Chapter 6

L ate autumn of 1588 was an incredible social whirl for those who followed the court of Elizabeth Tudor. Capping the season, on November 17, the queen left Somerset House in a state procession for St. Paul's. The great parade was headed by palace officials, followed by London's aldermen and judges all done up in their finest clothes. Next came the Lancaster, York, Somerset, and Richmond heralds introducing the dukes, marquesses, earls, and viscounts. It was among these that Lord Southwood and his brother-in-law, the Scots Earl of BrocCairn, mingled.

Then came the lord treasurer of England, William Cecil, Lord Burghley, in his fur-trimmed black velvet gown, his heavy gold chain of office about his neck. With him was the lord chancellor of England, Sir Christopher Hatton, resplendent himself in black velvet with gold lace, his own badge of office shining in the November daylight. These two worthies were followed by the archbishop of Canterbury, John Whitcliff, the archbishop of York, the French ambassador, the lord mayor of London, and the nobleman chosen to carry the Sword of State, who was surrounded by the sergeants-at-arms.

Finally came the queen's Gentlemen Pensioners , and at last Elizabeth Tudor herself, riding in her open chariot with its canopy sporting waving white plumes, and gilded crown resplendent. The queen was magnificent in a cloth-of-silver gown embroidered with tiny diamonds and pearls so that she glittered with the slightest movement in the cold lemon-colored light. The sleeves of the gown as well as the hem and the overskirt were trimmed in purest white ermine. She wore no cloak, but beneath her voluminous skirts her ladies had insisted upon her wearing flannel petticoats and a fur-lined underblouse. Upon her head was a fiery red wig topped by a sparkling diamond, pearl, and sapphire crown. The crowds on Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill went wild with shouting. She was their Bess.

Arriving at the west door of St. Paul's Cathedral, the queen stepped out of her chariot and entered the great church. Once inside, she knelt in the aisle to pray silently. Then she was led to her place of honor in the choir where the litany was chanted to her. The great Armada victory was graciously attributed to the winds and the tides sent to aid a just English cause by a beneficent God. No mention was made of the valiant English seamen who, though low on rations and ammunition, had by their sheer courage and skill wrought this miracle. Lord Howard, the lord admiral, listening to the pious prelates and their chanting, thought it was ironic that the English survivors of the great victory had been paid their wages by the crown only when he had finally threatened to take the money from his own pocket. As it was, he had had to go among the English coastal villages begging shelter for many of the wounded seamen who otherwise would have been left in the streets, for now that the danger was past, the people were quick to forget.

Crowded into a pew with some dozen people, Velvet and her sister, the Countess of Alcester, and their sister-in-law, the Countess of Lynmouth, shifted uncomfortably and wondered if their gowns would be ruined in the crush. The entire day was to be one great fête. After they left St. Paul's they would return to Whitehall where there would be jousting in the tiltyard, followed by feasting and dancing. On the morrow Velvet's officially sanctioned English wedding to Alex was to take place, this ceremony to be performed by the archbishop himself. Velvet smiled to herself as she once again wished her parents here, but this time for a far different reason. How Adam and Skye would laugh, seeing the delicious humor in all these many weddings, Velvet thought.

At last the ceremony of thanksgiving was finished, and the queen left St. Paul's for her return to Whitehall Palace. The court began to file out behind her in one enormous, if somewhat confused procession, as they made their way down Ludgate Hill. The day that had begun bright and clear was now, as the afternoon wore on, growing gray and cloudy, and there was a sharp wind off the river. It was not cold enough for snow, but rain was a very distinct possibility.

"I hope the rain holds off long enough for the jousting," said Velvet, for she had never seen this type of entertainment.

"Unless it pours they'll joust," remarked Willow.

"In the rain?" Velvet exclaimed.

"The spectator seats in the tiltyard are covered," said Angel. "And the queen loves the sport. There was no time for such frivolity this past summer with the Spanish threat."

"Thank God that's over and done with!" was Willow's brisk reply. "The Spanish will think twice before they come at us again. I far prefer peace for my children. I should not like to think I was raising Henry, Francis, and Adam for cannon fodder! Then, too, if there continues to be all these wars there will be no suitable husbands for Cecily and Gabrielle."

"Or for Elsbeth, Catherine, or Cecily," replied Angel.

Willow's amber eyes grew warm with her approval. "You like Robin's girls, don't you?" she said.

"How could I not like them!" Angel cried. "They are such adorable little creatures, and, Willow, you will never guess! They call me Mama!"

"It means that they've taken to you," Willow replied. "They'll never remember Alison as they were far too young when she died, though they'll, of course, be told you're only their stepmother. Yes, they're young enough for you to train in your own ways, but remember to spare not the rod else they be spoilt."

Velvet smiled to herself as she listened to her oldest sister who only a short while ago had been so suspicious of Angel's motives for marrying Robin. And Angel! What had happened to that wordly-wise and impudent royal ward? Velvet's smile broadened. Willow and Angel were two of a kind. They were family-oriented, loving, strong women who would always put husband and children first and foremost above all. Velvet admired them though she didn't think that she would ever be like them. How strange, she thought, that she, the youngest of all her mother's children, should be the most like her in spirit. She would have liked to have shared that new knowledge with Skye, too.

They finally reached Whitehall where, to their vast relief, Angel told them that she and Robin had a small apartment where they could go to refresh themselves and repair any damages done to their coifs and gowns. When they reached it, Jane, Angel's tiring woman, hurried to fetch warm water so that they might bathe their hands and faces. Then she helped them to redo their hair and brushed their gowns free of wrinkles and dust.

