Aberdeenshire, Scotland, 1565
Hot as a hare, blind as a bat, dry as a bone, red as a beet, mad as a hatter.
Standing beside the boy’s pallet, Avril Gordon recalled her late mother’s instructions and placed her palm against his burning forehead. His lips looked parched, his face crimson. She snapped her fingers in front of his unseeing eyes, and he mumbled nonsense as if caught in a nightmare.
“Gavin has eaten nightshade berries.” Avril turned to the earl’s farrier, the man’s ashen-faced wife, and his oldest son.
“I dared him to eat the berries,” ten-year-old Duncan admitted, his misery apparent. “I promised to do his chores for a week.”
Avril slid her gaze to Duncan. “You may be doing his chores forever.”
The farrier slapped the ten-year-old. “You’ve killed your brother.”
“Fergus, beating this son will not cure the other.” Avril looked at Duncan, “Fetch me a cup of water.”
Avril set her mortar and pestle on the table and removed two packets of herbs from her satchel. Placing both herbs into the mortar, she ground them into a powder and stirred the powder into the water.
“Carry Gavin outside,” she ordered the farrier. “Hold him in a kneeling position.”
Outside, Avril crouched beside the eight-year-old and pressed the cup to his lips. “Drink, Gavin. Small sips will cure what ails you.”
I hope. Murmuring soothing words of encouragement, Avril managed to get the boy to down the water.
“What now?” Fergus asked.
“We wait.”
Several minutes later, the eight-year-old vomited and vomited and vomited. Avril placed her palm against his forehead and gazed into eyes that seemed more focused. His babbling had ceased, his high colour was beginning to recede.
“Gavin will sleep,” Avril said, standing, “and all will be well.”
“Lady Avril, you are a credit to your mother’s memory.” The farrier carried his youngest inside.
“I owe you my son’s life,” the wife said. “Whatever will we do when you marry and leave us?”
“That day lives in the future.” Avril patted the woman’s shoulder and then rounded on the ten-year-old. “You will do your brother’s chores for a month, and you will never dare anyone again.”
“I promise, my lady.”
Avril walked away, her relief making her legs weak. Once out of sight, she used her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her temples and brushed a damp wisp of red hair from her face. She owed the Goddess thanks for saving the boy. Many thanks. Profuse thanks.
Slipping out through Huntly Castle’s postern gate, Avril followed the path through the woodland to her favourite clearing. She felt protected there, surrounded by trees – especially the oaks – the kings and queens of the forest.
Reaching the clearing, Avril gathered nine stones at random and began making a circle. She placed the first stone in the northwest and, moving clockwise, set the rest of the stones down to represent each earthly direction. Avril entered the circle from the west and moved to close it behind her with a stone.
“Sister,” The Earl of Huntly stood at the clearing’s edge, his arms folded across his chest. “Step out of the circle.”
With an inward groan, Avril wished her parents weren’t dead. Her brother was tougher than her father.
Avril sent the Goddess a silent prayer of thanks and then collected the stones in reverse direction. She walked towards her brother.
The Earl of Huntly tugged her fiery braid and, throwing his arm around her shoulders, ushered her down the path. “The Old Ways endanger you.”
Avril gave him a sidelong glance. “What do you want, George?”
“We leave for Edinburgh in the morning,” he answered. “Your Campbell husband requires your presence.”
That surprised Avril. “I thought he’d forgotten about me.”
“Campbell was waiting until you ripened.”
“Does he consider me fruit to ripen?” Avril countered, insulted. “Vows spoken between a five-year-old girl and a fifteen-year-old boy scarcely signify a marriage.”
“Your husband needs his wife with him at court,” her brother told her. “Darnley has bewitched Queen Mary. You can gain the queen’s confidence and hear the women’s gossip.”
“What if the queen dislikes me?” Avril said. “Besides, I wouldn’t know my own husband if I passed him on the road.”
“Trust me, sister. Once you see Campbell, you will never forget him.
Edinburgh
Nervous anticipation and simmering anger coiled inside her. How she began would signal how she continued. Avril stood in her bedchamber at Campbell Mansion. For the first time in her life, she suffered the urge to throttle someone.
Her husband hadn’t been home to welcome her when she and her brother arrived. George had instructed the majordomo to send for him at court.
Magnus Campbell did not seem like quality husband material. Avril would know for certain whether to stay or to go once she’d met him. Like her mother before her, Avril had been blessed with special, unworldly gifts. Her sixth sense allowed her to see beneath the masks people wore.
Humiliated by her husband’s disrespect, Avril had retreated to her bedchamber to freshen herself. Now Magnus Campbell and her brother waited in the great hall.
Her husband needed a lesson in the proper treatment of a wife. She was no biddable child and would not be ruled in this marriage, nor would she rule him. Waiting was a humbling experience, and humility would be good for his soul.
Avril inspected herself in the pier glass. She wanted to look perfect without seeming to exert any effort.
Her gown was the current fashion. Thankfully, the paleness of the yellow did not declare war on her hair as most colours did.
Her hair was too red, her height too short – Avril turned sideways – her breasts too small. She yearned for dark hair, several inches in height, and bigger breasts. Much bigger breasts.
Avril could not postpone the inevitable. Lifting her skirt, she strapped the leather garter to her leg. She never ventured outside without her last resort dagger and felt the need for protection more in Edinburgh than in the Highlands.
Downstairs, Avril stepped into the great hall. Her legs weakened at the first sight of her husband. She felt as if she’d been struck with the blunt end of a claymore.
Magnus Campbell stepped out of every maiden’s dream. He cut an imposing figure, his well-honed physique shown to best advantage in perfectly tailored, conservative midnight blue. His features were pleasing, his smile irresistible, his silvery-grey eyes the colour of mist.
She loved mist, which shrouded the tangible, allowing one to see beyond the horizon to the spirit realm – or so her mother had taught her.
“Magnus, I present your wife Avril,” George Gordon introduced them. Her brother looked at her fascinated expression, adding, “Sister, I told you so.” He left them without another word.
Magnus Campbell, the Marquis of Argyll, stared at her.
Avril Gordon, his wife of fifteen years, returned his stare.
“You have grown into a beautiful woman,” Magnus said, breaking the awkward silence. “I have never forgotten your unusual eyes.”
“Many people have blue eyes and green eyes,” Avril said. “There’s nothing unusual about it.”
“Most people are born with one colour or the other, not one of each,” Magnus said, bowing over her hand. “Are you ready to begin your life as my mate?”
Avril felt disoriented. She could not sense anything from his touch. She’d never met anyone she couldn’t judge by touch.
“I must speak with you first.” Ignoring his guarded look, Avril gave him an ambiguous smile.
Magnus motioned her to sit and, when she did, dropped into the chair beside hers. He managed to keep his expression bland, but his piercing gaze made her blush.
