The Magnificent Rogue

  “I could have prevented it. I chose not to do so.” He met her gaze. “I would not make the same decision now.”

  She tensed. “No?”

  A sudden smile lit his face. “You’ve caused us a great deal of trouble. It would not be sensible to allow you to do so again. I told Robert we would be safer to have you here than on the throne of Scotland, and now that we know you’re the heiress to an even greater throne, we must see that you have plenty to do here to keep you out of mischief.”

  She relaxed. “You know I’m with child?”

  “I believe we can keep one small bairn safe—if he’s not as self-willed as his mother,” he qualified.

  “He probably will be.”

  “Then we’ll deal with that problem when it happens.” He took her arm. “Robert is hailing us.”

  “I’ll never endanger Craighdhu or Robert,” she said in a low voice as he led her toward the gangplank. “You needn’t worry about that, Jock.”

  “I’m not worrying.” He didn’t look at her as they left the ship. “I knew you’d never allow harm to come to anyone or anything you cared about when we went to Kilgranne, Kate.”

  Kate. She had a memory of that moment in the courtyard when she had told him never to call her Kate because Kathryn was the name by which she was known to her enemies. She smiled. “I’m glad you’ve found I know how to do my duty to Craighdhu too, Jock.” They had stopped beside Robert and MacDougal, and she looked inquiringly at Robert.

  “There’s no problem,” Robert assured her. “Tim just wanted to tell me he’d taken care of a matter for me.”

  “I’m greatly relieved. We’ve had enough trouble.” She smiled at the agent. “I’m very happy to see you, Tim.”

  MacDougal flushed. “We missed you. You’re looking well, my lady.”

  Robert took Kate’s arm and began to walk down the dock. “He also says Gavin is much better and the most foul-tempered invalid on the face of the earth.”

  “Thank God,” she said fervently. “And Jean?”

  “She’s turned the castle upside down with her demands for Gavin. She and Deirdre are about to come to blows. They both think they know best for him.”

  Jock and Tim MacDougal fell into step behind them, and Kate was vaguely aware of their voices in low conversation. The sun was shining brightly as they turned into the street that led to the castle, and the entire village seemed to gleam. She could feel tears sting her eyes, and a poignant pang went through her as she realized how close she had come to losing all this. Craighdhu was still in danger, but at least she would have another chance to win this place she loved so dearly.

  They had reached the marketplace, and Kate and Robert were suddenly surrounded by men, women, and children.

  “It’s about time you came back.”

  She turned to see Deirdre standing in the doorway of the weavers’ cottage a few yards down the street.

  “Deirdre!” She broke free of the crowd and ran across the street. “How have things been with you?”

  “Well enough,” the Irishwoman said gruffly. “I’m not the one who ran away after embroiling me with these women and then neglecting her—”

  “Hush.” Kate dared give her a quick hug. “Say you’re glad I returned.”

  The smallest smile curved Deirdre’s lips. “Of course I’m glad.” She added quickly, “I need help with these ninnies who don’t know a warp from a shuttle.”

  Kate grinned. “You’ll get it. I hear you and Jean have Gavin almost well.”

  “He would get well quicker if she would listen to me. She’s a willful bit of baggage. But maybe a better woman than I first thought,” she conceded grudgingly.

  “Kate.” Robert had extracted himself from the crowd and was determinedly drawing her away from Deirdre. “We’ll see you later, Deirdre,” he told the woman as he whisked Kate away. “We have something to do now.”

  He was leading her toward the church, she realized with bewilderment. “Why are we going there?”

  “Because, as I said, we have a task to perform.” Robert took her hand and started up the long flight of steps. “I sent word ahead that the dominie was to be here when we arrived.”

  “The dominie? Why should …?” She stopped as she realized the significance of his words. “You wish to wed me?”

  “We are already wed. I merely wish to tighten the bond a bit.”

