Fran?ois Stewart-Hepburn, Robert?"

"Ah, now that is a different story. Although the king has outlawed him and taken everything from him, he remains at his Border stronghold with, it is rumored, his mistress, a beautiful Scots noblewoman. The king fumes but is helpless to march on Lord Bothwell, for none of his earls will support him in this matter, and the common people adore the man. There the affair stands. The Earl of Bothwell cannot be caught, and the king will not make his peace with him though even the Scots ambassador admits that the earl is a loyal servant of James Stewart, and is very anxious to settle their differences."

"And nowhere in this situation is the Countess of BrocCairn mentioned?" demanded the king. "You are absolutely certain she is not involved in this tangle?"

"Monseigneur, I am as certain as I can be without asking the ambassador directly. He is a plain-spoken man, and we are friends. I helped him only recently with a rather delicate matter involving a lady of circumstance who had taken his fancy; but, alas, the ambassador's French is not of the courting variety. I interceded for him, and when the lady saw that the language this diplomat spoke was a universal one, she agreed to tutor him herself.

"I did ask him if the BrocCairns were involved with Lord Bothwell, saying that I had heard they were cousins. The ambassador laughed and said that most of the nobility are cousins of one degree or another in Scotland, thanks to James V, but that to his knowledge BrocCairn is a king's man even to the extent of taking an English wife so that he may one day follow James Stewart into England when he comes into his inheritance."

Henri nodded, satisfied, and dismissed the marquis. The lovely Velvet's fears were groundless. If at one point James Stewart had intended to use her as a pawn to bring Lord Bothwell down, that time was past and she was safe. He contemplated returning to Belle Fleurs and bringing her the news himself, but he quickly cast that thought aside. He did not really have the time, and, besides, if he saw her again, he would want to make love to her again, for she had been a most delicious armful. Velvet had been gracious enough to admit to his skill as a lover, to admit that she had taken pleasure from their coupling; but he knew that with the pleasure she had felt guilt as well, though she had yielded to him without complaint. The king would keep his promise to her and send for her husband, though the Earl of BrocCairn should never know from whence his summons had come.

In the night, that heavenly night he had spent in the silken arms of the Countess of BrocCairn, she had told the king of her home, the place in which she had grown up, a manor called Queen's Malvern , near the town of Worcester. She had spoken also of her home in Scotland, a castle with the improbable name of Dun Broc. He would send agents with messages to both places. If the earl was at neither abode, then he would simply have to search for him. A royal promise was a royal promise. Then he smiled to himself. The promise was not royal. It was the promise of Henri de Navarre. Calling his secretary to him, he dictated his instructions, including a simple message that he believed the earl would understand, but if the Scots ambassador had played him false and the message fell into the wrong hands, it would not be easily deciphered by anyone else.

At Queen's Malvern Christmas was bleak despite the presence of Skye and Adam's large family, who had descended upon them once more despite Skye's wish to be alone.

"You must not fall into the doldrums over Velvet's latest misadventure, Mama," scolded Willow, the Countess of Alcester.

"What Willow means, Mama …" began gentle Deirdre in an attempt to soften her elder sister's sharp tone.

"I am well aware of what Willow means!" exploded Skye. Then she rounded on her oldest daughter. "Do not talk down to me, madame! I have not reached my dotage yet. I have only just celebrated my fifty-first birthday. I have no need for wooden teeth, a wig, or a cane, and your stepfather and I yet make rather passionate love regularly!"

"Mama!" shrieked Willow, turning beet red.

Deirdre, however, could not help giggling at her mother's outrage, and Angel, far bolder, laughed outright at Willow's mortification. The men in the family were grinning openly, although Adam had only a hint of a smile about his lips.

"Please, Willow," continued Skye, "don't be the matriarch with me. That is my place now, though your time will come one day, I am certain. I requested privacy this holiday season because, my dear daughter, I am exhausted and worried sick over Velvet. As for Adam and Alex, neither has slept more than two or three hours a night in the last two months. Your motives are good, but your timing is deplorable. This is my house, Willow. Not yours. It is my place to invite guests, not yours."

