Wild Hearts (43 page)

Damascus said sweetly, "Count your blessings,brother. If Shannon was here to argue with us, it would take three days, not three hours."

He looked at Tabrizia and teased. "You are all conceited little bitches."

"When you strut about like a peacock, it's pride. When we do it, it's conceit," she complained.

"That's very true," he agreed.

"Oh, you are a damned rogue." She laughed.

He leered at her clad in her petticoat; a predator waiting for the moment they could be alone together. She shivered deliciously.

"This won't do," he decided. "The answer is for the dressmaker and her assistants to come and stay at Cockburnspath."

Damascus agreed submissively to Paris's suggestion, and all was decided. April and May were given over entirely to preparations for what was to be the wedding of the decade. The wedding clothes were finally finished, and the weary seamstresses packed up and returned to Edinburgh.

In their chamber, Paris lifted Tabrizia's hair and put his lips to the nape of her neck. "Thank God all those women are gone. I never seemed to have you to myself!' Tabrizia quickly slipped her petticoat from her body, and it lay upon the rug. She reached her arms up behind his neck to fit her body more closely to his, and he lifted her against his heart. Desire flared up in Tabrizia, until she began to tremble against him. Paris was dizzy with the heady knowledge that she desired him with a passion that matched his own. He cupped her breast and dipped his head so his lips could kiss the silken flesh. She moaned softly. His lips moved lower across her navel and down to the triangle between her legs. His tongue traced the delicate folds until she thought she would go mad with the sensations he was arousing. She entwined her fingers in his hair to force him to stop. "Paris, please don't play with me anymore," she gasped.

As he carried her to the bed, he laughed deep in his throat. "I've only just begun!"

She lay in his arms in a surfeit of happiness, intoxicated by the magic of his nearness. He gazed at the beautiful picture she made against the pillows, her sable red hair falling over her white shoulders in a great cloud. When his mouth touched hers, she felt as if they floated off into a secret, private world of their own. His embrace tightened until their hearts beat against each other. His kisses stopped giving and started to take. He meant to be gentle, but he forgot all that in his driving desire for her. She cried out with pleasure-pain as his savagely impatient lovemaking brought her to peak after peak of exquisite sensations. Long after they were spent, he lay with his body still possessively straddling her.

A week before the wedding, Damascus insisted upon having a full dress rehearsal. With a sigh of resignation, Paris agreed to "walk her up the aisle" just as he would in the chapel, The girls had set up an altar in the solarium and everyone was ready except Alexandria.

"There you are, you wretched girl. Do you realize how long we have been standing here? Why aren't you wearing your gown?" demanded Damascus impatiently.

"It won't fit," said Alexandria.

"What nonsense, of course it will fit. It looked wonderful on you, I saw it with my own eyes:"

"That was then," claimed Alexandria stubbornly.

"You are just doing this to be awkward! Fetch the gown, and we'll see what all this is about."

"Are you calling me a liar?" demanded Alexandria aggressively.

Troy, utterly fed up with standing about dressed in finery, exploded, "For God's sake, Alexandria, I want to go hunting before the light fails."

Alex, alarmed at his twin's obvious distress said, "Let's leave her alone. She's been vomiting for days. You know she hasn't been herself lately."

All eyes flew to Alexandria.

Damascus, feeling guilty for her bullying, dropped to her knees before her sister. "My love, what's wrong?" Her eyes fell on Alexandria's belly, swollen beyond a doubt. "My God, you look months gone with child!"

"I am," whispered Alexandria miserably.

Tabrizia put her arm around her. "Why didn't you tell me ?"

Everyone in the room was stunned by the revelation. Paris exploded. "Those damned young Douglases, I knew they were wild and not to be trusted!."

Alexandria, in panic, shook her head. "It wasn't a Douglas."

"Then who? How?" shouted Paris. "If one of my men has molested you, I'll hang him before the sun goes down!"

She shook her head hopelessly. "It wasn't one of your men."