Damn. She’d inadvertently drawn his attention to her major flaw. Redheads were notorious blushers. On the other hand, only a blind man would miss her brazen red hair.
“What do you want to discuss?”
“We must clarify a couple of issues before we begin married life,” Avril told her hands, folded in her lap.
Her husband chuckled. “Issues?”
She snapped her gaze to his. “Don’t you have concerns?”
“Do you usually answer questions with questions?”
“Do you?” When he laughed at her impertinence, Avril answered his smile with her own. She liked his sense of humour and even temper.
“Tell me what troubles you,” Magnus said, “and we will settle these concerns.”
“I–I …” Avril felt her face heating with another blush.
“My lord?” Donald, the majordomo, served the marquis a glass of whisky and offered her a glass of lemon barley water.
“I prefer whisky,” Avril told him. She peeked at her husband who was watching her, the hint of a smile flirting with his lips.
When the majordomo returned, Avril tasted the whisky and handed him the glass saying, “I prefer Highland whisky, not this Lowland drink.”
“My wife is a Highlander,” Magnus told his man. “She can taste the difference between full-bodied Highland and floral Lowland.”
After the majordomo had served them two glasses of Highland whisky, Magnus turned to her. “Please continue.”
“I don’t want sex,” Avril blurted, watching his placid expression register surprise. “I mean, I feel uncomfortable sharing intimacy before we reacquaint ourselves.”
“Are you afraid?”
Avril looked into his silvery-grey eyes. “I fear nothing.”
Her husband studied her for a long moment, his face expressionless. “I will give you a week,” he said, “but we will share a bed for appearances.
Avril inclined her head and gulped the whisky in one swig, relieved that was settled. “Tell me about court and the queen.”
“Storm clouds are gathering over the court,” Magnus said. “Keep your lips shut, your ears open, and do not discuss religion. Anything you say will be used against you at a later date.”
“By whom?” His sharing important information impressed Avril. She doubted her own brother would confide in her.
“Friends come and go at court,” Magnus answered, “but enemies accumulate. Trouble is brewing between the old and new kirks. Mary is Catholic, but the new kirk has won the support of many nobles and commoners.”
“Do you mean John Knox’s new kirk?”
“Some on the privy council are Catholic,” Magnus said, nodding, “and the others – including the queen’s half-brothers – follow the new kirk.”
“New kirk or old, God hears everyone’s prayers,” Avril said, shaking her head. “Which kirk do you support?’
“I support whatever is politically expedient for Clan Campbell,” Magnus answered. “Travelling through life is easier with the wind on our backs.”
Our backs. Avril liked the sound of that, implying they were equal partners. Perhaps a marriage between them would work.
“I understand.” And Avril did understand. She understood politics jeopardized her husband’s soul, and she intended to save him.
“Queen Mary is beautiful, vivacious and intelligent,” Magnus was saying, “but her political inexperience makes her dangerous to herself and others. Darnley, her petulant suitor, lacks subtlety and possesses more ambition than intelligence.”
“What a charming place to visit,” Avril drawled.
Magnus smiled at that. “Mary loves golfing, hawking and hunting as well as gentler pursuits.”
“I do not kill God’s creatures,” Avril told him. “I do golf, though.”
“You eat creatures others kill in order to survive,” her husband reminded her.
“I do not eat God’s creatures,” she corrected him. “The thought nauseates me.”
“God’s balls,” he muttered. “Unusual eating habits will draw attention.”
“Then I will pretend to eat whatever is served.”
“Pretending is good,” Magnus said, “but what will you do if served haggis?”
Avril winked at him. “I’ll swoon.”
“Swooning is good,” Magnus said. “You know, lass, the first time I saw you, I knew you’d grow into a great beauty.”
A great beauty? Avril couldn’t credit what he’d said. Red hair, small stature and less than generous breasts did not make for a great beauty.
“What did you think of me?”
“I thought you were elderly.”
* * *
Her husband abandoned her.
After enjoying a companionable supper, Magnus announced that the privy council required his presence at court, but he would soon return.
Apparently, “soon’’ was a relative time. The hour grew late. Avril sought her bed, but sleep eluded her.
Her husband should have stayed home and courted her. Not only did the prospect of sleeping beside a man – albeit, her husband – make her nervous, but his inattention humiliated her.
Hearing the door open, Avril snapped her eyes shut in feigned sleep. She heard him moving around. The bed creaked, and the mattress dipped when he climbed in beside her.
Was he naked? Avril felt a heated blush. Thankfully, the chamber was dark.
“Good night, wife.”
Avril opened her eyes. Her husband was leaning over her.
“I was sleeping.”
“No one sleeps with a death grip on the coverlet.” She heard the smile in his voice.
Magnus dipped his head to kiss her. His lips were warm, firm, and oh-so-inviting.
“You taste like whisky.”
“I’ve been celebrating my marriage,” Magnus told her, and then hiccupped. “Oops, pardon me.”
“You should have celebrated with your wife.”
“You missed me.”
“A woman cannot miss what she never had.”
Magnus smiled. “You can have me now.”
“You’re drunk.” Avril rolled on to her side, showing him her back.
“You wound me, lass,” he mumbled.
Lying there in silence, Avril listened to her husband’s even breathing. A long, long time passed before she fell into a less than peaceful sleep.
Avril awakened during those hushed, magical moments before dawn. Beside her, Magnus still slept.
Bare-chested, her husband lay on his back with the coverlet pulled up to his waist. His face appeared boyish in sleep yet exuded an aura of power.
Avril studied his handsome features. His jaw was strongly chiselled, his lips sensuously formed, inviting sweet surrender to his kiss.
She slid her gaze lower. There was strength in his well-muscled chest with its mat of brown hair. She struggled against the urge to touch him, feel his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips.
Her gaze reached the boundary of body and coverlet. She wondered if the coverlet was the only barrier between his nakedness and her. That thought frightened and excited her.
Taking herself out of temptation’s path, Avril rose from the bed to complete her morning ritual of greeting the new day. She padded on bare feet around the bed but paused to lift her husband’s discarded doublet off the floor. The garment reeked of rose perfume.
Mixing a shrivelling potion appealed to her, but she knew she’d be spiting herself. Madame Rose would never again get close enough to leave her scent.
Avril tossed the offending doublet aside and walked to the window. Down the road on her left stood Holyrood Palace, and a mile down the Esplanade on her right rose Edinburgh Castle. On the opposite side of Holyrood Road stood a copse of trees, shrouding Holyrood Park from view.
June had coloured the world green. Wild and cultivated flowers supplied shades of red, yellow and blue. The early morning air smelled crisp and clean, and the chirping from the trees signalled birds awakening.
Avril lifted her gaze to the sky. The eastern horizon glowed with light. The rising sun, different each day of the year, seemed especially inspiring this morning.
