The King's Mistress (23 page)

Yolande de Dreux, squaring her shoulders, clasped her hands before her. “As you lust.”

“If that were the case,” Gen snarled, “you would indeed be carrying the king’s heir, and all this would be naught but a nightmare.” She reached into her pocket and pulled forth the silver necklace Greer so prized. “I came into this chamber to return this to you.”

She held the necklace out, but Yolande, looking at the necklace as if it were a cow flap, shuddered and took a step back.

“Fine.” Genny shrugged, pocketed it and headed for the door. Her sister could melt it down for species, for all she cared.

Behind her, Yolande said, “Before you take your leave, I’ve one more question.”

Gen stopped on the threshold. “Yes?”

“Why is it that women like you can never find men of their own? Why is it your lot are only drawn to married men?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You understand me. I’ve seen the way MacKinnon looks at you and you at him.”

Something clamped about Gen’s heart, taking her breath away. The once solid floor beneath her shifted. Reaching for the door frame to steady herself, she asked, “Are you saying Britt MacKinnon is
married
?”

“Ah, from the look on your face, I gather you did not know.” Chuckling to herself, Yolande turned and looked out the window. “Good-bye, Lady Armstrong.”

 
“
A man can survive distress, but not disgrace.
” ~ Old Scottish Proverb

Chapter Fifteen

The queen’s laughter followed Genny into the corridor, where she had to grasp the stair’s rope railing with both hands to keep from falling headlong down the steps.

Britt was married.

Nay. Yolande de Dreux was a liar! Hadn’t the witch proven that time and again?

In the great hall, she would find Lady Campbell…and learn the truth.

Britt could
not
be married. He wouldn’t have kissed her, much less made love to her, if he was. He kenned good and well how she felt about adultery. They’d spoken often enough about it on the way here. For God’s sake, he’d wiped the tears from her cheeks as she’d spoken about Greer and her disdain for the king.

The witch lies!

She only said that because she had no other means by which to lash out and hurt me.

She lied.

Aye, she lied.

But mayhap the witch just misunderstood our custom of handfasting. That must be it. Handsome as he was, Britt could well have been handfast, then terminated the relationship. Aye, that must be it.

Finally reaching the first-floor level, Genny stopped, took a deep breath to steady her racing heart and dashed the tears from her cheeks. She would not make a spectacle of herself. She kenned in her heart—in every fiber of her being—that Britt was a good and honorable man. She would keep that firmly in mind when she questioned Lady Campbell. So she might laugh when the woman confirmed what Genny already kenned to be true.

Composure partially restored, she squared her shoulders and glided as Greer was wont to do into the great hall, where she found Lady Campbell in conversation with Lady Fraser.

Noticing her approach, Lady Campbell smiled for a brief moment before her expression grew serious. To Lady Fraser, she said, “Please excuse me for a moment.”

She then rose, took Gen by the arm and guided her toward the far end of the hall. Once out of everyone’s hearing, she whispered, “Whatever is wrong? You’re as pale as snow.”

So much for her putting forth a brave face. “I apologize from disturbing you, but I need to ken if…” There was no tactful way to ask. “Is Britt MacKinnon married?”

Lady Campbell’s mouth gaped open; then she looked away. “Uhmm…oh dear.”

Oh good God above, ’tis true.

Genny’s legs turned to liquid beneath her. As the air left her chest, only Lady Campbell’s quick wits and strength kept her from hitting the floor.

The woman eased her onto the nearby stool, then drew up another and sat beside her. With an arm about her waist, she whispered, “Take a breath, dear.”

Genny tried. She truly did, but the bright flashes dancing before her eyes wouldn’t stop and no air would come. A dark, thick pain now lurked where her heart should beat.

In her ear, Lady Campbell growled, “Genny Armstrong, you are better than this. Do as I say before others take note. Open your mouth and breathe.”

Gen opened her mouth, and air whooshed in on a gasping keen.

“That’s the good lass. Now again.”

Genny tried once more. Air rushed in, the bright flashes dissolved, and the pain within her chest eased a wee bit. Slowly she straightened and was able to hold herself upright of her own accord.

Apparently satisfied with her progress, Lady Campbell loosened her hold and whispered, “Now tell me what all this is about.”

