Page 40 of Wild Hearts

"I did no such thing," Magnus thundered. "I worshiped the ground Danielle walked upon She was the dearest love of my life. It was she who left me. I nearly went mad with grief when I couldn't find her. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I'd been with King Jamie on one of his endless progresses to Montrose and Aberdeen. When I got back, she'd run off with another man. It was Margaret's mother who gave me her last message. She could not face me because she was carrying another man's child. Now I can plainly see it was all lies."

Margaret Sinclair, her long, black hair framing the paleness of her face, stood in the shadows. She pressed her hands to the low-cut gown to still the agitation in her breast. She made her move swiftly, lest Magnus recall who had been there to console him all those years ago. "Both of you should be ashamed," she scolded. "I'll see to her." She frowned darkly at Magnus. "Not an ounce of sensitivity between you." She helped Tabrizia to her feet. "You need to rest, you are at the point of exhaustion. Come, enough for tonight. Emotions won't run so hot in the cool light of day."

The emotional shocks Tabrizia had sustained took their toll. She wanted to get as far away from these Cockburn men as possible, so she allowed Margaret to take control and lead her to a chamber where she could be apart.

Though she seemed filled with concern, Margaret had always been able to conceal her true feelings well. At the moment she was seething with anger. She cursed her mother's stupidity for not discovering who this girl was. All those years ago her mother had plotted and schemed to get rid of Magnus's French mistress and set the fifteen-year-old Margaret in her place. Her mother had ambition and had schemed for her to become the new countess, but after all her efforts, Magnus had never bothered to wed her.

Now the French bitch's daughter had turned up to haunt them. Margaret was doubly furious because she knew very well that Paris had brought the girl here for dalliance. She put Tabrizia into a guest room next to her own and gave her an extra down-filled comforter. In her own room she brewed a potion and took it in to the distraught girl. Using her smoothest manner, she urged Tabrizia to drink up and climb into bed. Margaret returned to her chamber and drew the bar across. The woman in the next room would be unconscious till morning, and Margaret had a lot of thinking to do.

Tabrizia lay back in the strange bed and relived the evening's events. She felt a great emptiness inside, as if all her emotions had been used up and there was nothing left. All those years she'd endured in an orphanage while her father was a great earl who spent time at the King's side The implications were too numerous to comprehend at the moment. Her mind seemed to go floating off across the room all by itself. She was trying to think of a name. Paris! He was the one. She had been so fearful of giving him her trust; then, in a great rush of love, she had pledged herself to him with all her heart and the moment she did so, he had betrayed her. Her eyes kept closing until she could fight the drowsiness no longer. At last she capitulated and let sleep carry her off to delicious oblivion.

Magnus looked at Paris and said, "I can scarce believe what's happened here tonight. You don't know what it means to me. To be denied children all my life, to watch my brother Angus found a dynasty of seven fine sons and daughters, then miraculously I find the girl I loved so long ago gave me a daughter of my own. I'll make it up to her, Paris. You must plead my case for me. The first thing I must do is get her legitimized within the law. I'll redo one of these wings to give her her own apartments. By God, Paris, I was feeling low with this accursed pain in my chest, but now I've something to live for— plans to make. One thing I must do is change my will."

Paris frowned. Everything had erupted into one hell of a mess. Magnus was already making plans for Tabrizia that were totally opposed to his own. Magnus expected her to live at Tantallon, and there would be a hell of a hue and-cry when Paris took her away in the morning. Magnus's temper would erupt like a volcano when he found out Paris intended her to be his mistress. Another thundering match was inevitable when Magnus discovered his child was married to the usurer, Abrahams, but between them, they could soon have that marriage set aside. Not so easily dealt with would be Magnus's reaction when he learned Tabrizia was the bride Paris had abducted for ransom. It might cause a breach between them that could never be healed. So be it. Paris was not about to surrender her. He decided against telling Magnus anything for the moment.

Magnus stammered, "You'll think me a great fool, but I feel the need to go down to the chapel. Excuse me, Paris."