"I only meant to make you happy, Mama," said Willow, very contrite.

"I know you did," said her mother with a deep sigh, "but will you please go home tomorrow?"

Willow nodded. "I thought the children would please you."

"They did," said Skye, softening. Dear Heaven, what would this proper English born-and-bred countess think if she knew that her deceased father had been known as the "Great Whoremaster of Algiers," thought Skye. She wanted to laugh, but she dared not, for she would have to explain her laughter, and Willow, overproud though good-hearted, would not like the explanation at all.

Robin put an arm about his mother. "Angel and I have to return to London anyway to oversee the preparations for the Twelfth Night masque. Come with us, Mama. You would enjoy seeing the queen, and she you. So many of her old friends have died lately. Walsingham last year, and Hatton this."

"She will outlive them all," said Skye. "Even that old spider, Cecil."

"Probably," agreed Robin, "but will you come?"

"Nay, love. If Velvet wants to get in touch with us, she will send to Dun Broc or Queen's Malvern. We must be here."

They departed the next day: the Earl and Countess of Alcester and their six children; Joan Southwood O'Flaherty and her five children; the Earl and Countess of Lynmouth and their brood of five; Lord and Lady Blackthorn and their three. Skye's oldest child and his family were on their estates in Ireland. It was unwise for the Irish gentry to leave their lands, for many returned to find they no longer possessed those lands. As for Padraic, Lord Burke of Clearfields Manor , he was at sea with his elder half brother, Captain Murrough O'Flaherty, for Skye had thought it was time that Niall Burke's only son have some experiences other than the quiet life he led on his small estate in Devon. And Velvet. Where was Velvet this Christmas season? Before Skye could dwell too deeply on this great worry, however, Daisy hurried into the hall where Skye sat before the fire enjoying the renewed quiet.

"A message for Lord Gordon, m'lady. Do you know where he be?"

"Here, Daisy," said Alex from the depths of the settle on the other side of the fireplace. "Who brought it?"

"I don't know, my lord. One of the stableboys brought it to the kitchen door. He said a stranger gave him a penny to deliver it to the house."

Skye sat up in her chair. "A stranger?"

"A man on horseback with a funny accent, the boy said, but you know that to these local lads any speech other than Worcester bred sounds foreign." Daisy handed the message to Alex.

"What does it say?" Skye demanded eagerly as Alex broke the thick wax seal and opened the heavy parchment to scan it quickly.

"I'm nae sure I understand it, Skye, for 'tis but one sentence."

"What does it say?" Skye had now risen from her seat.

"It says," Alex read slowly, " ‘The treasure that you seek is at Belle Fleurs,' but I dinna know what it means."

To his surprise Skye cried out, "Thank God! Thank God! Our prayers have been answered! Velvet is at Belle Fleurs , Alex! Velvet is safe in France at our chateau! Belle Fleurs is our home in the Loire. Velvet is the treasure! Who has signed the message?"

"There is no signature," he answered her, stunned. "Ye're sure that is what the message means?"

"Yes! Yes! It can mean nothing else, my dear Alex! Do you recognize the seal on the parchment?"

Turning the letter over, he looked down at the red wax, which was imprinted only with an N. "Nay," he said, handing it to her.

Skye looked down at the seal, but it was not familiar to her either. Clutching the message in her hand, she said, "We are going to France, Alex! I must find Adam! We are going to France!"

They sailed from Dover four days later bound for the port of Calais. Neither Skye nor Adam chose to chance an early January storm in the winter seas by sailing all the way to Nantes. They took with them their own coach with all its elegant comforts, but the horses would be waiting for them after their short passage in Calais and at various posting places along their route from the coast into the Loire. They skirted Paris, for the civil war yet raged within the city.

"It will not be long," Skye promised. "Just a few more days, Alex!"

Adam squeezed his wife's hand tightly. "We will be there by Twelfth Night with luck, and providing it doesn't snow!"