Each woman was wearing a gown of velvet as it was far too cool to wear silk outdoors now. They looked like rare gems in their colorful dresses: Willow in a deep ruby red, Angel in a magnificent sapphire, and Velvet in a rich amethyst color. Refreshed by the pleasant golden wine that Jane offered them, they refastened their fur-lined cloaks, which matched their gowns, and prepared to find their way to the tiltyard for the jousting. There they would meet their husbands, and all of them had been invited to sit near the queen.

To their intense embarrassment Elizabeth Tudor was already there when they arrived, but with a gracious wave of her hand she overlooked their tardiness. "The crowds were mighty," she remarked, offering them the excuse, and they nodded and agreed with her. The queen gazed briefly at them, then noted, "You're a pretty trio of jewels, I vow."

"Your Majesty is too kind," said Willow, smiling.

Elizabeth chuckled. "Willow," she said, "if you were a man you'd be the perfect courtier. It amazes me each time I remember who your mother is."

"My mother," said Willow, "has ever been Your Majesty's loyal servant."

"Only, my dear, when it suited her," said the queen, laughing, "but I have no quarrel with my dear Skye. Perhaps the reason we have always chafed at each other is that we are basically alike. What have you heard from her of late? When may we expect her back in England? I am anxious to learn if her voyage has been successful."

"There has been no word of late, Your Majesty, which in itself is unusual, for Mama usually keeps a ready line of communication open between herself and London. We only know what she wrote last. From that letter we expect they will be home in the spring."

The queen nodded, then said softly as if to herself, "It is vital that she succeed!" Then she fixed her glance on Angel. "Tell me, my lady Southwood, is married life all that you envisioned it would be? Are you happy?"

"Aye, madame! My lord husband is the kindest and most loving of men. I can never repay Your Majesty for allowing me to be his wife." Angel's beautiful face was radiant with her happiness.

"You are very fortunate then, my little Angel, for it is not always so. Is the rumor true that you're already with child?"

"I believe it is so, madame."

"In that, too, you are fortunate," the queen remarked.

"We should name it after Your Majesty, but we already have an Elsbeth."

The queen's laughter was a sharp bark. "Nay, my lady Southwood! 'Twill be a boy, I am certain, and you should name it Geoffrey after your husband's father! There was a man now! I hope your son will be his like!"

"I shall tell Robin that Your Majesty wishes it," responded Angel sweetly.

The queen now turned her gaze to the tiltyard. The joust was one of her favorite forms of entertainment, as it had been her father's. Greenwich, Hampton Court, and Whitehall all had tiltyards. There were three styles of jousting. The first was the Tilts, where horsemen used blunted spears. The second was called the Tourney in which they used swords. The third form of the joust was called the Barriers, and here the opponents fought on foot, alternating between pike and sword. Mock jousting was often the highlight of banquet entertainment and court masques.

Since jousting was the only other type of organized sport in Tudor England apart from archery contests, many came to watch the pageants. A seat in the stands could be had for twelve pence. A courtier not invited to the queen's box had to fend for himself. Thus it was that many a nobleman and his lady found themselves sharing space with the London public.

The champions, each wearing his own distinctive color, brought their horses into the arena to the sound of trumpets, and the pageant was begun. The servants of those jousting were also dressed in colorful garb, some like savages, some like ancient Britons with long hair hanging to their girdles, and others wore horses' manes. Some of the knights entered the arena first in carriages, their horses made to look like unicorns with finely wrought, twisted gold horns centered upon their foreheads. Others had their vehicles drawn by blackamoors garbed in balloonlike scarlet pantaloons and cloth-of-gold turbans. The proudest of the knights arrived already in full shining silver armor upon their own spirited and beautiful horses, proudly showing off their mounts' skills.

Each knight with his servant, upon reaching the barrier, stopped at the foot of the staircase leading to the queen's box. The servant, in pompous attire of his master's special pattern would climb the steps and offer the queen a little speech in well-composed verse or a silly jest that would make her and her ladies and guests laugh. When the speech was ended, the queen was presented with a costly gift in the name of his lord, and Elizabeth then gave her permission for the knight to take part in the tournament. When all the knights had presented themselves thusly to the queen, the jousting began.

Among the knights this day was the Earl of Lynmouth, the Earl of BrocCairn, and the Earl of Alcester. Although Willow fussed noisily about her husband's taking part in the sport— "James must remember that he is no longer a boy!"—she was, in truth, very proud, for he carried her colors, midnight blue and silver silks. He was to ride with Lord Southwood while Alex had been paired with Sir Walter Ralegh.

The tournament began, and two by two the knights rode against each other, breaking their lances across a beam. Gradually the two hundred or so men taking part in the tilting were weeded out until only four were left. The Earl of Essex rode with the Earl of Oxford against the Earl of BrocCairn and Sir Walter Ralegh. Essex carried Elizabeth Tudor's favor upon his lance, the bright green and white ribbons blowing in the wind. He looked supremely confident for he fully expected to win.

Alex carried Velvet's favor, silver and scarlet ribbons. He was also confident, for he felt he rode for the honor of Scotland. He didn't particularly like Robert Devereux, still suspecting him of taking more than a brotherly interest in Velvet. Essex and Ralegh, though companions during the Armada crisis, had once again become enemies, for each was jealous of the other's influence with the queen. Alex decided that he could not have had a better tournament partner than Ralegh.

Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, looked at his opponents and said to Essex, "That wild Scot fights well, and so does Ralegh. We will not have an easy victory, Robert."

Essex looked down the field. "Strange," he drawled, "I think we will. 'Tis only luck and Ralegh's skill that have brought the Highland savage this far. They will be easy pickings, Ned. My word on it!"

A few minutes later the Earl of Essex's handsome face registered pure surprise and shock as he saw that his lance was broken and the queen's colors dumped rudely onto the ground. Oxford's lance had also suffered an unkind fate due to Ralegh's skill. The Earl of BrocCairn and Sir Walter Ralegh were declared the champions of the joust that day. They would present their shields adorned with their mottoed emblems to be hung in the Shield Gallery, which was situated by the Thames.