Pressing her palm on the window pane, Avril whispered, “Father Sun kisses Mother Earth … Father Sun kisses––”
Movement across the road caught her attention. A tall gentleman stepped from the trees and hurried in the direction of Holyrood Palace. A moment later, a blond boy appeared and, walking at a slower pace, headed in the same direction.
What was happening behind the trees at this early hour? Had the gentleman and the boy been together? If so, why had they left separately?
“What is the hour?” her husband asked, his voice drowsy.
“Early.”
“What are you doing?”
Avril glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m greeting the dawn.”
“Agh, my head is pounding,” he groaned, his eyes closed, “and my stomach is protesting the whisky and food.”
Avril faced him, noting his greenish pallor. “Those who indulge must suffer the consequence.”
“Spare me the sermon.”
“I can cure your hangover.”
Magnus opened one eye to look at her. “Then cure me, wife.”
Avril crossed the chamber to the cabinet to retrieve her mortar, pestle and herb satchel. She dropped a pinch of two herbs into the mortar and ground them into powder. Then she stirred them into a cup of water.
Magnus eyed the offered cup. “What is it?”
“The cure,” she answered. “You must drink it all.”
“Does it taste bad?”
“I promise there is no taste.”
Magnus drank the mixture and passed her the empty cup. Then he lay back on the bed. “When will I feel better?”
“Soon.” Avril gave him an ambiguous smile and walked away, busying herself picking his discarded garments off the floor.
“How long––?” Magnus bolted from the bed and dashed for the chamber pot behind the privacy screen.
Avril whirled away, his nakedness startling her. The sound of his retching nauseated her, and she placed a hand on her throat quelling the urge to gag.
“You fed me poison,” Magnus accused her.
“Cover yourself.” Hearing the bed protest his weight, Avril rounded on him. “How do you feel?”
“I do feel better,” Magnus said, after a long pause. “Bring me food.”
“Do I look like your maid?”
“You look like my wife. Please?”
Avril shrugged into her bedrobe and tied the sash. “I’ll bring you oatmeal porridge and old man’s milk.”
“Leave the egg from the milk,” Magnus said, “and add an extra shot of whisky.”
Avril opened the bedchamber door.
“I want sausage, too.”
“If you want sausage,” she told him, “get it yourself.”
“Why?”
“I disapprove of eating animals.” Avril stepped into the corridor.
“God’s balls,” she heard her husband groaning, “I married a lunatic.”
“You look beautiful.”
At the sound of her husband’s voice, Avril turned away from the pier glass. Created in midnight blue silk, her gown sported a squared neckline and long, fitted sleeves with puffed shoulders.
Her husband wore midnight blue, too. She hoped that proved a good omen.
“I lack sophistication,” Avril said. “The other courtiers will laugh at me.”
“You possess something more valuable than sophistication,” Magnus said, sauntering across the chamber. “You, my dear wife, personify natural beauty and unaffected youth.”
“Thank you for trying to bolster my confidence.”
With one finger, Magnus tilted her chin up and gazed into her blue and green eyes. “I brought you a gift.” He reached inside his doublet and produced two boxes. “Open this one first.”
Avril opened its lid. On a bed of black velvet lay a necklace, its long golden length punctuated with diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires.
“I will cherish it always.”
Avril slipped the necklace over her head.
Magnus opened the smaller box, which contained a ring, its gold setting holding a rare, six-point star ruby. He slipped the ring on to the third finger of her right hand.
“Legend says a guardian spirit lives inside the ruby,” Magnus told her. “If danger approaches, the stone grows darker than pigeon’s blood.”
The ring and its magical legend appealed to Avril. She planted a chaste kiss on his lips.
“I love the necklace and ring and legend,” Avril said, “but I love the thought behind the gifts even more.”
“If the ruby ever darkens, scream for me.” Magnus offered her his arm. “Shall we go?”
Hand in hand, Magnus and Avril entered Holyrood Palace. Thankfully, her husband knew where they were going.
Walking down the corridor towards the reception hall, Avril felt like a woman going to the gallows. She disliked the disorienting feeling of entering an unfamiliar situation, but her husband’s hand on hers bolstered her courage.
Magnus and Avril stepped into a crowded reception hall. Ladies and gentleman loitered in small groups, conversing in hushed voices. The gentlemen’s dark clothing provided the women’s gowns and jewels with a perfect background.
Mingling perfumes clashed. Avril wished someone would open a window.
“The Queen hasn’t arrived.” Magnus ushered her across the hall towards her brother. He greeted friends and acquaintances but never paused to introduce her.
“I feel conspicuous,” she whispered.
“Everyone is curious about my Gordon bride.”
“Sister, how goes the married life?” George Gordon asked when they reached him.
“My delayed return last night annoyed my bride,” Magnus answered for her.
Avril looked at him, “My brother was speaking to me, husband.”
“Duly noted, wife.”
George Gordon smiled. “I can already hear the sound of crockery crashing.”
“Campbell and Gordon, I bid you good day.”
Avril turned towards the deep voice and felt dwarfed. The gentleman was well over six feet and as handsome as he was tall. He seemed vaguely familiar though she’d never met him.
“Lord Darnley, I present my bride, Avril Gordon,” Magnus introduced them.
“A pleasure, my lady.” Charles, Lord Darnley, bowed over her hand. “Best wishes on your marriage.”
His touch on her hand sent Avril reeling. She suffered an uncanny awareness.
Swirling fog in her mind’s eye dissipated, revealing … Darnley and a boy hidden within the copse of trees … And then the fog rolled in again.
“Lady Campbell?”
“I apologise, my lord.” Avril blushed, mortified being caught off-guard. She should have prepared for this eventuality. “My mind wandered,”
“I understand.” Darnley’s uncomfortable expression told her the opposite. “Excuse me, please.”
“Is there a problem?” Magnus asked her. “You looked vacant.”
“I sensed something sinister about Darnley.”
“Do not start mouthing your hocus-pocus,” George warned, his voice an urgent whisper.
Magnus looked confused. “What is her ‘hocus-pocus’?”
“My sister believes she has the Sight.”
Avril could have throttled her brother. She did not want a husband who considered her peculiar.
Magnus smiled. “You must be joking.”
“There is nothing amusing about the Sight,” Avril said. “My gift feels like a curse.”
Magnus leaned close to whisper in her ear, appearing like a lovestruck husband. “Forget about the Sight, wife, or we burn as witches.”
“Good evening, Lords Gordon and Campbell.”
Avril lifted her gaze to James Stewart, the Earl of Moray, the Queen’s illegitimate half-brother. Dressed in black, the earl was almost as tall as Darnley. Stewart was a handsome man in spite of his pinched expression.
“I present my wife Avril,” Magnus introduced them.
The Earl of Moray bowed over her hand before she could hide it behind her back. Again Avril suffered an uncanny awareness.
Fog swirled in her mind’s eye and then dissipated … Outlined in black, Moray held an infant and the crown of Scotland in his hand … The fog rolled in again, blocking her view.