Alex said nothing. His heart was beating too quickly. Why had Velvet fled to France instead of returning home to Dun Broc when she had escaped Ian's clutches? Now he began to worry. Did she still love him, or had her weeks in captivity made her think twice about raising a child in such a wild land as Scotland? Knowing of his mother-in-law's ferocity with regard to her children's welfare, he expected Velvet to be no less fierce. Had she not threatened Alanna with bodily harm for being a bad mother to his bastard? Had she not said she would raise Sibby herself rather than allow Alanna to have the bairn back? That, however, was before she had fled. What had frightened her? The best Twelfth Night gift, he thought to himself, would be his reunion with his wife.

On Twelfth Night Velvet planned a small celebration for her little household. She even had gifts for them all, having raided the storeroom of the chateau. For old Mignon she had found a silver broach, which she had personally polished, removing years of black tarnish to reveal an engraving of raised flowers, each with a tiny ruby in its center. For Guillaume she had cut silver buckles off a pair of her father's old boots and polished them knowing that he would enjoy them greatly. For young Matthieu there was a puppy, for to everyone's surprise the old bitch in the kennels had given birth to a litter of two in mid-November. The boy had coveted a puppy, but dogs of breeding were usually reserved for the nobility. Since, however, the puppy's paternity was dubious, Velvet could see no harm in giving one to the lad. For Pansy, however, the best gift was saved. Velvet had been wearing a small pearl ring when they had been kidnapped. This she planned to present to her faithful tiring woman.

Mignon had prepared a little feast. There was a larded duck, a rabbit pie, and a small pink ham placed upon the sideboard along with a bowl of tiny white onions, a platter of mussels with Dijon mustard, artichokes that had been braised in white wine, a fat loaf of fresh bread, a crock of salted butter, and a hard yellow cheese. Velvet had insisted that Mignon and Guillaume eat with her on this occasion, and Mignon had accepted for her family with one provision. Matthieu would serve them, for his manners were not delicate enough to be seen at her ladyship's table.

The little hall had been trimmed with greenery, the fires burned merrily, and they were sitting down to their meal when the sound of a horse was heard outside. Old Guillaume hobbled to the door, opening it to admit the king.

"Ah, chèrie , you are ready to eat, and I am starving!" He kissed her heartily on both cheeks, holding her away from him to gaze at her. "Ah." He smiled warmly. "The little one is now showing! You are well?"

"Yes, monseigneur, I am very well." She looked helplessly at her servants, but the king quickly ascertained the cause of her distress.

"Sit, mes amis!" he commanded them. "Your mistress planned to share this meal with you, and now with your permission I will join you also. Madame Mignon! You have prepared another veritable feast. Your pretty mistress thinks I have come to see her, but you will note that I have arrived at the dinner hour! Who do you think I really came to see, eh?" He laughed uproariously.

Within minutes he had them all at their ease, though young Matthieu was goggle-eyed at serving the king. To his grandparents' nods of approval he did himself proud, so much so that Guillaume later promised to speak to the Comte de Cher about a place as a footman for the boy.

"What are you doing here?" asked Velvet as they ate.

"I came to wish Queen Louise a happy New Year," said the king. I am at Chenonceaux but one night. I also wanted you to know that my investigations of your difficulties reveal that if you had any cause for fear, it is now gone. I do not believe that your captor ever reached the chancellor, Maitland. I have sent word to both your home in Scotland and your parents' home in England on the chance that your husband is there, that you were to be found at Belle Fleurs. My agents have not yet said if the messages were delivered, but then they have not said that they were not. I suspect you will hear from your husband long before I hear from my messengers, chèrie!"

Velvet could feel the relief wash over her. "I can go home!" she said, and the smile on her face was the loveliest thing he had ever seen.

"You cannot travel in your state, chèrie. You will have to wait for your husband to come to you. He would not thank you if you endangered either yourself or the child."

"How can I thank you?" Velvet said with genuine feeling.

