Tempted

  “Nay, Lord Douglas,” the messenger assured him.

  “I suppose it’s morning. Go tae the hall and break yer fast. I’ll join ye after I’ve bathed and dressed.”

  Tina giggled all the way to their chamber, but when Ram read the message recalling him immediately to Edinburgh, she sobered quickly. She sent Ada scurrying for the servants to fetch bathwater and laid out Ram’s new velvet doublet and hose.

  He stripped off his chausses and stepped into the water. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. We’ve been cheated out of our wedding night.” He held out his hand to her, and she placed hers in his.

  “Must you go today?” she asked wistfully.

  “Come in wi’ me,” he coaxed. She slipped off the silk nightrail and stepped into the water. As he reached up to draw her down to him, a breathless moan broke low in her throat, and she became caught in the web of passion he wove. Ram sat in the water with his knees bent, and Tina lay between his legs, her lovely round breasts crushed against the solid wall of his chest. She shivered delicately at the mastery of his touch. His sexual energy cried out for release as his mouth moved over her wet, satin skin, arousing her until nothing mattered in the whole world save his magnificent body beneath hers. She couldn’t get enough of him. She pressed her face into his flesh until his heartbeat was beneath her ear. Her tongue came out to delicately trace and tease his diamond-hard masculine nipples. She wanted to be irrevocably a part of him, lie with him forever, endlessly yielding while he endlessly took. She thought her heart would burst with love for him.

  Her ripe body between his thighs almost scalded his loins. He set his hands to her tiny waist and lifted her. “Wrap yer legs around me, slowly,” he instructed. Carefully she straddled his lap, impaling herself upon his rampant, pulsing shaft. At first his movements were deliciously slow and fluid, initiating the primitive play of male and female. Then he began to teach her his power, stroking deep, honoring her with his magnificent body. She received him fully, joyously, yielding herself body and soul. Their mouths so close were in a perfect position to kiss and lick and suck. Their needs were so great they almost savaged each other.

  Then he slowed his thrusts to a powerful, undulating rhythm, and her golden eyes flew open to stare into his pewter depths as they rode the rising crest of passion, then hurtled down into a molten sea of flame. They clung together, not wanting to separate, for each knew the separation would be endless. Ram had not disclosed the contents of the king’s message other than call him back to Edinburgh. There was no need. She knew.

  “Take me with you,” she begged.

  “Ye know I cannot,” he said as he dressed with care. “If ye’ll stay up here, I’ll come back tae kiss ye good-bye. Don’t dress—I want ye naked.”

  She nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat. She knew he hated tears and forced herself to blink them back. She knew it would take the men some time. Each had a war chest with armor and weapons, each had a warhorse with protective armor. Baggage wagons with supplies and fodder, packhorses and oxen teams with their harness and sleds must all be readied before the cavalcade from Douglas could ride out.

  A fear gripped her that he wouldn’t come back upstairs as he had promised. Perhaps he had decided this way was easier, but finally she heard his firm step at the chamber door, and she flew into his arms. She caught sight of his badge, the Bleeding Heart of Douglas, and was almost undone. She felt a foreshadowing, as if she were giving him up to Death. In that moment, it all seemed so clear, so inevitable. She choked back a sob as he put her from him.

  “Good-bye, Lady Douglas. Be brave, my little vixen.”

  Tina flung her sable fur over her nakedness and ran after him. She could not keep up with his long strides. He did not turn back to look at her She ran from the castle out into the bailey where all seemed organized confusion. He did not turn to her until he had one hand on the pommel of Ruffian’s saddle, then he snatched her into his arms. She opened her fur to offer herself naked and a low, savage cry was torn from his throat as he crushed her against his chain mail.

  The Boozer stood with ears erect beside Ruffian This time he was determined to accompany Ram. As Lord Douglas vaulted into the saddle and turned to wave, Tina had to fall upon his wolfhound and clasp him about the neck to prevent him from following his master.

  Chapter 39

  Muster the army!

