Stuart, Elizabeth (29 page)

And
when she didn't speak. "I'm sorry, lass."

He
sounded as if he meant it. "So am I." Jonet lifted her head, slipping
her hands behind his neck, running her fingers lightly along his shoulders.
There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to tell him. But she
didn't, of course. Because it wasn't to be.

"A
man of infinite wisdom once shared a bit of philosophy with me. Live for the
moment," she said softly. "Don't squander the hours looking behind or
ahead."

"If
only he'd known how sweet they'd be, he'd have wanted a lifetime of those
hours."

He
squeezed her tightly and Jonet closed her eyes. They had tonight and tomorrow,
but God only knew what after that. "Make the earth move, Alexander,"
she whispered. "Make me a part of you again."

"Ah,
Jonet... love." He rolled, shifting her so that she was suddenly beneath
him again. And then he said nothing more.

Alexander
stayed a week.

It
was a week of wanting and fulfillment, of glorious sensual extravagance.
Alexander made love to Jonet with a wild, reckless abandon that left her
exhausted, with a slow sensual precision that made her quite nearly demented.
They rode and danced and Alexander played the lute for her. And Jonet didn't
care if members of Diana's household were starting to look at her knowingly. Or
if the countess moved about with a wide, fixed smile on her face and the hard
glitter of diamonds in her eyes.

If
this was the only bit of Alexander Jonet was ever to have, she'd take every
precious moment joyfully with no room for regrets or worries of what others
suspected. And if a price were to be exacted, she'd pay that willingly too...
but later. Pray God, much later.

During
all that week, they never spoke of his leaving. But each morning when Alexander
didn't ride out, Jonet went down on her knees in thankfulness. And each evening
when she lay in his arms and they had the incredible bliss of an entire night
uninterrupted, she wondered how loving him could be wrong. And how wrong it
would be not to have him to love.

But
time moves, events conspire, and not all the wishes on earth can stop them. And
Jonet glanced up from a late breakfast one morning to discover a travel-weary
stranger entering the room. She felt the tension in Alexander before she even
turned his way.

"This
is it, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "He's come for you."

"I
know the man," Alexander agreed. "He'll have news I must hear. To be
honest, Jonet, it's news I want to hear. Something I've been wanting a very
long time. But even if it's good, I won't like all it means."

His
hand found hers. "I've delayed overlong, lass. We both know that. I'm just
wondering exactly what I'll tell him about it." He sent her a grin that
fell flat. His eyes moved slowly, regretfully, over her face. "Actually, I
doubt I'll need to say anything. Lyle must know or he wouldn't be here in
person. No doubt we've Diana to thank for that."

Jonet
looked at the tall, golden-haired man standing with the countess in earnest
conversation. But her thoughts were of red, crisscrossing lines, healing welts
that marred the perfection of Alexander's back. And somehow she sensed this man
would send him back into danger.

"Come."
Alexander squeezed her hand. "Lyle Barrow is a friend, the closest thing
I've had to a father since I was ten years old. And he's made all the
arrangements concerning you, lass. I'd not trust you to any other."

Jonet
wanted to protest. She wanted to beg him not to leave. "Promise you'll say
good-bye," she said only. "For the love of God, don't tide off
without a word!"

He
pushed back from the bench, lifting her with him. "I promise, lass. I've
used you ill enough without that." And then Alexander was presenting her
to Lyle Barrow, a court official of some sort, she gathered. Despite his
obvious weariness, the man took her hand, sending her a charming smile. But
beneath all the weariness, the dirt, and the charm, he was weighing her, she
sensed, as a man weighs an adversary.

"Alex,
Lyle has news for you," Diana said. "And he's located your mother.
She was visiting friends near York." Diana shepherded the men toward a
small withdrawing room. "I'll send something in to you, Lyle. You can eat
while the two of you talk. And don't worry about Lady Douglas, Alex. I'll take
care of her. We've a great deal of work to do still with her wardrobe."

And
somehow Jonet found herself climbing the twisting stairs, following Diana
blindly into her room. She gazed at the bed, then quickly away. If she thought
of Alexander, the tears would come.