Alex and Sir Walter knelt before the queen to receive the victor's prize, which this day turned out to be emeralds, one to each gentleman. "You may rise now, my brave gallants. 'Twas a battle well fought! Very well fought!"

"For you, madame," replied Ralegh, and Elizabeth smiled.

"The cask of Malmsey is well appreciated, Wat-er," she said, "but you, Lord Gordon! What a fine gift you have presented me with. What breed are the dogs your wicked-looking servant gave me? I have not seen their like before."

"They are dogs of my own breeding, madame. Good hunting setters. I have given ye a pair, male and female, should ye wish to breed them yerself. They are excellent in heavy cover and retrieve well, especially woodcock and grouse."

"I like their coloring, the black and tan," said the queen. "I have no others like them. If they do well in the hunt I shall expect you to send me another pair, for you owe me that, having stolen my godchild and compromised her honor." She eyed him archly.

"They are yers, madame, and Velvet is well worth the price," came his quick answer.

"Humph." The queen snorted. "I do not know what I shall say to Lord and Lady de Marisco when they return home in the spring. I have failed in my duties as godmother, and all due to your impatience, my lord!"

"I shall accept full responsibility, madame, and ye need have no feelings of guilt, for did ye not send after us posthaste? Ye did yer duty as I see it."

"But I was not quick enough, was I, my lord?"

"Madame, accept my apology," Alex said sincerely. "I admit to allowing my temper to overrule my common sense and thereby placed Yer Majesty in a compromising position. For that I beg yer forgiveness, but I love Velvet so deeply that I could not wait …" He shrugged helplessly.

"Damn me, but you are an honest man, Alexander Gordon! You've spoken fairly and plainly to me, which few would do for fear of me. I like you! You have my forgiveness, but you must give me your word that after tomorrow's ceremony with the archbishop you will remain in England until my godchild's parents do return. I know that you long to return to your own home, but this I must insist upon. Skye O'Malley is protective, nay, she is a veritable lioness where her children are concerned. The last time I fought with her over a matter involving one of her children she pricked me sorely. Her sting is too sharp for me to tolerate at this time in my life."

Alex laughed. "Strange," he said. "I have met my mother-in-law only one time, at the time of my betrothal to Velvet. I remember her as a beautiful woman and a gracious hostess. Yet everything I have heard about her indicates that she is a warrior of the fiercest temperament. But ye have my word, madame. Neither Velvet nor I shall leave England until after we have been properly reunited with her parents in the spring."

On the following day, November 18, 1588, Velvet and Alex were married one last time in the same chapel at Greenwich where Skye had married Geoffrey Southwood. When the queen had learned during the tournament at Whitehall that the gown the bride would wear was the same one in which Skye had wed the Angel Earl , nothing would do but that the ceremony be in the same place. This necessitated a quick move by the entire court downriver to Greenwich, which was the queen's favorite palace. There at half past four o'clock in the afternoon Velvet and Alex stood before John Whitcliff, the archbishop of Canterbury, and were wed legally and lawfully for a fourth and final time.

Afterwards there was another wedding feast, this one with a wonderful wedding cake complete with a spun-sugar bride and groom atop it. Then there was a marvelous masque in which members of the court took part along with Christopher Marlowe and his company of players.

Afterwards Marlowe managed to corner Velvet, who eyed him warily. The actor-playwright laughed wickedly at her.

"Tell me, my beauty, have you kept your ideals of love, or did you marry him because you were forced to it? If it is the latter then I hope I may offer you a bit of comfort now." He grinned at her.

"I love my husband, you arrogant buffoon!" she snapped back at him. "Now let me pass, or I swear I'll set the dogs on you!"

Marlowe laughed uproariously. "Jesu, you're a hot piece! I'm sorry you'll not accept my offer, sweetheart. I'm sure both of us would benefit by the experience." Nonetheless, he stepped aside to allow her by.

Velvet and Alex were now forced to remain at court, which, fortunately, due to the onset of winter stayed in the Greenwich and London area. Robin had turned over their mother's house on the Strand to his sister and her new husband. Greenwood, he knew, was to have been part of Velvet's wedding settlement, and although he would have been happy to have the newlyweds in Lynmouth House with him and Angel, he knew the couple needed their privacy. Besides, he and his own bride were far more compatible it seemed to him. Any slight thing was apt to set Velvet and her husband to battling. Robin, like his uncle, Lord Bliss, was a man who appreciated his quiet.

On December fifth Velvet and Alex gave their first small party, a family affair to celebrate Angel's eighteenth birthday. The young countess of Lynmouth was now quite certain that she was expecting a child in the springtime, and Robin treated his wife as if she were made of delicate crystal instead of flesh and blood.

Angel bloomed beneath this treatment and even happily confided to Velvet, "Robin was so right! I have learned to love him! I love him so much that I cannot imagine what life would be without him!"

Velvet's own heart warmed at Angel's words. She loved her brother dearly and was glad of his happiness. "When do you think the babe is due?" she asked.

"Sometime in the ninth month of our marriage," Angel answered with a charming blush. Then she lowered her voice. "It must have happened on our wedding night. I only wish you the same good fortune, dearest Velvet. You will stand godmother to our son, won't you?"

"You're certain 'tis a lad you carry?" teased Velvet.

"Oh, yes!" Angel said positively. "I am most certain!"

Velvet laughed merrily, and Alex asked, "What is it, my love?"

"I cannot help but think of the surprises awaiting Mama upon her return. Our marriage, and a new grandchild from a daughter-in-law she doesn't even know she has. She will not go away and leave us soon again!"