"Who, then? I'll have the name of the man with whom you've been playing the slut," he raged.

Alexandria raised her head, her eyes defiant now. "I will never tell you his name. I'd cut my tongue out first."

"We'll see about that, you little madam," shouted Paris, grabbing his whip and advancing upon the girl.

Alex, terrified for his twin, blurted out, "Stop! It was me. I'm the father."

Paris whirled upon him and the whip slipped from his fingers as the horror of what he was hearing penetrated. He took Alex by the throat and smashed a fist into his jaw. The boy fell in a bloody heap as Troy and Tabrizia ran forward to restrain Paris from more bloodletting. "Get them out of my sight, or I won't be responsible for what happens," ground out Paris, in the blackest rage any had ever seen.

The room was emptied. Tabrizia was torn between going to Alexandria or going to Paris. She went to Alexandria. "Come on, let's get you into bed, you are suffering from nervous exhaustion." She quickly undressed her and urged her under the covers. "I'm going to have Mrs. Hall come and look after you. She is just like a mother."

Alexandria began to laugh and cry at the same time. "Neither one of us knows what a mother is like."

"No, but we are both going to have to learn." Tabrizia smiled gently.

When she went to their bedchamber, Paris was drinking raw whisky. "I think we are cursed," he stated bleakly.

She knew what she wanted to tell him, but she must pick her words very carefully, lest she ignite his already lacerated temper.

"Nay"-- he shook his head—" 'tis not a curse, 'tis my fault." He looked into her eyes, and she could read the unbearable pain there. "I've done a terrible job bringing them up. From the beginning I've resented that the twins' birth killed our mother. They turned to each other, but I swear to you, love, I never suspected there was anything unnatural going on between them." -

"Nor was there!" declared Tabrizia emphatically. "Listen to me, darling. You mustn't torture yourself for one moment longer, thinking Alexander the father of her child. He just jumped in to protect her, the way he always does. He didn't realize how unspeakable such a thing would be. You know his only thought was to take her guilt upon himself."

Paris looked at her with a faint light of hope dawning in his eyes. "Do you really think it possible they were lying?"

"Alexandria is having a baby, but I'm absolutely convinced that Alex is not the father. I'll try to get her to confide in me, and between us we will put this whole mess right."

She reached out a comforting hand to him, then withdrew it quickly as he flared, "By God, I knew Shannon was a cock-chafer, but I'd no idea little Alexandria was somebody's night piece!"

"Night piece?" gasped Tabrizia. "Is that what I am to you?"

"Of course not! My darling, come here to me. I'm sorry you have to bear the brunt of my accursed temper, but sometimes this damned family has me at my wit's end." He pulled her down into his lap, and his lips brushed her temple. "You are so slim. Are you sure we are to have a child?"

"You'll have a son by November," she promised.

"You could be carrying a little vixen, just like yourself." He grinned in anticipation.

"Or twins," she teased.

His grin faded. "Don't even think that. Lord God. I am scared to death of your delivering
one
safely."

"I will be fine," she promised. "I want this baby too much for anything to go wrong. I'll talk with Alexandria."

His hold on her tightened. "Just get me a name. I'll have them wed within a week," he vowed darkly.

June brought the Douglas and the Lennox clans for the wedding festivities. Damascus and Tabrizia took Shannon and Venetia along to Alexandria's chamber where they could all be private. Tabrizia locked the door, and they all gathered around the bed.

"What's the mystery?" demanded Shannon. Tabrizia said quietly, "Alexandria is going to have a baby, and she refuses to name the father."

"Oh, love," cried Shannon, "do you not know who the father is?"

"Of course I know who the father is," cried Alexandria indignantly.

"Darling, we all love you, and we only want to help you. Please tell us who the father is, and you'll see how simply this can all be straightened out," implored Tabrizia.

Alexandria sighed deeply. "When I disgraced myself by going on that raid to Huntly, I further disgraced myself by getting pregnant."