Diana
moved to the coffer chest and poured out wine. Turning, she held a cup toward
Jonet. "Here, drink this down. You look like you're apt to faint."

Jonet
did as she was told. It gave her a place to look, something to do.

"God's
death, I warned Alex about you! I told him you wouldn't understand. But he's
never dallied with an innocent before. He was fascinated with the prospect.
Now, by all appearances, you're going to enact us a messy ending. He'll ride
off as men do, free as the wind, and I'll be left with the cleanup."

"I
assure you, madam, there'll be no cause to clean up after me!" Jonet
responded sharply.

Diana
nodded. "That's better. You've a little color at least."

Turning,
she poured a second cup of wine, lifting it to her mouth. "Surely you
didn't expect it to last. A child like you and a man like Alexander?"

"No,
I knew it couldn't last," Jonet managed evenly. "He was always quite
honest about that."

Diana
sipped her wine. "Actually, I must hand it to you, Jonet. You've held Alex
longer than I thought you would. I told him he'd be tired of you in a day, two
at most. Yet lo and behold, he still seems interested. It must be the
novelty."

Her
eyes slid pointedly to the bed and back. "To be quite vulgarly frank, my
dear, Alexander's used to having his pick of beautiful women. Women from all
over Europe, women with a great deal of experience. With—how shall I say
it?" She smiled over the rim of her cup. "An infinite knowledge of
variety. Still, I'm sure you are..." She hesitated again, managed to make
the word insulting, "... charming. Quite charming. Or so he says."

Jonet's
fingers tightened around her cup. The emptiness inside her was changing. She
was beginning to feel quite sick.

"Now,
a word to the wise, my girl, and then I'll be gone. You've had a pleasant
interlude and the great good fortune to have been introduced into loving by
someone who knows quite well how to go about it. Don't make the mistake of
turning the last week into something it wasn't. It wouldn't be wise. Not for
you. Not for Alex."

Jonet
met her eyes. She'd been right that first night. The countess made a formidable
adversary. "You love him, don't you?"

Diana
smiled. "Let's just say I enjoy making love to him. I have for years. And
it's a pastime I'll continue to enjoy long after you're naught to him but a
pleasant memory. So think about that, Jonet, when Alexander rides out today.
Think about it and thank God you're going to France."

***

"Word
has it you were expected in Edinburgh last week."

Alexander
smiled. "You're well informed."

"That's
my job."

Alexander
sat down at the table, shoving a chair out for Lyle. "Aye, so it is."

A
serving man entered bearing tankards and a pitcher of ale and food from the
breakfast table. Alexander waited until the man had slipped out. He poured two
mugs of ale, doing his best to appear calm. "And word has it you were to
remain in London. From the look of you, you've had a hard ride. I hope you have
news that's worth it."

Lyle
took a satisfying drink. "I think so. I imagine you will as well."

Alexander
waited, heart pounding, mouth suddenly dry. "You spoke to Wolsey?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Lyle
laughed all at once, an excited sound, a shared triumph between friends.
"You were right, Alex! There was a letter. And the old fox still had
it."

Alexander
leaned back. This was sweet, the sweetest moment of his entire life. After all
the pain, the humiliation, the years, Gavin Hepburn was going to be cleared of
treason. "Let me see it," he said softly.

"Well,
that's the hitch. Wolsey won't let it out of his hand till James enters
London."

The
frustration was bitter, almost more than he could bear. Alexander shoved back
and stood. "Tell him to toast in hell! My compliments."

"You
didn't think Wolsey would let a card like that out of his hand, did you?"

Alexander's
eyes narrowed. "I'll not lift a finger to bring James over the border. Not
till I've my hands on that letter. I thought I'd made myself clear. God's
death, man, how do I even know it's the right letter? Or that Wolsey would give
it to me after I delivered the king?"

"And
if he gives you the letter, how does he know you'll deliver James? Two can play
the game, you know."

"I
thought perhaps the fact that I've always done what I've promised might weigh
with him. And you. That I've always completed any hellish little job the two of
you dreamed up!"

Alexander
frowned, his eyes searching the weary, thoughtful face of his friend. "You
don't trust me, do you, Lyle?" And then incredulously, "Sweet Lord,
after all these years, you don't trust me!