  James Stewart sent out the order to every clan in Scotland. They were told to gather at the Burgh-muir of Edinburgh, a moor above the city that was the traditional mustering place for Scotland’s armies.

  Every nook and cranny of Edinburgh Castle was packed with the king’s earls, bishops, and lords, each chief determined to voice his opinion and not be overruled by a rival clan. Rumor was rife over what had prompted James to finally decide upon all-out war with England.

  The bishops reported that the pope had threatened to excommunicate James Stewart if he broke his solemn treaties with England. The king was incensed and sent back an immediate protest that England had already broken the treaties and that Henry Tudor was slaying, capturing, and imprisoning his subjects. James was enraged when the protest went unanswered. Bishop Elphinstone urged caution and prudence, but James and his earls could not swallow the insult.

  Another envoy arrived in Edinburgh bringing an appeal for help from Louis XII of France. Henry Tudor had taken an army to Flanders in an attempt to conquer and regain Guienne, which had once belonged to England The Auld Alliance between Scotland and France promised that either country would stage an invasion if the other were menaced.

  As the clans began to gather above Edinburgh, James Stewart’s confidence soared. A thousand banners and standards fluttered bravely in the summer breeze. The sunlight blazed down upon the steel of a score of thousands of fighting men James knew it was the largest and most glorious army a king of Scotland had ever led, or was likely to ever lead again.

  England and Scotland’s navies had been virtually at war all summer. England’s admiral, Thomas Howard, had a fleet of a thousand sailors, and it was taking a full-scale effort for Scotland’s admiral, the Earl of Arran, to keep them out to sea. Sea battles raged from St. Abb’s Head to the mouth of the Firth of Tay. Arran’s navy was now a sizable one. He commanded not only the king’s warships— the Margaret, the Lion, and the Great Michael—but also the converted merchant ships from every ruling clan.

  Ram Douglas envied his brother Gavin and his cousins, Ian and Drummond, who captained Douglas vessels and were keeping the English fleet out beyond the Isle of May, well out of the estuary of the Forth, where Scotland’s capital was situated.

  Ramsay had been chosen to lead the Douglas men-at-arms, since Angus was considered too old for battle, and in truth Ram would have been supremely insulted had it not been so. Both Angus and Ram knew their clan would obey orders from none other.

  The ranks swelled every day as more and more clansmen obeyed their chief’s call to arms. The Earl of Huntly brought his Gordons, Argyll his Campbells, Lennox his Stewarts, and Bothwell his Hepburns.

  James Stewart inspected his growing army each day and consulted with his earls, lords, bishops, and advisers each evening in the great hall of Edinburgh Castle. Tonight Ram could sense something in the very air. Tempers had been building to flashpoint, and it would take an iron hand and an iron will to keep the chiefs in check much longer. When James Stewart stood and held up his hands for silence, an odd hush fell upon that whole assembly. “I have had an appeal from the Queen of France. Henry Tudor has churlishly dismissed an ultimatum to leave Thérouanne in Flanders. England and France are at war! The French queen has named me her champion and has invited me to step one pace into England, to strike one blow for her.”

  A deafening cheer rose up and rolled about the hall like a great wave. Ram Douglas felt the hair stand up on the nape of his neck. He was alarmed because Heath Kennedy had ridden in with news of an English Army twenty thousand strong, gathered at Newcastle.

  The Earls of Atholl, Morton, an
d Crawford stood and urged the king to march into England immediately. This was followed by another uproarious outburst, confirming the chiefs were ready to depart on the morrow if James would but give the order. He asked Argyll for a tally of guns, cannon, weapon sleds, ox carts, and baggage wagons. Argyll consulted with Glencairn and Montrose and reported an excess of fifty thousand pieces in the baggage train. Next, he asked how long it would take an army of this size to march to England. Lord Home, who was familiar with the border country between Edinburgh and England, estimated it would take five days.

  James was accustomed to taking the advice of Angus in matters of paramount importance. He urged him now to stand and give his blessing. Archibald Douglas’s harsh voice rose. “Lord Ramsay Douglas commands our clan in this war. He wishes tae voice wise words o’ caution. I ask ye tae listen tae him.”

