The Captive Heart (25 page)

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Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: The Captive Heart
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Alix pulled his head down to hers and began to kiss him hungrily. “Hurry, my lord,” she whispered hotly against his mouth. “I have missed your hard length inside of me. I have missed the passion we share. Ahhh!” she cried as he thrust deep into her.
Having pushed within her, he lay quiet for several moments. He had been so desperate for her that he felt if he moved again even slightly he would lose control over himself. He had never needed a woman as much as he needed her. Aye! He loved her.
Alix sighed with pleasure, feeling his thick length within her velvet sheath. She undid the buttons of her jerkin and unlaced her shirt beneath so he might have access to her full round breasts. He groaned, and dipping his head, began to suckle upon one of her breasts. Her hands caressed him, silently encouraging him in his passion. Finally she whispered to him, “
Please, Colm!
I burn for you. Fuck me!
Please!

The laird lifted his head up and their eyes met. “You must keep your eyes open, lambkin, when I do. If you close them I will cease,” he said wickedly. Then he began to move on her. She was like wet silk, like honeyed fire. He had thought himself near to release when he had first penetrated her, but now he had regained control of himself. He moved back and forth slowly at first, then with increasing speed. He looked deep into her eyes as he used her, enjoying the passion that burned within them until finally he saw her struggling to keep her eyes open as he had commanded. He increased his efforts, and Alix screamed his name. “Colm! Oh God, you are killing me!” Her eyes rolled back in her head as her body shook with fierce tremors, and he let his own passion pour into her with short, hard spurts until her sheath had milked him dry, and he collapsed atop her.
Finally they came to themselves, and he rolled off her body, laying on his back, his breathing slowly returning to normal. God help him! He would never get enough of her.
Alix sighed happily. “I’m glad we have found this little place where we may be together. I never again want to live without your passion, Colm.”
“Nor I yours, lambkin,” he told her. “Beg the queen to release us soon. She will give you what you desire, for your kinswoman’s sake.”
“I will, my lord,” Alix promised him.
They reordered their garments, and as the shower had now stopped and the sun was peeping from behind a purple cloud bank, they returned to Ravenscraig Castle hand in hand. That night as they sat at the high board Alix spoke softly to the queen.
“Madame, my lord and his daughter are missing Dunglais, and so am I. May we not depart soon? The weather grows colder, and my lord’s people will be worried if he does not return soon.”
Marie of Gueldres sighed deeply. “I know it is not fair to retain your company any longer,” she admitted. “You are free to leave on the morrow, Alix Givet. But before you go you will come and speak with me, for there is something you should know.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Alix replied. And she wondered what it was the queen could possibly have to say to her.
Chapter 8
Later that evening in the hall Alix managed to steal a moment with her lover. “We are free to leave on the morrow,” she told the laird. “But the queen wishes to speak with me before we go, my lord.”
“I will alert our men,” he responded.
“Remember, she does not receive anyone before midmorning. We shall not get an early start, I fear,” Alix reminded him.
“But we shall be gone from Ravenscraig, lambkin, and be making for the borders before the sunset. I’ll send a rider ahead to the nunnery of St. Margaret begging accommodation for tomorrow night,” Malcolm Scott replied. “On the following morning we will depart immediately at first light.”
Alix smiled at him. “I cannot wait to get home,” she said, “and have the winter set in so we may be safe from all visitors.”
“If we are fortunate, my uncle will have come with his latest candidate while we have been away. He will be very disappointed, I fear,” the laird chuckled.
Alix excused herself from the queen’s presence and hurried to the little chamber she shared with Fiona. She packed up their belongings carefully, leaving out the clothing in which they would travel on the morrow. Then she went to find Fiona in the royal nursery, where the little girl was deeply involved in a chess game with the king. Fiona had learned the game quickly and proved a good player, to the young king’s delight.
James Stewart looked up. “You wish to speak to us, Mistress Givet?” he asked.
“It is time for Fiona to go to bed, Your Highness,” Alix answered him politely.
The king sighed. “But she is near to besting me for the very first time,” he said.
Alix smiled a little smile. “And how long do you think it will take her to do such a thing, Your Highness?”