Since All Hallows' Eve on the last day of October, London had been celebrating the winter holidays. There had been St. Martin's Day with its traditional roast goose, St. Catherine's Day to celebrate the end of the apple harvest, the queen's Armada thanksgiving, and St. Clement's Day, and December hadn't even begun. A Lord of Misrule had been appointed for every Inn of the Court in London, for every wealthy nobleman's house, and at the Tudor court itself. When Angel's birthday came as well it seemed as if every day was a feast or a festival of some kind with good food, wine, and merriment of every description.

Since it was to be the first Christmas that the two newly wedded couples had ever celebrated together it was decided that Christmas EVe would be held at Greenwood, and on Christmas Day they would adjourn across the garden to Lynmouth House. The servants employed at Greenwood decorated the house joyously, for it had been many years since one of the family had been in residence on this holiday. Some of the retainers had been there since the time when Skye had lived at Greenwood, others were their children. Happily they had hung the holly and the ivy, the bay and the laurel, in the hall of Greenwood.

The Yule log had been sent from Queen's Malvern , but Velvet and Alex's invitation to Dame Cecily had been refused, for, she claimed, she was too old to make the trip, and, besides, her joints would ache with the damp cold from the river.

Velvet thought differently. She is a sentimental old lady. She wants us to have our first Christmas together by ourselves and, besides, I suspect she doesn't want to leave the servants alone without their Christmas, for the holidays at Queen's Malvern have always been celebrated gaily.

The Yule log was dragged into the hall by the male servants, but even some of the women came boldly forward to help. The fireplace was banked in greens, and upon the mantel great candles in enormous silver holders flickered at their mates on the sideboards and tables. The log was pushed and pulled with much good-natured groaning and grunting into the center of the room. Then each member of the household, master and servants all, were invited to sit on it while singing a song to ward off any evil spirits that would prevent the log from burning. When each person in the room from Alex down to the little potboy had had a turn, ale was served to everyone and they toasted a merry Christmas along with a happy New Year.

The log was then rolled into the great fireplace, and the kindling carefully set about it. Alex took a brand and, handing it to Velvet, said, " 'Tis yer house, madame. A woman is keeper of the hearth and home. It is therefore up to ye to light our first Christmas fire." Their eyes met and in his she could already see a fire burning.

Taking the brand from him, she smiled a slow smile. "May it be the first of many fires, my lord!" And then she thrust the brand into the kindling where it caught with a sharp snap.

Within minutes the Yule log was crackling brightly, and as the first orange flames shot up the chimney, the doors to Greenwood were opened to all who would come to share Christmas Eve with the Earl and Countess of BrocCairn. Yule dough and cakes, and bowls of steaming hot frumenty swimming in creamy milk and sweetened with a sugar loaf were served. Musicians hired for the celebration began to play upon pipe and reed, drum and tabor, and soon everyone was singing carols. It was one of the few times of the year that master and servant sat at the same board and ate and drank together.

Curiosity had brought a number of the villagers from Chiswick-on-Strand into Greenwood's hall that night. They well remembered Velvet's generous mother and were eager to see her daughter and to find out if that generosity had been passed on to the child.

Velvet did not disappoint them. The men were all presented with a purse containing six silver pieces; the women with a colorful bolt of cloth; and the children with little bags of brightly colored sugar candy. The poor who entered the hall that night all departed with full bellies, warm cloaks and slippers, and a purse apiece. The health of the lord and lady of Greenwood was drunk again and again.

At midnight the church bells all over England began to ring, a symbol to the devil that Christ was born and Satan was vanquished.

It had been a long evening. The villagers departed to their homes and the servants to their beds for a short rest before they must be up again to see to the running of the house. The two young couples walked through the gardens that separated Greenwood from Lynmouth House. Velvet, Robin, and Alex each carried in their arms one of Robin's little daughters who had been brought up from Devon for the holiday season. Since it was not advisable that Angel travel in her condition, she had sent for her three young stepdaughters rather than leave them alone in the care of the servants at Lynmouth Castle.

Angel was proving to be a doting mother. She remembered too well her own motherless childhood, and she intended that Elsbeth, Cecily, and Catherine should have a loving and caring mother in her. This new side of her sister-in-law was proving to be a revelation to Velvet, for she herself felt no such maternal longings. In time she and Alex would have children, and she would love them, but not yet.

On the terrace of Lynmouth House servants materialized to take the children, and Velvet and Alex bid Angel and Robin a good night.

As they walked back across the garden, their hands entwined, Alex spoke with longing. "They're bonny wee lasses, aren't they?"

"Aye," she answered him, for there was no doubt her nieces were pretty children.

He stopped just past their side of the low wall with its little wicket gate and, pulling her into his arms, murmured against her mouth, "Are ye certain ye're not wi' child yet, lovey?" Then his lips brushed her brow.

"Aye, Alex. Not yet. With some 'tis quick, and with others it takes time," she said feeling just the tiniest twinge of guilt for she knew well that there would be no babes just yet.

Just before the wedding ceremony at Queen's Malvern Daisy had spoken to her in private, and although at first her words had shocked Velvet, she had listened, fascinated.

For the first time in many years Daisy had felt at a loss as to whether or not she was doing the right thing, but thinking how upset her Mistress Skye would be upon learning of her daughter's marriage, she decided a grandchild in addition would be far too much to tolerate, and so she spoke out. "I know that this is something that your mama would tell you if she were here," she began, "but she ain't, and so I feel it my duty to do so. Years ago your Aunt Eiblin, your mother's sister that's the doctoring nun in Ireland, gave your mama the recipe for a potion that prevents you from having babes. I know you ain't too happy about this marriage—not that you don't love the earl," she hastily amended, "but I know you hoped to wait until your parents returned. I know you also wanted to be courted like a princess in a story, and I know you're far too young to be a mother right now even though your mama had your brother, Ewan, at sixteen. She was too young herself, and many's the time she's said it, though she'd not wish Master Ewan away." Daisy held out a small crystal goblet. "Drink it," she said, "and you'll be safe this night." Then she pulled back her hand. "You're not already with child, are you?"