His nephew was astounded, for a more irreligious old rogue he had yet to meet. Paris retired to his own chamber. Back in the bed where he had so recently lain with Tabrizia, sleep completely eluded him. An exultant feeling was building inside him at the thought that no other man had ever touched Tabrizia. Male power surged through his veins as he vowed no man, save he, ever would touch her. He finally admitted that it was more than just desire and lust; he had loved her for some time. What a clumsy brute he'd been to her tonight. No wonder she was near hysterics. Next time would be different. He would use infinite patience and wait until she was ready, nay, eager for him. And, yes, he admitted, he'd even go as far as giving the damned gold back, if that was the only thing that would placate her.

At first light he arose and went to her. It was very difficult to rouse her, and when she finally did sit up in the bed, she was disoriented and had an unnatural glitter in her eyes. He swore beneath his breath as his suspicions took hold.

Margaret hurried in when she heard him. Gowned in royal blue, embroidered with silver roses, she looked beautiful, as if she had spent all night in front of her mirror. But Paris didn't notice.

"Christ-all-fucking-mighty, Margaret, what did you give her last night?" he demanded furiously.

She looked hurt at his harsh words. "Why, Paris, it was only a sleeping draught. She was so upset, I had to calm her."

"A sleeping draught of poppies! I know morphia intoxication when I see it. I've had more than a passing acquaintance with the drug," he snapped bitterly. He turned back to the bed. "I've brought your cloak and your boots, Tabrizia. We are going home."

Tabrizia put her hand to her head. It ached so vilely, she couldn't think straight. This much she knew— she did not wish to go with Paris, and she did not wish to stay here. Her goal was Edinburgh, and she intended to reach it this day. She pulled on her boots and donned the cloak. She did not look at Paris but kept her own counsel. She would have to endure his company as far as Cockburnspath, but that was all.

Paris turned back to Margaret. "Where is Magnus?"

"He's asleep. He was in the chapel till after four this morning. He also took a sleeping draught and won't awaken for hours yet. I think you should wait to speak to him. He will be angered if he discovers you have left."

"I'm needed at home. The harvest feast is planned for tomorrow. Ask Magnus to bring you. He hasn't been at Cockburnspath in a year A daughter will be a lure he cannot resist."

Margaret almost hissed, "It seems others cannot resist her, either," and nearly bit off the end of her tongue in an effort to appear sweet and gentle. "Thank you for the lovely invitation, milord." She changed her mind about asking Paris to deliver a letter to her mother. If she was going to see her this week, no need to risk putting anything in writing.

Tabrizia was pointedly silent on the ride home. When she spoke, it was to Paris's moss-trooper who rode alongside her. Once she asked him, "What are these small, cave-like openings on this mountain?"

"They are for lambing time, ma'am. They are called shielings. Sometimes in the spring after the ewes have delivered, we get deep snow. The shepherds put the new lambs in these little shelters to keep them from the cold. It saves a lot of newborn stock, if they can get to them in time."

Paris signaled his man to ride ahead, so he could speak with Tabrizia. "Never take a sleeping potion again unless it is from my hand," he warned her sternly.

"Do you never tire of giving orders, milord?" she asked casually.

"Authority comes naturally to me," he stated.

"Along with arrogance, cruelty, lust and deception," she said, sneering.

"Never speak to me in that disrespectful tone again, madam, or you will find out just how cruel I can be."

"Lord Cockburn, on the ride to Tantallon I was but a waif; however, on the ride back, I find myself the daughter of an earl. I shall speak to you in any way I wish!"

Instantly, his hand was on her horse's bridle. He, pulled her mount up short and maneuvered so close, the horses' flanks touched. "If you were the daughter of a king, I would not take insolence from you." His dark, angry face came too close for comfort. She took a deep breath to calm herself. In spite of her momentary defiance, she was afraid of him and decided not to antagonize him further. She would not have to endure his presence much longer.

"I realize I was drugged last night. My head is aching vilely."

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