“Are you enjoying Edinburgh, Lady Campbell?”
“Actually, I prefer a simpler life in the Highlands.”
James Stewart smiled at her. “Most young ladies would enjoy the excitement.”
“I am not most young ladies.” Avril gave him her sweetest smile. “Too much excitement can kill almost as easily as a dagger.”
The earl inclined his head. “Campbell, you are the most fortunate of men to have wed a woman without ambition.” And then he moved on.
Avril watched the Earl of Moray walk away. Then she blessed herself by making the sign of the cross.
Her brother smiled. He was accustomed to her eccentricities.
“What are you doing?” Magnus demanded.
“Keeping Old Clootie at bay.” Avril glanced around. “Moray begrudges Mary her crown.”
“Heed my sister’s opinions of people,” George advised her husband. “She inherited the knack of seeing into people’s hearts.”
“Too bad she can’t see into their minds,” Magnus said, and then looked at her. “I urge discretion, wife. The survival of the Campbells and the Gordons depend on that.”
“I don’t want anyone else touching me.” Avril doubted she could remain sane if all the courtiers hid sinister hearts.
An older gentleman approached them. With him walked a voluptuous, dark-haired woman.
“Avril, meet William and Fiona Seton, the Earl and Countess of Melrose,” Magnus said.
Melrose started to bow over her hand but couldn’t find it. Avril had hidden her hands within the folds of her gown.
“I mean no offence, my lord, but––”
“My wife dislikes being touched,” Magnus finished.
The Earl of Melrose raised his brows. “I hope you can handle that, Campbell.”
The Countess of Melrose gave Avril a feline smile. “Your wife is a lovely child, Magnus. We wish you well.”
Avril narrowed her gaze on the woman. Fiona Seton had been her husband’s lover, and she didn’t need the Sight to tell her so. The woman reeked of rose perfume.
And then Queen Mary walked into the reception room, capturing Avril’s attention, With the queen were her ladies, including her life-long friends, the four Marys.
Regal and graceful, Queen Mary was unusually tall, auburn-haired and beautiful. She was everything Avril had ever imagined and then some.
With her ladies at her sides, Queen Mary sat in a chair on a raised dais. The queen motioned Magnus and George forward.
“Your Majesty, I present my wife, Avril Gordon,” Magnus said.
Avril executed a deep curtsey, her head bowed but her gaze on the queen.
“Arise, Lady Campbell,” Queen Mary bade her, “My dearest George, your sister looks nothing like you.”
“Alas, Your Majesty, this woman is an imposter,” George joked, his smile infectious. “The fairies stole my true sister and left this changeling in her place.”
Queen Mary giggled, and Avril blushed. The other courtiers laughed at her brother’s success entertaining the queen.
“What say you to that, Lady Campbell?”
“His teasing tormented my entire life,” Avril answered. “Unfortunately for my brother, my husband is duty bound to protect me and will surely give George a thrashing later.”
The queen laughed and clapped her hands, enjoying the brother’s and sister’s barbs. Everyone laughed when the queen laughed.
“Your name means April in French,” Mary told her.
“I was born on the first day of April,” Avril said, “and my mother named me Avril Mairi in Your Majesty’s honour.”
“How nauseatingly sweet,” murmured a female voice.
“Fiona,” she heard the Earl of Melrose caution.
Avril felt interested gazes on her back. Some wished her well, others emanated unspoken hostility.
“What an exquisite necklace,” Mary complimented her.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Avril raised a hand to touch her necklace. “My husband is a generous man, but this ring” – she held her hand out – “comes with a marvellous legend.”
The queen beckoned her forward. “I would hear this story.”
“A guardian spirit lives inside this six-pointed star ruby,’’ Avril said, stepping closer. “If danger approaches, the ruby warns me by darkening to pigeon’s blood red.”
“I could use one of those,” Mary murmured.
“No one could ever wish you harm, Your Majesty.” Avril told her. “Your devoted subjects waited years for your return and rejoiced at your homecoming.”
Avril hoped her words proved true, but Darnley’s smile hid deceit. Even worse, the queen’s own half-brother coveted the crown.
“Do you golf, Lady Campbell?”
“Yes, I do golf.”
“You must golf with me and my ladies tomorrow.”
“Your invitation honours me.”
“The gentlemen will serve as caddys,” Lord Darnley said, advancing on the dais. “I would be honoured to carry your golf bag, Your Majesty.”
Queen Mary dismissed Avril at Darnley’s approach. Magnus was there to escort her away.
“Well done, wife.”
“We must speak privately,” Avril whispered.
Magnus ushered into the corridor. “We can speak outside.”
Leaving the palace, they strolled away as if taking the air. “Enemies surround the queen,” Avril said. “Those whom she loves and trusts will prove disloyal.”
“Do not repeat that.”
The topic was treason, endangering their queen. That required action, not discretion.
“We must warn her.”
“Would you endanger the Campbells and the Gordons?” Magnus countered. “I will send you to Argyll if you persist.”
Avril arched a copper brow at him. “Then you can resume your affair with Fiona Seton. Do not bother denying it. Your doublet reeked of rose perfume.”
Magnus held his open hands out. “I danced with the lady, nothing more.”
“Fiona Seton is no lady.”
“True.”
“Mary must not marry Darnley.” Avril said, her tone urgent. “Someone must discourage that romance.”
“You will do or say nothing,” Magnus ordered her. “Darnley is short on brains and long on ambition but a harmless, affable blockhead.”
“Darnley is not harmless and will bring Mary toppling down.”
“You met the man once,” Magnus argued. “How do you know?”
“I know because …” Avril lifted her small nose into the air. “Sometimes I know what others do not.”
“Hocus-pocus?” Magnus planted a kiss on her lips. “What does the future hold for our clans?”
“The Campbells and the Gordons will survive the storm,” Avril answered, “but Mary will not survive the Darnley problem.”
Her husband ran a hand down his face and sighed in obvious frustration. “What is the Darnley problem?”
“Only God knows everything, husband.”
“How well do you golf?”
Inspecting herself in the pier glass, Avril adjusted the forest green hat that matched her gown and jacket. Then she faced her husband.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Mary excels at golf,” Magnus said. “She wants to win against a good golfer.”
“Trust me husband.” Avril stepped closer, so close their bodies touched, and inhaled his clean scent. “You smell like mountain heather.”
“I love your lilac scent.”
“More than rose perfume?”
“Rose perfume stinks like the English.” Magnus lifted her golf bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We cannot keep Mary waiting.”
Magnus and Avril arrived at Holyrood Park ahead of the queen. A golf course had been landscaped in the park. Tin cups sat in small holes placed strategically at measured distances, and flags marked the cups.
Closing her eyes, Avril inhaled deeply. The world smelled green. Singing birds provided nature’s music accompanied by the sensuous swish of wind caressing trees. Overhead, the sun shone in a clear blue sky. Nary a cloud marred its oceanic perfection.
