Page 28 of Wild Hearts

Paris said low, "Go down to the men's quarters and tell Troy to get them drunk. Pass the word among the men to be careful of what they say." Paris saw with satisfaction that Damascus was about to play her stringed lute and Venetia was going to sing. He beckoned Tabrizia with his eyes. She was becoming used to reading the expression in them whenever he looked at her For a moment she thought she might pretend not to understand, just to annoy him, then thought better of it

Paris said low, "Tabrizia, I want you to slip away to bed, now. Bothwell can be dangerous if he chooses." He said her name as if it were a caress, and she knew in her heart that he was protecting her. She nodded and rejoined the girls until a moment presented itself when she could retire without attracting too much attention.

Paris called, "Shannon, come and we will find Francis some of that fine brandy I have stacked below for special occasions." When they were out of earshot, he said to his sister; "I want Bothwell to have his mind fully occupied every moment he spends in our castle. The other girls have no experience with men, and I know you are equal to the task. I want all his thoughts to be filled with you."

"That shouldn't be difficult." She smiled.

"You do realize he'll be spending the night?" asked Paris carefully, selecting a cask of brandy.

Outraged, hands on hips, she demanded, "You don't mean to stand there and suggest that I... that I actually—"

"You don't mean to stand there and suggest that you are still a virgin, do you?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I am, whatever do you mean?" she demanded hotly.

He looked at her a long moment and said evenly, "Johnny Raven."

She gasped indignantly, "You've had spies on me!"

"Of course," he agreed good-naturedly.

"Why didn't you confront me? Why didn't you stop me from meeting my gypsy? It's .been going on for over a. year!"

"Shannon, I know you have a passionate nature. If I'd forbidden you Raven, you would likely have run away with him. Be a good girl and take care of Bothwell for me: You're licking your lips over the poor bastard. Tell the truth and shame the devil." He laughed.

"We had better get back before he deflowers that virgin you've got marked out for yourself," she taunted.

He was both surprised and annoyed that she could read his thoughts so easily, but since they were being truthful with each other, he couldn't deny his desire or his need. "Am I that transparent, Shannon?"

"We all know you've got her marked out for your own. Do you love her?"

"Love? You know me better than that. You know f swore a vow never to fall into that fool's trap again," he claimed bitterly.

"You won't hurt her, will you?" she asked.

"Only if it becomes necessary," he said harshly. She shivered and turned her mind to Lord Francis.

Bothwell and his men departed at first light. He wasn't eager to face any possible scrutiny from Paris over last night's dalliance. The two men had always been on good terms, and they both wanted to keep it that way. Paris heaved a sigh of relief at the departure. He was edgy and would feel decidedly better once he'd had word about the gold. He rowed out to his ship to inspect the sails and rigging. A plan had formed in the back of his mind, and he needed to be ready at-all times.

At breakfast Tabrizia told Damascus that she had promised to visit Anne again.

"Oh, you are thoughtful, Tabrizia. She must be terribly lonely. I don't believe Paris is as kind to her as he should be."

"Would you like to come with me?" asked Tabrizia.

Damascus shuddered. "No thank you."

Today Anne was in a black diaphanous gown, which vividly contrasted with her silvery tresses. Tabrizia was fascinated to see that even her fingernails were painted black. She looked pleased to see Tabrizia and offered, "Today I will sketch you."

"Oh, that would be lovely," encouraged Tabrizia.

"Sinclair! A canvas and my charcoal, immediately. Sit right there where the light is good."

Tabrizia sat quietly for a few moments, searching for something to say. Finally, she asked, "Where did you live before you were married?"

"Hush! Don't speak, and hold still," Anne demanded. Then, after a few moments, she offered, "My name was Ogilvie. I lived up north at Cardell. Our land ran parallel to the Gordons's land. I always got on amazingly well with our neighbors, but my father hated John Gordon with a vengeance. He swore the Gordons filched land from him, Ogilvie of Cardell. There was a terrible feud, didn't you hear tell of it? My father appealed to Paris Cockburn for help, and he was only too eager to fight the Gordons. My father thought Paris was God. He wed me to him without a thought for my feelings. I loved John Gordon. He was a widower and looking for a new wife, but of course I never dared breathe his name. Still, it wasn't my father's fault that Cockburn turned out to be the devil. John Gordon's remarried since then, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

Tabrizia stayed quiet and allowed Anne to talk. She suddenly felt very sorry for this young woman whose life had been spoiled. Her alienation from the Cockburns must render her days in solitary almost endless. Perhaps she could do something to bridge the chasm that stretched between this girl and the girls downstairs. When she thought of how generously they had accepted her and taken her into their warm circle, she felt guilty that they had not done the same for Anne. She said. tentatively, "Why don't you dine downstairs some evening? You could easily get a servant to carry you down, and I promise to be your ally against the others until they begin to accept you."

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