Lyle
frowned. "We've never asked you to betray Scotland before. To be perfectly
honest, I'm not sure of you at all."

"Is
that what I'm doing? Betraying Scotland?"

Lyle
met Alexander's eyes. "I don't think so, but I'm not entirely certain how
you view it, lad. And forgive me, Alex, but I had to tell Wolsey. It's my job,
for Christ's sake!"

"Of
course." Alexander drew a steadying breath and sat down. "Sorry,
Lyle. It's just that... that I wanted the damned thing so." He broke off
and ran a hand through his hair. "We always feared it would come to this.
The two of us on opposite sides."

"That
hasn't happened yet, but it's bound to some day." Lyle frowned. "I
want you in England, Alex. I want you married to Diana. Married, wealthy,
respectable, giving your considerable talents to a country that appreciates
them. Not wasting time as an outcast in Scotland, kicked around by Douglases
who aren't fit to clean your boots and wouldn't have the wit to do it properly
if they did!"

"Such
heat." Alexander forced a smile. "Can it be you're still trying to
recruit me?"

"I
can't stand by and let you miss an opportunity to have everything you want and
more." Lyle leaned forward. "Alex, I saw the letter! I actually saw a
bit of the handwriting, though Wolsey covered the signature, damn his eyes! If
you want it, get James for us. I swear, we won't play you false."

Alexander
leaned back and closed his eyes, taking a slow sip of ale. "Send me half
the letter, Lyle. Just a piece. Enough that I can tell it's what Wolsey claims.
Let him keep the half with the signature, to be delivered to me when James
comes calling at York House. Otherwise, the deal's off."

There
was silence for several moments. "He might agree," Lyle murmured.
"Wolsey wants this so badly." Alexander opened his eyes and smiled.
"The letter, Lyle. Get it for me."

Lyle
finished his ale. "I'll do what I can, though I make no promises."

"Just
recommend it. I'll understand if it doesn't work out." Alexander leaned
forward. "And since we're speaking honestly, there's something you should
know. I'll never give up being a Scotsman, even if I'm living in England part
of the time. I'll never give up Durnam. You and Wolsey and Norfolk and all of
the rest of them need to understand that."

"I
understand."

Alexander
nodded.

Lyle
sat back, turning his attention to his plate at last. For several moments he
ate in silence, then he sent Alexander a sidelong glance. "Now, what's
this about the Maxwell girl? Diana tells me you've a hot affair going with
Mure's ward." He chewed thoughtfully. "I'd suspect revenge with
another man. But not you. And then you'd not be sending a light-of-love to stay
with Elizabeth. At least not this one, I hope."

Alexander
ignored the question. "You found Mother. Did you give her my letter?"

Lyle
nodded, still chewing.

"How
did she take it?"

"Said
she'd be delighted to have a houseguest and that she'd see you in London."

Alexander
frowned. "That's all?"

"Yes.
Oh, said to give you her love. All the usual. Not a word about Mute." He
looked down at his plate. "She's a deep one, that Elizabeth. Has been so
long as I've known her."

For
a moment Alexander said nothing. Lyle glanced sideways again. "Do you want
me to continue the arrangements for France?"

"Certainly.
I want you to see that Jonet reaches Albany's household safely and without a
hint that she's been with me." Alexander met his friend's eyes. "Call
in every favor you have to, Lyle. Spare no expense. I'll see that you're
reimbursed."

"No
worry about that, Alex."

"Oh,
and Lyle," Alexander hesitated. "Jonet'll probably want to pay you
herself. She's got that damned Maxwell pride." He smiled, the expression
revealing far more than the words. "She's got a handful of jewels, Lyle.
Exquisite pieces. Smuggled them out of Beryl beneath Murdoch's nose. Don't let
her sell them, if you can stop it. They're all she's got left."

"I'll
tell her everything's been taken care of. A state courtesy toward Scotland or
something of the like."

"Thanks."

Lyle
poured another cup of ale. "That's it? You're not going to say any
more?"

"There's
nothing to say."

"Don't
turn that cool, bland look on me, Alex, my lad. If you'll remember I'm the one
who taught it to you. And I can still read it better than you'd like."