"Nay," said Velvet, her eyes round with surprise.

"Then drink this," replied Daisy, holding the goblet out again. "I've a vial of it already made up for you and I've entrusted the recipe to Pansy with careful instructions. As long as you don't want babes, take it daily and you'll be safe. When you're ready to start your family, stop the potion and let nature take its course."

"Would Père Jean-Paul approve?" Velvet queried nervously. "I cannot think it is permitted by the holy church."

"Father Jean-Paul is a good man, but he's never borne a babe, nor is he likely to. Remember this potion was given your mama by her own sister, a holy woman. Would the good nun go against God's law, child?" Daisy counted on Velvet's innocence to win her over. If Mistress Skye disapproved when she returned, it was Pansy who had the recipe, not Velvet, and on her mother's orders Pansy would destroy the formula.

For only the briefest moment Velvet hesitated. She wanted children, but not so quickly like Angel. Marriage to Alex could be delightful if only she could be sure there would be no baby right away. So she reached out and, taking the little goblet from Daisy, drained it. Each day since then she had taken a small dose of the golden-green potion that smelled of angelica, and it had obviously worked, for her monthly flows came regularly.

"I want to put a bairn in yer belly," Alex Whispered. "When I see how rich with life Angel is, and Rob's three wee girlies, I ache for a child of our own."

" 'Twill be in God's own good time, my lord," she answered, hoping her guilt did not show. Dammit, must he harp so on babies?

"Aye, in God's own good time, but think of the fun we will have in the meantime trying to execute the Lord's will," he teased her, and Velvet giggled.

"Fie, my lord! Do not be sacrilegious!" she scolded him, but he heard the laughter in her voice. While she spoke she surreptitiously scooped up a handful of snow from the stone balustrade that flanked the steps to the terrace of Greenwood, and, whirling about, she pelted him with a downy snowball.

With a roar of mock outrage he fought back, pulling her back down the steps and chasing her through the garden. With a shriek, Velvet fled him, stopping every few seconds to toss handfuls of snow at him. They raced about the garden like a pair of unruly children until, attempting to make a run for the steps to the house, Velvet was caught and pulled down into the snow by her husband, who rolled her onto her back and tickled her until, giggling uncontrollably, she begged him to stop.

"Stop? Impudent wench, ye deserve much more punishment for this disrespect of yer lord and master!" Straddling her, he bent to kiss her, but Velvet turned her head aside.

"Master?" She pretended outrage. "Master, is it? Are we back to horses and dogs again? Which am I, pray, sir?"

"A kitten!" he answered quickly. "A hissing, spitting, ferocious kitten!"

"Meooow! Fssst! Kittens respond best to warmth and affection." Her emerald eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Indeed, madame?" Swinging himself off her, he pulled her up. "Then let me take this small, bedraggled kitten into the house," he murmured. "Into my bed to cuddle it and make it more amenable."

She shook her skirts free of the snow. "Purrrr!" she responded, and then she darted away from him and up the steps into the house.

With a burst of laughter he was after her, chasing her through the library, into the main hall of Greenwood, up the stairs, and down the passageway to their apartments. They burst into the rooms, startling Pansy, who had been dozing by the anteroom fire. Seated by her side upon the floor, his head in her lap, was Dugald, who leaped to his feet.

"M'lord! M'lady!" He poked at the sleepy Pansy, hissing, "Get up, lass!"

Bleary-eyed, Pansy stumbled to her feet, and Velvet realized the lateness of the hour. "Just undo me, Pansy," she said, "and then find your own bed."

Pansy nodded but said, "I'll put your gown away, m'lady. 'Twill only take a minute." She followed her mistress into her bedchamber.

The gown removed, Velvet stood in her silken undergarments thinking dreamily back on the lovely evening. Pansy fumbled at her neck and removed first her necklace and then her earbobs. Clutching the gown and the jewelry, she departed for the dressing room, to return a few moments later.

"Good night, m'lady," she said, bobbing a curtsy, "and a Merry Christmas to you!"

"Merry Christmas, Pansy!" came Velvet's reply. The door shut behind the young tiring woman, and slowly Velvet began to remove her petticoats, underblouse, shoes, and stockings, which she flung upon a chair. Naked, she walked to the small silver ewer holding the warm water that Pansy had prepared and, taking up a little cake of fragrant soap, washed her face and hands and then rinsed her teeth. In the bedroom fireplace the red-orange flames crackled sharply as a log slipped in the grate, sending up a shower of golden sparks. Velvet stretched lazily in the warmth of the room.

"Jesu, ye're beautiful!" Alex stood in the doorway that connected their two bedchambers. "I never tire of seeing ye this way, as God has created ye. Yer creamy skin, yer eyes, yer hair! 'Tis all pure perfection, lovey." He moved up behind her and, sliding his hands around her, cupped her breasts in his two hands.

The pier glass was before them, and, fascinated, Velvet watched as he caressed her. Her breasts were in perfect proportion to her size, yet as she watched him play with her it seemed as if his big hands made her appear smaller. Her nipples began to tingle with sharp sensations and shriveled into tight little love knots. The rounds of her breasts swelled under his soft, mesmerizing touch.

Velvet sighed deeply and said softly, "Don't stop, my love. I adore it when you touch me so!"

He smiled at her over her shoulder in the glass. "I'm glad ye're not one of those icy wenches who undresses in the dark and must have all the candles out," he said. "I love to pet my kitten and see her purr with pleasure." He bent his head and dropped a kiss on her smooth shoulder.