  “It would not only tighten it. A wedding in the church would make it irrevocable.”

  “It’s been irrevocable since the moment I saw you, covered with mud, lying on that trail.”

  She stopped short as they reached the door. “But this is different.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You’re going to have my bairn, you defied Elizabeth of England, and you’re balking at saying a few words before the dominie?”

  “It seems reckless.”

  His laughter vanished. “It seems reckless to me to risk losing you again. Alec said I was a fool not to wed you before God and man, and I’ll not repeat that mistake.”

  “It means you wouldn’t be able to repudiate me, should it become necessary.”

  “Nor you me,” he said. “So if you should change your mind and decide Craighdhu is not enough for you, it would necessitate you taking me with you.”

  She swallowed. “A hard burden to bear.”

  “I’ll try to make it lighter.” He held out his hand. “Will you wed me, Kate?”

  She looked down at his outstretched hand. On the night of Gavin and Jean’s wedding, almost in this very spot, she had held out her hand to him, asking for trust and commitment. He had given it to her. Now, he was asking her for an even stronger commitment, from which there would be no retreat for either of them. They would rise to triumph or sink to defeat together.

  A rare smile lit his face. “Kate?”

  She couldn’t smile in return. The moment was too solemn, and the joy and fear too overwhelming. That evening of the wedding had been bathed in a haze of mist and magic, but now they were standing in the bold sunlight of reality.

  “Come, lass, where is your boldness?”

  He was right—their love was great, but they would never survive the challenges ahead unless they faced life with endurance and courage. She reached out and took his hand. “It would be my great honor to wed you, Robert of Craighdhu.”

  Epilogue

  Elizabeth successfully crushed Philip’s mighty armada. The victory was attributed to both the strength of the English Navy and Elizabeth’s own diplomatic brilliance, as exemplified by her skill in keeping James of Scotland from offering aid to the battered Spanish ships off his coast. Though the earl of Leicester’s role in the victory was less than glorious, Elizabeth still showed her esteem for him by making him commander of her army.

  Craighdhu

  October 30, 1588

  “Here’s a letter for you, Kate.” Gavin came into the hall and started toward the hearth where Kate sat on the floor playing with Patrick before the fire. “The courier is waiting at the dock for an answer.”

  “From Robert?” she asked eagerly. Robert had been in Ireland for more than two months, protecting their holdings from the ruthlessness of Sir William Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth’s lord deputy of Ireland. It was the longest they had been separated since they had returned to Craighdhu. As she rose to her feet, her son immediately gave a howl of outrage and started pulling on the skirt of her gown. She gave him a wooden soldier to distract him as she watched Gavin come toward her.

  Disappointment surged through her when Gavin shook his head. “The courier came from the mainland.”

  “You’re limping again,” she noticed with a frown. “Is your leg hurting?”

  “A wee bit. It always aches when the wind blows from the north. Of course, Jeanie says I only limp to arouse sympathy.” He grinned. “She’s partially right. With a wife like her a man must use any weapon at hand to get his own way.” He pulled a wistful face. “If I limp a little more, will you tell me where you hid m
y bagpipes?”

  “No.” She took the letter. “Jock says you must rest those poor wounded fingers.”

  “It’s been more than a year.” He wriggled his fingers. “See? No stiffness at all. I could play as well as ever.”

  “That’s what I fear.” She opened the envelope and took out the note. The smile that lingered on her lips vanished as she read the two lines scrawled on the parchment.

  Your father is dead. Come to me.

  Elizabeth Regina.

  “What’s wrong?” Gavin asked.

  Very much could be wrong. If the earl of Leicester was dead, then Kate’s hold over Elizabeth was nonexistent.

  She handed the letter to Gavin, went over to the desk, and picked up a pen.

  “Bad,” Gavin murmured as he looked up from the letter. “Are you going?”

