The Queen's Lady. Shannon Drake

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СКАЧАТЬ peeress, however, so his stay could not properly be considered incarceration.

      Gwenyth had met Lord Darnley only briefly, at the same time as the queen, when he had come to bring condolences on the death of King Francis. He was indeed handsome, as Mary had said, and he could be charming. Other nobles, she knew—especially many of the Highlanders—did not like him. He was fond of drinking, gambling and all manner of debauchery. He had Stewart blood, but he had English blood, as well. Then again, so did many of the Scottish nobility.

      Gwenyth looked at Mary then with a definite sense of unease, though happily Mary did not take that look to mean personal dissatisfaction with the one man who seemed to appeal to her on a sensual level.

      “Don’t look at me like that! Why may I not enjoy the fact that I have seen a man who is both acceptable in the minds of many and appealing? Fear not, I have not lost my senses. I am in mourning, and despite everything, I did love Francis, dearly, though it was…it was perhaps more a deep and tender friendship than a passionate love. I remain in mourning, and I will not be rash in my decisions. I will be careful, and I will be listening to my advisors. No decision can be made for some time. I am still considering negotiations with Don Carlos of Spain and other foreign princes. My greatest strength lies in where I will cast my die. I shall not forget that for me, even more so than most, marriage is a matter political alliance, not love.”

      “Mary, I know you will do what is right, but you certainly must allow yourself to dream of what will make you happy, as well,” Gwenyth said.

      Mary, so tall and elegant in her robe trimmed with fur, looked at her with wide, beautiful dark eyes. “I am frightened,” she whispered. “Frightened that no matter how hard I try to do the right thing, I cannot make my people happy.”

      “Oh, Mary! You must not feel so. It was a wonderful homecoming. And you’re going to be a wonderful queen. You are a wonderful queen.”

      “It is so…so different here.”

      “These are your people. They love you.”

      “They’re so…” Mary paused, then offered a smile. “So Scottish.”

      “True, this is not France. But, Mary, it is a wonderful country, filled with wonderful people. Who do outsiders look to when they seek military assistance? They offer rich rewards to entice Scotsmen to fight in their battles, because we are fierce and strong and loyal.”

      “But I seek peace.”

      “Of course. But peace is often obtained through strength.”

      “Not in Scotland.”

      “Ah, Mary. That’s not true, not always. Think back. We are a country because of the determination and courage of men such as William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, your own ancestor. Scotsmen are also poets and scientists. They go to schools elsewhere, and they learn about the world. You have only to love the Scots and they will love you.”

      Mary let out a soft sigh. “I pray…yes, I pray. And I thank you—my friend. My four Marys are most dear to me, but they do not know this land as you know it. They, like me, have been away too long. Tonight I dearly needed your friendship and understanding, and you have not disappointed me.”

      “Mary, anyone who knows you is aware that you have a great heart, that you are both kind and wise. You don’t need me. You need only to believe in yourself and to be willing to understand your own people.”

      “I intend to try. For I intend to be a great queen.” Mary hesitated. “Greater, even,” she said softly, “than my cousin who sits on the throne of England.”

      A chill snaked along Gwenyth’s spine. Elizabeth was proving to be a very powerful monarch. She was ten years older than Mary and had been queen of England for several years now. And she was Mary’s opponent in the political arena, for when Mary Tudor had died, the French royalty had declared Mary Stewart not just Queen of Scotland and of France, but Queen of England and Ireland, as well, considering Elizabeth to be Henry’s bastard and therefore lacking the right to rule.

      Politics could be a very dangerous game. Gwenyth knew Mary did not wish to oust her cousin from the throne, but she was loyal to her religion. It had become quite apparent that not only did the English not wish to have anyone other than their own Queen Bess, they wanted nothing to do with a Catholic monarch, and therein lay the seeds of potential—or perhaps inevitable—conflict.

      Throughout the centuries, wars with England had torn Scotland apart. None wished to have more bloodshed to be forced upon them by the English, yet every alliance was like a dagger in the heart of some other nation. The English warily watched Scotland’s friendship with the French, and the Spanish watched them all, so they watched the Spanish in turn. Such concerns would have a crucial impact on Mary’s future marriage. She could bring an ally to their cause—and create a wellspring of enemies, as well.

      As if reading Gwenyth’s thoughts, Mary said softly, “I do believe it will be best if I marry within this realm in time. And he is good looking, isn’t he?”

      “Who?”

      “Lord Darnley.”

      “Ah, yes.”

      Mary narrowed her eyes in amusement. “I gather you think someone else is also handsome? I believe I know of whom you speak.”

      “You do?”

      “Laird Rowan.”

      Gwenyth started, and could feel her spine stiffening. “He is very rude.”

      “He’s blunt, and as you’re the one teaching me about my people, you should know that such a laird, well-versed in both battle and politics, will be blunt. He is the epitome of a perfect Scottish nobleman.”

      “In that case, why don’t you have your eye on Laird Rowan?”

      “Now you are joking with me, are you not?”

      Gwenyth frowned. “I’m not joking at all.”

      Mary laughed. “Well, then, I suppose rumor is not as rife as one would imagine.”

      “Mary, please, whatever are you talking about?”

      “My father had thirteen recognized bastards, you know. Some of them lovely people, actually. Like my dear brother James,” she said, and Gwenyth wondered if she heard a touch of bitterness in the queen’s voice.

      There had been talk at one time of having James Stewart legitimized, though it had come to nothing in the end.

      Gwenyth’s frown deepened. “He isn’t one of your father’s bastards, is he?” she asked incredulously.

      Mary let out a small dry laugh. “No. Though he is the son of one of my father’s bastards. His mother was the first issue of one of my father’s first dalliances.”

      “Is this true—or rumor?” Gwenyth asked.

      “Don’t be so concerned, my dear friend, or you will furrow terrible wrinkles into your brow. Laird Rowan’s lineage is considered quite acceptable, I assure you. However, to find one’s nephew to be attractive is quite another. Besides, he is married.”

      “Oh,” Gwenyth СКАЧАТЬ