“Two moves, if she is clever,” James Stewart said seriously. “But if she is not, I shall best her in three.”
“Then with Your Highness’s permission I shall wait,” Alix replied.
“Granted,” the boy king responded, and then he turned his attention back to the game table.
Alix did not sit, for she had not been invited to do so. She stood patiently as the end of the game was played out. She saw that the king might actually have easily won, but instead he allowed Fiona the small victory, grinning when she clapped her little hands in glee with her triumph.
“I have beaten you at last, Jamie!” she crowed.
“Indeed, Fi, you have,” he agreed. “But tomorrow is another day.”
“I regret to tell Your Highness that we shall be leaving Ravenscraig tomorrow,” Alix said to the king. “Fiona, make your farewells to His Highness and thank him for his kindness and for teaching you to play chess.”
“Do we have to leave tomorrow?” Fiona said. “Why can we not remain?”
“We must leave tomorrow,” Alix told the girl. “You must remember your father has responsibilities at Dunglais. It would not do for the winter to set in and the laird be gone from his keep.”
Fiona arose from her seat at the gaming table. She curtsied a perfect curtsy to the king. “I thank Your Highness for teaching me how to play the game of chess. I regret I cannot give Your Highness the opportunity of a rematch.”
The king stood, and taking the girl’s small hand in his, he bent and kissed it. “We have enjoyed your company most greatly, Mistress Fiona. Godspeed, and a safe journey home to your Dunglais. Perhaps if we travel to the borders one day we may have the pleasure of visiting you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Fiona responded. “I shall look forward to it, and Your Highness will be more than welcome.” Then she took Alix’s hand and they departed the royal nurseries.
“That was very nicely done, Fiona,” Alix complimented her charge proudly. “I am going to tell your father how well you did.”
“I’m sorry to have to leave Ravenscraig, and yet I will not be unhappy to go home,” Fiona admitted to her companion.
“I have already packed our few possessions and laid out our travel garments,” Alix said. “We’ll wash tonight so as to be ready. I am commanded to see the queen before we leave, and you know she does not arise as early as the rest of us.”
But to Alix’s surprise she had no sooner finished breaking her fast in the great hall with the laird and Fiona than one of the queen’s ladies came to fetch her. Alix followed the woman and was led to a charming small room with a view of the Firth of Forth. The sun was just risen and dappled the waters gold.
“Good morning, Mistress Alix,” Marie of Gueldres greeted her. “Sit down, and I will tell you what it is I wish to tell you.”
Alix took her seat upon a footstool that had been placed before the upholstered high-back chair where the queen sat. She looked expectantly up at her.
“Last summer a messenger came to me from my kinswoman Margaret of Anjou,” the queen began. “Her letter was quite detailed, and inquired if her goddaughter, one Alix Margot Givet, had come to me seeking a place in my household. It went on to explain she had matched her godchild with the son and heir of an English baron. That the girl’s husband had died under tragic circumstances. But as there was no issue from the marriage, and the young man’s father was now heirless, the baron had sought a dispensation to wed the girl himself from the archbishop of York. The dispensation was granted early last summer, but the girl had run away from the gentleman’s home in the meantime. It was assumed, as she had been a member of the former queen’s household, that she would not flee south into England but north into Scotland.”
“Then you knew who I was once you learned my identity,” Alix said softly. “Even before I told you my tale.”
“Aye, I knew,” Marie of Gueldres replied. “And I was as appalled that my kinswoman would even countenance such a second marriage for you, as I said to you when you told me your tale. However, Sir Udolf came over the border and sought out your godmother. He prefaced his request that the queen approach me with a rather good-size purse. Your godmother is, as you can well imagine, in desperate straits, Mistress Alix. And so she wrote to me asking if you had come to me and if I knew of your whereabouts. Of course, at the time you had not come to me and I did not know where you were.”
“Will you tell her now?” Alix asked fearfully.
Marie of Gueldres shook her head. “Nay, I will not. I do not, as I have said to you previously, approve of a marriage between you and your late husband’s father. It is an unnatural thing. And besides, you are in love with Malcolm Scott, and he with you. True love is a rare and beautiful thing,
ma petite
. I will not destroy it for you.”