"You did," he said softly, so that only she could hear, "and most magnificently, madame la comtesse. It will be a long time before I forget that stormy night in November. I did not even plan to see you again, for I did not see how I could and not desire you. I am weak where women are concerned, however, and being so near at Chenonceaux it was impossible to spend the evening with Queen Louise, her carp, and boiled vegetables when you were nearby."

Before Velvet could answer the king, however, there came the sounds of a coach outside. "Who can that be?" she wondered out loud as Guillaume haltingly hurried to open the door again.

"Madame!" Velvet heard him say. "Welcome home!"

She leaped to her feet as her mother came into the hall. "Mama!"

Skye caught her daughter in a fervent embrace. "Oh, my darling child! You have had us all so terribly, terribly worried!"

"Alex?" Velvet begged. "Is he with you?"

The king looked past the women to see the two men who had entered the hall. The elder he assumed was Velvet's father, the younger her husband. Skye released her daughter and stepped aside. For a long moment no one in the hall moved. It was as if they had been frozen in time. The Earl and Countess of BrocCairn had eyes for no one but each other, and the deep, passionate look that passed between them told Henri de Navarre that they were that most fortunate of married couples—one who loved each other. Then suddenly they moved toward one another: Velvet, a trifle ungainly, running; Alex closing the space between them in several long leaps, catching his wife into a fierce embrace, his mouth covering hers in a bruising kiss that left her somewhat speechless.

His amber eyes blazed down into her face. "Why did ye leave me, lass?" he said. "Why didn't ye come home to Dun Broc when ye escaped from Ian?"

She clung to him, weakened by his embrace, her heart pounding wildly. "I fought with Ian that day, and he slammed from the rooms where we were held captive saying that he was going immediately to Maitland and would turn me over to the king that very day. When Pansy and I realized that we were alone, we escaped. I didn't dare go home to Dun Broc for fear that the king would find me and use me to entrap Francis. I would have sooner died than been the cause of his downfall! I didn't dare go to my parents for the same reason. I feared the king would send to England for me. The only place that I knew Jamie wouldn't think to look for me was here at Belle Fleurs , Alex, and once I was here I couldn't even send you word that I was safe for fear my message would be intercepted; that the king would prevail upon his French allies to return me to Scotland. I could only wait and hope that James and Francis would resolve their differences so that I might return to you."

"But someone did know ye were here, lass. Someone sent a message to yer mother's home telling us where to look for ye," Alex said.

" 'Twas I," said the king, stepping forward. "Henri de Navarre, at your service." He made an elegant bow. "I am relieved that you understood my somewhat cryptic message, for I did not wish to endanger your wife if my agent's information about James Stewart's lack of interest in her proved incorrect."

Skye and Adam de Marisco stiffened with shock as they recognized a somewhat older but nonetheless familiar face.

Alex, who knew the French king's reputation, said a trifle suspiciously, "How is it that ye know my wife, monseigneur?"

"She saved my life, monsieur. Several months back I was visiting Queen Louise at Chenonceaux. Chenonceaux is not what it once was, for Louise de Lorraine now lives to mourn my predecessor, even going so far as to drape the entire chateau in black crepe." He shuddered delicately. "It is criminal what she has done! Nonetheless, it is my duty to visit her several times a year, a sacrifice on my part, monsieur, I assure you, for she serves meals that reek of penance. The woman's life is a living Lenten season, but I digress. My gentlemen and I had gone hunting to escape the funereal atmosphere of the place, and as usual," Navarre said somewhat smugly, "I out-rode them in the chase. Mon Dieu! That stag was magnificent! I only wish I had caught him!

"It grew dark suddenly, as it can do in autumn, and I could no longer hear my companions, the stag had disappeared, and I suddenly found myself lost. I fell into your lake in my wanderings. Your wife heard my cries for help and ordered lights to be brought. It was she who found me just as the storm broke and helped to pull me from the waters.