  As Ram got to his feet, none cheered him. Throats were cleared, feet shuffled, and the eyes that looked up at him were almost hostile. Clearly this gathering was in no mood for caution. Ram’s deep voice carried around the hall. “I’ve had reports today an army equal tae the size of ours is gathered at Newcastle.” Voices drowned him out. They would not believe such a thing possible when they had been told Henry Tudor and his army were fighting in France. Ram’s voice rose again. “This army is led by a man who was at our court until last year—Lord Howard, Earl of Surrey.” The babble of voices again made it impossible for him to be heard. James Stewart stood beside Ram Douglas and held up his hands until the crowd quieted. “My spies tell me this is true. Let Douglas speak,” admonished the king. “I would hear his advice.”

  Ram’s eyes were black tonight, his face grim. “It will take us five days to reach the border. I think we should align our army on this side of the Tweed. We should keep Scotland’s army in Scotland. We should challenge England tae take one step intae Scotland. When they see our force matches theirs, I dinna think they will take that step!”

  Shouting and cursing drowned him out. Some agreed, but more disagreed, until fighting broke out in the great hall. Loud shouts of “coward” could not be borne by Ram Douglas. His voice thundered out, “I challenge any and all tae personal combat! I’m no’ afraid tae mount a raid intae England! I’ll lead my Douglases and put Carlisle and Newcastle tae the torch. But I still say Scotland’s main army should remain on Scottish soil!”

  Angus studied James Stewart’s face, and he knew this was not what he wanted to hear. The king was impetuous, eager to show off his reckless courage. Angus held his tongue. The king wanted to go to war with England. So be it.

  James Stewart held up the turquoise ring that the Queen of France had sent to him. He grinned. “Louis has sent us twenty thousand French pikes. Let’s put them tae good use!”

  That night as James Stewart lay abed watching the fireshine play over Janet Kennedy’s hair as she disrobed for him, he had a premonition that he might never love her again. “Jan, sweeting, this is our last night together.”

  An icy hand clutched her heart, but as she walked to the bed, she gave him her most brilliant smile. The last thing a man wanted from a woman was tears. She saw that he had removed his iron belt of remorse to please her and wished fervently he would not wear it when he rode into battle. She knew he would not be merely a spectator, and it would hamper him. She did not mention it, however, for she knew what his answer would be.

  Janet had gilded the tips of her breasts, and as James toyed with them, their color reminded him of something he must say. “Jan, you’ll find gold in the bottom drawer of my desk. Take it all in the morning. It will serve you better than pretty jewels.”

  She kissed him to stop his words, but he lifted his mouth from hers until he had said what he must. “Keep our son safe, Janet. Explain to him that he is the son of a king and the brother of a king, but that he must never try to become a king.”

  “My love, I will bring him up to serve James V after you are gone, but we will have years together yet.”

  He gathered a handful of her flaming hair and brought it to his lips “Thank Angus for lending ye to me for a little while,” he said outrageously, and she threw back her head to laugh up at him. She saw the turquoise ring upon his little finger from the Queen of France and knew he could never resist an appeal from a woman. Then they loved each other as if it were for the last time.

  The very next day James Stewart and his chiefs joined their men camped on the vast Burgh-muir, and on the last day of August the Scots army was on the march. It was a magnificent show of strength Its orderly ranks clad in their brave plaids stretched out well over two miles.

  The weather was glorious, and on the fifth day of the march, as predicted, they crossed the River Tweed into England. The standard bearers led the way, carrying Scotland’s flag, the Red Tressured Lion on Gold. James Stewart rode at the head of his cavalry magnificently clad in red, black, and gold, telling the whole world that here indeed was the King of Scots. Each clan had its own pipers.

  James had scouts out to keep him informed of the progress of the English Army and to choose the most advantageous high ground in the Cheviot Hills, where the Scots could make their stand. The spot they chose was high above the Till Valley, where three hills formed a formidable, natural fortress southwest of Norham.

