Wild Hearts (36 page)

James Douglas held out his hand in an invitation to Shannon. She was beside him in a trice, all sweet submission. Paris reached out to encircle his wife's tiny waist and gave her an amused, knowing glance. At last she had done something that pleased him, and she heaved a great sigh of relief that her plans had come to fruition.

After dinner, Paris told everyone, "I think James and Shannon should be allowed some privacy"; then he turned to Tabrizia and said loudly so that all could hear, "Are you ready to be carried to bed, my love?"

Why does he taunt me with love words in front of others? she thought wildly. Then, in a flash of brilliance, the idea came to beat him at his own game. She would become provocative and loving in front of the others, to pay him back and gauge his reaction. She lifted inviting arms to him and said huskily so everyone could hear, "Are you going to beg for my favors again tonight, darling?"

His hands were ungentle as he picked her up, and his rapier-sharp eyes pierced her with their warning brilliance. He dropped her on their bed, and she saw with satisfaction that the muscle in his jaw stood out with suppressed anger.

"I warned you once, I wouldn't be made a laughingstock. Beg for your favors, madam? You must be mad!"

She shrugged. "You take such pleasure in taunting me before the others. 'Tis a game two may enjoy. What do you wager that I am better at it than you, sir?" she provoked.

He turned his back upon her indifferently and took a book to the bed as if she bored him to death. She smiled a secret smile and went to the high mahogany chest that held her nightgowns. Slowly, she lifted a sheer apricot concoction and shook out the folds carefully. From the tail of her eye, she saw his eyes lift from the book to watch her. With deliberately slow movements she sat at her dressing table and bent to remove her shoes. Then she lifted the skirt of her gown, elevated her leg and slipped off one stocking. As she reached for the other stocking, she saw him lick lips gone suddenly dry.

She turned her back toward him and slipped her gown down to her waist. As she lifted her arms to put on the nightgown, she knew he glimpsed the side of her breast. Then she stood to pull down the delicate nightgown and step out of her gown and drawers. The book was forgotten now as he watched her openly. With maddeningly slow fingers she took the pins from her hair, one by one, until it fell to her waist in a tumbling mass of curls. She took up her brush and absently stroked at it, her eyes dreaming of something or someone miles away.

He cursed under his breath. "Are you corning to bed, or are you going to sit there all night?" he asked irritably.

She said absently, "Bed? No, I thought I'd read for a while." She took the book to the window embrasure, piled high with velvet cushions, and snuggled down for a good, long read. With a savage snort, he rose from the bed and headed up the steps that led to her old room. "Have the damned room to yourself, since I bother you so much!" Before he reached the top step, however, there came a low, insistent knock upon their chamber door, and Paris came down to answer it. James stood with his arm about Shannon and a look of apology in his eyes for disturbing them. "Can we come in?" he asked.

Paris held the door wide, then helped Tabrizia into a warm, velvet bedgown.

Shannon was blushing, a rarity for her.

James began, "When we get to Douglas Castle, we'll have a formal wedding in the church of St. Bride. 'Tis large and stately, and the bishop's prelate from Glasgow will officiate, but in the meantime, whatever am I to do?"

His hands cupped Shannon's shoulders and drew her toward his body. His eyes: feasted upon her mouth until she was breathless He appealed to the couple who were so newly wed. "I cannot leave her this night. Could we not drag the Cockburn chapel clergyman from his. bed. to say the words over us?"

Shannon swayed in his arms. His wish was her wish. Both were weak with desire. Paris almost savaged his friend, then the irony of the situation struck him, and he shook his head and laughed to himself. He reached for his cloak and said, "Come, we'll summon him. If I know aught of his whereabouts, he's in the barracks, drunk with the rest of the men at this hour."

As soon as they were alone, Shannon whispered to Tabrizia, "Lend me your little pearl-handled penknife." It took Tabrizia only a moment to discern her purpose. Shannon sagged with relief as she concealed it in her sleeve. "Let's not waken the others, they can come to Douglas and see me wed proper in-the church."