Queen Mary and her entourage arrived, including both players and spectators. The Countesses of Melrose and Moray planned to golf while the four Marys, never far from their royal namesake, would watch the game.
Darnley carried the queen’s golf bag, and James Stewart carried his wife’s. Surprisingly, George Gordon carried Fiona Seton’s.
“What are you doing here, brother?”
George rolled his eyes. “Melrose enlisted me to caddy for his wife.”
Queen Mary teed off first. The ball landed on the green, not far from the first hole. All the spectators clapped for the queen.
“Good shot, Your Majesty.” Avril knew the queen’s height gave her a strength advantage.
The Countess of Moray set the leather-covered ball on the tee. She swung her driver but missed the ball.
“I hate this game,” she complained. “I apologise, Mary, and will watch today.”
“Practise keeping your eyes on the ball,” Avril advised the countess, “and follow through when you swing.”
“Lady Campbell knows golfing,” Lord Darnley said.
“What else can she do in the Highlands except count sheep and hit golf balls?” Fiona Seton quipped.
Avril rounded on her. “Do you want to golf, Lady Seton, or discuss the Highlands?”
That earned her a deadly look from the woman. The spectators’ smothered laughter did not help.
Taking a driver from her golf bag, Fiona gave George Gordon an arch look. He placed the ball on the tee for her.
Fiona hit the ball but twisted her leg. “Ouch, my ankle hurts.” She limped back and forth on it. “I don’t think I can play.”
“Perhaps you should return to the palace and keep your leg raised,” Queen Mary suggested, her concern apparent.
“I would prefer to watch the game,” Fiona said.
“You Majesty, our numbers are dwindling,” Avril said, “but I would like us to continue the game.”
“I do love golfing,” the queen said.
“Shall we spice our game with a friendly wager?” Avril asked. “The woman who holes the ball first wins a gold piece.”
Mary flicked a glance at her brother, the Earl of Moray, whose face remained expressionless. Avril suffered the feeling that Mary feared making a misstep.
“I see no problem with wagering,” Lord Darnley said.
“Neither do I.” Avril ignored her husband’s unspoken warning and looked at Moray. “Both the old and new kirks frown on gambling but” – she smiled – “forgiveness for this small sin requires a prayer of contrition, not the purchasing of an indulgence.”
When the Earl of Moray laughed, Queen Mary leaned close to Avril. “I’ve scarcely seen James laugh before you arrived yesterday.”
“Alas, many people laugh at me,” Avril whispered.
“Are you ladies golfing or sharing confidences?” Moray asked.
Avril approached Magnus, who was holding her golf bag. She donned her fingerless leather gloves and grabbed her ash driving club, balls and tee.
“I know what I’m doing,” she whispered.
“That scares me.”
Avril sidled up to the tee. Gently but firmly, she gripped the driver and, without taking her eyes off the ball, swung in an arc.
Wham. The ball flew high in the air and landed close to the queen’s. The surprised spectators remained silent.
“Great shot, Lady Campbell.” Queen Mary applauded her. “I have found a worthy opponent.”
“Call me Avril.”
The queen slipped her hand through Avril’s arm. “Let’s walk together.”
“Did you hear the story about Reverend John Knoxious?”
Mary smiled at her wit. “Tell me.”
“Knox sneaked away for an illicit solo round one Sunday afternoon,” Avril said, “but God saw the hypocrite golfing and punished him with a hole in one. Saint Peter protested that a hole in one was no punishment. God cocked an eyebrow at the saint and said, “Oh, no? Who can the righteous reformer tell?”
Queen Mary laughed. “I love it.”
“Do not tell your brother,” Avril whispered.
“I will tell Lord Darnley,” Mary said. “What is your opinion of him?”
“Lord Darnley is an exceedingly handsome gentleman.”
“We look good dancing together, don’t you think? Most gentlemen are shorter than I.”
Avril managed a smile. “Height does not make the man, Your Majesty.”
“You are correct,” Queen Mary agreed. “What counts most is honour and integrity which Lord Darnley has in abundance.”
Avril glanced over her shoulder. Her husband was watching her like a hawk on the hunt. Beside him, Fiona Seton had looped her hand through his arm.
That friendship would die. Soon. Permanently. One way or another.
At the green, Queen Mary took her putter and skillfully dropped the ball into the cup. “You’ll need to equal my shot or forfeit a gold piece. Lord Campbell might regret your bold wager.”
“Campbell can afford it,” Avril said, smiling in his direction. “My husband tells me I married a wealthy man.”
Avril stood beside the tee, measuring the distance between the ball and the cup. Then she made a show of walking to the cup and judging the distance from that angle. On her return to the tee, she paused to remove a tiny twig from her intended path.
With putter poised, Avril stood at the tee, her head down and eyes on the ball. Then she tapped it.
The golf ball rolled towards the tee, heading straight for the cup. At the last moment, the ball veered to the right and missed its target.
“Great shot,” Mary said, “but you owe me a gold coin.”
Avril glanced at her husband. Magnus looked relieved.
And so it went. Avril needed one or two extra shots at each hole, and Queen Mary won the game.
“I would love to play again,” Queen Mary said.
“You honour me, Your Majesty.” Avril looked in her husband’s direction, calling, “Can we afford any more games, my lord?”
All the spectators, including the queen, laughed. Lord Darnley stepped forward to escort the victorious queen to Holyrood Palace.
George Gordon, golf bag slung over his shoulder, escorted Fiona Seton to the Palace. Avril struggled against the urge to draw her sgian dubh – the deadly little dagger strapped to her leg – and threaten the Countess of Melrose. The woman wasn’t worth the scandal.
Magnus and James Stewart were speaking. Avril approached the two men.
“What were my sister and you discussing?” Moray asked her.
“Nothing important, my lord.” Avril noted the earl’s gaze narrow on her. “I told her a silly joke about John Knox golfing on Sunday.”
“You must share this joke with me,” Stewart said, “but I can see you are weary from the game.” With that, the earl walked away.
“You do look tired.”
“Losing by one or two shots at each hole is more tiring than trying to win.”
Magnus looked surprised. “You were purposely losing?”
Avril nodded. “Mary wanted a challenge, not a better golfer to beat her.”
“I have underestimated you, wife. How did you become so skilled a golfer?”
“Counting sheep and hitting golf balls provide the only entertainment in the Highlands,” Avril answered, echoing Fiona Seton’s words.
Magnus laughed and, grasping her upper arms, drew her against the muscular planes of his body. His smile was the last thing Avril saw before his mouth captured hers in a demanding kiss, stealing her breath, sending her senses reeling. His tongue persuaded her lips apart to ravish the sweetness of her mouth.
Avril moaned, her body on fire with her first passionate kiss. Entwining her arms around his neck, Avril moulded her body to his and returned his smouldering kiss in kind.