One of his hands slipped down her satiny skin and moved in a circular motion around her belly while the other remained in possession of a breast. Velvet's whole body was becoming atingle with a myriad of delightful sensations. She relaxed against her husband and, closing her eyes, murmured contentedly. His long fingers slipped to her Venus mont and, parting the plump lips, found sweet sensitivity. Velvet drew her breath in sharply as her eyes flew open. She couldn't resist looking into the mirror, and she was half-shocked, half intrigued by what she saw.

Suddenly everything in the deep, half-golden gloom of the room was richer and lusher. Her body seemed more voluptuous than she could ever remember it being. There was a tautness to her belly that gave her skin a silken sheen and belied the melting passion she felt within her. Slowly her eyes dropped to his teasing fingers, and then they widened as she saw her own flesh, pink and glistening with pearly drops of moisture. She was unexpectedly aware of his manhood, hard and insistent, pressing between her tight buttocks. Lifting her eyes, she caught her breath a second time as she saw his face dark with the hot passion he felt for her. He ceased his dalliance and, turning her about, drew her gently into his embrace, his mouth covering hers with a hungry kiss.

The pressure of his lips was hard and fierce, forcing the breath from her. She parted her own lips to catch a breath, and he invaded her mouth with his tongue. Velvet shivered but was not yet ready to give quarter. Together their tongues, those two sleek organs with seeming lives of their own, danced madly back and forth in the dark caverns of their mouths. Then, never lifting his lips from hers, he lifted her up and carried her to their bed. Gently he lowered her, his own body following hers down upon the mattress, which sagged under their combined weights. His fingers tangled in her thick hair holding her head still.

It was a fiercely passionate kiss that drained her totally of whatever will and strength she might have had. Her whole being was attuned to but one thing: to receive pleasure, and to give it.

His mouth now moved from hers to travel a route that took him to her quivering eyelids, her cheeks, her chin, her soft throat with its violently leaping pulse that told him the depth of her own passion. He let his lips linger on that pulse, kissing it softly until it quieted a small bit; then he moved onward down to her lovely breasts. With a sigh Alex took the nipple of one breast into his mouth and sucked it lovingly for several long minutes before saluting its mate as tenderly.

Velvet felt a strong tug of desire deep within her. Why was it that he could make her want him so very much? With a deep sigh of her own, she caressed his head and neck, her hand gradually moving to his shoulders then sliding down his back to fondle his buttocks. He groaned with the pleasure she gave him, and then with a fluid movement he parted her thighs and slid his loveshaft into her fevered body.

Velvet felt tears sliding down her cheeks in a totally uncontrolled fashion as he moved upon her. "I love you!" she whispered softly. "Dear God, how I love you, my wild Scots husband!"

He kissed her tears, tasting their saltiness upon his tongue, and then he took her face between his hands, saying as he did so, "I love ye, Velvet! There has never been any other woman who engaged my whole heart, and there never will be! I will always be faithful to ye, sweetheart. Always!"

Then they sought love's perfection in each other's arms, their souls as well as their bodies blending until there was nothing for either of them but the other in every moment of their love.

Christmas Day dawned with the sound of voices singing carols beneath their windows. Tousled but happy, Velvet and Alex smiled at each other and then arose from their bed, carefully sliding into the night garments that had been laid out for them but never used. Then going to the windows of their bedchamber, they flung them open and cried "Merry Christmas" to the children who were so sweetly serenading them. The children beamed delightedly at the lord and lady's approval, and then scrambled for the coppers that Alex tossed to them.

"There's cakes and ale at the kitchen door," Velvet called to the small songsters who, curtsying and bobbing bows, scampered around the side of the house and out of sight.

Alex slipped his arm about his wife and pinched her mischievously. Then he buried his face in her warm bosom, inhaling her sweet fragrance.

"Oh, no, my lord!" Velvet pushed him away. "We have services to attend in the chapel. The priest is due at eight! Would you cause a scandal?"

"Yes!" He grinned and grabbed for her.

Skillfully she evaded him. "My lord, fie! As your wife I am the moral arbitrator of this family. We will begin our Christmas properly. What would the holy man think if we are late?"

"He will undoubtedly think of the fine breakfast of brawn with mustard and Malmsey he'll receive afterwards," muttered Alex, but obedient to his young wife's wishes he repaired to his own room to dress.

Christmas dinner was the main event of the day, and it began at three in the afternoon at the Earl of Lynmouth's great mansion. The invited guests were few, consisting of the earl's newly married sister and brother-in-law; the earl's elder sister and brother-in-law, the Earl and Countess of Alcester, and their five children; Sir Walter Ralegh; and Bess Throckmorton. These last two had been invited separately, and had each managed to get their mistress's approval for their absence providing they appeared back at court in time for the dancing that night. The queen had no idea that one of her favorite gentlemen and Mistress Throckmorton would be at the same table this Christmas Day.

The meal was a lavish one consisting of several courses each preceded by music from the minstrels' gallery. They began with great platters carried into the hall by footmen, led by the Earl of Lynmouth's master of the revels. Upon the platters were seafood of all kinds: sea trout served whole and surrounded by carved lemons and garnished with chervil; sole in a sauce of eggs, heavy cream, and dill; prawns that had been steamed in white wine and stuffed with lobster; a great oaken tub filled with ice and, amid the ice, oysters ready to crack open and eat whole. There was an enormous side of rare beef that was brought in and placed on the sideboard to be carved by an underchef; several fine hams; succulent capons stuffed with dried fruit; an enormous turkey stuffed with both oysters and chestnuts; a pheasant, roasted whole with all its feathers replaced and served on a golden platter; several large pies, one of rabbit, one of pigeon, one of goose, each wheeled in upon its own specially made cart as they were far too large to be carried by hand. There were bowls of carrots glazed in honey, peas cooked with leeks, and lettuces steamed in wine. There was fine white bread, butter, and salt aplenty, but the highlight of the meal was the bringing in of the boar's head.