Genny managed to choke out the tale of her and Britt’s relationship and what the queen had told her.

At her side, Lady Campbell sighed. “I had hoped after speaking with you that your and MacKinnon’s liaison was more of the romantic but chaste sort…like those so many at court seem to be dabbling with these days.”

“Unfortunately, nay.” She never would have lain with him had she kenned the truth. “How long has he been married?”

Lady Campbell thought for a moment. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. He’s been married to Cassandra some ten years now.”

Cassandra, the very woman Britt had claimed he’d loved and who had lied to him. And married ten years ago. Genny’s wee hope for him walking away from an ill-fated handfasting shattered.

Dreading the answer but needing the final piece of the puzzle, she asked, “Have they many bairns?”

“That I do not know.”

But they most probably did after ten years of marriage, which would explain Cassandra remaining on Skye…to tend hearth and family.

Britt MacKinnon had certainly done a masterful darg of keeping his personal life away from court a secret from her. And how many other lies had he told her?

Lady Campbell reached into the tapestry bag at her feet. “Here.” She handed Genny a thick pile of cloth strips. “I spoke with Evette as I collected these for you. Within moments, the queen was informed you are
not
with child.”

Genny buried them in her pocket. So, her mission was now completed. Her sister and bairn would be safe to live out their lives as they chose, and none save a few would be any the wiser that the bairn was Alexander’s heir apparent.

And she had no reason to remain.

Gen rose on shaking legs, and Lady Campbell reached for her hand. “Where are you going?”

“I need some air, some time alone to think.”

“As you lust. I’ll be here should you need me. And, dear, please keep in mind that MacKinnon is a good man. I’m sure he’ll have a very reasonable explanation for all this upon his return.”

She mustered a smile. “I’m sure he will.”

But she wouldn’t be here to hear it.

He’d done the unthinkable. He’d turned her into what she most loathed. An adulterer.

She managed to cross the hall without stumbling and carefully took the stairs down to the bailey, where the high winds and castle life whipped about her as if all was still right in the world, as if her life hadn’t just crumbled to dust. At the stable, she hailed a groom.

“Please saddle my gray.”

The ruddy-cheeked lad doffed his cap. “Aye, my lady. I’ll summon your guard as soon as ’tis done.”

“No need. I’m merely going there”—she pointed to the tallest building she could see in the village below—“on a mission for Her Highness. I shan’t be but a moment before returning.”

Frowning, the lad scratched under his cap. “Are ye sure, m’lady? MacKinnon said you’re always to have—”

Damn MacKinnon and his edicts. “He meant should I travel any distance, which I shan’t be.”

The lad shrugged. “If you’re sure, m’lady.”

“I am.” Sure as she had ever been about anything in her life.

The moment the lad had Silver ready, Genny mounted and headed her gray toward the gatehouse. Relieved the portcullis had yet to be lowered, she sat proud and smiled as she approached the guards, as if her leaving were perfectly normal. It worked. They smiled in turn and let her pass unchallenged. Heads would doubtless roll when Britt learned of it, but then that wasn’t her concern.

She traveled down the high road at a leisurely gait, knowing the guards watched. The moment she rounded the brew house which blocked the guards’ view of the road, she kicked Silver into a trot, anxious to get to MacLean’s before Lady Campbell discovered her missing and sounded the alarm.

The moment she reached the hostel, she dismounted, tethered Silver to the nearest post and raced up the stairs to Hildy’s room. Britt’s words crashed to mind as she stared at the huge bed still disheveled from their night of lovemaking.

Upon my honor, if I were free to do as I lust, if I could change what is, I would take you to wife before the cock’s crow.

Bile rose in her throat. She, in her need and loving him, had taken his words at face value. Had thought he worried over how he might support them now that their king was dead and he’d lost—or would soon lose—his position and livelihood.

Why? Why hadn’t he told her the truth whilst they were on the road, before she could fall in love with him? At the very least, why had he not told her the truth when she stood naked before him? Why hadn’t he simply picked up her gown, draped it over her, then taken her by the shoulders and spoken? Why?

Edinburgh was naught but a hateful liars’ lair.