The two girls met the men coming back with the cleric, dwarfed between their great heights. Paris said, "No need to go out in the cold to the chapel. You will be wed no matter where the vows are exchanged." So they were married where they stood, and the cleric was left with open mouth, for as he said the final words, James picked up his bride and swept her from the room and up to her bedchamber.

Paris and Tabrizia returned to their own bedchamber. Their thoughts were all of the other couple and the obvious desire between the two that would not be denied. They were oddly tongue-tied with one another. Each longed for a tender word, a gentle touch, a love pledge, but each knew the possibility was too remote to hope for.

Morning brought the sails of the
Ambrosia
into view, and though Tabrizia dreaded her father's wrath, she was relieved that Magnus would be there within the hour. Paris had forbidden her to reveal what had gone on to his family, and she had been silent, but she fully intended to be private with Magnus and reveal every detail of Cockburn's wicked behavior. As she entered the dining room, Paris and James had just finished breakfast and they rose to leave. She gave Paris a triumphant look as she announced, "Take warning, milord, my father is here."

Paris exchanged glances with James. "He made good time. We can ask him for the
Ambrosia
, and appraise him of our plans."

Tabrizia was disconcerted. Paris seemed totally unconcerned about Magnus and his possible vengeance. Well, when she had finished her tale of woe, it would wipe that damned mockery from his face permanently. She watched from the clifftops as the small boat was rowed ashore, bringing her father and her dear Mrs. Hall. She saw James and Paris, down on the beach, drag the boat ashore and help the occupants to dry land. Mrs. Hall immediately began a slow ascent, but Tabrizia watched the men as they engaged in serious conversation. They did not seem to be shouting, or even angry, but spoke quietly, earnestly, nodding and agreeing upon matters. She went down the incline to help Mrs. Hall ascend the last few yards.

"Oh, lassie," panted Mrs. Hall, "I'm that relieved that ye didna go runnin' off to the Orkneys. And now ye are Lady Cockburn. I'm that happy, I could weep."

"Aye, that's how I feel," agreed Tabrizia dryly.

"You must be exhausted after that voyage. Let's get you to bed, and I'll send a tray to your room."

"Exhausted? Nay, nay. Never had such an invigoratin' time in ma life. The sea air is like a tonic! Ye left half yer pretty things at the house in London, but I've brought them safe and sound. As soon as those great louts bring yer trunks up, I'll have everything put away in no time!'

They walked back to the castle together, and as Tabrizia took the older woman's cloak from her, she hugged her plump little figure and whispered, "I missed you sorely. I'm glad you are back with me."

The girls were atwitter with Shannon's news, and already disagreeing over choice of colors for the formal wedding to be held at Douglas. Tabrizia smiled at Mrs. Hall. "I'm only a lady, Shannon is now a countess."

She waited impatiently for her father, rehearsing the words she would say to him. Finally, he entered the castle-with Paris, and Tabrizia ran to him and took his arm. She dared Paris with her eyes to try to stop her as she propelled Magnus toward the solarium and announced in firm tones, "We wish to be private. Don't allow anyone to disturb us."

She sat him down in a comfortable chair in front of the fire and stood before him as a supplicant. "You must not be angry with me, Father. I had absolutely nothing to do with it."

He chuckled. "You underestimate your charms; lass. Nay, I'm not angry with you, not angry with anyone."

"Well, you damned well should be," she flared. "You forbade him to have any contact with me, and he forced me to wed him."

"The only objection I ever had to Paris was that he was legally married. Once that barrier was removed, so were my objections."

"But he forced me against my will, Father!" she said plaintively.

"The lad was in love," said Magnus.

"If you think that, you are laboring under a grave misapprehension," she argued firmly.

"Pour me a dram of brandy, lass, my throat is parched. Now, listen to me. Paris always wanted you. When I denied him, I thought it would come to drawn swords. In the end I told him if he loved you, he would not make you his mistress but let you go so you could make an honorable marriage."

"This vindicates him in your eyes? But do you not see, he did not let me go?"

Magnus explained patiently, as if to a child, "He didn't let you go because he was free to marry you. That makes all the difference in the world."