“Shall we lock ourselves in our bedchamber tonight?” Magnus asked, his voice husky.
Avril answered with a soft smile and pressed her lips against the side of his neck.
“I will consider that a yes.”
She liked making love.
Avril awakened early the next morning, a drowsy smile on her face, her naked husband beside her. If she had known what awaited her, she would have demanded her conjugal rights three days ago.
The chamber’s dimness told her the hour was early, much too early to rise but …
She needed to thank the Goddess for sending her this special man for her mate.
She needed to ask the Goddess to protect the queen and allow her to see the true man beneath Darnley’s smiling mask.
She needed to worship outside in the open air, where she felt closer to the Goddess.
Avril slipped out of bed without waking her husband. She donned yesterday’s gown and jacket, and grabbed her pouch of magic stones. She glanced at her sleeping husband and left the chamber.
Stepping outside the mansion, Avril paused to verify no one would see her and then sprinted across Holyrood Road to the safety the trees provided. She emerged on the other side of the copse. Discretion demanded she cast the circle near the trees instead of at the park’s centre.
Avril faced the north and emptied the contents of the pouch into her hand. There were five stones: emerald, aventurine, ruby, amethyst and black obsidian.
Using these stones, Avril made a makeshift circle. She placed the emerald in the north, the aventurine in the east, and the ruby in the south.
“All disturbing thoughts remain outside,” she whispered, closing the circle with the amethyst in the west.
Walking to the circle’s centre, Avril set the black obsidian down. Then she drew her sgian dubh and, starting in the east, fused the circle’s invisible periphery shut.
Avril returned to the circle’s centre and paused, gathering the proper emotion. “Great Mother Goddess, hear my prayer,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I beseech you to keep Mary Stuart safe. Open my queen’s eyes that she may see true hearts, not the disguises people wear. And, I give thanks for sending me a magnificent mate in Magnus Campbell.”
Bending to retrieve the black obsidian, Avril noticed her ring. The star ruby had darkened to pigeon’s blood red.
Surprised, Avril looked around. Lord Darnley was leaning back against a tree approximately twenty-five yards away. Kneeling in front of him was a boy with pale blond hair. Avril wished she’d worn a hooded cloak; her red hair was impossible to miss.
Refusing to panic, Avril gathered her stones and pretended not to see the men. She felt Darnley’s gaze on her. Ignoring his presence, she escaped into the copse and sprinted across Holyrood Road to Campbell Mansion.
Her thoughts twisted in turmoil. Would Darnley accuse her of witchcraft? Would he risk explaining what he’d been doing there at such an early hour?
Should she tell Magnus what happened? She didn’t need the Sight to know her husband would be angry. Very angry. Frothing-at-the-mouth angry.
Avril looked at her ring. The dark red was fading, the danger had passed.
Magnus was still sleeping when she returned to their chamber. She disrobed, climbed into bed, and snuggled against his back.
Magnus rolled over, his voice drowsy. “You’re shivering.”
Avril wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. “Warm me, husband.”
“With pleasure, wife.”
Avril dreaded seeing Darnley at court.
Remaining at Campbell Mansion was not an option, though. Not only would she consider herself a coward, but Darnley would believe she was frightened.
Avril had trouble choosing a gown to wear. She needed to look conservative in case Darnley had been whispering in the queen’s ear about what he’d seen that morning. Black seemed too sinister so she opted for grey, the same silvery shade of her husband’s eyes.
Walking beside her husband, Avril felt secure. Could he save her if Darnley accused her of witchcraft?
Entering the queen’s reception hall, Magnus and Avril saw George Gordon and the Earl of Moray in conversation on the opposite side of the chamber. They walked in that direction, but a voice stopped their progress.
“Lady Campbell?” The Countess of Moray stood there.
“I’ll meet you later.” Magnus left her.
Avril smiled at the other woman. “Good evening, my lady.”
“Walk with me,” the countess said, looping her hand through Avril’s arm. “I commend your golfing ability and––”
“How else can a woman entertain herself in the Highlands?” Avril quipped.
“Do not let Fiona Seton bother you,” the Countess of Moray said. “The only woman who escapes that witch’s sharp tongue is the queen.”
“If we could trick Fiona into sniping at the queen” – Avril slashed a finger across her throat – “we need never listen to Fiona Seton again.”
The Countess of Moray smiled. “One simple action solves a nagging annoyance.”
“Lady Campbell?” Avril recognized Darnley’s voice before she turned around. “May I have a word?”
“Which word would you like, my lord?”
The Countess of Moray nodded at Darnley. “I will leave you to your conversation.”
Darnley watched the countess walk away and then asked, “Are you practising witchcraft?”
“Do not speak nonsense,” Avril said, her tone contemptuous. “Witches exist only in small minds like yours.”
“You should speak with respect to the man who may marry the queen,” Darnley warned her.
The man was an idiot. A snivelling idiot. A dangerous snivelling idiot.
“My husband will be wondering where I’ve gone,” Avril said. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what you were doing this morning.”
Avril looked him straight in the eye. “What were you doing this morning?”
Her question caught him off-guard, colouring his face crimson. A smidgen of respect entered his eyes when he realized bullying her would not work.
“Mary likes you,” Darnley said. “Singing my praises to the queen would help me forget what I saw.”
The man had lost his wits if he expected her to believe that. In the unlucky event he did marry the queen, Darnley would silence Avril by using fair means or foul.
“What do you say, Lady Campbell?”
“I’m sorry,” Avril answered, “but I never lie or make deals with the devil.” She showed him her back and walked away.
Lost in thought, Avril bumped into the queen’s half-brother. The Earl of Moray grasped her arms to prevent her falling.
“I apologise, my lord.”
“The fault belongs to me.”
His touch disturbed her, but she sensed something else. Moray’s machinations would fail if the queen did not marry Darnley.
“Do you adhere to the new kirk?” she asked him.
The Earl of Moray’s smile did not reach his eyes. “From where did this question come?”
Avril gave him an ambiguous smile. “Mere curiosity.”
“Walk with me, Lady Campbell.” James Stewart smiled and offered his arm.
Avril inclined her head. She was silent for a long moment, the wolves at court worrying her. She needed to save the queen from an unwise decision, and she needed to do that without condemning herself, the Campbells, and the Gordons.
“You have unusual eyes,” the earl remarked.
“I inherited my father’s blue and my mother’s green,” Avril said, “Do my eyes trouble you?”
“Disturbing me takes more than blue and green eyes,” Moray answered. “Which kirk do you prefer?”
“I prefer whatever my husband prefers,” Avril answered, “and my husband places his faith in political expediency.”
“If Queen Mary joined the new kirk,” Moray asked, “would Campbell follow?”
“I cannot speak for my husband,” Avril answered. “Personally, I don’t give a fig about churches. God hears everyone’s prayers and knows what lies in our secret hearts.”