Oh, sure, she’d come to this place with a ready lie on her lips too, but not for her own sake. Nay, she’d come to protect her sister and Greer’s unborn babe. These people, on the other hand, lied for themselves. The king lied to bed Greer. The queen was lying to save her sorry hide. Britt lied to garner what he wanted from her. Even Lady Campbell was living a lie.

She grabbed Greer’s satchel from under the bed and took a steadying breath. God, what he must think of her? She’d been such a honey-eyed fool. At least she could take comfort in the fact that she’d not been one intentionally. Unlike Greer.

“There you are.”

Jerked out of her reverie by the sound of Hildy’s voice, Gen dashed the tears from her eyes and reached for Greer’s brush and comb. “You may have your room back. I’m leaving.”

“So soon?” Hildy came around the bed and craned her neck to look at her. “What’s this? Why are you weeping?”

She took a deep breath. “MacKinnon is married.”

Hildy, dressed in a dandelion yellow kirtle which did naught for her pretty, pale pink complexion, gasped. “No! Truly?”

Gen pulled the gown she’d intended to wear on the morrow for Britt’s possible homecoming from the wall peg, carefully folded it, then stuffed it into the satchel. “Aye. If I owe you rent, please ask Br—MacKinnon for it, for I’ve no coins of my own.”

She’d have to survive on air soup and shadow pudding until she could convert Greer’s necklace into species. How many coins it would garner her, she hadn’t a clue. Hopefully, ’twould be enough to purchase her and Silver’s passage and a bit to spare.

Sounding alarmed, Hildy asked, “Where are you going?”

Having had a belly full of lies, she muttered, “Home.” Home now meant her sister.

Hildy, her lower lip caught betwixt her teeth, thumped down onto her dressing stool.

“Where might that be?”

“Ireland.”

“’Tis so far away! Have you family there?”

“My aunt, Lady Margaret.” She’d blurted the name without thinking, but then Ireland was a big place, so it mattered naught if Britt learned of this or not. If anything, he’d likely think himself lucky. No ugly confrontation.

As Genny pulled her bow and quiver from behind the pile of Britt’s armor and set them next to the door, Hildy said, “Are you sure you want to do this? MacKinnon being married doesn’t mean he doesn’t care deeply for you. In fact, I ken that he does. This needn’t be the end of—”

“Hildy, I’m sure. I love—
loved
MacKinnon and thought he intended to take me to wife—but no, he played me for a fool.” She stuffed her sister’s coronet into the satchel and looked under the bed for her boots.

As she kicked off Greer’s silly long-toed slippers, Hildy sighed, then, voice cracking, said, “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Oh Hildy.” Gen dropped the slippers and held out her arms. Hildy rushed into them. Holding her new friend tight, she assured her, “I’ll miss you as well. You’ve been a true friend.” The first she’d really ever had, other than her sister. Thanks to Britt’s lies, she was losing not one person she’d come to care about, but two.

Fearing she’d fall apart, Gen stepped away, picked up the slippers, and shoved them into the satchel atop the gown. “I really need go before those at court realize I’m missing.”

Hildy, looking quite miserable, murmured, “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Outside, Gen tied her satchel to Silver’s saddle and gave Hildy a final hug. “Please say thank you and good-bye to MacLean for me.”

“I will.” Hildy reached into her décolleté and pulled out a small velvet pouch. Taking Gen’s hand, she placed the pouch in her palm. “Here. You’ll need this.”

Realizing she held a small fortune in coins, Genny tried to give the pouch back. “I can’t possibly—”

“Nonsense.” Hildy closed Genny’s fingers over her wages and winked. “I can always earn more. And I ken you’d do this for me were our positions withershins.” She waved Gen toward her mount. “Now away with you and God’s speed.”

Stunned by the woman’s generosity, Genny clasped Hildy to her breast a final time. “I promise to return them.”

Hildy, tears streaming, murmured, “I never doubted.”

Genny hauled Silver to the mounting block. Once settled onto the side saddle, she mastered a wee smile to assure her friend that she would be fine and waved good-bye. Ahead lay the unknown.

At the end of the mews, she turned the gray toward the tall masts marking Edinburgh’s seaport and couldn’t help but wonder if Britt would also find it ironic that she was making good her escape on the very gift she now suspected he’d given her in the hopes of binding her—his mistress—to him.