The honor of carrying in the beast had been given to young Henry Edwardes, Willow's eldest son. One day, Robin thought after he had very much pleased his eldest sister by his choice, I shall have my own son to delegate this task to, but for now Henry will more than do. Proudly, the lad, his father's young image, came forth, led by the master of the revels and preceded by musicians and songsters. Upon a huge silver salver, almost too large for the boy, rested the boar's head, crowned and garlanded with laurel leaves and rosemary, a lemon in its mouth to suggest plenty. At Henry's entrance the assembled family arose from the table singing:

"Caput apri defero,

Reddens laudes domino.

The boar's head in hand bring I,

Bedecked with bays and rosemary;

I pray you all sing merrily,

Quot estis in convivio …

Then, set in its place of honor on the board, the boar's head was greeted with much cheering.

The Earl of Lynmouth and his guests ate heartily and drank deeply of fine Archambault wines. Even so, the leftovers would easily feed all the beggars who came to his door that night and feed them generously at that, especially when the servants' leftovers were added.

When the last course of wine-soaked cakes, rich custards, fruit tarts, candied angelica, rose petals, and violets, sweet biscuits, and Malmsey was cleared from the board, the Christmas mummers were let into the hall to perform the time-honored play with St. George, the Saracen, and the Dragon. Along with the three major performers were lesser ones, consisting of Father Christmas with his holly bough, a doctor to cure the "wounds," a handsome young boy carrying a wassail bowl, and a pretty little girl with warm brown eyes and golden brown hair who carried the mistletoe.

The children, Willow's five and Robin's three, were enchanted by the rather simple performance. Bess Throckmorton turned and smiled at Walter Ralegh who, free of royal restraint, gazed passionately back at her.

"It is almost like my childhood at home," she said wistfully.

"And do you find it preferable to your life at court, Bess?" he asked.

She sighed. "At court, or so I am told, I serve the best interests of my family who have ever been in service to the crown. I love the queen, my mistress, but that does not mean I do not long for a simpler life in the country, a husband, children, and my own hearth. That life I should prefer to the court." Then she smiled sadly. "I am, however, past my prime in the marriage mart, and, lacking a dowry, who will have me?"

"I would have you, Bess," he declared softly. "I have more than enough wealth for us both!"

"And how long would you have it, Walter, should you cease to be Her Majesty's loyal and loving knight?" she asked. "I would not be the cause of your downfall, not after all you have done to gain your position."

"She forgave Leicester."

"Robert Dudley was, as we all know, a special case, Walter. They shared the same birthdate and had been friends since childhood. In the days when the queen was but the Princess Elizabeth and sent by her sister, Mary, to the tower, it was Robert Dudley, also imprisoned, who spent his own small hoard of silver to make her life more bearable by bribing the guards to bring her small luxuries such as firewood so that she might be warm. She loved Dudley, truly loved him. I believe she would have forgiven him anything, Walter, but the rest of us are vulnerable to her wrath. 'Tis a fine compliment you have paid me nonetheless, and I shall always cherish it."

"I love you, Bess," he said quietly.

Elizabeth Throckmorton blushed becomingly. "I love you, Walter," she replied as softly, then she turned from him to watch the children, who were now engaged in a game of shoe-the-mare amid much giggling and scampering.

Robert Southwood sought out Walter Ralegh. "I hope you do not mind the simplicity with which we are celebrating," he said with a smile as he watched the children. "Angel did so want you and Bess to share our Christmas, but unlike many of my station I prefer a family gathering."

Walter Ralegh smiled back, nodding. "Both Bess and I were just saying how we missed the simpler times. I hear, however, that you will revive a custom of your late father's and hold a great Twelfth Night masque for the court in the new year."

"Aye! The queen requested it, and I cannot refuse her. Afterwards, however, I shall attempt to withdraw from the society of the court until after my wife has been delivered in the spring. It is her first child, and I am told she must have quiet. If it is possible, we shall try to return home to Devon so that the baby may be born at Lynmouth."

As the hour grew late, the children were all taken away to their beds and the musicians began to play a lilting lavolta. The Earl of Lynmouth led his wife into the center of the hall, and they began to dance. They were joined by the others in quick order, but when the lavolta ended and a Spanish canary was played, Angel retired from the floor, the lively jig being too much for her in her current state. Finally as Christmas Day slipped nearer to St. Stephen's Day the evening drew to a close.

Sir Walter Ralegh and Mistress Throckmorton had taken their leave earlier, both mindful of their duties to the queen. Willow and her husband were staying at Lynmouth House for the next few days, but Velvet and Alex now made their way across the snowy garden, both well satisfied with their first Christmas together.

Once again within their chamber Alex spoke lovingly to his wife. "There has been no time today for us to exchange gifts, lovey. Look beneath yer pillow."

Velvet's green eyes grew round with anticipation, and she flew across the bedchamber to their bed. Slipping her hand beneath the plump pillows, she drew forth a flat, white leather jeweler's case that opened to reveal a magnificent necklace of diamonds and rubies, the center stone in the piece being a heart-shaped jewel of a deep red hue. "Oh, Alex!" She lifted the necklace from its nest of white satin and held it up to the light. "Oh, Alex!"

He chuckled with delight. "I am pleased to have finally rendered ye speechless, Velvet. May I assume then that ye like it?"

"Oh, yes, my lord! I love it! I adore it! It is the most beautiful thing I have ever possessed!" Still clutching her present, she flung herself at him and hugged him.