  Moneylaws Hill was at the center, Branxton Hill to the left, and Flodden Hill and Edge were on the right. James Stewart had outmaneuvered the Earl of Surrey to set his army upon these hills, and on that early September morning Scotland’s position was unassailable.

  Ram commanded over four hundred Douglas. Fewer than a hundred were mounted. Only his and Angus’s mosstroopers were trained to the sword. The rest gathered from the far-flung Douglas territories were spearmen, as were the majority of soldiers. All Scots carried knives and dirks, and some were proficient with hagbuts, and others were trained to man the artillery and cannon that could decimate an enemy when used effectively.

  Ram knew he need not wet-nurse his moss-troopers before the battle. Jock, his first lieutenant, was so well trained, he could handle the men without Ram’s direction. So he concentrated his attention on the Douglas spearmen. He ordered them to don their iron helmets and never remove them. He forbade them to use the seven-foot French pikes with which they were unfamiliar and ordered them to stick with their short spears and knives.

  When the Earl of Surrey sent his herald under protection of a red cross to James, he challenged him to fight two days hence on open ground below the hills. Ram Douglas was happy with the king’s reply. The Scots would fight where they stood, not on ground an English earl had chosen

  Douglas and Bothwell came up with an idea of fortification, and since it was their suggestion, they were the ones chosen to implement it They fortified the east escarpment of Flodden Edge with sharpened timber stakes thrusting outward at an angle that would rip the belly from a cavalry horse if it tried to jump the trench.

  The next day English battle lines were drawn on the eastern bank of the River Till Surrey saw that all the marshy ground was covered by the Scots artillery, and when they would not come down to fight, he wisely abandoned his position. He retired his army to the north and reformed below Branxton Hill

  Douglas and Bothwell urged the king to fall upon the English as they retreated across the River Till They knew they could defeat an army in retreat as it crossed a river with only one bridge, but James refused to give the order to leave the high ground.

  When dawn arrived the following day, it brought rain. Under cover of the thick smoke when the Scots burnt their camp refuse, James moved his army from the crest of Flodden to the ridge of Branxton Hill, four hundred yards above the English. Bothwell and Douglas again urged the king to order a charge while the windy rainstorm blew the smoke down the slope, hiding the Scots from the English. The coarse wet grass, streams, and bog where Surrey’s men were forming their battle lines resulted in hours of confusion, but the king delayed giving an order until the day was almost spent and the sun began to set. By this time, the English ha
d their artillery and cannons in place.

  James Stewart finally gave Scotland’s master gunner an order to fire his artillery. The Scots guns could not be depressed enough downhill to do damage, but Surrey’s cannoneers worked their pieces with deadly skill, killing Scotland’s master gunner and a good number of the waiting spearmen.

  James Stewart should have withdrawn his divisions out of range to the far side of the ridge and waited for the breathless English to reach the top, but he could no longer control his anger and impatience. With foolhardy and reckless courage, he led his magnificent army down through the rain and the smoke. James led one central column, and the Earl of Crawford led the other. The center advanced steadily with lowered spears, but it soon became a wild slide of barefoot men on a slope of wet grass.

  Ram Douglas and his men made up the left flank with Lord Home and the Earl of Huntly’s Gordons. As James moved his column down the center, the borderers were away against the nearest English. Surrey’s third son, Edmund Howard, was leading a division of Cheshire men. Ram Douglas broke them, and they were slashed to pieces by the swords of the border moss-troopers.

  Amid the clash of steel, battle cries, and screaming horses, Ram Douglas astride Ruffian came face to face with Davie Kennedy, who was fighting under the banner of Archibald, Earl of Cassillis. The youngest Kennedy had disappeared from Doon after he had betrayed Ram Douglas. He had hidden out from Angus’s men and from his father’s, fearing he would swing for what he had done.

  When war was declared, he had come slinking home, begging for a chance to vindicate himself by fighting with his clan for his king and for Scotland. Davie Kennedy knew that a man could cover himself with glory in battle, and he imagined he could be such a man.

  His father and his brothers cast him out and refused to speak to him ever again, but the chief of the clan said they would need every Kennedy.