  “Of course.” She scrawled a few lines on the paper, placed it in the envelope, and sealed it. “What else can I do? Give this to the courier and tell Jock we’ll be departing immediately.”

  He took the letter. “I could go with you.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll take Jock. I want you to be here when Robert returns and keep him from following me.”

  “It won’t be easy.”

  “You’ll do the task better than Jock. Both of their instincts would be to attack instead of waiting to see if there’s another way.”

  He puffed up his chest. “While I, on the other hand, am the virtual soul of diplomacy.”

  “Well …” She decided not to deflate him. “Will you ask Jean if she will take care of Patrick?”

  “I promise we’ll devote our full attention to the lad. It will be good practice for when we have our own bairn.” He smiled beguilingly. “Now I know Patrick’s a little young, but this would be a fine time to further his musical appreciation. If you’d only tell me where my bagpipes are?”

  When Kate was shown into Elizabeth’s chamber, she found the queen sitting by the window, idly toying with the strings of the lute on her lap. Elizabeth appeared smaller, almost shrunken, her skin parchment pale and her eyes swollen with weeping.

  “You look well,” she said listlessly. Then she snapped, “No, you look disgustingly radiant. It offends me.”

  “My apologies,” Kate said. “I did not know my father, so I cannot feel distressed at his passing.”

  Elizabeth scowled. “You should at least have the grace to look anxious now that you no longer have a weapon against me.”

  “I’m concerned, but it’s never wise to reveal weakness. We both know that.”

  “Yes.” For an instant a fleeting smile crossed Elizabeth’s face. “We do.” She sat up straighter in the chair. “I will make this short. I have taken pity on your plight. I will extend the protection I have given you.”

  “Indeed?” Kate asked warily.

  “However, you must pay the price. You must come here to London.”

  “Impossible.”

  “You say impossible to me?”

  “Impossible,” Kate repeated. “I will not leave Robert, and I will not ask him to leave Craighdhu.” She paused. “And I now have a son.”

  “I’m aware of that. A boy.”

  Kate nodded. “Patrick’s a fine healthy lad.”

  “Bring them with you.” Elizabeth held up her hand. “Don’t protest until you hear me out. I have no liking for handing this land over to that sniveling boy on the Scottish throne. I’ve not labored all my life to enrich this realm to have him squander it.” She lifted her chin. “But, with proper guidance, you might prove adequate to the task.”

  Kate could see where the conversation was leading, and relief rushed through her. It was going to be all right. Elizabeth was handing her another weapon. She smiled. “I’d be more than adequate. I’d make the things you’ve accomplished during your reign seem trifling in comparison.”

  “Arrogance,” Elizabeth snorted. “Living with that insolent pirate has not improved you.”

  “But it has infinitely enriched me.”

  “At any rate, I’ve decided I will name you my heir. It will cause a great deal of trouble, but between us we can—” She stopped as she saw Kate shaking her head. “You refuse me?”

  “I don’t want the throne.”

  “Nonsense. You want it. Everyone wants it.”

  “I have all I need at Craighdhu.”

  Elizabeth studied her expression. “You do mean it,” she said wonderingly.

  “But there’s always the possibility I could change my mind.” Kate grinned. “You’ll never know, so you must keep your protection in place to guard the future queen of England.”

  “Oh, must I?”

  Kate nodded. “It would not be to your advantage to do anything else.”

  Elizabeth’s outrage gave way to a reluctant smile. “I should have taken you the last time I saw you. There’s nothing like that first taste of power. You were wavering—I could have swayed you.”

  Looking back on that day, Kate knew she might be right. “It’s possible.”

  “I could have had you.” Elizabeth leaned back wearily in her chair, her forefinger plucking at the strings of the lute. Her fire was suddenly gone, and she was once more only an aging, sorrowing woman. She whispered, “Robin loved music. He gave me this lovely instrument. He gave me many wonderful gifts.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “But do you know the most valuable gift he gave me?”

  Kate shook her head.