She was speechless for a moment. "But he forced me against my will, not only in the chapel"— she blushed—"but also later, aboard his ship!"

Magnus at last looked outraged, but she couldn't believe her ears when she heard him say, "You mean you did not yield to him?"

"Yield? I'll never yield willingly! And what about a marriage contract? My money now belongs to him."

Magnus frowned at the outrageous things his daughter was saying. "Paris doesn't want your money. My God, child, he paid Orkney a fancy price to relinquish his claim on you."

She had gone white around the lips. "I see," she said quietly. "It is clear that this is a man's world and you all stick together."

"I should hope so." Magnus laughed heartily. "Now, if you've finished with me, I have men's business to attend to."

She sat alone for a long time, almost inert with misery. She wondered how many women down through the ages she was sharing this total misery with. She shook herself sternly. She was making a tragedy where none existed. Exaggerating her plight out of all proportion. She had everything in the world except a happy marriage, and how many of those truly existed? she asked herself cynically. She went up to her bedchamber and found Mrs. Hall busily unpacking.

"Let me-finish this job, Mrs. Hall. I have so many clothes, some of them will have to be stored in the chamber above. I hope you brought the small ivory casket from beside my bed at the house we rented in London. It contains copies of some important mortgages and loans I inherited from Mr. Abrahams."

"Yes, the casket is at the very bottom of that brown trunk."

"Thank goodness. Here it is. The papers are only copies, but I wouldn't want them to fall into the wrong hands. I mustn't be so careless with them in the future." She locked the casket and set it in her top drawer beneath her underclothes. "Mrs. Hall, I think I should wear something special tonight, since we have two earls dining with us. I want it to be as festive as possible. We won't have Shannon with us much longer. I'm sure James is anxious to take her to Douglas."

When Tabrizia came down to dinner, she drew every eye. She wore her latest court gown, a black tissue, embroidered lavishly with gold thread. Her hair was swept up and held in place by jet-beaded butterflies. The bodice was cut low enough, so that when she moved too quickly, the company was presented with an occasional glimpse of pink. She was very animated and soon had everyone laughing and enjoying themselves.

Damascus was avid with questions of the court, and Tabrizia entertained them with amusing stories, always keeping an aura of mystery about people, places and events, so that they begged her for more. Magnus beamed with pride as he watched her easily take the center of attention. He watched Paris for his reaction, and it was obvious to the older man that no prouder husband ever existed.

"What are Englishmen like?" asked Damascus, finally asking the question that had been plaguing her.

Tabrizia considered for a moment. "I think they would please you very well, Damascus. For the most part they are impeccably dressed and have very polished manners." She glanced at her husband. "They are the antithesis of our rough Border lords. However, though their wit is the cleverest I have ever heard, it is cruel and often directed at us poor Scots."

"Oh, do-give us an example, Tab," pleaded Alexandria, ever on the lookout to expand her collection of witticisms.

"All right. What is a Scottish aristocrat?" she asked, and the table was silent. Then she answered, "Anyone who can trace his ancestry all the way back to his father!"

Everyone thoroughly appreciated the joke and laughed without restraint. Toasts were drunk to James and Shannon, and when Tabrizia asked her when she would be leaving for Douglas, James spoke up and answered for her. "Actually, I'm leaving in the morning, but I'm returning in a couple of days with more of my men. Your husband and I have a piece of business to take care of before I take Shannon home with me."

Tabrizia's eyes flew to her husband. So they were planning another bloody raid. What was it about men that made them thirst for a fight? She knew that if she dared open her mouth to protest, her father, as well as her husband, would be shocked that she would try to interfere in men's affairs. She left the men to their brandy and sought her chamber early. She took the beautiful butterfly ornaments from her hair, and as she opened her large jewel case to put them away, she saw the glass snowstorm Patrick Stewart had given her. An angry flush stole over her cheeks as she thought of him accepting money from Paris. Absently, she turned the glass sphere upside down to watch it snow. She didn't hear Paris until he was almost upon her, then she swung around and tried to hide the little bauble, guiltily.