“The laird is not in love with me,” Alix said, disbelieving.
The queen laughed merrily. “He is very much in love with you, else he should not have dragged you from my hall several nights ago when he grew jealous that my captain and Adam Hepburn were paying you compliments and enjoying dancing with you. Believe me,
ma petite
. The Laird of Dunglais is besotted with you.”
“He has not said it,” Alix murmured.
“Men rarely declare their love unless they are certain they will not be rejected. I know the tale of your laird’s marriage. A man betrayed is even more cautious,” the queen told the young woman. “Be patient with him,
ma petite
. Love him, and all will be well.”
Alix smiled shyly. “I will try, Your Highness,” she said.
“Go home now,
ma petite
, but beware. Sir Udolf has been seeking among the border families for you. If he finds you, however, I will protect you if your laird cannot. You will not be forced into a marriage with this man.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Alix said, rising and curtsying to the queen. Then she backed from the room, and hurried to make her way back to her chamber where she had left her cape. She found their trunks gone, and picking up her cape, returned back to the hall where the laird and Fiona were waiting for her.
Adam Hepburn was in the courtyard waiting to bid them farewell. He lifted Fiona onto her mount and then put Alix into her saddle, stealing a kiss as he did so.
“My lord!” she scolded him. “You will make the laird jealous.” But she was laughing, and so was he.
Still and all Malcolm Scott looked slightly annoyed, but when the Hepburn poked him with a wicked grin, he could not help but grin back.
“Now that I know what delights your Dunglais holds, my lord, I may come and visit you,” Adam Hepburn teased the laird.
“You’ll be welcome,” Malcolm Scott said, laughing now.
They rode forth from the castle of Ravenscraig, turning south back towards the borders.
“The queen had matters to speak upon before we departed,” Alix said to the laird once their journey was well underway.
“What had she to say, lambkin?” he asked her.
Alix told him of her conversation with Marie of Gueldres.
Malcolm Scott’s face darkened. “If he comes, I’ll not let him have you,” the laird said. “And if the queen is on our side then we are certain to triumph.”
Our side!
He had said
our
side and not
your
side. Alix’s heart soared happily. “I would die before I left you, Colm,” she replied quietly.
Her sweet declaration left him briefly speechless. Could it be she loved him? Really loved him as he loved her? Would she be faithful to him and not betray him as Robena had done? Could she be trusted? So many women could not. He thought a moment of Eufemia Grant, the wife of the queen’s captain who had so boldly tried to seduce him that first day at Ravenscraig. She was a whore by nature, Adam Hepburn had told him. Grant had only married her because James Stewart, the former king, had asked him to, and offered Grant the position of captain of the queen’s guards if he would. An older man whose entire life had been in the king’s service, Grant had agreed. His connections were not great and, while he deserved the promotion he received, he could have never gained it by being a most competent soldier. Another poor Stewart relation might have been content to be given a good husband. But Eufemia Grant was far more ambitious and a captain of the guard was not good enough for her.
Malcolm Scott shook his head. But most women were greedy for more than they had. His own mother had never been satisfied with what his father was or what he possessed. And after birthing her only child, she had gone on to have a series of stillbirths until finally she had refused his father her bed. Then she had spent the rest of her days an invalid, complaining about his father’s many mistresses, each one of which had been more acquisitive than the previous one. He had not been overly sad when his parents had died within a year of each other. His mother of her own bitter choler. His father of the pox.
And then he had heeded his uncle of Drumcairn’s advice, and married Robena Ramsay. But Robena had soon proved even worse than his mother, birthing Fiona, ignoring her because she was not a son, and making his life a misery until he took her to court. At the court of his friend King James II, his wife had blossomed as her extraordinary beauty, and the wardrobe that almost beggared him, brought her the attention and adulation of many powerful and wealthy men. He had never been certain that she hadn’t begun her unfaithful behavior there. The Earl of Huntley had been most admiring of her. More so than most. And because he wasn’t sure, and because he did not choose to be mocked as a cuckold, he had taken Robena back to Dunglais before any scandal might break.

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