  “He made me laugh. What a rare—” Her eyes glistened with tears, and she drew a deep breath. “Well, why are you standing there? The audience is over. You’re dismissed.”

  Kate curtsied and started to leave.

  “I named you after my father’s last wife,” Elizabeth abruptly called after her. “Kathryn Parr was very kind to me when I was a child.”

  It seemed an odd thing for her mother to say to end this interview, but perhaps no stranger than the audience itself.

  Kate opened the door.

  “I loved her very much … Kathryn.”

  It was the closest Elizabeth would ever come to admitting regret for giving up her child. Well, surrender was not easy for Kate either. Time might have lessened her hurt and resentment, but they were still present. Yet in this instant of parting she found she did not wish to leave without matching Elizabeth’s compromise with one of her own.

  “I’ve never liked to be called Kathryn.” A smile lit her face as she looked over her shoulder. “Call me Kate.”

  April 29, 1603

  Craighdhu

  Kate and Robert watched Percy Montgrave slip and slide on the wet hillside as he struggled up to the cliff where they were standing. He was carrying a large shawl-wrapped bundle in his arms, and the burden only made his climb more difficult.

  “Should we go down and help him?” Kate asked.

  “Not unless you mean me to help him off the cliff,” Robert murmured. “I have no kind memories of Montgrave.”

  “God’s blood, this is an inhospitable place,” Montgrave said as he reached the crest of the hill. He looked down with revulsion at the seals below. “Blustery winds and wild beasts. It suits you well, MacDarren.”

  “Aye, it does.” Robert drew a protective step closer to Kate. “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought your wife a gift from the queen.” He handed the wrapped object to Robert as he reached beneath his cloak. “You heard she died on March twenty-fourth of this year?”

  “Yes.” The word of Elizabeth’s death had filled Kate with a confusion of emotions, foremost of which had been sadness and regret.

  He brought out the envelope for which he had been fumbling and handed it to Kate. “She gave me this letter and the gift to bring to you a week after she took to her bed. She told me to tell you there are great riches to be found in music.”

  “And that was her only message?” What had she expected? Kate thought ruefully. Certainly not a tender farewell or an admission from the queen that she had been wrong in
her treatment of her daughter.

  “You’re fortunate she made this much effort,” Percy said sharply. “She was not herself. She was tired … so tired.…” He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the memory. “She was a very difficult woman but … I shall miss her. It seems very … empty.” He turned and started down the hill. “I must get back to court. James set out immediately for London when he heard of her death. It was not wise of me to leave before I welcomed him, but my duty to her came first.”

  Robert watched him leave as Kate opened the envelope. “He’s right, it wasn’t wise. They’ll all be vying for position at court now that James is king. Maybe Montgrave isn’t as bad as I thought.”

  The letter from Elizabeth was brief and written in a weak, spidery hand.

  Kate,

  I seldom give second chances, but perhaps reparation is due you. I have implied to all that James is my choice to succeed me, but I will state it neither verbally nor in writing. One copy of the document in the casing of this lute will go to James, another will be sent to the bishop of Canterbury for safekeeping with instructions to the bishop that it not be opened unless he is ordered to do so by you.

  If you are wise, you will use this document as I would have done. If you are as foolish as I think you are, you will keep it only as a safeguard to use over James should he attack you.

  Elizabeth Regina

  Robert unwrapped the shawl covering the lute, parted the strings, and drew out the document inside the cavity. He unfolded and quickly scanned it. “It’s Elizabeth’s will, naming you the successor to the throne.”

  Kate had thought that was what it would be. Elizabeth was too determined not to make one final attempt to get what she wanted. But maybe Kate was being too harsh. Perhaps this was another gesture of reconciliation like the one Elizabeth had made at their last meeting.

  “What shall we do with it?” Robert asked quietly.

  She looked down at the seals and the sea, the panorama of life and birth on the black rocks below.