"One of the bloody Gordons?" demanded Shannon, "Paris will kill him?"

"Oh, my God! It was Adam Gordon, wasn't it? No wonder you wouldn't tell," realized Tabrizia, feeling somehow responsible.

"All hell will break loose when he finds out," predicted Shannon.

"For God's sake, don't breathe a word of this before the wedding," begged Damascus.

"Was it very terrible for you, Alexandria?" asked Tabrizia, imagining the worst.

"It was inevitable. Adam Gordon and I loved each other on sight;" she admitted softly.

"You mean to say you weren't forced?" asked Venetia, scandalized to think one would actually bed with a Gordon by choice.

Alexandria looked at Tabrizia hopelessly and gave her back her own words: "You see how simply this can all be straightened out?"

Shannon said, "Well, of course, there's only one of us can possibly beguile Paris enough to break this news to him."

They looked at Tabrizia. "Oh, please, not me," she begged.

"Of course, you," said Damascus, "after the wedding."

"He is besotted with you," declared Shannon.

Alexandria clinched it. "You are carrying his heir, he wouldn't harm you." She took hold of Tabrizia's hands in supplication, "Oh, please ask Paris if Adam and I can marry."

"He won't even sign the peace bond the King ordered," Tabrizia pointed out "How in the name of heaven am I to get him to agree to a marriage contract?"

"You know how!" Shannon quipped.

"You are the only one with power over him," begged Alexandria.

"As soon as the wedding is over and you have all deserted back to your own safe castles, I'll tell him. But I make no promises; the man is as unpredictable as a volcano, with temper to match."

"He'll run mad," whispered Damascus under her breath, and received a vicious poke in the ribs from Shannon.

Magnus arrived with Margaret and left her to her own devices while he placed Tabrizia's arm through his and possessively escorted her around, proudly showing her off before all the guests. When she told him he was about to become a grandfather, his face split with a grin that stayed with him all day. He winked at her. "Does that mean you finally yielded?"

She slapped his arm and blushed vividly, which only added to his pleasure. He had aged visibly since the first time she had met him and his mortality smote her, and she promised herself that she would go to visit him more often in the future.

Margaret maneuvered Paris into a private alcove. She wore brilliant orange, which set off her vivid, dark beauty in a startling manner.

"You look very beautiful, Margaret," complimented Paris. "I swear you must be a witch; you look two years younger every time I see you."

Her eyes glittered with malice as she told him, "You surprised me, Paris. Marrying a girl who was betrothed to another. I thought you didn't care for other men's leavings."

He managed to reply, "There is no jealousy in me, Margaret."

Her laughter rippled over him. "What an outrageous lie! Do you mean to tell me you have never hunted for her love letters?" asked Margaret, planting her poisonous seeds of discord.

"Excuse me, Margaret, I am neglecting my duties as host." That was enough to stir his emotions, and he went straight to his bedchamber, jealousy already eating at him. He went through Tabrizia's personal belongings until he found the jewel casket containing Patrick Stewart's letters. He would demand that she swear an oath that she had never lain with him! Suddenly, he realized what a damned fool he was being. How could he jeopardize the happiness they shared? If she found him searching here, he would destroy that rare; priceless thing they shared. Quickly, he put the letters back, unopened. He knew now, where there was no trust, there was no love.

There were so many guests that the wedding day passed in a blur, and Tabrizia found her face ached from keeping a smile upon it. So many clans present— how did they keep track? Each clan in some way related to another, usually through marriage, and now all related to her. Her mind gave up trying to sort them into any kind of logical order.

In the evening when the dancing began, she was whirled off her feet by a never-ending stream of men who had heard of Rogue Cockburn's beauteous wife. They knew this would be the closest they would ever be allowed to get to her, so they took full advantage. As she was catching her breath between partners, she scanned the hall for a familiar face. She was pulled unceremoniously behind an arras and was vastly relieved to find herself in Paris's arms. He kissed her hungrily and whispered, "Surrender or scream."