"The night was pitch black, and the storm wild in its intensity. Madame la comtesse graciously sheltered me, and Madame Mignon fed me a magnificent beef ragout. I was able to safely return to Chenonceaux in the morning, to the relief of all of France," he concluded. "Would you not say that I owed your wife a great debt? Before I left I asked her how I might repay her hospitality, not to mention the fact that she had saved my life. Swearing me to secrecy, she told me of her predicament and asked if I could help her. I was not certain that I could, but I offered to try. You see, Comte de BrocCairn, your cousin, Fran?ois Stewart-Hepburn, is a very old friend of mine, and although France has allied itself with Scotland, I hold no love for James Stewart.

"I knew from Velvet of both her home in Scotland and her parents' home in England. I sent my agents with messages to both places. You saw my initial in the sealing wax, did you not?"

"N," said Alex. "N for Navarre!"

"Mais oui!" Henri grinned.

"How do I thank ye?" said Alex, and Velvet held her breath.

The king smiled charmingly. "By enjoying France's bounteous hospitality until your child is born, Comte de BrocCairn. Your wife cannot travel in her condition."

Alex turned back to kiss his wife as the king went politely to greet Velvet's parents whom he had not really looked at yet. As his eyes met those of Skye's, they widened. "You!" he said, stunned. "You are Velvet's mother?" His mind swung back almost twenty years to a night when he had possessed this fabulous woman; a night of the most incredible passion he had ever known; a night cut short by equally incredible violence; the night of the Saint Bartholomew's Day massacre.

"Velvet was born almost nine months after, monseigneur," she said very softly as she divined his thoughts.

Henri de Navarre went white with shock. Holy Mother! Was it possible that Velvet was his daughter, that he had unknowingly committed incest with his own child? Loathing surged through his body, and he could taste the bile in the back of his throat.

Skye watched the play of emotions on the king's face, and she knew precisely what he was thinking. She had never expected to be able to revenge herself upon Henri de Navarre for the rape of her person those many years ago, for the misery of the months that followed when she believed the child she carried was his. Now fate had played into her hands. She didn't have to say one word. He already believed it!

Then Adam spoke softly in her ear. "Forgive him, little girl, if not for my honor, for your own. He already has many blots upon his soul. Do not put this one upon yours."

She sighed, and then said, "Velvet is not your daughter, monseigneur."

"You are sure?" He still looked shaken.

"I was not until she was born," Skye said truthfully, "but she bears a birthmark that has been borne for centuries by the women in her father's family."

"The little black heart atop the left hip," said the king softly, his relief evident.

"You bastard!" hissed Skye, so low that only he heard it.

Henri de Navarre held his hands palms turned outward as he gave a little shrug of resignation. "Chérie , did you expect any less of me?" he said.

Skye shook her head and laughed ruefully. "No," she answered him frankly, "I did not."

"You have not changed," he said. "You are still the most beautiful woman I have ever known."

"And you, monseigneur, are still, despite the civilized veneer of kingship that you bear, a rude boy!"

The king laughed. "I must go," he said, "before it gets dark, and I fall once more into your lake. It will be a cold ride to Chenonceaux , and last night I could hear the wolves."

"I always promised myself that if we ever met again I should kill you, monseigneur," said Adam de Marisco, "but it seems that having restored my only child to us I must count us even."

The king nodded. "Adieu , Lord de Marisco, Comte de BrocCairn," he said to the two gentlemen, and then he turned to Skye and Velvet. "It has been good to see you again, chèrie," he said to Skye as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it slowly. Then he took Velvet's hand and kissed it also. "Farewell, chèrie ," he said softly. "Be happy!" And, turning, he was swiftly gone from the hall.

Her eyes widening with surprise and sudden certainty, Velvet looked at her mother. "Mama?" she asked.

Skye's mouth turned up in a mischievous smile that acknowledged her daughter's unspoken question. "Yes, chèrie," she said.

"Mama!" Velvet repeated, and then the delighted laughter of mother and daughter filled the hall at Belle Fleurs as they shared their newfound kinship.