“Well said, Lady Campbell, but do not let Reverend John Knox hear that.”
“The reverend fears women,” Avril said, “which is the reason he dislikes them. I pray that man burns in hell.”
“How indiscreet to say so,” Moray remarked, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Have you met Reverend Knox?’
“I never met Old Clootie,” Avril answered, “but I know the devil is evil.”
His lips twitched. “You believe Reverend Knox is evil?”
Avril slid her gaze across the hall and caught her husband’s pointed look. “Campbell is warning me to discretion, but do not allow Queen Mary to marry Darnley.”
Moray gave her an interested stare. “Why do you say that?”
Avril wished she’d kept her mouth shut. On the other hand, preventing marriage to Darnley would keep both the queen and her safe.
“My woman’s intuition tells me Darnley is not what he appears,” Avril glanced towards the dais. “The queen will regret marrying him. Darnley’s brain is no bigger than a rooster’s testicle.”
“I like you, Lady Campbell,” Moray said, smiling, “and I admire your loyalty to my sister. Take my advice. Return to Argyll and give your husband a dozen children.”
“Is that a warning or threat?”
“I would never wish you harm,” Moray assured her. “Politics is dangerous business, and you are too kind-hearted.”
“What about the queen?”
The Earl of Moray slid his gaze to the dais. “My sister cannot escape her destiny.” He offered his arm. “Shall we join the others?”
Magnus and George were conversing with Queen Mary and Darnley. With them were the Earl and Countess of Melrose.
“I hope your ankle has recovered,” Avril said to the countess.
“I feel much better today,” Fiona said. “I dare say, I won’t be dancing for a few days, and I do adore partnering your husband.”
Avril slid her gaze to her husband and then her brother. George looked as if he’d sucked a lemon. She knew he was waiting for her to strike back.
“My husband does move incredibly well,” Avril said, her expression pleasant.
“I can vouch for that.” Fiona gave her a decidedly feline smile. “Your eye colour is quite unusual. Have you ever been accused of witchcraft?”
Everyone, including the queen, laughed at such a ridiculous notion. Avril wondered if Darnley had begun spreading rumours.
“Have you been accused of witchcraft?” Avril countered. “Your tongue cuts like an evil old crone’s.”
Fiona paled at the insult. An awkward cloud of silence hovered over the group.
Avril refused to look at her husband or her brother. She had no wish to see their expressions of disapproval.
A footman, his hair the palest blond, arrived at that moment to serve them wine. Avril stared at the young man’s hair and then looked at Darnley, who was smirking at her.
“If you were my wife,” Darnley said, “I would poison your wine.”
Avril gave him an insincere smile. “If I was your wife, I would drink it.”
The Earl of Moray shouted with laughter. “Lady Campbell, you will never bore your husband.”
“Your Majesty, please excuse my wife’s lapse in manners.”
Avril rounded on Magnus, ready for battle. But she remained silent, heeding the warning in his gaze.
“I apologise for my sister,” George Gordon added.
“Charles provoked Avril,” Mary said. “It was a poor joke but no harm intended.”
The danger had merely been delayed. Protecting herself from Darnley, Avril placed her palm against her midsection. “The babe rules my tongue.”
“You should not have golfed in your condition,” Queen Mary said. “I had no idea.”
Magnus put his arm around her. “We decided to wait before sharing our good news.”
“It’s early days yet,” Avril said, leaning against her husband.
“Too early, if you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you, Darnley,” the Earl of Moray said. “I know from personal experience that babes upset their mothers from the moment of conception.”
“With your permission, I will take my wife home,” Magnus said, “before the babe insults someone else.”
“I understand.” Queen Mary looked at Avril, saying, “I envy your good news.”
“Your day will come, Your Majesty. Until then, I will name my daughter in your honour.”
And they left the reception hall.
Avril cast a sidelong glance at her husband, who stared straight ahead. Only a blind woman could miss his tight-lipped anger.
“Magnus?”
“Do not speak.”
Magnus marched her like a recalcitrant child into Campbell Mansion and up the stairs to their bedchamber. “Sit in front of the hearth,” he ordered, pausing to lock the door.
Avril felt a momentary panic. “Why are you doing that?”
“Do not play the henwit,” Magnus said, walking towards her. “I’m not planning to beat common sense into you.” He dropped into the chair beside hers. “Tell me everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Damn it, wife.” Magnus banged his fist on the arm of the chair. “Darnley is sniping at you, Moray is defending you, and you are announcing a non-existent pregnancy.”
“I know the situation looks bad,” Avril said, “but enemies surround the queen.”
“I want facts, not hocus-pocus.”
“Do not play the unconscious brick,” Avril said. “Even you should feel the negative undercurrents swirling around court.”
“Begin at the beginning,” Magnus said, reaching for her hand. “Include facts along with your intuition.”
“Darnley is morally corrupt,” Avril said, “and Moray’s soul is darker than the inside of a grave.”
“You mentioned that Moray covets the crown,” Magnus said, “but he can never claim it because of his birth.”
“Even bastards harbour ambitions, more than properly-born men.”
“I agree. Please continue.”
“Marriage to Darnley will ruin Mary,” Avril said, “and marriage to another gentleman will neutralize Moray.”
Avril did not want to tell her husband that she’d jeopardized them by worshipping outside but if he was going to handle the situation, he needed to know the whole truth.
“When I awakened early this morning, I was happy about marrying a magnificent man but worried about the queen’s future,” Avril told him. “I decided to consult the Goddess.”
Magnus looked flabbergasted. “Whom did you consult?”
“The Great Mother Goddess protects her children,” Avril answered.
Her husband was staring at her as if she’d grown another head. “What are you?”
“Like my mother before me, I follow the Old Ways.”
“Sweet Jesus, you’re a pagan?”
His attitude did not sit well with Avril. “Pagans do not slaughter each other,” she defended herself. “Only squabbling kirks encourage murder.”
“Stifle the sermon.”
“An irresistible impulse grabbed me this morning,” Avril said. “I sneaked out of the house and dashed across the road to Holyrood Park. I cast the magic circle and worshipped the Goddess. It was then I noticed the star ruby had darkened into pigeon’s blood red. Nearby I saw Darnley and a blond boy. They were lovers.”
Her husband’s expression registered shock. “You saw this?”
“Darnley tried to blackmail me tonight,” Avril added. “He asked if I practised witchcraft. We must warn Mary so she won’t marry him.”
“What matters to me is your safety,” Magnus said. “You’ve made an enemy in Darnley. Your enemies are my enemies and your brother’s.”
“I insulated myself from his venom by claiming pregnancy,” Avril said, “and Moray defended me because he dislikes Darnley.”
“Argyll offers the best refuge,” her husband said. “We’ll need to leave Edinburgh.”