His arms slid about her, and he breathed in the warm scent of her elusive perfume. His face buried itself in the fragrant hollow of her neck and shoulder, and he sighed. "Dammit, lass, I do love ye so! I never knew that love would be so all-consuming, but by God I don't regret a moment of it! In fact I despise myself for being such an arrogant fool that I missed all those years with ye."

Velvet nestled against Alex's shoulder, her heart filled with a new and wonderful warmth. So this was love, she thought. It was not an unpleasant feeling. It was, in fact, most tolerable. She sighed happily as he drew her closer.

Alex's face, which had been a study in all-consuming passion, now took on an expression of amusement. He wondered what she was thinking and came close to the truth. He felt his heart expanding within his chest until he thought it would burst with the incredible depth of his feeling for this woman. Jesu, how he loved her! Still, it would do her no good to know his full emotions. Women who were too sure of their men often became unruly. Best to end this soft moment before he said something further he would have cause to regret. He spoke with a nonchalant tone.

"Have ye nothing for me, lass?"

"Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed. "I do!" She ran across the room. Flinging open a large chest by the door, she bent down and lifted out a muffled object. Pulling the cloth wrappings from the seemingly bulky lump, she triumphantly unveiled a small painting. Turning the carved and gilded wooden frame about, she revealed the subject, herself in her mother's creamy silken wedding gown.

Alex stared in surprise, his jaw slack. "How?" he demanded. "How could this be? There hasn't been time!" His eyes devoured the portrait delightedly.

Velvet smiled triumphantly. "It is by Master Hilliard," she said proudly. "He did my miniature when I first came to court. It was to be a Christmas gift for my parents. When we returned to court from Scotland, I went to him and begged him to re-create from the miniature a larger painting that I might give you for Christmas. He doesn't often do full portraits, Alex. 'Tis quite an honor. He copied the head from the original, and then I sat for him twice in the gown so that he might, as he put it, rough it all in. After that I simply left the garment and he copied the details from it. You never guessed, did you?" she crowed delightedly.

He turned from the painting a moment to look at her. "Nay, lass, I never suspected."

It was a wonderful painting, he thought as he looked again upon his wife's portrait. She stood flanked on one side by two of his setters, her slender hand resting on one of the dog's heads. Her other hand was at waist level and held a small, ornate gold pomander ball. Velvet stared straight out from the canvas, her jeweled green eyes clear with the innocence of her youth, yet curious; in fact, very much as he remembered her when they had first met only several months ago. She was not really smiling, and yet the corners of her mouth were faintly turned up as if any minute she would burst into laughter. She seemed to be hugging some secret to herself that she had absolutely no intention of sharing with anyone, and her expression told the viewer that she delighted with her private knowledge. The background of the painting was a simple blue sky, but as Alex looked more closely at the picture he noticed in the lower left-hand corner, on the Turkey carpet that his wife stood upon, a badger wearing a bejeweled collar.

She saw his eyes widen and chuckled softly. "Am I not the badger's wife, Alex?" she teased him.

"Badgers dinna have wives, they have mates, and 'tis a certainty that ye're mine, Velvet," came his reply.

"Aye," she drawled, "I am yours, but you are also mine, my lord. Four times have I pledged my fidelity to you in various marriage ceremonies, but as I have pledged my faith and loyalty to you, so have you pledged yours to me. Remember it well should you be tempted to stray from my bed, my lord. I will tolerate no slight upon my honor."

He stared at her, astounded. "What in hell has made ye say a thing like that?" he demanded, outraged not only by her words, but by the threatening tone she seemed to use.

"Angel tells me that Robin has been forced to include Lord and Lady de Boult on his guest list for the Twelfth Night masque. Lord de Boult has recently done the queen some small but vital service and stands in her favor at the moment. To exclude them from the masque would be insulting."

"Ye think I would accost the lady publicly?" His tone was dangerously low.

"She was once your mistress," Velvet said sharply.

"Never!" He spat out the word with equal ire, his eyes dark with his outrage.

"Never?" she looked doubtful.

"Never, madame! 'Twas done only to make ye jealous, but never did I bed that viper! How dare ye presume that I did, and how dare ye presume that now wed to ye I would renew such a liaison had there ever been one in the first place!"

"I will accept your word, Alex, that naught took place between you and Lady de Boult, but you must admit that you played the lover well before me, and as I recall our first marriage took place because I found you with your hands all over the bitch in the queen's gardens! What was I supposed to think, pray, my lord? If I have offended you, I beg your pardon, but I could not know that you were not really involved with that creature!"

"Whether I was or not, for ye to dare to set conditions for my conduct is inexcusable, madame!" he shouted.

"Indeed, sir? Do you not attempt to set standards for my conduct?"

"Ye're my wife!"

"You're my husband!"

Suddenly the incongruity of the situation hit him and he began to laugh. "I think we're back to horses and dogs again," he chortled.

"Villain!" She laughed back. "Dear God, Alex, what a proud pair of peacocks we are! I wonder if there will ever be peace between us?"

"I dinna mind the little battles, lassie," he murmured softly and, reaching out, drew her back into his arms. Nuzzling her fragrant hair, he kissed the top of her head and said, "I dinna mind the battles for I so enjoy the peace-making."

Velvet felt her bones turning soft with his words. She felt warm and safe in the haven of his arms. Perhaps this marriage business would work out after all. They loved each other, and she was wise enough to know that he was a good man for all his pigheaded ways. She smiled to herself. For all her pigheaded ways, too, for the truth of the matter was that she was no better than he. Slipping her arms about his neck, she murmured huskily, " 'Tis cold in here, my lord. Shall we repair to our bed to negotiate this latest treaty?"

Wordlessly, he swept her up, walked across the bedchamber, and pulling back the covers, tucked her beneath them before joining her. They spent the night in heavy bargaining, but when the dawn finally came both the Earl of BrocCairn and his countess were well satisfied with the results of their dickering.