“I do not fear Darnley,” she argued. “Our queen needs us,”
“Kings and queens come and go,” Magnus said, standing, “but the clans must survive. I’ll need to return to court and ask the queen’s permission to leave for Argyll.”
“I want to bid Mary a personal farewell before we leave.”
Magnus stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I do not answer to you.” Magnus unlocked the door and quit the chamber. “I will return when I return.”
Avril waited hours. She paced the chamber, peered out the window, and then sat in the chair. Again and again and again.
Still, Magnus did not return. Where was he? Was he dancing with Fiona Seton? Or worse? What would she do if he left her in Argyll and returned to Edinburgh?
The door opened, drawing her attention. His expression weary, Magnus crossed the chamber to sit in the chair beside hers. “Queen Mary will receive you late morning.”
“Thank you, husband.”
Magnus gave her a tired smile. “I never imagined a wife could create this much trouble, but I agree with your assessment of Darnley and Moray.” He took her hand in his. “Mary likes George, and your brother will do whatever he can without endangering the Campbells and Gordons.”
Avril felt a weight lifted from her heart. “Then you aren’t dumping me in Argyll or divorcing me?”
Magnus gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Why would a man divorce the woman he loves?”
Love? Avril couldn’t credit what she’d heard, and her expression mirrored confusion.
Without another word, Magnus rose from the chair and opened his cabinet. After rummaging through his belongings, he returned with three miniature portraits.
Magnus handed her the first miniature, a portrait of her at age eight. The second miniature showed her at age twelve, and the third at sixteen years.
“I asked your father to send me your portraits as you aged.” Magnus offered her his hand as if requesting a dance. “Can we go to bed now?”
Avril looked from his hand to his eyes. She placed her smaller hand in his and rose from the chair. Entwining her arms around his neck, she pressed her body to his and rested her head against his chest.
Magnus and Avril stood wrapped in embrace for a long, long time.
At noon the next day, Magnus guided Avril through Holyrood Palace’s winding corridors and up narrow staircases. Mary had invited Avril to visit the royal apartment instead of the reception hall.
“You will go inside alone,” Magnus said, tapping on the sitting room door. “Mary and I said our good-byes last night.”
“How do I look?” Avril asked him.
Magnus inspected her from the top of her fiery mane down her body – clad in a blue riding outfit – to her boots. “Your beauty could entice John Knox to sin.”
“You are an incorrigible flatterer.”
One of the four Marys opened the door. She smiled at Avril and beckoned her into the room. Queen Mary was alone except for her four ladies-in-waiting.
“I do apologise if I’ve done or said anything to upset you,” Avril said, curtseying to the queen. “I will think of you often and always remain your devoted subject.”
Queen Mary smiled at that. “You will return to court after the babe is born.”
“I fear we will never meet again in this lifetime.” With tears welling in her eyes, Avril knelt in front of the queen. She removed the ruby ring from her finger and offered it to the queen. “Please accept this token of my loyalty.”
Unexpectedly, Queen Mary placed her palm against Avril’s cheek. Then the queen slipped the ring on to the third finger of her right hand.
“Danger lurks when the stone darkens,” Avril reminded her. She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. “No matter what happens in Scotland, do not set foot in England unless Elizabeth Tudor is dead.”
Queen Mary seemed bewildered by the warning. “I will remember your words.”
What else could she have expected from the queen? Mary Stuart had been loved, protected and pampered – deservedly so – since the hour of her birth. Perhaps she would never understand the evil ambitions and hatreds simmering below the surface of the court and Scotland.
On impulse, Avril kissed the queen’s hand and stood. Then she backed her way to the door and left the royal sitting room.
Waiting in the hallway, Magnus wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks. Avril gave him a sad smile. Even her husband would never believe the rising storm headed for Scotland.
Knowing what others did not would forever prove a curse.
Avril kissed her husband’s cheek and murmured, “When Mary Stuart goes, we will never see such a bonny queen again, and Scotland will be the poorer for it.”
Inverary Castle, 1568
Avril rested in a chair in front of the hearth in the great hall. Gordon, her one-year-old son, sat on her lap and gave her a two-toothed smile.
“Some day I will teach you to golf with King James,” Avril told him. “You must learn to lose without seeming to do so. Understand?”
Gordon pointed a chubby finger at the centre of her face. “Nose.”
“Very good, my son.” Avril pointed at his face. “What’s that, Gordy?”
“Nose.”
“And what is this?” She pointed to his mouth.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss.” Gordon pressed his drooling mouth on hers.
Avril laughed. Gordon laughed when she did.
“Ah, there are my two favourite people in the world.” Looking travel weary, Magnus stood in the doorway.
“Da.”
Avril rose from the chair and set her son down on his feet. “Stay there. Gordy has a surprise for you.” She whispered to her son, “Walk to Da.”
Holding his arms out for balance, Gordon tottered towards his father. Behind him hovered his mother, ready to catch his fall.
Magnus grabbed his son and lifted him high, making the boy laugh. Then he planted a kiss on Avril’s mouth. “I missed you.”
They sat together in front of the hearth, the baby resting his head against his father’s shoulder. Magnus reached inside his leather jerkin and passed her a letter.
Avril looked at the letter from Queen Mary, currently imprisoned in England. She broke the seal, asking, “Why didn’t you read it?”
“The queen addressed the letter to you, not me.”
“Mary wishes us well and sends best wishes to our son,” Avril told him, tears welling in her eyes. “Mary yearns to see her own son and should have listened to my warning. She thinks of me often and would love to play another round of golf. Only this time—”
Raw emotion caught in her throat, making swallowing difficult. “Only this time she would prefer I do not purposely lose. Oh, Magnus, I have so much and the queen so little.”
Her son reached to touch her cheek. “Wet, Mama.”
Avril kissed her son’s fingers. “Is there any possible way to free Mary?”
Magnus shook his head. “I doubt it.”
“I curse Elizabeth Tudor,” Avril said, “and I curse the Earl of Moray.
“Moray does not wear the crown,” Magnus reminded her.
“Moray rules Scotland for his nephew. Where lies the difference?” Avril fell silent for a long moment. “How much does an assassin cost?”
“What?” Her husband had paled by several shades.
“You heard me,” Avril said. “The Hamiltons have long been loyal to Mary and share a connection to France. Do you think––?”
“I think,” Magnus interrupted, “I will not discuss murder in my hall.” He lifted his son into the air and kissed his belly, making the boy laugh. “Always obey your mother, Gordy, because she is a bloodthirsty wench.”
“Seeking justice is not bloodthirsty.”
“You are hitting justice over the head, darling, not seeking it.”
“Admit it,” Avril said with a smile. “You love me the way I am.”
“I do love your big heart” – Magnus dropped his gaze to her body – “as well as several interesting body parts.”
Magnus shifted his son in his arms. Then he leaned close to her, his mouth capturing hers.
“Kiss,” Gordon chirped. “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”